“This is unbelievable,” said Nation, speaking just to get away from the bombardment of information into his brain cluster.

  “They’ll acknowledge the existence of an impasse eventually.”

  “The trouble is, they’re acting like each of their voices carries equal weight. That simply doesn’t work in the military.”

  Keller performed a high-speed search through the mission briefing data carried on the shared battle network. There was something missing.

  “The protocol document for this mission is incomplete.”

  “You’re shitting me?”

  “Nope.”

  “That’s why they’re arguing over the details?”

  “Yes, they have nothing from high command which explains what they are expected to do in the event of a partial mission success. That’s their point of reference in the event of uncertainty or disagreement. Without one, they’re left trying to figure it out for themselves.”

  “So the Space Corps cobbled this mission together so quickly, they let the basic stuff fall through the net?”

  “Looks like.”

  “Someone needs to lose their job over this!” Nation said in anger. “What a pile of crap.”

  “I’m sure Admiral Cody, Jacks or whoever’s in charge of this mission will be delighted to read that in your report.”

  “This is serious. What are we going to do?”

  Keller’s eyes twinkled. “I keep telling you they’ll never replace humans entirely.”

  “I thought that was my line.” He narrowed his eyes. “What do you have planned?”

  “How about you take one of the Gundar’s shuttles over to the Zantil station and see if they’ve got all of that Istoliar nicely packaged up in a cargo ship and ready to go?”

  The question didn’t exactly catch Nation by surprise, since he was already thinking along similar lines. He rubbed his chin in thought. “I thought we were up against the clock?”

  “We are. An estimated clock based on guesswork and supposition, which has slightly less than seven minutes left on it.”

  “At least twenty million tonnes of Istoliar,” Nation mused. “Enough to turn the tide of war.”

  “If we destroy Zantil, we deny the Estral access to it, so in that respect we’re poised to give the enemy a kick in their collective balls.”

  “In the hands of the Space Corps, it’s the chance to double up.”

  “I reckon.”

  “What happens when the Estral fleet shows up and I’m onboard Zantil?”

  “I’m sure I can persuade Attack Fleet Z to remain here in order to repel the enemy. There’s a good chance the Estral will have their catapult ships tied up elsewhere. We can deal with whatever they send.” She looked him in the eye. “This was my idea, so I’ll stay regardless of what comes.”

  “I trust you, you know that.”

  “I wouldn’t suggest something if I were sure it would get you killed.”

  “How do I get inside?”

  Keller traced a finger over an area of the sensor image which showed a nearly-imperceptible seam in the front of the Estral facility’s main platform.

  “You can’t burn them open,” said Nation. “You might destroy the Istoliar.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting I burn them open. Look here next to the doors – there are shuttle docking bays.”

  Nation zoomed in the sensor feed and saw a vertical row of square openings to one side of the main bay doors. The openings were unlit, making them hard to distinguish from the surrounding metal.

  “Universal docking facilities,” he said.

  “It means they don’t need to open the main hangar every time a shuttle comes in to dock. A rather more sensible arrangement than how they managed it on Isob-2.”

  “And they’re blind, so they won’t see me coming?”

  “There are no functioning sensor or comms arrays on Zantil. The crew won’t see you.”

  Nation rose from his seat and tore off the remains of his damaged spacesuit which he hadn’t bothered to remove after his escape from Isob-2. He dropped the pieces on the floor and grabbed a second suit from the bridge locker, as well as a visor to go with it.

  “Don’t want to risk your pretty face getting burned up, huh?”

  Nation’s artificial skin was tougher and more resilient than the spacesuit polymers. The Space Corps churned out hundreds of thousands of spacesuits, but not many like Joe Nation. They could afford to fit him with the good stuff.

  “I don’t want to spend three days in a medical block getting patched up,” he said. “I’ll get dressed in the shuttle. Why don’t you spend the time getting your Attack Fleet Z buddies onside?”

  Nation exited through the main bridge door and hurried towards the closest of the Gundar’s two shuttles. Back on the bridge, Keller tuned herself into the ongoing conversation between the AIs. Unbelievably, it was still in progress, with the majority of the warships trying to figure out how to get the Argonaut’s winch attached, whilst the remainder argued over the definition of success.

  Keller (Gundar):: BE QUIET!

  She allowed several processing cycles to elapse before she was assured the AIs had stopped arguing.

  Keller (Gundar):: Command Override Code: KEL2199Q995.

  AI Gane-Q12 (Atlantis):: Command code acknowledged.

  Each of the other warships returned an acknowledgement of Keller’s override. There weren’t many in the Space Corps trusted with such a top-level override and Keller was one of them. With the code issued, she was now in charge.

  Keller (Gundar):: Lieutenant Nation has agreed to fly a shuttle onto the Zantil facility in order to investigate whether the Estral have already loaded their Istoliar onto a transport vessel. If they have, he plans to steal that vessel and fly it into the hold of the MHL Argonaut.

  AI Klister (Granite):: There is not much time.

  Keller (Gundar):: There is a lot of Istoliar inside Zantil. We cannot leave without attempting to recover it.

  AI Nox (Piledriver):: This is an opportunity to destroy many more Estral spaceships.

  AI Klister (Granite):: Or to be destroyed ourselves.

  AI Nox (Piledriver):: We defend the Confederation.

  Keller was beginning to wonder if the AIs in Attack Fleet Z were all on the Space Corps’ list of semi-sentient entities which required urgent psychological attention. Maybe the normal ones were being prepared for a strike against other targets.

  Keller (Gundar):: Enough talk. Lieutenant Nation will shortly depart and we will keep the Estral at bay while he searches the processing facility. He is the only one who can bring the mission success rating to one hundred percent.

  She wasn’t expecting an argument and she didn’t get one. Out here, too far away for a quick comms exchange with base, the AIs were eager for guidance. While Keller was only a lieutenant, her position in Psi made her importance to the Space Corps significantly higher than her rank suggested.

  The AIs knew weapons, flight and enemy attack patterns. Most of all, they were programmed to understand that their mission was the most important thing of all. As a consequence, they were eager to listen to what Keller had to say.

  AI Spindle (Foolhardy):: We will defend this officer of the Space Corps against our foes. Come what may.

  Keller (Gundar):: My report will include details of your excellent service.

  With the decision made, the warships flew off to position themselves at varying distances from the Zantil station, so as not to be caught out by a surprise incendiary attack. The MHL Argonaut remained exactly where it was and Keller brought the Gundar to within two thousand metres of the facility, to ensure Nation wouldn’t have far to travel.

  Against the slab sides of the main Zantil platform, the Gundar looked small. Keller studied the sensor feeds – the spaceship was so close to the facility the images didn’t require magnification. The darkness of Zantil’s metals made it appear cold and foreboding. One-by-one, the fires burned out and the patches of orange and red faded.

  JN> I’m ready to go.

  BK> Good luck.

  JN> I won’t need it, right?

  Keller couldn’t bring herself to smile. She watched the Gundar’s shuttle fly away, heading rapidly towards the Zantil facility. Soon, it was little more than a glinting speck and she increased the zoom in order to follow its path. There was something she didn’t like about this mission and she already regretted mentioning it to Nation. He’d been eager enough, but maybe if she’d kept her mouth closed, he wouldn’t have suggested it himself.

  The shuttle slowed as it reached the docking facility. Becky Keller shivered and struggled with the urge to contact Nation and ask him to come back.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lieutenant Joe Nation sat impassively in his seat and waited for the shuttle’s autopilot to guide the vessel into the confined space of the Zantil docking facility. The Gundar’s shuttle wasn’t exactly huge, but there wasn’t much room left on either side as it flew into the square opening. It was utterly dark and he used the image intensifiers on the forward sensor array to check what lay ahead.

  The docking facility wasn’t unusual. The opening continued for two hundred metres, through the impressively thick outer armour of the Zantil station. Near the end was a universal latching mechanism, this being little more than a movable cylinder which could attach to the hull of an incoming craft. Humans and Estral didn’t share a lot of technology, but at least the transport vessels from one side could dock in a facility owned by the other.

  The shuttle came to a halt and Nation listened out for the tell-tale thump which would indicate the vessel was securely fastened. The thump came and he felt the shuttle shake gently with the soft impact.

  JN> I’m docked.

  BK> Any lifeforms showing up on the sensor?

  JN> Negative. Looks like I made it without being detected.

  He stood and flexed his shoulders to get them comfortable within the spacesuit. The reflective visor lay nearby and he picked it up. After a moment’s thought, he put it over his head. There was a HUD, meant to display pertinent information about his wellbeing, as well as maps and other useful data. None of it was done better than his augmentations could manage and he switched off the HUD, so the visor would operate as protection only.

  The gauss pistol clipped beneath the shuttle’s console caught his eye and he considered taking it. His stealth modules ensured he was rarely required to engage at a distance and he didn’t want the gauss coils making him visible every time he pulled the trigger. He left the weapon where it was.

  A last-minute diagnostic check told him his Istoliar power cells were at maximum and that his onboard systems were functioning properly. He activated the stealth modules and the familiar feeling of comfort descended upon him.

  A red light glowed next to the release button for the door. After a few seconds, it changed to green and he pressed the button. The door opened to reveal a narrow airlock tunnel, with a ceiling high enough for an Estral to stand upright. The floor was covered with plates of roughly-finished metal grating. Orbs in the ceiling cast out a dim blue light, and green-glowing symbols betrayed the presence of access panels at each end of the corridor.

  JN> It’s cold. Minus two.

  BK> You’re in outer space and there’re a few million tonnes of Istoliar nearby. It’ll take more than a portable heater to keep it warm.

  JN> Will we lose the neural link once I get deeper inside?

  BK> I’ve scanned the exterior and there’ll definitely be areas where the link will drop. As long as the Estral fleet doesn’t show up I should be able to fly the Gundar into the best position to maintain a stable connection with you.

  JN> What if I found a comms hub? Could you send me some piggyback code like you used on Isob-2, for me to inject into their mainframe?

  BK> That would be a great idea if we hadn’t already destroyed their antennae. Zantil routes its comms through its sensor arrays in the same way a spaceship does. Their sensors are gone and so are their comms.

  JN> Okay. I’ll deal with it. How long until the Estral get here?

  BK> I’ve told you, it’s not exact. The twenty-minute timer is down to two minutes. Don’t think about it. Me and my good buddies in Z will take care of the heat.

  With a quiet laugh, Nation stepped out of the shuttle onto the grating. The metal plate wasn’t perfectly-fitted and he felt it shift slightly beneath his weight, the noise suppressed by his stealth augmentation. Behind him, the shuttle door whispered shut. With quick steps, he advanced along the corridor towards the far door.

  BK> Take care.

  JN> Will do.

  Nation was half-expecting the entire facility to be locked down as a result of Attack Fleet Z’s arrival. He was relieved to discover the panel at the far end of the airlock was open access. He had the number cruncher, but it was going to be far easier if he didn’t need to rely on it.

  The door whooshed to the side, revealing another, wider, corridor running perpendicular. His sensor informed him the light was slightly dimmer and the temperature was slightly colder. He paused, listening. The only things he could hear were the indistinct sounds which possessed every vast metal construction. There were creaks and groans of flexing walls and far away he could hear something heavy banging against something equally solid.

  JN> How many people do you think it takes to run an Istoliar processing facility?

  BK> According to the databanks, the Sindar plant required three thousand operators, a few thousand guards, several Colossus tanks and various ground-to-air defences.

  JN> Zantil is bigger than what we had on Sindar.

  BK> We can’t draw comparisons between an Estral facility and one of ours. You could argue our technology is superior, therefore we require fewer personnel to operate our refineries.

  JN> I get the message. It’s time for me to stop guessing.

  BK> Why do you ask?

  JN> Because I can’t hear anyone.

  BK> I doubt they’re following their usual routines. Besides, you only just got there.

  JN> Point taken. I’ll start looking.

  Nation guessed the new corridor ran alongside the main hangar bay and probably led to it. He turned right out of the airlock and hurried towards a T-junction at the end. He trailed his fingertips along one of the solid metal walls, trying to get a sense of the place. He detected a vibration so faint he couldn’t be sure if he were imagining it.

  At the T-junction, he looked both ways. To the right, a passage headed away to another junction, whilst to the left, the corridor ended at a room. He went left and found himself in what he guessed was a breakout area. A dozen or more angular chairs were scattered around the floor, along with a table. To the left, Nation saw a flat blue panel above a horizontal slot, which he knew to be an Estral replicator. A tray waited, forgotten on the table, and Nation blinked when he spotted something dark on top of a pile of semi-edible nourishment paste.

  JN> You need to see this. Connect to my sensor feed.

  BK> Have you found the Istoliar?

  JN> No. Come on! Quickly!

  Keller made the link.

  BK> An insect?

  JN> Looks like.

  BK> You got me down here to look at a dead bug?

  JN> It’s the first time I’ve seen one in a deep space facility. You don’t see many insects out here.

  BK> Hmmm. It’s an ugly-looking thing. I wouldn’t want to find it in my sock drawer.

  Nation didn’t pursue this minor diversion any further and turned his attention away from the frozen insect. There were three exits and he chose the one he thought would bring him closer to the Zantil main hangar bay. He passed two closed doors, before succumbing to temptation and opening the third.

  The room inside was unlit, as if the power had been cut. Nation’s sensor adjusted and he saw the longest two walls were covered in screens. There was a central console, along with three chairs, each of which was designed to rotate in order that the occupant could see every one of the monitors without having to twist around.

  JN> Internal monitoring station.

  BK> Where’s the power?

  JN> I don’t know.

  BK> Did I mention that I have a bad feeling about this?

  JN> No.

  BK> Well I do. A really bad feeling.

  JN> Psi premonition?

  BK> Sometimes it’s hard to work out if what I feel is a hunch or a glimpse into the infinite model.

  JN> And you feel guilty if it’s only a hunch and you get it wrong?

  BK> Pretty much. If it’s a real premonition, I can blame the universe if it turns out to be inaccurate.

  Nation entered the room, more out of curiosity than necessity. He located the main power switch on the central console and flicked it upwards. The unit remained powered off.

  JN> Attack Fleet Z shot up all the underside generators. Maybe some of this internal stuff was linked into those.

  BK> Could be.

  JN> How come you manage to fit so much doubt into two words?

  BK> Practise. You should get out of there.

  JN> What threat do you think there might be?

  BK> I don’t know.

  JN> I think I’m close to the main hangar. I’ll give it a couple more minutes and then come back. How does that sound?

  BK> Are you ready to face the righteous anger and disappointment of Attack Fleet Z?

  JN> I think I can cope.

  Nation exited the room and jogged along the corridor, still heading away from the shuttle. He crossed over two more intersecting passages, each time listening carefully for signs of life. Whatever was making the banging sound earlier, it was now quiet, however the creaking of the hull was louder than ever. The exterior of the facility had taken a beating and Nation thought it probable the place was terminally damaged.

  There was a flight of steps ahead and he descended. Afterwards, the passage turned and turned again, whilst his internal computers tried their best to build a map and also to predict the internal layout of Zantil.

  BK> AI Jason is certain the facility has been fitted with a device specifically to prevent it from being towed away.

  JN> Is this device vulnerable to external attack?