Звезда Пандоры

As the Prime ships reached the stratosphere, aerobots started shooting. Everyone sharing Wilson’s tactical display watched intently as the energy weapons locked on and sliced upward. They had little effect. Wilson heard a couple of dismayed curses. The force fields protecting the descending ships were too powerful to penetrate with the medium-caliber weaponry carried by the aerobots. Then the Primes began targeting the small aggressors below them.

“Get them out of there,” Wilson said. “Regroup them around the protected cities. We’ll need them later.”

“I’ll see to it,” Rafael said.

“Did we hit any of them?” Nigel asked.

“No, sir,” Anna said. “Not one; their force fields are too strong.”

“Atmospheric entry on Belembe, Martaban, Sligo, Balkash, Samar, Molina, and Kozani. They’re coming through the wormholes at the rate of one per forty seconds. Trajectories variable, they’re not concentrating on the capital cities. They seem to be heading for coastlines.”

“Coastlines?”

“Getting visual imagery.”

Various image feeds appeared in the huge tactical display, each one showing pictures of brilliant streamers cutting across skies of varying colors.

“They’re big bastards,” Rafael commented. “Thousands of tons each.”

“Those are fusion plumes,” Tunde Sutton said. “Temperature profile and spectral signature indicate a deuterium reaction.”

“Confirm, they’re heading for water landings,” Anna said.

“Makes sense,” Nigel said. “Even with force fields I wouldn’t like to land one of those on solid ground.”

“That gives us a breathing space,” Wilson said. “They’re going to have to come ashore. And it will be in smaller vehicles. We might be able to get some reinforcements to the capitals and the larger towns.”

“Last aerobots squadrons are being withdrawn from range,” Anna said.

“Our reinforcement is taking too much time,” Rafael said. “Anybody who has any kind of military capability is reluctant to let go of it.”

“Get your office working on that,” Wilson told the President. “We have to show people we can put up a coherent resistance.”

“I’ll talk to Patricia.”

“You’ll need to lean on heads of state personally,” Nigel said.

“Very well.” If Doi resented the bullying she didn’t show it.

“How about the evacuation?” Wilson asked.

“We’re already running trains from Anshun, Martaban, Sligo, Nattavaara, and Kozani,” Nigel said. “I’m shunting them through Wessex directly to Earth. After that they’ll get allocated a final destination, all I’m concerned about is getting them clear of their origin. We’re about ready to try shutting the Trusbal gateway on Wessex and reopening it in Bitran on Sligo; there’s a lot of flower festival tourists trapped there.”

“Any Prime ships near there?” Wilson asked.

“Twelve on their way,” Anna said. “But Bitran is a hundred thirty kilometers from the coast. There should be time.”

For the next thirty minutes Wilson watched the shifting data in his display, showing him the flow of military equipment and personnel converging on Wessex. CST staff and the SI eventually managed to get the wormhole open and stable inside the Bitran force fields. Refugees stormed through on foot and in every vehicle the city had. They then became a problem for Wessex’s Narrabri station workforce, which had to direct them onto passenger trains to move them along. The sheer volume of people appearing so far away from any passenger terminus was completely outside any of the planetary station’s contingency plans. Eventually they cleared a set of rails, cordoning them off with caution holograms, and hustled everyone along the six kilometers to the nearest platform. Trains hurtled by on either side of them. Empty carriages going to the assaulted worlds; badly overcrowded carriages racing back. Cargo trains loaded with aerobots and armed troops from all over the Commonwealth, hurrying to reinforce the isolated cities.

As the CST managers and the SI managed to divert more gateway wormholes to the evacuation effort, so the marshaling yard turned into an ad hoc staging post. Cargo trains pulled up in sidings, and the aerobots they carried launched from there to fly through the wormholes above the heads of the refugees. Platoons of troops in bulky armor marched along, earning appreciative cheers and applause.

The first main effort was directed at Anshun’s capital, Treloar. Wilson wanted it kept intact with a functioning station so that aerobots could be channeled through and deployed around Anshun’s remaining shielded cities. Squadrons from thirty-five worlds were assigned to it, their arrival scheduled as fast as CST’s struggling rail network could deliver them.