Oberheim (Voices): A Chronicle of War, Christopher Leadem [recommended reading TXT] 📗

is being tampered with from outside. The problem is man-made."

Expressions of shock and disbelief. TIMID FOOLS, thought Dobrynin, THAT IS ALL FOR THE GOOD. THAT WE CAN DO SOMETHING ABOUT. But there were others who said nothing: the miners, the workers. They, too, only wanted to know what could be done.

He dimmed the lights and switched a graphic onto the wall-screen behind him: a binary system, the elliptical figure-eight of the planet's orbit encircling two nearly identical suns. He pointed to the lower right junction of the crossover point.

"Here is where she lies now. Every 304.62 earth years, she completes her orbit around the first sun, in this case Lauries, and passing the equilibrium point between the two, begins to circle the second in the opposite direction. There is a period of instability as she lies between the pull of both; but nothing like this. Then slowly the pull of the first sun grows less, she engages her second orbit, and geological activity becomes more stable. All quite simple. There are several examples of it just in the part of the galaxy we know."

"So how can a man change it?" came a voice.

"One man can't, obviously. But many men, with much planning and outside help, can and have."

He expanded the graphic, receding the orbit and two suns to a lower corner. Then tracing with the pointer a straight line away from the planet's trajectory, he projected near the center of the screen a miniature (but still too large for scale) image of the enemy station that Percy had photographed in ultraviolet and sent back to them. This he enlarged, until it filled all the screen.

Again expressions of dismay, and this time few kept silent. Its already ominous outline distorted by the ultraviolet, it looked like the huge, black and irregular hull of an ancient aircraft carrier, with something like an enormous radar dish mounted securely to the corrugated deck. As he rotated the image its high, central tower was pointed directly at them.

"This is the cause of our troubles." He resolved the image with the remote, turned it once more to show three similar but lesser tower structures spread across the bottom, an irregular tripod.

"The concept of a gravity or 'tractor' beam is nothing new. It has usually been used from ship to ship, or from static base to ship. Its principals to date have either been magnetic, the creation of artificial gravity, or kinetic, scrambling an object's own momentum to bring it down. What we have here is the first case, a gravity beam, though on a scale, and utilizing principles that are altogether new. The towers at the bottom of the structure are pointed at neighboring bodies, and serve only to hold the station in place. The central tower, the one doing all the damage, is pointed directly at Marcum-Lauries. That is why she won't engage her second orbit. That's why internal pressures are ready to blow her apart. She is being pulled by three sources at once, as well as by the thrust of her own rotation….. We have eighty-six hours at the most."

He re-lighted the room, and for a time there was silence. Then as the shock wore off, the questions began to come. He answered them with growing impatience.

"I don't know how it is possible, vice-minister, but it is….. The Soviets confirm our theories….. Where would they get the money and technology? Where do you think? No we cannot be sure. But if it isn't the German States then I don't know anything. No, the Commonwealth won't help us; why should they? The Soviets are powerless to intervene."

"But if the Commonwealth knew what the Cantons were doing—-"

"They would applaud it. They are in the midst of a right wing resurgence themselves. And the propaganda sent out against us has been most convincing."

"They say we kill our babies," came a grim voice near the front.

"We let the seriously handicapped and terminal disorder cases die of their own affliction. It is an act of mercy." A doctor.

"I know that as well as you," said Dobrynin. "But to them we kill our babies, just as we are atheists who believe in nothing, because we discourage religious extremes. That is all meaningless now. They will think what they will. We have no time to change their minds."

"We are overlooking the obvious," said a general, standing. "What about military action, an attack on the base? Our forces beat them back from Khrushchev well enough."

This time another answered, Ambassador Salnikov, who had just entered.

"You beat them back because you knew they were coming weeks in advance, and because they did not send their full strength against you. Indeed, it could only have been a diversion, meant to give you false confidence. Do not think you will find the station lightly guarded, General Kopek. THEY (there was something peculiar in the way he said the word) play this game to win."

"What does an ambassador know of war?" retorted Kopek angrily.

"Much more than I care to. Put away your guns and your anger, general.
 They will not help you here." The old man sat down with a snort.

There was a long, defeated silence. Finally one man, a co-worker and friend, raised his hand.

"Yes, Lebedev."

"What can we do to fight this thing?"

Dobrynin felt the small spark inside him that he knew to be hope.

"Well I am glad someone asked. We are not beaten yet. Stein, you are chief scientist here. What flaws do you see in the Canton scheme?"

The tall man rose, bowed his head self-consciously. "Well, governor. As we discussed before, I see two problems for the station. First, if the tripod is indeed used as an anchor—-and this seems likely—-and if the gravity beam is as strong as it must be to do this thing, then the pull on the station itself must be tremendous. Doubtless it is well constructed, of the hardest alloys and banding fields, for this purpose. . .and there may be other forms of cohesion as well. But even so, I would have to say it cannot maintain that kind of stress for long. We are given eighty-six hours—-though I must tell you that is only an estimate, it could happen much sooner. The Cantons must also know this. I do not think they have much longer."

"And the second?"

"The second flaw is what puzzles me, and I think that herein lies our hope. Any gravity beam, no matter how refined, can be at least partially disrupted by passing another object between the sending unit and the target. This particular beam, in order to travel such a distance and affect such a large, dense mass, is extraordinarily well honed. The solar flares of Marcum and Lauries have been only mildly affected. So. If we were able to pass a large mass, say an asteroid or small moon, between the planet and the station….. During the time of disruption, should it be successful, we would not only give the planet time to engage her second orbit, but also send a huge projectile plummeting directly at them. I'm sure they are prepared for this to some degree. But a very large, solid object would be quite difficult to destroy or turn aside. They would have no choice but to shut down completely, and very soon afterward at that. Unfortunately, as we discussed, there are no asteroids or other large objects, of sufficient size, close enough at hand to be moved into position in time. Still, something of this nature seems our only real chance."

"Thank you, Thomas."

"Then what can—-what will we do?" asked many voices at once.

Dobrynin stood calm, until the murmur died away.

"We will make our own asteroid."

Silence.

"May I remind you, Governor, that you do not have the authority to exercise such a plan without the consent of the Council?" This last remark came from Franz Pecci, a slight, high-ranking member of the Leadership Council whom he had never liked.

"And may I remind you, Mr. Pecci, that as governor-general of the planet I have final say on any decision which affects mining and excavation. My jurisdiction is quite clear. And if you have a better plan, I would very much like to hear it."

"We could negotiate. It seems clear that the Cantons don't want to destroy us, only exact for themselves some future profit. We have not even tried—-" Dobrynin was about to answer hotly, when Vladimir Salnikov lifted his hand and strode to the front of the room. He stood beside the speaker.

"Governor Dobrynin's plan has the backing of my government. I have spoken with them and they will stand behind it. And someday, Mr. Pecci, I would very much like to know how you can be so sure what it is the Cantons want." At this the man was silent.

"What say you, Vice-Minister? Has this plan your consent?"

The vice-minister rose. "Well. I am sure the Minister will want to know all the details, and I am sure he will question the risk. But for myself, you have my approval. And I think when the Minister is briefed in full, he will agree that we have little choice."

"Thank you, Peter," said Dobrynin. "I will see that he is given a full report, and that he is kept informed throughout." He turned back to the others. "Now, gentlemen, if you will excuse me. My engineers and I have much work to do. Doctor Stein, we could use your help as well."

With that Dobrynin left the room, followed by five others. Salnikov watched them go, then lowered his head, and returned to his ship.

The charges had been laid. Two hundred kilometers beneath the surface, six old-style nuclear explosives had been set in a flat, star-shaped pattern—-this, in the heart of a solidified iron and nickel flow one hundred and sixty kilometers across, rising directly from the planet's core. Ironically, the massive upheaval which caused it had occurred many thousand years before, during yet another violent passage of the planet's equilibrium point. If such a bullet could be launched at the station, it would indeed be hard to knock down, though the full effect on the planet itself could hardly be calculated. Between the force of the blast and the current instability, almost anything was possible. Dobrynin had no illusions about serious mining for at least a year—-that things could ever again be the way they were before. But it had to be tried.

It has gone well enough so far, he thought. Five dead and seventeen wounded, but still, well enough. This is the hard part now. I don't mind dying, if I have to. But I don't want to.

MAYBE YOU WON'T DIE, said a voice. Yes, and maybe I will. I hope that my son understands. I hope he sees that I have no choice. BUT YOU HAVE A CHOICE. Do I? If there is a choice then I don't see it. Not without surrendering all that we have worked for. No. I cannot go back.

His son entered the room, followed by Stein and Alexander Dimitriev, his chief engineer. At his gesture they were seated at the table across from him.

"Thomas, Alexander. Now we are come to the hard part: how to detonate safely and accurately. As you know, in this, timing is everything. Everything. If we miss by only a few seconds, we doom the planet to extinction."

"Is it true that you intend to remain behind?" said Dimitriev, "and detonate the bombs yourself, from no greater distance than a thousand kilometers?"

"Father!" YOU MUST UNDERSTAND, LEON.

"Before I say yes or no, let us look at the alternatives. That is why you are here. I must know that you stand behind me."

"We could blow them by radio control." His son.

"No. With the static storms this heavy and unpredictable,