The Ninth Circle (67 page)

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Authors: R. M. Meluch

BOOK: The Ninth Circle
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Merrimack
’s guns hammered at
Gladiator
to keep its energy locked up on itself.
Gladiator
didn’t even try to deploy a hook. It didn’t need to. The Swifts’ weakness was their very short range in atmosphere. Without the cold of space around them, the small fighters rapidly overheated.
Surfacing out of the atmosphere would leave the Swifts vulnerable to
Gladiator
’s guns.
Gladiator
could wait for its targets to come up to cool.
Captain Carmel sent the Swifts to the arctic on the winter side of the world.
“Tracking.”
“Tracking, aye.”
“Locate all Roman ground units.”
“Roman ground units located, aye,” said Tracking. “Twelve plots.” Then he added, “Roman ground units have deployed shield domes.” He thought the captain intended to strafe.
“Targeting. Acquire the Praetorian unit who planted Caesar’s eagles. Acquire the eagles.”
“Targeting, aye. Targets have an energy dome over them, sir.”
“Target the dome.”
“Targeting, aye. Praetorians, eagles, energy dome acquired, aye.”
“Engineering!”
“Engineering, aye.”
“Ready hook.”
“Engineering, aye. Hook ready and standing by.”
“Hook the target.”
 
The Praetorians were arrayed in full ceremonial armor. They had posted Caesar’s eagles on the planet for the glory of the empire. They saw flashes in the day sky. Someone was shooting upstairs. But they were safe under an energy dome.
A sudden jolt threw them to the ground.
No.
The ground was rising under them.
A pseudopod of energy, extending from
Merrimack
’s inertial field, jabbed down to the planet surface, enclosed the Romans, their shield dome, and the ground they stood on, and pulled them
up
.
Imperial eagles canted over. Roman standards wobbled. The ground became loose and crumbly under the guardsmen. They lay flat forward for a dizzying ride a quarter way around the globe.
Merrimack
set them down in darkness, not gently. The energy hook dissolved.
Wind felt like blades. Breath iced in their lungs. They narrowed their eyes to slits. Blowing ice collected on their lashes. They had come from a temperate zone. They were not equipped for arctic operations. Their energy dome was still active, but it was an umbrella. They were vulnerable at ground level.
A wind-whipped spray of glassy particles sent them all crouching low again. They heard engines.
Not friendlies. These were United States fighter craft.
Incoming beamfire at ground level took out the dome generators. Now the guardsmen were open to the sky. Bitter wind was dry and cutting. The place was dark except for the auroras and starshine lancing off the glittering snowpack.
The Swifts set down in a blizzard of ice crystals that made tinny sounds on the guards’ bronze helmets, lifted their formal tunics and stung their bare legs. Cold metal armor felt sticky.
The Swifts’ canopies slid back. Figures in full environmental gear, including heated suits, emerged from their cockpits. The Marines’ personal fields glinted around them. Their splinter guns presented muzzles first.
One figure climbed atop his fighter’s fuselage. The host of stars were icy bright around him. The American’s merry grin was visible through his faceplate. He called down through his helmet speaker. “Freeze!”
The Praetorian decurion raised his hands. “Oh, you’re a laugh riot, you are, Yank.”
 
Tactical spoke what Calli had already noticed. “
Gladiator
is not returning fire.”
This was a bad sign.
Numa Pompeii always takes the war home
.
Caesar was going to hit her from behind. Only she didn’t know how.
It came quicker than she expected. Red Dorset turned from his station at the com. “Captain. Incoming call on the resonator. It’s Admiral Farragut.”
Already?
“Give it to me.”
Red Dorset sent the link to the captain’s console.
“Yes, sir?” Calli said wearily into the com.
“You’ve been undercut,” Admiral Farragut told her. “The order came down from the President.
Merrimack
is to take no more action without direct orders.”
“Can you give me the direct order, John?”
“No,” said Admiral Farragut. “No one is saying you lacked authorization or you did anything wrong. They’re just saying stop.”
“Does the President know Numa caused the destruction of the cloke Ark?”
“From here it looked like Roman ships tried to save the Ark.”
“That was staged.”
“I believe you. No one else will. They won’t want to.”
“Numa will take over the world,” said Calli. “You know if you let Rome in, you’ve given them the world.”
“Cal? I think he
has
it. You lost this one. Don’t make me give your ship to the Dingo.”
“John, you know I can’t lose to Numa!”
“You did, Cal. If we hadn’t just got off a war, we might have got someone to make a stand. The pols don’t want to spend lives on this. They don’t see Rome as a danger to Zoe. It’s over.”
She had arguments. Kept from voicing them. “Aye, sir.”
In a moment the admiral came back, “Cal?”
“Yes, John?”
“Do you know what happened to my brother?”
 
Dingo Ryan issued the order for the Marines to release the Roman prisoners.
The Marines had been holding the Praetorians in a Spit boat at the pole. Colonel Steele turned the Romans out to the arctic night, then ordered the Swifts aloft. The fighters lifted in a blast of ice crystals.
Merrimack
had not turned off her jammers. With the jammers still in place,
Gladiator
could not displace the stranded guardsmen off the polar ice pack.
Asante commented over the com, “A little
cold
, isn’t that?” There was a distinct grin in his voice.
“They can walk home for all I care,” said Steele.
Cain sent, “Sir? Can we salute?”
The Yurg sent, “You know, show respect.”
“Proceed,” said Colonel Steele.
The Swifts executed a low fly by, scarcely higher than a rooftop, over the Praetorians. Vicious winds and sonic booms trailed in their wakes.
As the Swifts rose out of the atmosphere,
Gladiator
launched a transport toward the planet, probably to collect the freezing guardsmen.
Cain sent over the Marines’ open com, “Colonel? Can we go back down and salute those guys too?”
“Can we?” said the Yurg.
“Can we?” said Kerry Blue.
“Colonel?” said Cain.
Guessed Colonel Steele didn’t like that idea. He wasn’t responding.
All flights were returning to
Merrimack
.
Colonel Steele, leading Red Squadron, wasn’t adjusting his course for the approach.
“Wing Leader. This is Alpha One. Are you there, sir?”
Steele did not answer. He did not change course or speed.
“
Merrimack. Merrimack. Merrimack
. This is Alpha One. I have lost contact with Wing Leader. Colonel Steele is not answering his com.”
“Wing Leader. Wing Leader. Wing Leader. This is
Merrimack
. Respond.”
Nothing.
Hailed Cain instead. “Alpha One. This is
Merrimack
. Bring your squadron in to the flight deck.”
Steele’s com was out. He was having systems problems. Meant he would come in last.
Alpha and Baker Flights rode their beams in to
Merrimack
’s starboard wing. They touched down, clamped down, rode the elevator down. The upper flight deck of the starboard wing was clear for Steele’s approach.
Marines climbing out of their Swifts on the hangar deck all looked to the empty slot.
Rhino said, “Where’s the Old Man?”
 
Steele should have circled round for his approach after everyone else was inboard.
“Captain?” said Commander Ryan. “Steele’s not coming back.”
“Overtake,” said Captain Carmel. On the com she sent, “Colonel Steele, if you can hear me, shut your engine down.”
The Swift did not deviate course or speed. The engine stayed hot.
Tactical said, “We have a runaway.”
“Bring him in. Assume incapacitated pilot,” said Captain Carmel.
Dingo Ryan got on the intracom. “Displacement. This is Command. Ready rapture for Colonel Steele. Execute when ready.”
“Command. This is Displacement. No go. Negative correspondence. I can’t get a read from Colonel Steele’s collar. The Colonel’s displacement collar is turned off or damaged.”
“Whatever incapacitated Steele took out his collar too,” Ryan told the captain. “What
got
him?”
Marcander Vincent said, “Nothing. Nothing hit him.”
“Check him,” Calli ordered the specialist next to Marcander Vincent. If Vincent missed something, Calli was going to send him down, no matter what she promised John Farragut.
Then she was on the com: “Medical Department. This is the captain. Report to cargo bay one.”
To her XO: “Mister Ryan, shut that Swift down, hook him, and get him in here. Cargo bay one.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Ryan issued the override signal that remotely shut down the Swift’s engine. At the same instant
Merrimack
closed a full hook around the runaway.
Engineering reeled the Swift into the designated cargo bay.
The moment the cargo bay pressurization lights showed green, the inner access hatch opened. Fully suited medics ran inside, and scrambled atop the Swift’s wings. Marines thronged into the bay after them. The Marines stood back at the bulks, out of the medics’ way, craning to see.
The Swift’s canopy frosted over opaque.
The erks hadn’t even popped the Swift’s canopy, and already the medics’ faces looked altogether wrong.
Carly, escaped from sickbay, circled her reattached arm around Kerry Blue.
The erks dragged the canopy open.
The Marines’ low mutters rumbled through the compartment.
“They didn’t wait for the pressure light.”
“Why didn’t they wait for it to pressurize?”
“What are they doing?”
The medics were stepping down as if from a funeral.
When the medics cleared, Marines surged forward. Those still in their environmental suits climbed up the space-cold wings and looked into the cockpit. The mustard-suited erks moved aside for them to see.
No one was talking.
Carly, first one up, turned away from the cockpit. She looked down from the wing, her face stricken.
Kerry Blue cried, “
Is he alive?
”
Carly’s eyes were wide and helpless. Carly said, “I don’t know.”
Kerry Blue advanced. The Marines parted for her and helped her up onto the wing to see for herself.
The cockpit was empty.
 
Captain Carmel signaled the displacement department over the intracom. “Did you execute rapture?”
Displacement responded, “Negative. Negative rapture. We did not get correspondence. We did not initiate. Rapture not attempted. We can’t even try now. Target’s collar signature has ceased registering.”

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