“Just as we arrive?” Killeen read her thoughts. “Could be this is what the Mantis wanted us for.”
“Hope not,” Shibo said with a sardonic twist of her lips.
“We had plenty bad luck already,” Cermo said.
Shibo studied the board. “I’m getting something else, too.”
“Where?”
“Coming up from near the south pole. Fast signals.”
“What kind?”
“Like a ship.”
Killeen peered at the screen. The glorious squashed circle had cut slightly farther into the planet. It was still aligned with its flattened face parallel to the rotation. He estimated the inner edge would not reach the planet’s axis for several more hours at least. As it intruded farther, the hoop had to cut through more and more rock, which probably slowed its progress.
Shibo shifted the view, searching the southern polar region. A white dab of light was growing swiftly, coming toward them. It was a dim fleck compared with the brilliant cosmic string.
“Coming toward us,” she said.
“Maybe cargo headed for the station, if they’re still carrying out business as usual.” He cut himself short; it did no good to speculate out loud. A crew liked a stony certainty in a Cap’n; he remembered how Cap’n Fanny had let the young lieutenants babble on with their ideas, never voicing her own and never committing herself to any of their speculations.
He turned to Cermo. “Sound general quarters. Take up positions to seize this craft wherever it comes in.”
Cermo saluted smartly and was gone. He could just as easily have hailed the squads of the Family from the control vault, but preferred to go on foot. Killeen smiled at the man’s relishing this chance to take action; he shared it. Pirating a mech transport was pure blithe amusement compared with impotently watching the hoop cut into the heart of their world.
The three midshipcrew left hurriedly, each taking a last glance at the screen where two mysteries of vastly different order
hung, luminous and threatening.
TWELVE
Killeen glided silently around the sleek craft, admiring its elegant curves and economy of purpose. Its hull was a crisp ceramo-steel that blended seamlessly into bulging flank engines. The capture had been simple, flawless.
The squad that had seized it hovered near both large airlocks in the ship’s side. They had waited here in the station’s bay, and done nothing more than prevent six small robo mechs from hooking up power leads and command cables to the ship’s external sockets. Without these, the craft floated inertly in the loading bay.
It was clearly a cargo drone. Killeen was relieved and a little disappointed. They faced no threat from this ship, but they would learn little from it, as well.
It is of ancient design. I recall the mechs using such craft when they transported materials to Snowglade. I believe I could summon up memories of how to operate them, including the difficulties of atmospheric reentry. They were admirably simple. People of times before mine often hijacked them for humanity’s purposes.
Arthur’s pedantic, precise voice continued as Killeen inspected the loading bay. Arthur pointed out standard mechtech. The Aspect was of more use here, where older, high-vacuum tech seemed to have changed little in the uncounted centuries since humanity had been driven from space altogether. On Snowglade the mechs had adapted faster than humans could follow, making the old Aspects nearly useless. Arthur’s growing certainty about their surroundings in this station began to stir optimism in Killeen.
Flitters! See there?
A squad member, exploring nearby in the station, had fumbled her way through a lock. A large panel drew aside, revealing a storehouse of sleek ships similar to the cargo drone they had just seized.
These are quick little craft that can reach the surface with ease. I remember them well. We termed them Flitters because they move with darting ease in both atmosphere and deep space. Admirable for avoiding interception. That was before the Arcologies lost control of their orbital factories. Before the mech grip on Snowglade grew so tight.
Killeen ordered some fresh squads to inspect the storage bay and estimate the carrying capacity of the Flitters. The Family had explored only a fraction of the station, so it was no surprise that this storage-and-receiving bay had eluded them. Killeen had hoped such a place might turn up; the incoming vessel had simply pointed the way.
A signal came on comm from Shibo.—Something’s happening with the hoop.—
Killeen quickly made his way through shafts and tunnels to the station’s disk surface. He had to juggle his elation at finding shuttle ships which could take parties to the planet surface, against the unyielding fact that something vast was at work on New Bishop.
The vision that confronted him was mystifying. The hoop had nearly reached the polar axis, he saw. But it was not moving inward now. Instead, it seemed to turn as he watched. Its inward edge, razor-sharp and now ruler-straight, was cutting around the planet’s axis of rotation. In a simulation provided by Shibo he saw the hoop spinning about its flattened edge.
—It slowed its approach to the axis,—Shibo sent.—Then started revolving.—
“Looks like getting faster,” Killeen said.
A pause.—Yeasay…the magnetic fields are stronger now, too.—
“Look, it’s slicing around the axis.”
—Like cutting the core from an apple.—
“Revolving…”
—Yeasay. Picking up speed.—
As he watched, the hoop revolved completely around the axis of New Bishop. The golden glow brightened further as if the thing was gaining energy.
“Pretty damn fast,” Killeen said uselessly, wrestling to see what purpose such gigantic movements could have.
The simulation grew more detailed as Shibo’s uncanny sympathy with Argo’s computers brought up more information.
He said quizzically, “That dashed line further out—”
