Chapter Sixteen
Spin One
Captain Tyree Cutter moved slightly to the side as Murphy peered over his shoulder. “So this is the bigger version of the comms pattern you got operating near Imsurmik before you left?” The colonel studied the high-resolution photograph from the Dornaani micro-satellite.
“Yes sir,” Cutter answered, once again drawn in by the extraordinary precision of the image. It was a far, far cry from the grainy photos in the briefing packet with which he’d waded ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day +5.
He pointed to a lonely stone on an otherwise empty expanse of volcanic rock. “It’s a pretty simple code, actually. First we check to see if there’s a stone on this sheet of rock, or this one over here. There’s a third slab just out of frame. But between the three locations—A, B, and C—we get seven different code signifiers. Three are when the locals simply put out single rocks, three more codes signified by pairs—AB, AC, BC—and one last code that is all three rocks.”
“Could you get more codes by adding more variables? Shape or color of the rocks, perhaps?”
Cutter shook his head. “No, because too many things could cause a false or uncertain signal. Sun could bleach a rock, rain could darken it. You just don’t know.”
“Still, I’m sure you’ve got more than seven signals?” Murphy asked with a smile.
“Sure do, sir. These first seven just indicate which code to use when reading the real signals that are in these six ravines on a nearby tableland.” Cutter pointed to a different image: a half dozen dark gashes cut through a barren plateau as if it had been raked by the claws of an immense monster.
Murphy nodded. “So, there are stones positioned in there as well?”
“Yes, sir. Each one’s meaning changes based on which of the seven ‘code sets’ is showing back here.” He nodded toward the first photo. “Gives us hundreds of different messages to choose from.”
Murphy leaned back, crossed his arms. “What about using time as a further variable? You’d probably have thousands of discrete signals, that way.”
“You would, sir. But notice how long the shadows are in the ravines. It’s not as bad a problem back at the three code indicators, but even there, irregularities in the surface make early or late-day imaging uncertain.”
Murphy nodded. “And these ravines don’t get much sun at all, from the look of it.”
“Exactly, sir, which means that, even for the Dornaani satellites, being able to tell if there’s a smaller stone on top of a bigger stone, or in the middle of a very uneven shelf, can get pretty tricky.”
Murphy studied the various close-ups of the ravines. “I imagine you can only send short messages, though.”
“Well, sir, it’s based on the traditional ways that the people of our ground commander, Tanavuna, would leave messages for each other when they’re out ranging across the Ashbands. The signals aren’t individual letters, spelling out words like Morse code, sir. Instead, the locals use ideograms indicating the status of the person or group that left it behind—mini-sitreps, if you like.”
“So these signals are limited to what is happening in Tanavuna’s area of operations?”
“No, sir. The patterns in the ravine include location and time indicators. So if Tanavuna gets a report from elsewhere, he can signify where it came from, when, and what the friendlies in that location reported.” Cutter leaned back. “With this, we can keep tabs on almost the entirety of the Hamain. A lot more, once they start swapping intel through the crystal sets we left behind. We’ll be able to get almost daily reports on where the enemy is located, in what numbers, and what they seem to be doing.”
Murphy nodded. “Excellent. And can we send messages to Tanavuna?”
“That’s a lot harder sir. But we do have a squelch-break system in place. Pretty much the same thing you used to communicate with Jackson and Chalmers on R’Bak island, before they grabbed the Kulsian lighter.”
“So Tanavuna has a special crystal set that he monitors for our messaging on a given frequency?”
Cutter nodded. “The frequency is a mathematical derivative of the local calendar date and our Earth—er, Terran calendar date. So it not only changes every day, but it never repeats.”
“So assuming that network of crystal sets is operating, how broad a reporting area does this give us?”
“It covers the entirety of the Ashbands and some of the Hamain. We have some agents on one or two of the other islands, of course, such as those you left behind with the emergency shuttle. We have also have quite a few well-trained agents in the Greens. What else were you thinking of, sir?”
“I’d like to see if we can expand your reporting pattern.”
“How so?”
“I want Tanavuna to take a team and scout out other ravines that might be useful for signaling.”
Cutter leaned forward so his elbow was on the table, chin in his hand. “Where would you like him to start?”
Murphy scanned the nearby map, focusing on the wastes that bordered the high desert: the Hamain. He pointed to a red pin at the edge of it: a battlefield marker. “Here.”
Cutter managed not to show any surprise. “Why there, sir?”
“We already have contacts on the ground, there. It’s a community where Vat intercepted a satrap-operated balloon in the weeks before we took out the raiders’ homemade inter-system transmitter. In the course of assisting the village—Ikaan-tel, I believe—the locals grew to trust us. Vat was there when their matriarch died and helped them through that transition. He also trained them on some of our weapons and left enough behind for a small militia.
“After he left, we ran a few helo flights in there to drop off some of the simple devices we had autofabbed to help the locals get through the Searing without having to migrate or move to the satrap-controlled regions. We included one of those crystal sets, too, in case the surveyors came calling.
“So there’s a reasonable amount of goodwill there. Possibly enough to convince some of them to work as scouts or just simply report if they spot surveyors or other hostile forces. Which is why it would also be useful to learn more about that region and the high desert just beyond. If we ever have to conduct operations there, it would be helpful to know our way around.”
“Will do, sir,” Cutter agreed with a nod, although why anyone, surveyors included, would go to such a desolate spot was hard to fathom. “So in addition to finding some good signaling spots farther out in the Hamain, what should we be asking them to show us?”
“Water sources.”
“Well, sir, we can already see those.” He pointed at the map and shrugged. “Not that there are a lot left. They’re just dry wadis, now.”
Murphy shook his head. “I’m not talking about the water sources we can detect on our own.” He swept a hand at all the images. “We’ve been using the micro-sats to track whinnies.”
Cutter frowned. “Not sure I see the connection, sir.”
“We’re watching to see where they get water. Bo Moorefield and others who’ve spent a lot of time around whinnies have noticed they often avoid drinking at rivers or other open-water sources. Sometimes they prefer isolated springs, or, using their climbing ability, go to higher sources. So if we can identify the places they expect to find water during the Searing, that could be crucial information for our own forces and allies over the next several years.”
“Yes, sir.” Cutter scratched the stubble on his cheek. “And you want Tanavuna to lead this?”
“I do, Captain.”
“May I ask a question, sir?”
“Of course.”
“Why Tanavuna? We have indigs who are from communities much closer to this . . . eh, Ikaan-tel. Already known to the folks there, possibly. Certainly speaking the same dialect.”
“Yes, and with that may come entanglements we want to avoid—such as if we have to stage out of Ikaan-tel. It could start rivalries as each family or group tries to put forward their own friends, maybe relatives, to help us. Instead, I want someone who speaks their language and shares a lot of their traditions and experiences, but is not part of the village’s matrix of relationships. Someone who’s more disposed to report candidly and act objectively. Clear?”
“Absolutely, sir. I’ll send Tanavuna the message as soon as we’ve got a gap in the surveyors’ satellite pattern. Which may be a little while.”
“Excellent. But there’s one additional thing, Captain. The codes and the whinnie-tracking: that stays between you and me.”
“Why, sir?”
Murphy shrugged. “Anybody who knows where the whinnies’ water is would know where to look for us or our operatives, should we need to use this information. So I don’t want to take any chances that it could fall into enemy hands. Same thing with the codes. That’s why, when you go planetside, you’re going to carry this information to Tanavuna personally.”
Cutter straightened abruptly. “I’m going planetside, sir?”
Murphy smiled. “I’ve watched you moping around since we left R’Bak.” He paused. “You miss them—your men—don’t you?”
“That’s why I asked to be left behind, sir. But . . . I thought the surveyors would see us if we approached R’Bak, much less landed on it. What’s changed?”
Murphy shrugged. “Firstly, we just recently confirmed that one of the surveyors’ satellites has ‘failed.’”
“Failed?”
Murphy smiled. “Well, it seems there was a flurry of space gravel that just happened to intersect its orbit, which we just happened to have calculated and tracked thanks to one of the Dornaani microsats. Makes a pretty show for everyone on the ground, too: lots of shooting stars. And the Kulsians can make all the wishes they want . . . for all the good it will do them.”
“You started your explanation with the word ‘firstly,’ sir. Is there another new wrinkle in the situation?”
“Yes. One of the reasons we could get away with the space gravel is because a lot of it is naturally inbound right now. We’ve only recently learned how much the Searing increases the amount of space debris that comes in-system. More of the junk beyond both stars’ outer planets gets displaced by the gravitic tug-of-war between the two stars.”
Cutter smiled. “So the weather report calls for increasing meteor showers, eh?”
“It does, Captain. Which is how we’re going to get you dirtside.”
Tyree looked down his long torso. “I’m a little bigger than space gravel, Colonel.”
“As are plenty of meteorites, Captain. And you’ll be riding one of those.”
“Uh . . . what? Sir?”
Murphy chuckled. “Actually, the small ship carrying you will be hiding behind a large rock we pushed in that direction. When it starts heating up, any Kulsian sensors that focus in too tightly will experience the equivalent of whiteout: too much heat and too many fragments to see clearly. That’s when you’ll be deployed in a landing pod that resembles a lifting body. A lot safer than the drop pods that Harry Tapper and others have used.”
“And it’s been tested, right?”
“Yes, and if we didn’t have full confidence in it, we wouldn’t use it.”
Cutter nodded but couldn’t push down the anxiety that kept rising up. To date, nothing cobbled together for the Lost Soldiers had been without some flaws: flaws that had been overcome because of the expert humans using them. “Uh, sir . . . you know I was with the Thirtieth Division in Europe? Not a paratrooper?”
Murphy smiled. “I’m quite aware of that, Captain. I won’t promise you a smooth ride, but I will promise you a safe one, particularly since the surveyors have almost all their satellites working on dirtside observation.”
Cutter tried to appear reassured and was pretty sure he failed miserably. But it wasn’t just how he was returning to R’Bak that was troubling him: it was why. “Sir, I know you wouldn’t go to all this trouble just for me to be a code-courier. What’s my real mission?”
Murphy nodded. “We’ll talk about that a bit later. In a fully secure environment. Right now, I need you to brief Makarov on the codes and give him a copy. Also, you and he should come up with special signals for your status, in the event of emergencies.”
Cutter wasn’t sure what sort of emergencies Murphy had in mind and was even less sure he wanted to find out. “Very good, sir. When do I leave?”
Murphy smiled. “How soon can you be ready?”
“I’m ready right now, sir.”
The colonel laughed. “I’d oblige you if I could, but it will take a little time to prep your ride, take your measurements for the drop pod harness, and wait for a window that offers an approach vector that stays within R’Bak’s planetary shadow and over the horizon from Downport.” Murphy did some mental math. “You think you can wait two weeks, Captain Cutter?”
Tyree couldn’t hold back a smile at the thought of seeing his men again. “Just barely, sir.”