The Ion War

by Colin Kapp

Genres: Science Fiction; Sci-fi Action & Adventure; Hard Science Fiction

Synopsis

When Major Dam Stormdragon was chosen to serve as part of Castilia's military tithe to the Mother World he had no choice but to go - much as he loathed Terra and everything she stood for. He knew that given the combination of arrogance and paranoia that Terrans displayed towards all Colonials he was at best in for a miserable year - and that at worst he would find himself taking part in a military action against his fellow Colonials. He also knew that the increasing ferocity with which the Terrans responded to the slightest balking of the Imperial Will meant that one day soon the Hub Worlds would have to fight, or that Terra's madness would destroy them all. What Stormdragon could not know was that the Mother World was already set on obliterating her children, and that he himself would be Terra's secret weapon in the most dreadful conflict in the history of Man.

Release date: December 21, 2012

Publisher: Gateway

Print pages: 256

Sample

Dam Stormdragon brought the water-sled expertly round to the mooring pole, killed the engine, and used his powerful muscles to steady the craft while Tetri jumped the half meter from the pier to the sled’s deck. When she was safely seated he revived the turbine and let the wash of the jets build before he cast free and made a long, slow arc back to the centre of the canal.

“And where would Tetri like to go this evening?” he teased.

“You know perfectly well! To the Water Forest—you promised!” Her voice was nearly lost beneath the turbine’s roar. “But we’ve got to be home by twenty-seven hours for the farewell party. Senator Anrouse is guest of honour.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t make us late for blast-off with one of his interminable speeches.”

They both laughed as Dam pushed the water-sled swiftly through the waters of the canal. The passage of the craft woke tinkling echoes from stone-blocked recesses in the banks, and the creamy wake washed high against the corners of the old steps. It was nearing the end of first-light, and the waterways were nearly deserted: already Castalia’s great moon was beginning to soften the shadows under the bridges; soon the great star-banks of the Hub would take upon themselves the chore of providing second-light, relegating the dizzy moon to a mere diversion in the sky.

Coming to the river, they turned upstream; here the swell so bounced the little sled that Dam was forced to reduce speed and pay heed to the dictates of the tide. This compromise between the forces of nature and his own skill and the power of his engines was a challenge he relished. Tetri relaxed and leaned back, enjoying the sight of his strong face with its comprehending eyes as he concentrated on navigating through the difficult currents to reach the narrower channels leading to the Water Forest. Both were aware that this might be their last time together.

The super-abundance of water on Castalia made natural fountains commonplace, but nowhere was there such a display as the Water Forest could provide; especially in the wake of the moon when the great subterranean tides hurled water upwards through a plain of lightly-fragmented bedrock, creating whole an ephemeral landscape sculptured from living water. Dam had been born on the Forest’s edge; he knew the ways of the waters better than many of the guides. Now, with skillful hands at the sled’s controls, he took the craft through and around the graves of sparkling silver “trees”, where the fountains spun faster and purer and more mobile than any who had not seen them could possibly have believed. The great ranks of the stars above contributed a billion scintillating points of light which were then refracted by the flying spray, arching the whole scene with a rainbow canopy which touched fringes of color into every dancing water-wraith.

Spray-drenched but enthralled, Tetri could not remember ever having enjoyed the forest so much. She suspected Dam must have taken her through some of his private places, places he normally reserved for himself. Finally they drew in at one of the rest-cabins and luxuriated in soft towels, soft music, and sweet wines until their clothes had been dried and returned to them. Then it was time to set off for Tetri’s home and the last farewells before the trip to Terra.

As he pushed the sled through the slumbering waters, Dam grew gradually more silent and reflective. Tetri could guess what was on his mind, and he confirmed it by gazing for a long time at the bright star-banks.

“They say that on Terra you can see only a millionth of the stars we see on Castalia.”

“Don’t be silly!” she told him. “That would mean half of each day would be completely dark. Who would bother to evolve in a place like that?”

They both laughed, but the laughter soon died from his lips and his dark mood continued to grow, until finally: “What’s worrying you, Dam? Always when you’ve spaced before you’ve enjoyed every second of it. What’s so different about going to Terra?”

He was apologetic for his withdrawal. “I don’t know. Perhaps it’s the idea of it being the mother-planet. It gives it a significance it doesn’t deserve. Truth to tell, Tetri, I’m afraid of Terra.”

“Afraid?” She was incredulous. “You’re a spacer and a Space Army officer. Tomorrow you join my father for a tour of duty with the Terran Spaceforce—the greatest armed force the galaxy has ever known. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

“You make it sound as if armed force had a sort of virtue in its own right. It oughtn’t to be that way, Tetri. It’s the purpose for which you use those arms that counts. What scares me about Terra is that I don’t know what her motives are.”

“Still, it isn’t like you be so serious.”

“Sorry, Tetri, it’s not your cross.” He grinned suddenly, and in an instant it seemed as if the matter was forgotten.

From the banks of the canal the terraced slopes, softened with shrubs, ran upwards as if to form a green cushion on which rested the house of Dimede—Tetri’s home. Under the gentle, shadowless illumination of second-light they dawdled up the random paths between the terraces, with many a diversion so that they might marvel at the phosphorescent fish that swam in the ornate pools and leaped the little waterfalls, like streaks of burnished copper. Above them, the farewell party had already begun; the windows open to the clement air allowed bright shafts of melody to spill out across the hill. They hurried the latter part of the way, to be greeted by Tetri’s mother and ushered into a circle of laughing friends who teased them about their dalliance.

“Oh, Dam …” Stormdragon was suddenly called from the party by Colonel Dimede, who was Tetri’s father and who would also be his commanding officer on the year-long tithe-loan trip to Terra.

“Sorry to drag you away, Dam. There’s somebody wants to meet you before the party gets too strong. Do you know Senator Anrouse?”

“I know of him; we scarcely move in the same circles,” said Dam mischievously.

“Nevertheless, he’s been following your career with interest. It was his recommendation, based on your prior academic performance, that helped get you into the space academy, and I think you justified his faith when you won the top-graduate award.”

Dam followed the colonel into the library, there to face the personage whose face was otherwise familiar to him only from news-cast interviews. His first impression was one of mild shock at discovering the senator was not the larger-than-life figure his imagination had painted.

“Senator Anrouse—may I present Major Stormdragon, a member of my flight-staff and a friend of my daughter.”

“I’d have thought all of your flight staff would have been friends of the charming Tetri—given half the opportunity,” said Anrouse, smiling and rising from his chair. “Glad to make your acquaintance, Stormdragon! The name’s not unknown to me. I served under your father in the Vilion campaign.”

“He often spoke of you, sir.”

“And now you’ve followed his ion-trails into space, eh? Can’t say I blame you. If I’d my youth again I’d be right out there with you. How do you feel about a year’s tithe-loan to Terra?”

“Apprehensive,” said Dam honestly.

Anrouse scowled slightly. “Don’t tell me you object to Terran service?”

“I don’t object to any service. But I do have reservations about the uses to which Terra puts her arms.”

“Specifically?”

“Rigon, Zino, and Ames’ World. Three Hub planets wasted because of dissension with the mother-planet.”

Anrouse was examining the major’s face carefully.

“You’re well informed, Dam. Far better than I’d thought. Information for such a view is not generally available. Let that be one of the strengths you take with you—the impressions you’re given are not necessarily true. Above all things, preserve an open mind.”

“Thank you, sir!” Dam presumed the interview was at a close. He turned to go, but Anrouse motioned for him to remain, while looking meaningfully at Colonel Dimede, who discreetly picked up a tray of empty goblets and excused himself.

“Before you go, Dam, there’s something I want to say to you in confidence.”

“Sir?”

“Despite what you may think, your choice for inclusion on the tithe-loan trip to Terra was no accident. The reasons will not become apparent to you for some time, but they were the result of much careful consideration. Think of that when the going gets tough. It may help you through.”

“I’ll bear it in mind, sir,” Dam said, mystified.

“Good! And in return for that I’ll give you an assurance of my own. We in the government are not unmindful of what happened to Rigon, Zino and Ames’ World. After all, we have far more in common with our Hub neighbours than we have with the mother-planet; the Hub would not have been colonized at all except that the fathers of the Exodus were dissidents on Terra. But neither shall we allow the fate of those three worlds to be shared by Castalia if we can possibly avoid it. Therefore we must move carefully, in our own way and in our own time. Take heart, Dam. We may not appear to share your spirit of rebellion, but I assure you we do—and we shall win.”

At that point Colonel Dimede returned with a new tray of goblets and they drank a solemn toast to Castalia that was followed by pleasant conversation until Tetri came and scolded them for both their sobriety and their absence from the party.

Senator Anrouse’s speech during supper was without reference to a possible schism between Terra and Castalia. Both the colonel and Dam were congratulated on having been selected to serve with the great army of the mother-planet, and hopes were extended for their safe return. This was Anrouse the politician, operating with polished phrases rich in rhetoric but empty of meaning. Suddenly Dam began to appreciate the dual nature of the man and to understand a little about how such an apparently shallow character commanded so much influence in the Castalian senate. Neither encounter, however, did anything to convince Dam that the Castalian government was in any way prepared or able to challenge the yoke of Terra.

After that, the party grew wild, with the sparkling music rising to new heights of rhythm and fury which wound gradually up to the great crescendo dances, leaving them all happily exhausted. Then, as the creeping reds and golds of first-light began to occupy the sky, Dam and Tetri crept out to the terraced garden for a soft farewell which was perhaps also a goodbye; they knew that a year’s separation would change them both, that the old liaison might never be renewed. Finally Dam, cloak draped casually over his shoulder and ignoring the chilly dampness of the early dew, set off-with an apparent air of jauntiness towards his sled and the first leg of his journey toward the mother planet of mankind.

Liam Liam was having a bad day. The Z-ship Starbucket, painstakingly disguised as a charter tramp to give him professional cover, was picked up by a Terran ship-chain after his course vectors had already made it clear that Liam’s intention was to make planetfall on Sette; unable to protest that he had actually been en route to some other world, Liam had ordered his engines cut and was now waiting the arrival of a pinnace from the armed Terran cruiser which had secured his “arrest”.

Had the cruiser been alone Liam could have eliminated it with the weaponry concealed in the Z-ship’s modified hull. The presence of the other ships in the chain, however, was a factor he could not surmount: and even though he might have forced an escape, this would have revealed the strength of his hand, which he was not prepared to do. The importance of his arrival on Sette could not be over-told, and now his one hope of reaching the planet lay in the possibility of bluffing his way through the impending confrontation.

As the pinnace moved in on Starbucket Liam warily gauged its velocity and angle of approach. For all the careful camouflage, had the pinnace passed directly behind his stern nothing could have concealed the fact that what looked like an old tramp was equipped with modern engines larger and more powerful than those of the pinnace’s mother ship.

Fortunately the pinnace approached from the side, and the aimless spiral which had been imparted to the Starbucket’s motion gave the oncoming pilot too much to think about for him to have time to study the tramp too closely.

After much searching for compatible terminations to the space-transfer tube, the Terran party finally gained access. They traversed the greasy, cluttered corridors with an air of affronted distaste, and their nostrils curled in rebellion when they were finally shown into Liam’s untidy stateroom and encountered the pungent odors emanating from the captain’s pipe.

“Captain Liam?” The Terran officer had meant to be aggressive and abrupt, but his eyes were on the nicotine-stained air vent that should have been exchanging the cabin’s malodorous atmosphere with air fit to breathe; the entire grate was plugged with cotton waste.

“At your service, Major!” Liam looked every centimeter the part he played: slack, middle-aged, with a bulbous nose and a genial face lined and warted by a lifetime’s exposure to the radiations of space.

The officer visibly pulled himself together. “Captain Liam, you have brought your vessel into a sector of space into which entry is prohibited by Space-emergency Ordinance.”

“Oh?” said Liam. “What’s the emergency? Perhaps I can help?”

“I don’t think you understand me. The emergency lies on the planetary territory of Sette. Therefore these space approaches are out of bounds to all save military craft.”

“But if they’ve an emergency on Sette, surely any sort of spacecraft could be of help?”

“Not in this case. Their emergency is an insurrection.”

“Then it is helpful that I’m a neutral. Perhaps I can talk some sense into them. Insurrections are bad for trade, you understand?”

“Captain Liam!” The Terran officer was growing increasingly intolerant with the trend of the conversation. “I don’t seem to be getting through to you. I’ll make it plain. There is no chance of your being allowed to make planetfall on Sette. If you wish to avoid having your ship confiscated, you’ll leave as fast as your burners will drive you.”

“I’d go with pleasure, Major. But there’s a snag. A cargo awaits me on Sette, and with the contract price I can afford to buy the fuel to take me away again. Forbid me my cargo, and it’s here I must stay. It’s difficult, you understand?”

“Stay? Out of the question! I warn you, Captain, get this hulk out of these approaches, or I’ll be forced to confiscate it.”

“That might be a solution,” said Liam thoughtfully. “I’ve insurances covering such a contingency, and the old bucket’s useless to me stuck here. But that won’t get rid of it. I suppose you wouldn’t consider towing us to the nearest free-port?”

The officer glanced at one of his companions, who shrugged. “Sangria on Maroc is the nearest—ninety light-years.”

“Space!” The officer turned back to Liam, wrinkling his nose at the fume from the captain’s pipe. “Do you realize how long that would take at towing rate?”

“About seven years, I should think,” said Liam philosophically, beginning to close down his control panels with an air of finality. “I said it was difficult. Seems best if we just sit here until the insurrection’s over.”

“Wait!” The officer was consulting with his colleagues. “You do have enough fuel at least to reach Sette?”

“Only because the good Lord made it downhill all the way.”

“Then you’ve twenty-four hours to make planet-fall and be offworld again. If you’re still around after that deadline we’ll save the shipbreakers the job of having to delouse this crawling meat-can before dismantling. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“I shall remember you to the end of my days,” said Liam Liam sincerely. “Shall we drink to that?”

The officer looked at the cut-down bottles, caked with grime, that Liam proffered as glasses for the toast, and ordered his party to make a quick return to the pinnace. He was shaking his head sadly as he made his final exit.

Watching the pinnace blast away, Liam spat expressively into a fire point.

“Indeed I’ll remember you, you Terran bastard! Sette was a very pleasant world: now it’s a battlefield; six tenths of the arable land defoliated and poisoned, nearly half its former population murdered. But remembrance isn’t forgiveness, you understand?”

He was speaking reflectively but his pilot-navigator, Euken Tor, who had followed the whole of the preceding conversation over the intercom, and who had now come for further orders, nodded in grim affirmation.

“How do we play it, Skipper?”

“Carry on like we were limping, Euk. Make planetfall at Wanderplas. Then make sure everything’s tuned for a fast departure. I doubt if it’s going to be as easy to get out as it was to get in.”

“How do you compute that?”

“The obvious thing to do with an unwanted tramp is to leave it parked in orbit. For some reason, that was not acceptable. It suggests the Terrans have a special operation going, and they don’t want observers. That ties in with our own information. It’s this special operation I came to see, and if it’s what I think it is, they’ll not want me alive to tell the tale. So when we leave, it is like a bat out of hell, you understand?”

Euken nodded. “Do you want any support on the ground?”

“I think not. Jon Rakel should have the arrangements already complete. Your job is to get me out through the ship-chain once I’ve got what I came for, you understand?”

“Understood and noted, Skip.” Euken wandered off in the direction of the flight bridge, his casual mien belying the fact that his every action had a precalculated purpose. One of the best space navigators in all the Hub fleets, he had fully adapted his talents to the apparently minor role of piloting the little Z-ship. Like Liam Liam, he had personal reasons for dedicating h. . .