Section 31_ Rogue - Andy Mangels [9]
“Status!” Roget shouted, trying to compete with the rumbling of the hull.
“Shields and weapons are off-line,” Zweller said. “I can’t keep anything working with all this atmospheric ionization.”
A static-swept male voice, deep and harsh, emanated from the comm system. “Federation shuttle: You will follow our lead vessel’s navigation beam into Nightside. Consider yourselves our prisoners.”
Roget spat a nearly inaudible curse before replying. “We are here on a diplomatic mission at the invitation of First Protector Ruardh, the head of this world’s duly elected government. On whose authority have you attacked us?”
“Had we attacked you, you would be dead,” came the reply. “You are in the custody of the Army of Light. If you attempt to resist or flee, we will not hesitate to destroy your vessel.”
Roget made a slashing gesture, and Zweller responded by temporarily interrupting the audio.
“Make best speed for the capital, Mr. Zweller,” Roget said. “There are bound to be official patrols there who can drive these characters off.”
Zweller shook his head emphatically. “They’re right on top of us, sir. We’ll never make it.”
The shuttle lurched again and the hull braces groaned. Zweller watched the structural integrity telltale dip into the red. A near-miss, Zweller thought; a direct hit probably would have breached the hull and blown everyone out of the shuttle. The lights flickered as the battery-powered backup life-support system kicked in.
Roget’s frown could have curdled milk. “You don’t seem to be trying very goddamned hard, mister.”
Raising an eyebrow, Zweller ignored the comment. “I don’t think our welcoming committee enjoys being kept waiting, sir.”
After pausing to glare at Zweller, Roget tapped a command into the console, relinquishing control of the shuttle’s navigational computer to their captors. He turned toward the somber group in the seats behind him.
“Looks like we’re taking an unscheduled detour, folks.”
“Never a cop around when you need one,” Gomp muttered. Nobody laughed.
The Archimedes abruptly banked and descended even farther. The shuttle barely cleared the hills beyond the sprawling city’s nightward side as she continued into utter blackness, flanked by her “escorts.”
Chiaros IV had no natural satellites and possessed a thick cloud canopy, conditions that made Nightside quite dark, except when the clouds were riven by lightning and auroral fireworks. The Archimedes’ trajectory, however, stayed mostly within the swirls of the clouds blown in from Dayside, cover that made the auroras-and therefore the ground-difficult to see from the shuttle’s windows. The few flashes of light that did enter the cabin merely served to prevent the crew’s eyes from adjusting to the darkness. To the hapless occupants of the Archimedes, Nightside appeared more tenebrous than the inside of any tomb.
After crossing the terminator into night, the Archimedes flew for more than an hour, changing directions sharply several times, banking and spiraling. Whether because of atmospheric effects or damage sustained in the attack, the onboard instruments couldn’t determine the shuttle’s location or even its altitude. Sitting behind his useless control panel, Zweller realized that he might as well have been blindfolded.
Roget and the department heads somberly discussed their options, including whether or not they ought to open the weapons locker and put up some real resistance after landing. Though Gomp was the loudest proponent of the “stand-and-fight” notion, Zweller suspected that it was all rhetoric; he’d never met a Tellarite who didn’t prefer a loud, abusive argument to actual combat. After everyone had spoken his piece, Roget announced that they were to forget about fighting their way out of this situation; after all, they had come to conduct diplomacy, not warfare.
They received a hail, and the crew cabin fell silent. “Prepare to land,” said the harsh voice of their captor over the background of static.
A pattern of lights appeared on the ground, perhaps