Adrian Tchaikovsky - Children of Time

‘Karst?’ Holsten felt that was hardly better. ‘How bad has it got that Karst gets to call the shots?’

There were a lot of looks from the rest of Key Crew at that remark, some frowning, others plainly sharing his opinion – including even one of the security team. It was a rare moment when Holsten would far rather be in the minority.

‘We’re travelling into the Kern system,’ Vitas explained. She turned to the console behind her, gesturing for Holsten’s attention. ‘Not to put too fine a point on it, but once we’re in orbit around the green planet, the Gilgamesh ’s wandering days are likely to be done.’ The oddly poetic turn of phrase gave her clipped tones an unexpected gravitas. ‘Lain’s tribe have done a remarkable job in keeping him together, but it really has been damage control, quite literally. And the damage has begun to win. There’s quite a population of ship-born now, because the suspension chambers are failing beyond the point of repair. Nobody’s going to be heading off on another interstellar jaunt.’

‘Which means…?’

‘Which means there’s only one place left for us all, yes, Mason.’ Vitas’s smile was precise and brief. ‘And we’re going to have to fight the Old Empire for it.’

‘You seem to be looking forward to it,’ Holsten observed.

‘It’s been the goal of a long, long plan, Mason, and centuries in the making. The longest of long games in the history of our species, except for whatever that Kern thing has been doing. And you were right, in a way, about the commander. He’s not here to see it but it’s Guyen’s plan. It was so from the moment he set eyes on that planet.’

‘Guyen?’ Holsten echoed.

‘He was a man with vision,’ Vitas asserted. ‘He cracked under the strain at the end, but given what he’d gone through that’s hardly surprising. The human race owes him a great deal.’

Holsten stared at her, remembering how she had treated the disastrous upload of Guyen’s mind as some sort of hobby experiment. In the end he just grunted, and something of his feelings were plainly visible on his face, judging by the scientist’s reaction.

‘Karst and some of the tribe have jury-rigged a control centre in the comms room,’ Vitas said, somewhat coldly. ‘You’re Key Crew, so he’ll want you there. Alpash!’

One of the young engineers appeared at her elbow.

‘This is Alpash. He’s ship-born,’ Vitas explained, as though excusing some congenital defect. ‘Get Mason here, and the rest of Key Crew, up to the commander, Alpash.’ She spoke to the young man as though he was something less than human, something more like a pet or a machine.

Alpash nodded warily at Mason. If Vitas was his exemplar for Key Crew, he probably didn’t expect much in the way of manners. There was a distinct skittishness about him as he gathered up the recently woken engineers, security men and the like. It reminded Holsten of the way that Guyen’s cultists had treated him. He wondered what legends of Key Crew had Alpash been brought up on.

Over in comms, Karst looked refreshingly the same. The big security chief had been given the time to get some stubble going on his ravaged face, and he had obviously not been wheeled out much since Holsten last saw him, because he had barely aged.

As the surviving Key Crew filed in, he grinned at them, an expression equally of anticipation and strain.

‘Come in and find a seat, or stand, whatever you like. Vitas, can you hear me?’

‘I hear,’ the science chief’s voice crackled and spat from an unseen speaker. ‘I’ll continue to supervise the unpacking, but I’m listening.’

Karst grimaced, shrugged. ‘Right,’ he turned to address them all, looking from face to face. When he met Holsten’s eyes there was none of the expected dislike. Gone was any hint that the security man had never much cared for Holsten Mason. Absent, too, was the expected air of dismissal, that of a man of action who had no use for the man of letters. Instead, Karst’s grin dwindled to a smaller but much more sincere smile. It was a look of things shared, a commonality between two people who had been there right at the start, and were still here now.

‘We’re going to fight,’ the security chief told them all. ‘We’ve basically got just one good chance at it. You all know the score, or you should do. There’s a satellite out there that can probably rip open the Gil in a blink if we give it the chance. Now, we bolted on some sort of diffusion shielding, back when we were pirating that terraforming station – some of you maybe weren’t awake for that, but there’s a summary in the system of the changes we made. We also hardened our computer systems, so that bitch – so the satellite – can’t just shut us down or open the airlocks, that sort of trick. We’ve taken every precaution, and I still reckon toe-to-toe we might be screwed.’ He was grinning again, though.

‘But I’ve had some drones fitted out in the workshops. They’ve got shielded systems as well, and lasers that I think can burn the satellite. That’s the plan, basically. Best defence is a good offence, and so on. As we come in towards our orbit, we burn the fucker up and hope it’s enough. Otherwise it’s down to using the Gil ’s forward array, and that puts us within range of retaliation.’ He paused, then finished: ‘So you’re probably wondering what the fuck I need with all of you guys, yeah?’

Holsten cleared his throat. ‘Well, Vitas asked me if I could use a gun. I appreciate I’m no great tactician, but if it comes to needing that against the satellite, we’ve probably already lost.’

Karst actually laughed. ‘Yeah, well, I’m planning ahead – planning to win. Cos if we don’t win against the satellite, there’s no point in planning anyway. So let’s assume we burn it out. What next?’

‘The planet,’ someone said. There was a curious ripple through the room, of hope and dread together.

Karst nodded moodily. ‘Yeah, most of you never saw it but, believe me, it’s not going to be an easy place to settle down on, at least at the start. Am I right, Mason?’

Holsten started at unexpectedly having his opinion solicited. But, of course, there’s just him and me who were down there on the surface. ‘You’re right,’ he confirmed.

‘That’s where guns come in, for those that feel they can lower themselves to use them.’ Karst, already pre-lowered, winched his grin up a notch. ‘Basically the planet’s full of all sorts of beasties – spiders and bugs and all manner of shit. So, while we get ourselves set up, we’re going to be burning them out, too: clearing forest, driving off the wildlife, exterminating anything that looks at us funny. It’ll be fun. Frankly it’s the sort of thing I’ve been looking forward to since I first got aboard. Hard work, though. And everyone works. Remember, we’re Key Crew. Us and the chiefs of the new engineers, like Al here, it’s our responsibility. We make this work. Everyone’s depending on us. Think about that: when I say everyone I really mean it. The Gilgamesh is all there is.’

He clapped his hands, as though that entire speech had reinvigorated him and boosted his personal morale. ‘Security team, whoever’s got the pad with our new recruits, sort them out and get them armed. Teach them which end not to look down. You lot all get to join us on the bug hunt, afterwards.’

Holsten assumed that meant everyone fool enough to say ‘yes’ when Vitas had asked them if they could use a gun.

‘Tribe,’ Karst added, then seemed to lose momentum. ‘I won’t bother telling you, as you know what you’re doing. Been doing it long enough, anyway. Alpash, stick close, though. I want you as liaison.’