Frozen Sky- Battlefront Page 5

  Vonnie was still switching gears in her head. She said, "How could they possibly need more evidence now? The ELF broadcast was heard by the Jyväskylä and a dozen spy sats and HKs from Israel and Japan. For God's sake, there are sunfish on Io. We have a pile of evidence and everything Lam told me corroborates what we know."

  "Digging into the ice will cost us. Probes will cost us. Sending people in a sub has an even higher price tag. There's too much that can go wrong. We got our hats handed to us during the assault. My government doesn't want another screw-all defeat."

  Working her way through this logic, Vonnie said, "They want to ignore the broadcast, which means they want to think Lam was suspect, which means they want to think I'm his pitiful star-crossed lover."

  "That's about it, yeah." Jan might have suppressed another smile. There was a light in her face. Beneath the amusement, however, Jan was laser sharp. "Look at this," she said, handing her display to Vonnie. She'd clearly wanted to share it as soon as she sat down, but first she'd taken a hard line with Vonnie. She'd wanted to make Vonnie angry.

  I would have goaded her, too, if our roles were reversed, Vonnie thought. She feels like I do. The two of us are matriarchs and Earth is our horde of savage males. We need to deal with their chaos, but she's more interested in getting things right than in politics or money.

  Good for her.

  It's good for me, too -- and for the sunfish. I guess I've made a new friend after all.

  Jan's display held a classified report from Washington. The report was backed by graphs comparing ESA, EUSD and NATO files with sims from NASA and the USAF.

  Vonnie absorbed it with avid, hungry eyes.

  At the top of the report was an advisory from an unnamed department who disputed the subtle inflections in Lam's arm movements. They're in the water, he'd signed. They said this referred to a river or a sea suspended in the ice rather than the Great Ocean. They said he was unlikely to have traveled deeper than the Mid Clans.

  Other analysts made other deductions. Like everything people did, the responses to Lam were a mess of egos, opinions, misconceptions and personal agendas. Somehow the AIs had crunched thousands of conflicting theories and facts into seven bullet points.

  * Probability that ESA Probe 114/Choh Lam reached the Great Ocean: 53%.

  * Probability that ESA Probe 114/Choh Lam detected unidentified lifeforms in the Great Ocean: 52%.

  * Probability that PSSC drones have entered the Great Ocean: 31%.

  * Probability that unidentified ELF broadcast was generated by alien lifeforms: 59%.

  * Probability that allied probes are capable of withstanding surface-to-ocean operations through previously unexplored ice: 38%.

  * Probability that an allied submarine is capable of withstanding surface-to-ocean operations through previously unexplored ice: 17%.

  * Increased odds of surface-to-ocean operations through a hypothetical "chimney" explored by Europan natives and allied mecha: 53%/48%.

  The numbers were disheartening. On the other hand, Vonnie was thrilled that Washington and Berlin had actually considered sending people into the ice. More than anything, she wanted to take part in a crewed mission aboard a submarine.

  When she glanced up, she found the same determination in Jan's face. Jan was studying Vonnie tightly, so Vonnie made a dismissive gesture at the report, wanting to convey her own sense of commitment. "These percentages seem low," Vonnie said. "They're too conservative."

  Jan nodded. "Everybody wants to cover their butt. Bad things happen, they say, 'See? I told ya.' But the numbers that matter most are over fifty percent. We can talk 'em into it if we give 'em a little more."

  "What do you want from me? Will it help if I publicly support exploring the ocean?"

  "Bingo. You're a celebrity, and the media's been hollering to talk to you. Tell them about our nations marching forward in concert together. Tell them how much it would mean to the men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice. We also want you to approach the matriarchs. That's gotta happen in the next day or so. O'Neal thought there were more chimneys in the area. Find one."

  "I need Peter's permission to speak on the net."

  "He won't object. We'll prep you, but I don't imagine you'll have trouble knowing how to present yourself. You're a sharp cookie."

  She means everything will be scripted, Vonnie thought. More than that, they'll edit each interview before it's transmitted to Earth. This isn't like when Christmas and I played the brave girl explorers to increase publicity and donations. This is our endgame. If we can't generate the political will to race against the PSSC, our friends died for nothing. They'll win. We'll go home.

  Without volition, the muscles in her left hand -- her new hand -- cinched into a fist.

  Days ago, she'd made the same fist when Peter told her about their concessions to the PSSC. In her rage and her dismay, it felt like her body was operating her brain. "I'll tell the media whatever Berlin and Washington want me to say. Count on it."

  "Excellent. We'll schedule your interviews tomorrow after the funeral ceremony."

  "Good," Vonnie said, but she thought, The funerals are another prop. Even our coffins are pawns.

  Maybe she wasn't cynical enough. Maybe her heart needed to harden more. She couldn't decide if she trusted Jan, who pretended to talk like a vivacious bandit or a free-spirited cowpoke -- and yet Jan had corralled Vonnie with more expertise than Peter when he tried to manage her.

  Was that why Jan approached her in his place? The AIs must have suggested that Jan was more likely to secure Vonnie's obedience.

  When she spoke to the media, she could show her hatred for the PSSC but not the contempt she felt toward Berlin. That was their price; cast them in a good light; forget her dead friends; look ahead to the ocean.

  I'll hate myself, too, but the other option is to point my finger at Berlin and raise a stink. If I do, too many people in the American government might take that ball and run with it. They could suspend operations. The mecha are theirs. The modules are theirs. We don't have a base without them, much less probes or a sub.

  "I'm tired," she said, honestly.

  Tired of the lies.

  "I'll let you rest," Jan said, clapping Vonnie's arm with her informal style. "Thank you. I'm glad we're on the same team."

  "Yeah." Vonnie put as much conviction into her voice as possible, but she was wrought with doubt.

  Her anxiety had undermined her faith in herself -- in everyone -- and she missed the sunfish more than ever. They could be monsters, but they were honest monsters. Eat. Fight. Breed. That was all they wanted. You could count on them to protect you. People were so complicated.

  Jan must have sensed Vonnie's fear. She touched Vonnie's arm again as if hoping to reconnect. Neither of them spoke. After a moment, Jan smiled. She got up and strode out.

  Minutes later, several women entered the barracks. Some went to bed. Some caught up on their messages from Earth or watched shows on their displays. All of them smiled and nodded at Vonnie as if they'd been told to smile and nod. It felt staged. She felt like she was in a play and their actions were robotic and hollow and meaningless. She didn't belong. The Americans weren't her friends. They hadn't been there when the PSSC killed Henri and O'Neal.

  Am I being paranoid?

  She slept poorly. She kept waking up as if an alarm had gone off inside her head.

  She wanted to do the right thing. Selfishly, she also wanted to join the first group of astronauts to explore the Great Ocean. Berlin would include her if she played their game. How could they not? The symmetry was perfect. First into the ice. First to meet the sunfish. First to fight the PSSC. First into the water.

  O'Neal would want her to go. What about Lam? Despite what she'd told Jan, even Vonnie wasn't sure what his warnings had meant. The dark ocean, he'd signed. Larger enemies.

  Maybe she would see for herself.

  5.

  The next morning, as Vonnie watched on her display, two Americans in scout
suits carried twenty rolls of fine, glimmering mesh from their armory.

  Europa had passed out of Jupiter's shadow again -- sun and darkness, shadows and stars -- a vast, splendid clockwork that was wholly indifferent to humankind. Outside, the mesh caught the dull hues of Jupiter's reflection as the Americans set their rolls on the ice.

  At the same time, working with Araújo, Tavares, Tony and Ash, five more Americans glued hundreds of clips to their modules and sheds.

  Their six modules, their storage sheds and the amputated hull of ESA Module 01 had been set in an oval. The sheds and 01 formed clumps at either end. Along one side were their two barracks and their mess hall. Along the other were their command module, their armory and the module with their labs.

  The oval was obviously a defensive arrangement. Beyond these walls of steel and plastic, they'd built landing pads for their flightcraft, which served as watchtowers and scouts. Further out, their mecha patrolled the ice.

  The surface looked like an engineer's vision of hell. It had ruptured and split as it was coated with water that froze into bulging veins and dunes. It was also littered with ash and scorched metal. Splattered among the debris were crude blots of color. The ice had been stained by hydraulics, coolants, packets of food -- and blood.

  Gazing down through the American spy sats, Vonnie shuddered at the visible damage. Over an area of more than a thousand square kilometers, Europa was impaled with the charred wreckage of tankers, the Clermont, the Grissom and a Leopard-class FNEE ship. Smaller craters marked the impacts of disabled spy sats. The remnants of missiles and other payloads added to the filth like black snow.

  Much closer to the allied camp, they'd made scrap heaps out of ESA Module 02, ESA Lander 05 and the two destroyed NASA flightcraft. They'd also dragged a long section of the Marcuse from its crater. Now the mutilated steel sprawled on the ice like a hydra -- a twisted shape with many heads and claws.

  Mixed with the larger wreckage were bits of trash and ruined gear. There were pieces of the FNEE hab module. There were empty, gutted scout suits like metal corpses.

  Inside the oval formed by their new camp the ice was dirty but it was flat and litter-free. They'd bulldozed and packed the surface, creating a secure area where they could build probes or a submarine. First they intended to hide it from prying eyes.

  Assisted by their mecha, the astronauts hoisted one roll of mesh and clipped it to the exterior wall of a module. As they unspooled it, they began to erect a tent. Embedded with complex nanospheres, the mesh shielded against infrared, radar, X-ray and neutrino pulse.

  They were attaching the third roll when static filled their radios. For a moment, it was a blaring roar. On the ice, their mecha hesitated and lurched. Then their AIs reacted with countermeasures, reducing the noise to a few pops.

  In her bed, Vonnie could only stare at her display as her friends outside locked down their gear blocks. They switched to short-range high-energy laser comms -- but now the interference was gone.

  "That was a slavecast!" Ash said. "Sir, are we tracking the source?"

  "It's stopped," Peter said. "It was the Dongfangzhixing. Stand by. They're contacting us on executive channels. I'll tell you more as soon as I can."

  "Hell with that," Jan said. She put the conversation on their group feed and publicly broadcast it to Earth, catching a PSSC major in mid-sentence.

  Despite herself, Vonnie snorted. Peter, their by-the-regs administrator, had just been trampled by Jan's take-charge style. It was a dramatic move, but did Jan have the discretion or the tact to negotiate with the PSSC?

  The major looked young and hard -- younger than Ash, maybe twenty years old -- although people aged slowly in space without the effects of gravity or sun or imperfect nutrition, and the crew of the Dongfangzhixing was said to have been on duty without leave since the One Day War.

  His skin was flawless. His eyes were like a snake's. His teeth were immaculate, too. So was his English. "Disguising your installation is a hostile act in violation of our cease-fire," the major said.

  That was when Jan truly impressed Vonnie.

  "If anyone has violated our cease-fire, sir, it is you," Jan replied, speaking with the grave, stilted cadence of a Southern lady. "Your base has always been concealed. Per our agreement, your tent was to be removed, yet I see it on my cameras now."

  "You will not do this," the major said.

  The admiral aboard the Dongfangzhixing never revealed himself. His officers spoke on his behalf, and their rigidity exceeded anything Vonnie had seen among the EUSD or the FNEE.

  "Remove your tent or die," the major said.

  "We'll finish what we started, sir," Jan said. "This is non-negotiable and it is final. Don't do anything you shouldn't."

  "My nation will punish your lackies in Germany and Brazil," the major said. Then he switched off.

  "'Lackies,'" Jan said with an untroubled grin for her crew. "That's old-fashioned but it's got a nice ring to it. Sounds like communist poetry."

  Some of them laughed.

  Vonnie's stomach rolled over, and she crossed her trembling arms on her chest. She wanted to shut her eyes, but not being able to see made her claustrophobic.

  It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, she promised herself even as her display pinged with new alerts.

  Overhead, the Dongfangzhixing activated its targeting systems. The space around Europa buzzed with signals as its defensive screens came to life.

  In response, the screens of the Jyväskylä flickered and hummed. So close, the Jyväskylä was certain to inflict damage on the enemy if another battle broke out.

  Knowing she'd be avenged was not reassuring. Vonnie felt like a bug on a table. The PSSC could squash them in a single stroke, then deal with Captain Leber. The allies should have landed mecha on Io. They should have sent probes to Ganymede and Callisto.

  Yesterday, an Australian probe had darted out of Jupiter's rings to swing past Io. NASA also had a probe nearby, but they'd retreated from the Dongfangzhixing's fighter and five drones.

  The drones were traveling to the outer moons.

  The fighter had gone to Io, where it was accompanied by three Iranian HKs. NASA reported that the fighter had dispatched mecha, which were hunting among Io's snowfields for artifacts.

  What did the PSSC mecha find? Nobody knew. During the battle, ESA and Japanese SCPs had infested PSSC data/comm as Ash tried to weasel into their grid, but she'd been rebuffed and Peter forbad more attempts. The Japanese said they'd also had little luck.

  It was difficult to see how the allies could gain the upper hand. The astronauts were constrained to their camp. The Jyväskylä would defend their tiny claim on Europa, and the FNEE ship was protecting a route for reinforcements to arrive. Otherwise they'd ceded the entire Jupiter system to the PSSC and Vonnie couldn't even get out of bed.

  She had to wait.

  Outside, her crewmates dropped the sides of their tent to the ice, then staked it to keep enemy spy sats from peeking sideways over the horizon.

  The next step would be to extend their transceivers and sensor dishes beyond the tent. Inside it, the mesh would block their own data/comm, although their grid extended across and below the ice. If necessary, they could bounce their signals through the catacombs to their listening posts and mecha.

  We can use our sunfish as a grid, too, she thought, wanting to feel useful. She wanted to get into the ice. Instead, she napped again. Fueled by nanotech and OPD, her body was expending magnificent amounts of energy to heal.

  She jerked awake when Harmeet touched her shoulder.

  "What time is it?"

  "It's almost lunch," Harmeet said. "I wanted to let you sleep, but they need everyone."

  Vonnie dressed and ruffled her fingers through her short hair, trying to look presentable. She brushed her hands over her jumpsuit. She limped after Harmeet into the mess hall, where they would conduct their joint funeral ceremonies.

  The mess hall's tables and benches had been folded into the walls, and
the kitchen was closed.

  The room was tidy. It was also a mob scene. Nearly all of the astronauts were present. Vonnie was glad to see Ben, although the atmosphere was grim. She hurried to his side but didn't say anything. She squeezed his hand.

  The Americans had turned out in dress uniform. Colonel Ribeiro wore a military vest over his jumpsuit. The vest was jet black with binary code stitched in yellow in a square over his heart. It denoted rank and commendations. Vonnie couldn't read it, but an AI could have translated, and the fabric of his vest would fit into a scout suit, whereas insignia and medals could not. His dress uniform was also a combat uniform.

  That he'd come as a soldier -- not as a gentleman or a diplomat -- felt appropriate. It felt like a demonstration of might and solidarity.

  Vonnie didn't object when Ribeiro lined up with the seven members of the ESA.

  The Americans formed ranks behind them.

  Like an honor guard, Claudia and Araújo stood outside in scout suits. Each of them held an M7. They were on camera, and they appeared in front of the assembly on an oversized display.

  Crowding the same display, Captain Leber and his crew joined the ceremony via showphone. So did the FNEE soldiers aboard their ship. From Earth, a legion of important people manifested as proxies, which let them appear individually or in groups among their countries' datastreams.

  A minute passed as the AIs coordinated the many feeds and proxies. Also, they'd been advised that media teams on Earth wanted stock footage to open their broadcasts, which was why the many astronauts waited in rows.

  Everyone was silent. An alarm bar would change from red to green when the AIs were ready.

  "How are you?" Ben whispered.

  "Shhh." Vonnie didn't want to ruin the mood.

  "This ceremony is bullshit."

  Before she'd arrived, she might have agreed. They should have conducted their service without the cameras. Making a big production out of it was for Earth's benefit... and yet this ceremony would serve as a memory for the families of the people who'd died. She didn't want to be rude.