“Yessir!” The general spoke quickly into a lapel mike. The admiral flicked a key beside the hot-line screen.
“Get Broadly,” he said in a voice like doom impending.
22
In the Djann ship, the One-Who-Commands stirred and extended a contact to his crew members. “Tune keenly in the scarlet regions of the spectrum,” he communicated. “And tell me whether the Spinners weave a new thread in the tapestry of our fates.”
“I sensed it but now, and felt recognition stir within me!” the One-Who-Records thrummed a mighty euphony. “A Voice of the Djann, sore beset, telling of mortal need!”
“I detect a strangeness,” the One-Who-Refutes indicated. “This is not the familiar voice of They-Who-Summon…”
“After the passage of ninety cycles, it is not surprising that new chords have been added to the Voice, and others withdrawn,” the One-Who-Anticipates pointed out. “If the link cousins are in distress, our path is clear!”
“Shall I then bend our fate line to meet the new Voice?” the One-Who-Commands called for a weighing. “The pursuers press us closely.”
“The Voice calls; we will pervert our saga by shunning it?”
“This is a snare of the water beings, calculated to abort our destinies!” the One-Who-Refutes warned. “Our vital energies are drained to the point of incipient coma by the Weapon-Which-Feeds-On-Life! If we turn aside now, we place ourselves in the jaws of the destroyer!”
“Though the Voice lies, the symmetry of our existence demands that we answer its appeal,” the One-Who-Anticipates declared.
The One-Who-Records sounded a booming arpeggio, combining triumph and defeat. “Let the Djann flame burn brightest in its hour of extinction!”
“I accede,” the One-Who-Commands announced. “Though only the Great Emptiness may celebrate our immolation.”
23
“By God, they’ve fallen for it!” Commodore Broadly smacked his fist into his hand and beamed at the young signal lieutenant. He rocked back on his heels, studying the position chart the pilot officer had set up for him on the message deck. “We’ll make the intercept about here.” His finger stabbed at a point a fractional light from the calculated position of the newfound OL station.
He broke off as an excited voice burst from the intercom screen.
“Commodore Broadly, sir! Urgent from Task—” the yeoman’s face disappeared from the screen to be replaced by the fierce visage of the vice admiral.
“Broadly, sheer off and take up course for station, and then report yourself under arrest! Commodore Baskov will take command. I’ve countermanded your damned-fool orders to the OL station! I’m on my way out there now to see what I can salvage—and when I get back, I’m preferring charges against you that will put you on the beach for the rest of your miserable life!”
24
In the beacon station atop the height of ground known as Thunderhead, Carnaby waited before the silent screen. The modifications to the circuitry had taken half an hour; setting up the new code sequences, another fifteen minutes. Then another half hour had passed, while the converted beacon beamed out the alien signal.
He’d waited long enough. It had been twenty minutes now since the last curt order to stand by; and in the hut a thousand feet below, Terry had been waiting now for nearly five hours, every breath he drew a torture of strangulation. The order had been to put the signal on the air, attempt to delay the enemy ship. Either it had worked, or it hadn’t. If Fleet had any more instructions for him, they’d have to damn well deliver them in person. He’d done what was required. Now he had to see the boy. Carnaby rose, again donned the backpack. Outside, he squinted up at the sky, a dazzle of mist-gray. Maybe the snow squall was headed back this way. That would be bad luck; it would be close enough as it was.
A bright point of light caught his eye, winking from high above, almost at zenith. Carnaby felt his heart take a leap in his chest that almost choked off his breath. For a moment he stood, staring up at it; then he whirled back through the door.
“… termand previous instructions!” A new voice was rasping from the speaker. “Terminate all transmission immediately! JN 37, shut down power and vacate station! Repeat, an armed enemy vessel is believed to be vectored in on your signal! This is, repeat, a hostile vessel! You are to cease transmission and abandon station immediately—”
Carnaby’s hand slapped the big master lever. Lights died on the panel; underfoot, the minute vibration jelled into immobility. Sudden silence pressed in like a tangible force—a silence broken by a rising mutter from above.
“Like that, eh?” Carnaby said to himself through clenched teeth. “Abandon station, eh?” He took three steps to a wall locker, yanked the door open wide, took out a short, massive power rifle, still encased in its plastic protective cover. He stripped the oily sheath away, checked the charge indicator; it rested on FULL.
There were foot-square windows set on each side of the twenty-foot room. Carnaby went to one, by putting his face flat against the armorplast panel, was able to see the ship, now a flaring fireball dropping in along a wide approach curve. As it descended swiftly, the dark body of the vessel took shape above the glare of the drive. It was a small, blunt-ended ovoid of unfamiliar design, a metallic black in color, decorated fore and aft with the scarlet blazons of a Djann war vessel.
The ship was close now, maneuvering to a position directly overhead. A small landing craft detached itself from the parked ship, plummeted downward like a stone, with a shrill whistling of high-speed rotors settled in across the expanse of broken rock in a cloud of pale dust. The black plastic bubble atop the landing sled split like a clam shell; a shape came into view, clambered over the cockpit rim and stood, a cylindrical bronze-black body, slung by leathery mesenteries from the paired U-frames that were its ambulatory members, two pair of grasping limbs folded above.
A second Djann emerged, a third, a fourth. They stood together, immobile, silent, while a minute ticked past. Sweat trickled down the side of Carnaby’s face. He breathed shallowly, rapidly, feeling the almost painful thudding of his heart.
One of the Djann moved suddenly, its strange, jointless limbs moving with twinkling grace and speed. It flowed across to a point from which it could look down across the plain, then angled to the left and reconnoitered the entire circumference of the mountaintop. Carnaby moved from window to window to watch it. It rejoined the other three; briefly, they seemed to confer. Then one of the creatures, whether the same one or another Carnaby wasn’t sure, started across toward the hut.
Carnaby moved back to a position in the lee of a switch gear cabinet. A moment later the Djann appeared at the door. At a distance of fifteen feet, Carnaby saw the lean limbs, like a leather-covered metal, the heavy body, the immense faceted eyes that caught the light and sent back fiery glints. For thirty seconds, the creature scanned the interior of the structure. Then it withdrew. Carnaby let out a long, shaky breath, watched it lope back to rejoin its companions. Again, the Djann conferred; then one turned to the landing craft…
For a long moment, Carnaby hesitated: he could stay where he was, do nothing, and the Djann would reboard their vessel and go their way; and in a few hours, a Fleet unit would heave into view off Longone, and he’d be home safe. But the orders had been to delay the enemy…
He centered the sights of the power gun on the alien’s body, just behind the forelegs, and pushed the firing stud.
A shaft of purple fire blew the window from its frame, lanced out to smash the up-rearing alien against the side of the sled, send it skidding in a splatter of molten rock and metal. Carnaby swung the rifle, fired at a second Djann as the group scattered; the stricken creature went down, rolled, came up, stumbling on three limbs. He fired again, knocked the creature spinning, dark fluid spattering from a gaping wound in the barrel-like body. Carnaby swung to cover a third Djann, streaking for the plateau’s edge; his shot sent a shower of molten slag arcing high from the spot where it disappeared.