“Shiva Weapons Labs has given us five highly qualified engineers to give that team the bona fides it needs to pass muster. Ordinarily, those engineers would bring their own team of support technicians, but we’ll be providing those, instead, from our own people. That team will play hob with Sonny’s innards, following the specs Captain Brisbane and I have provided. The cover story we’ve provided will, at least, allow you to have the Bolo’s schematics in your possession. Still, I’ll expect each of you to memorize the key systems to sabotage, since I won’t risk your lives or our cause with information proving that we intend to cripple their Bolo.
“The second team, consisting of our students and combat veterans, will deliver critical equipment, munitions, and supplies to rebel outposts. Those posts are running low on everything from ammunition to bandages and field rations. God knows, some of these people have been living on little more than shoe leather and beans for months, and no one can fight indefinitely on an empty stomach, no matter how bitter the anger or how righteous the cause. Now, before we get into details—”
He paused, lifting his glance to something behind them. Yalena turned in her seat and found the freighter’s communications officer standing in the doorway.
“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but there’s an urgent message for you. It came in via SWIFT, just now.”
He was holding a printout. Whatever that message said, the commo officer hadn’t been willing to pipe an audio or video playback for the whole assembled strike force to hear. That was ominous. The room was too crowded for the commo officer to take the message to Yalena’s father, so it was passed forward, row by row. No one glanced at the printout, despite looks of burning curiosity. The discipline that took was impressive. When her father read the message, he turned white. Yalena’s heart thumped in a painful, ragged rhythm. She waited, terrified that he would tell them what was in the message and terrified that he wouldn’t and nearly ill with the stress of wondering if her mother had been killed.
Without warning — and without a single sound — he simply headed for the door, climbing over people to reach it. Students scrunched together, making way for him. He left with the communications officer, moving rapidly down the corridor that led from the mess to the communications station on the bridge. Yalena exchanged worried glances with Melissa Hardy and both of her mother’s cousins. Somebody cursed out loud, which broke the silence. Speculation ran wild until Estevao shouted for order.
“There’s no point in guesswork. Whatever’s happened, Colonel Khrustinov will brief us soon enough. Our time’s better spent going over the portions of our mission that aren’t likely to change. The damage to the Bolo has worked to our advantage in a number of ways, not least of which is how we’re getting down from orbit.
“Under ordinary conditions, we’d be docking at Ziva Two space station and we’d have to undergo spot checks by customs agents. But the bomb that damaged the Bolo also flipped it onto its side. They’ve tried to pull him over onto his treads again, with no luck. They don’t have anything strong enough to move him. They need a heavy lift sled, like the ones the Brigade uses for combat drops and recalls.
“Fortunately for us, Captain Brisbane, Vishnu’s Bolo commander, has one, since she’s responsible for defending both Vishnu and Mali and needs to move between the planets. She also has wide discretionary power to make decisions in the Ngara system’s best interests. Right now, those interests include deposing POPPA. It’s a little convoluted, but Vishnu’s Ministry of Defense asked our friends from Shiva Weapons Labs,” Estevao nodded toward the engineers on loan, “to recommend using a heavy lift sled to turn Sonny over. Toward that end, Captain Brisbane has loaned us her sled.”
A stir ran through the room. The students weren’t the only ones surprised by that news. Even the veterans looked startled, which gave Yalena a clue as to how unusual Captain Brisbane’s decision was. She was taking a gamble, counting on the quiet war front in this sector to risk allowing that sled to leave the Ngara system. Captain Brisbane obviously took their mission very seriously, indeed.
Estevao waited for the flicker of reaction to die down, then went on. “Thanks to that loan, we’ll be able to bypass Ziva Two — and the inspectors — entirely. Colonel Khrustinov intends to drop every bit of our equipment and supplies with the sled, in one trip.”
Melissa, seated beside Yalena, lifted a hand to gain Estevao’s attention.
“Yes?”
“Isn’t that going to make it harder to disperse our people and supplies? If we put everything on the load going to the Bolo’s depot, how will we smuggle anybody out to the base camps?”
“We’ll orbit the sled a couple of times to make sure it’s functioning properly and make our initial descent over the opposite hemisphere. According to Colonel Khrustinov, the satellite coverage for the hemisphere opposite Madison is virtually nonexistent, since most of it’s ocean. When they replaced the satellites after the Deng war, they put most of them in geosynchronous orbit above Jefferson’s major cities. That made sense, at the time. They put a few communications satellites into standard orbits, mostly to keep emergency channels open for the fishing fleet. We’ll time it to avoid as many as possible, maybe even all of them. If necessary, we’ll jam them for a few minutes, just long enough to drop a few air buses and let them disperse to various camps. They’ll fly under the radar net, while we draw most of POPPA’s attention, aboard the main sled—”
He halted. Yalena turned around and found her father standing in the doorway. Her heart skidded painfully toward her toes. He met Yalena’s gaze, then swept his glance across the others who waited in such anxious silence. Moving slowly, stepping with caution between the people sitting on the floor, he returned to the front of the room, thanking Estevao in a quiet voice for taking charge in his absence.
Then he faced them with the news. “An urban resistence group has exploded a bomb in the most exclusive POPPA residential enclave in Madison. Nassiona Santorini has been killed. So has Isanah Renke. Along with half of Jefferson’s military high command and several critical members of the Senate, House of Law, and High Court.”
Utter silence held the briefing room. No one shouted for joy, because they all knew what POPPA’s reaction would be. Her father confirmed their dire suspicions with brutal candor. “Vittori has ordered the execution of every prisoner in every POPPA work camp and prison. Three-quarters of a million people…”
Yalena shut her eyes, as much to hide from the ghastly look on her father’s face as to shut out the pictures filling her imagination: P-Squads firing on helpless people. Her father added, “Commodore Oroton has launched a rescue attempt. I think we all know exactly what that means.”
Yalena opened her eyes again, took in the dismay on the faces of the combat veterans, saw, as well, the dawning of sudden, brutal understanding in the eyes of students she’d helped organize into a fighting force. That same understanding ignited like cold fire in her own heart. To mount a rescue attempt, Commodore Oroton had to come out of hiding. Fear jolted like icicles along her nerves, robbing her of the air she needed to breathe. There might not be a rebellion left, by the time their freighter reached Jefferson.