Chapter VIII (Only just begun; it will be much longer with much more significance to the plot)

VIII

 

We were five hundred kilometers above the frozen south pole of a very sparsely inhabited planet.  It was one of the not-so-uncommon planets for which a poorly funded attempt at terraforming had had modest results and was not very densely populated.  The planet was controlled, or rather owned, by the same government that controlled Piaculus, though they did not have a strong presence and most cities and towns had their own governments.

Claudio was playing the Bach organ fugue he had edited and talking to Michelson at the same time.  “John,” he explained, “we’re about a thousand kilometers from another satellite.  There, the present owners of this planet are going to sell it to the Execronians.  As you probably know, I’ve become more and more annoyed with the Execronian leaders.  They are even more cowardly than I thought.  They’d rather be sure to keep the money they’ve got than earn more by encouraging the plunder of UGC possessions.  Of course, that doesn’t mean killing them is a good idea; but it is.  The people second in command, who are heirs to the power but not the money, will assume control of the federation.  Eager to make their fortune, they will encourage more attacks, and they will tax the proceeds in exchange for shelter on their planets.  I want you to seize this opportunity to effect such a change in command.  Not all of the leader will be present, but enough of them are.  Of course, you have access to all the information you’ll need via your computer.  And, as always, you must remain completely undetected.  This act is to be anonymous.  Now, you’ve got forty minutes.  This is a quick, short range mission, so keep in contact.”

“We don’t want the owners of Piaculus to know that we’ve abrogated our arrangement, I presume,” commented John.

“No,” Ortiz affirmed.

John nodded and was off.  A few minutes passed.  Ortiz finished the short fugue, stood up, and walked toward the large window in our command ship.  “Do it,” he ordered the computer.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Michelson’s engines have just given out.  He’s plummeting toward the planet.  It will be a few minutes until impact, and he might even survive, but the temperature won’t require much time to kill him.”

“What?!”

“Well, it’s entirely necessary.  If I weren’t to do this, he’d probably go and join up with those Execronians, and have them kill us.  Then he’d kill them, wash his hands of this whole affair, and be off.”

“How could you possibly know this?  He’s been a loyal agent!”

“I know this the same way I know that the Execronians wish to buy the planet we are above.  I am intelligent, and I am most certainly not blind.”  It was true.  His sedulous observation of all things, from the personal to galactic scale, when scrutinized by his analytical mind, yielded hidden truths about the world around him.

“You can’t be sure!”

“The risk is not worth running.”

“You must save him!”

“No,” was the acerbic response.

I simply could not understand this.

“Why didn’t you simply execute him, then?  Why drop onto a frozen planet when you could just put a particle beam through his head?  You’re prevaricating, as usual, and I wish you wouldn’t; especially not with this matter.”

“I am doing this because he’s being followed, and because I would really hate for his trail to end at my doorstep.”

I think I had come to have some sympathy for Michelson’s plight.  His services, which had forced John into serious personal sacrifice, had been effectively cadged out of him.  Ortiz was probably right about him, but I pitied him nonetheless.  This fate he had now realized, or was currently in the process of realizing, had probably been ineluctable, and made so the moment he’d decided to align himself with Ortiz.  This mission on which Claudio had embarked was even more pernicious and perfidious than I had realized.

I pleaded with Claudio a bit more, but he remained obdurate.

“So now, are we going to abscond?  You did say John was being followed.  What do you know about this?”

“Not yet.  The mission I sent him on was a real mission.”  He called another man, whom I had seen but did not know, into the room, and sent him off to do what John had been told to do.  I was shocked, but I shouldn’t have been.  It was like Claudio to be so efficient.  He could assassinate some galactic leaders and dispose of a suspected traitor without implicating himself in either, and at the same time.

This was not the end of the story of John Michelson.  He plummeted thousands of feet, but was able to, by shifting his weight from side to side, turn the light flightcraft into a more suitable position.  Flightcraft were not designed to produce lift with airfoil or anything anymore since they could propel themselves upward with their thrusters, and needed to in space, so gliding was impossible, but he was able nonetheless to slow the decent a bit and turn some of the craft’s downward momentum into forward momentum, lessening the severity of the fall.

Because of his position in the flightcraft and his preoccupation with more important matters, Michelson had been unable to look down at where he was landing.  Had he been able to, he would not have seen such a spot, but instead a large bank of storm clouds.  Finally, when he could see, he looked to assure himself that he would be landing in water.  When he saw that this was the case, he set his energy shield to “no permeability”.  Such shields could be set to “no permeability,” “semi-permeability, “full projectile permeability,” and “off”.  The semi-permeability setting allowed low-momentum projectiles through but stopping high momentum projectiles and all particle beams and other such weapons and was default.  The problem with the “no permeability” setting was that it did not even allow air through the shield.  The default setting would protect him from the initial impact, but once he had slowed down some, it would allow water in.  In conjunction with the thermal insulation feature of the shield, the system would allow this freezing water in while trying to heat it up to room temperature, draining its energy with no real benefit.

            At the last second, two hundred feet above the south ocean, for it was, by luck, over the ocean that he was falling, he bailed out.  The landing, even on the water, surely would have killed him were it not for his energy shield.   The shield was almost frictionless, and he positioned himself in a sort of diving position in midair.  Thus, with the least resistance possible, he slipped into the turbulent waters and plummeted downward.  All this was necessary to decelerate in the slowest manner possible.  Giving up too much momentum at once would cause intense and very probably lethal g-forces.  As he fell, he turned his body more and more perpendicularly to the bottom, leveling out, increasing drag and deceleration, and maintaining the eyes-in position, for which the body has the most resistance.  He came to a stop about a hundred meters below the surface and had a lung-searing swim upwards.  When he reached the surface, he found it even more turbulent than it had previously appeared.  Hail caused large splashes in the waves all around him.  He set his energy shield to semi-permeable only for a moment to draw in a much-needed gasp before again sealing the water out.  He was now soaking wet, but by sealing in the water that had come in, he could use it as an insulator.  The shield’s thermal feature had warmed it up.

            John began swimming.  He had seen some land on the way down to the East.  He would dive down under the water, swim for a while, resurface, allow in some air along with some cold water, and continue.  The process was draining, but at least somewhat sustainable.

            As it was, the impact depleted a significant fraction of the shield’s stored energy, and the warming process more.  Carrying larger amounts of energy gave off, by necessity, larger amounts of electromagnetic radiation.  This radiation was not dangerous, but it was detectable, and thus detrimental to stealth, so as a habit, he did not do this.  It may have been permissible on this mission, but John had not given the matter thought, expecting things to be over quickly, making a large reserve unnecessary.

            In a case of what amounted to little less than deus ex machina, Michelson landed only about a mile from shore.