Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [218]
Her consultants and designers had suggested a shining monument, a beacon for the valiant EDF soldiers who had fallen in the worst battle (so far) of the hydrogue war. Her favorite proposal consisted of installing segmented reflective mirrors all along the rings so that they sparkled like a halo girdling the gas giant. Once her initial expedition returned to Earth, Maureen would gather support for a breathtaking, and expensive, monument.
Now, as her group approached the site of the space battlefield, Maureen summoned the families to the Manta’s bridge so they could get the best view of the ringed planet where their loved ones had been killed. Conrad and Natalie Brindle stood closest to her like wooden effigies in active-duty EDF uniforms. The other families watched with tears already in their eyes.
When they got a full view of the planetary battleground, though, Maureen was stunned to see the place crawling with Roamers.
“They’re everywhere, Madam Chairman,” said the Manta captain. “Ship after ship, full facilities. I’m detecting smelters and construction yards.”
“A rats’ nest!” Maureen said. “Give me a better view.”
The captain barked orders to his sensor crew. Imagers zoomed in to display magnified scans of artificial structures, ships flitting around in a frenzy. The scale was incredible, a flourishing hub of the outlaw clans.
Conrad Brindle’s deep voice trembled with outrage. “Like carrion crows over the battlefield. They must have come here to gather all our wrecked ships.”
His wife grasped his arm in a viselike grip. “It’s despicable. Did they pick the pockets of any dead bodies they found, too?” A wave of anger and disgust rippled through the gathered families that had come to pay their last respects.
Always observant, Maureen noted the bright pinpricks of obvious explosions. “That isn’t everyday activity. Something else is going on down there. Some sort of battle?”
“Who can tell with Roachers, Madam Chairman?” the captain said.
Her hard voice was well practiced in giving orders. “Give me comm control. Find out what bands they’re transmitting on and let me speak to somebody.” She waited, fuming, and then announced herself, demanding to know what was going on.
A man’s gruff voice responded, “This is Del Kellum, in charge of the shipyards here. We’re in a bit of a crisis right now, ma’am.” He muttered a curse, then issued a quick string of orders to someone else on the channel before he turned back to Maureen. “To answer your question before you ask it, ma’am—yes, we have a handful of EDF survivors that we rescued from the wreckage here. You can either help us clean up this mess, or you can go away and leave us to handle it. But whatever you do, don’t bother me right now!”
“Who the hell does he think he’s talking to?” Conrad Brindle said.
“Survivors?” one of the other parents cried. “They have EDF survivors! Find out their names.”
“All in good time.” Maureen turned to the central bridge station. Though the Manta’s captain was the superior officer aboard the ship, he would not dream of disputing her orders. “Captain, this cruiser has sufficient weapons to complete a simple policing action, doesn’t it?”
He gestured dismissively. “Against a bunch of dirty Roachers? Of course, Madam Chairman.”
Sensor stations continued to map the shipyard structures in the ring along with the obstacle course of debris. Maureen stared as they drew closer. “They’re hiding a full-blown city here. How could they have erected such a thing in the short time since the battle?”
“They saw a weakness and they pounced,” said Natalie Brindle.
“Vultures!” her husband said. “They’re not going to get away with it.”
Maureen went to stand behind the Manta’s captain, narrowing her eyes as she calculated. “We’ll rescue the EDF prisoners. The Roamer clans have been declared