The Parafaith War by Modesitt L. E

Author:Modesitt, L. E.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2018-07-03T16:00:00+00:00

4

Two days passed, and no more revs attacked East Red Three. That didn’t lessen the problems, Trystin reflected, including the ones that hadn’t arrived, like the fuzzy EDI tracks beyond the Belt that probably meant another troid attack. Or the general alert for more paraglider descents. Was that based on Trystin’s interrogations? Or on something more?

Trystin wished he knew, but junior first lieutenants didn’t rate need-to-know on the basis of alerts. At least, the quieter days had left him with enough energy to use the workout room.

He scanned the four screens with greater attention, then concentrated on the satellite plot. Nothing—nothing, as was usually the case. He checked the power screen. The organonutrient supply was down to twenty percent, but the fans were carrying nearly sixty percent of the ambient load.

He coughed, once, then again, finally taking a deep breath, which just triggered more coughs. Despite Ryla’s efforts, the atmospheric leakage was worse than before the repairs, according to the on-line telltales. There was definitely more than the normal faint acridness of ammonia.

Had the repairs even been done? He went on-line and scanned the entries. No repairs. No deliveries of replacements or spares.

“Ryla?”

“Yes, ser?”

“The syslog shows maintenance hasn’t fixed our leaks yet. I’m still smelling outside glunk.”

“It’s worse down here, ser.”

Trystin supposed it was. Ryla was closer to the bent frames.

“I’ll buy that. What’s with maintenance?”

“East Red Six. Most of the lower section wiped out. Then, the big attack on the western line.”

“A lot of damage there?”

“Noncom scuttle is that the revs got three stations.”

That would certainly explain it.

“Thanks. See what I can run down.”

“I’d appreciate it, ser.”

Trystin went into the deep-net, only to find a block across the maintenance levels. He grinned. More than one way to find out. The sector feed lines weren’t blocked, and he just sent pulses through the DistribNet.

Of the twenty west-perimeter stations, five came up null. He nodded, but before he could link to Ryla’s console, a mental cling! alerted him to a direct-feed from HQ.

“Desoll, East Red Three.”

“Lieutenant, Major Sperto, HQ Ops. We have enough trouble on the west perimeter at the moment without having to worry about line-pulse tracers from the curious. Since you were the first hit with the new revvie weapon, it’s understandable. Once we sort it out, you’ll know. Now keep off the net unless it’s official. And keep your speculations to yourself.”

“Yes, ser.”

“We’ll post it when it’s time.”

“Yes, ser.”

Trystin swallowed, then linked to Ryla’s console.

“Yes, ser.”

“They were hit hard, but HQ zapped me for prying. I’ll let you know when the details come in. Could be as many as five stations, but that could also be system overload. Keep it to yourself until it’s official.”

“Five … bastards! … Thanks, ser.”

“I didn’t tell you. Understand?”

“Yes, ser.”

“I’ll let you know when I’ve got something official. Do we have anything that we could use to caulk around that bent mainframe?”

“I’ve been trying, ser, but …”

“I know.” The trace gases in the Maran atmosphere, some the said-to-be-temporary results from the reatmosphering efforts, had a tendency to be corrosive.

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