No one wants to admit they might die, Mitch reminded himself. There’d been cases of spacers not taking their poison pills after a disaster, even though they’d been beyond all hope of rescue. And that they might be infected and on the verge of becoming a brain-dead slave.
He dismissed the thought as Unicorn slipped towards the planet. Brasilia looked normal, although the combination of limited natural resources and sheer distance from the remainder of explored space had dampened the planet’s appeal. It was still hard to believe that the planet was infected … his skin crawled at the thought of going down to the surface without an armoured combat suit. The virus found Brasilia to be very welcoming indeed. No wonder it had been chosen as the test site for the BioBombs. There was little hope of liberating the world and cleansing the infestation without them. And what would they do - what could they do - if they couldn’t liberate the world?
We might have to destroy the planet in order to save it, Mitch thought. And that would leave us with a destroyed and useless planet.
“Captain, we’ve completed our first sensor sweep,” Staci reported. “If there are any other starships within the system, they’re outside sensor range.”
“Or cloaked,” Mitch said. He studied the display for a long moment. “Copy the sensor logs to the drone, then launch it. Captain Hammond will need to see the raw data.”
“Aye, Captain,” Staci said.
Mitch nodded, studying the sensor readings himself. Brasilia was almost … dead. The planet wasn’t radiating any electronic emissions, as far as his people could tell. Brasilia had been developing an agricultural economy first, to ensure the population could feed itself if something went wrong, but there’d been some industry on the planet’s surface. Now … he wondered, not for the first time, just how much had been lost in the brief engagement before the virus had secured control of the high orbitals. The threat had been understood when the system had fallen. The colonists might have destroyed their industrial base, such as it was, to keep it from falling into enemy hands. The virus was the ultimate parasite. It had no qualms about pressing human - and alien - equipment into service. And he had to admit it gave the virus an edge no other race could match.
“Drone away, Captain,” Staci reported.
“Helm, take us to Tramline Two,” Mitch ordered. It would be several hours, at least, before Lion was in position. “If there’s a flicker station here, I want to find it.”
He scowled as his ship carefully altered course. There hadn’t been a flicker station in the system before the war. Brasilia just didn’t have the funding to emplace one and plans to establish a multinational system had floundered, before the war had made the whole issue academic. There’d been little enthusiasm for spending money on the FTL network outside the Great Powers and their colonies … he shook his head. The virus didn’t care about human economics. If it wanted to establish a flicker station, it could have done so.
And if it has, we’ll find it, he told himself. And take it out before it becomes a threat.
***
Thomas breathed a sigh of relief as the squadron made transit into empty space. Cold logic - and decades of naval service - told him it was unlikely they’d jump right into an ambush, but the virus was dangerously unpredictable. Just because they hadn’t spotted any watching eyes didn’t mean they weren’t out there, shadowing the squadron and signalling ahead to make sure their superiors prepared a proper reception. He was all too aware they might be sailing into a trap, that they might be about to run into something they couldn’t handle. The only upside, he acknowledged silently, was that the virus would have to divert fleets from the battle fronts to deal with them. It might give the hard-pressed defenders a chance to repair the damage, rearm their ships and - perhaps - retake the offensive.
He stroked his chin as they started the long plod towards the planet itself. Brasilia’s defences were too weak to stop the squadron, although - if they managed to get into point-blank range - they could do some damage before they were blown out of space. There was no point in letting them get close, not when he didn’t have to. He smiled as he checked and rechecked the projections, making absolutely sure of his next step. It was time to put the gunboats to work. Again.
“We’ll launch ballistic missiles at Point Rodney,” he said, as he designated points on the display. “The gunboats can follow them up, while the squadron reveals itself at Point Drake.”
“Aye, Captain,” Donker said. “They won’t have time to evade before the missiles slam home.”
Thomas nodded, curtly. The enemy ships were in a loose formation, something that suggested they expected attack … he told himself, sharply, that he was overthinking it. There was no need to hold ships in orbit, ready to drop KEWs on human targets. The virus didn’t have to worry about an insurgency, about any kind of resistance on the ground. If there were any free humans left, they’d been effectively neutralised and confined to hidden bunkers. A single breath would be enough to infect them, reducing them to slaves … or worse. His stomach churned at the thought. Maybe the BioBombs were the only answer, even if the cost was high. The remainder of the human race was at risk.
Which is precisely the argument the admiral used, he thought. And you wanted to reject it.
He keyed his console, following developments as his crew hurried to their combat stations. They’d simulated everything, time and time again, but this was real. He reminded himself, again, that they’d face a degree of randomness now, that the enemy might do something that seemed inherently crazy and thus unpredictable. The crew was ready, yet … he shook his head. They’d done everything they could. He’d done everything he could. And now, all he could do was wait.
“Captain,” Donker said. “We are coming up on Point Rodney.”
“Begin launching missiles,” Thomas ordered. “And then deploy the gunboats.”
***
Tobias hadn’t had much time to himself, ever since Lion had left orbit and headed for Brasilia. There’d just been too much to do, from taking part in endless simulations and training exercises to spending time in the privacy tubes with Marigold. They weren’t the only gunboat pilots - or naval personnel - that had paired up, he’d noticed. He’d forced himself to read regulations he’d never thought would apply to him, just to be sure they weren’t breaking any rules. Bagehot might be understanding, but there was no guarantee he would remain in command. Or that the CO wouldn’t override him.
He hadn’t had much time to think either, not until the gunboats had been launched on ballistic trajectories. Colin had … left him alone, the one thing Tobias would never have expected. The bully had seemed incapable of leaving Tobias - or anyone - alone, but he had. Tobias wondered, time and time again, if Colin had given him a real gun. Everyone said that bullies were cowards, that they’d break if you hit them hard enough, but Tobias had to admit - sourly - that Colin was no coward. He might just have given Tobias a real gun.
Which would have been one hell of a gamble, Tobias thought. He kicked himself, mentally, for not bothering to keep up with his shooting practice. It had never seemed necessary. In hindsight, that had been a mistake. He might have been able to tell if it was a real gun or not if he was more familiar with firearms. I’ll have to fix that when I get home.
“The enemy ships don’t seem to have spotted us,” Marigold said. She was all business when they were on duty, somewhat to his relief. “They’re not moving at all.”
Tobias frowned. The engagement plan struck him as inherently risky. They were relying on the enemy not spotting them until they reached engagement range. The missiles could outrun any starship - perversely, the best antimissile tactic was to steer into the salvo - but they were flying on ballistic trajectories. The enemy would have time to alter course and bring up their point defence, if they saw the missiles coming before they powered up. Tobias thought the enemy would still be in trouble, but it was hard to be sure. The simulations suggested the enemy ships would have a good chance of either escaping or
screaming for help before they were blown away.
“The missiles have locked on,” he said. “I’ll cycle the targeting systems if the enemy ships start to move.”
“Good,” Marigold said. “We go live in ten minutes.”
Tobias nodded, his thoughts returning to Colin. What was the bully doing? Tobias found it hard to believe Colin really wanted to apologise … what else had he done? Tobias didn’t know. The marines had been exercising constantly, just like the rest of the crew. Colin hadn’t had time to start chasing girls … Tobias snickered. He’d found time to make love to Marigold.
Marigold glanced at him. “What’s so funny?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Tobias said. He’d told her about Colin luring him to a meeting, and putting a gun in his hand, but … he didn’t think she’d like the joke. Or see it as particularly funny. “When we get back home.”
“Wherever home is, these days,” Marigold said, wistfully. They hadn’t talked much about the future, but there’d been an unspoken agreement they’d face it together. “You still want to move to Luna?”
Tobias nodded. He’d spent a few hours looking up immigration requirements. There were some colonies that were closed to outsiders, and others that were little better than Earth, but the remainder looked welcoming. He thought he qualified for immigration if he made an application before he was discharged. If nothing else, he could apply for residency in Clarke or Wells. The British colonies would probably accept him, although it would be little different from living on Earth.
Fewer idiots, he reminded himself. Space was lethal, if someone took it lightly. He’d had that drilled into him, back during basic training. The slightest mistake could get someone injured or killed. The moon is a harsh mistress and all that.
The console bleeped. Marigold frowned. “I think they may have spotted us,” she said. “We just picked up a low-power sensor sweep.”
Tobias frowned as he studied his display. The closer they got before the missiles went active, the greater the chance of wiping out the enemy ships before they could escape or open fire on the gunboats. But, as long as they remained on ballistic trajectories, their flight paths would be easy to predict. The enemy could track them on passive sensors, waiting - very patiently - for the gunboats to fly close enough to pick them all off with a single salvo. It would be easy …
The display flashed red. “They got us,” Marigold said, as alarms started to howl. “We were just scanned by a high-power sweep.”
“Power up the drives,” Tobias said. His hands danced across his console, inputting commands he’d practiced so often he thought he could have issued them in his sleep. “Missiles going live … now.”
He braced himself as the missile icons flashed from blue to green, their drives coming online and thrusting them towards the enemy destroyers. The enemy ships were powering up their own drives, their point defence starting to spit poison towards the missiles. Tobias took direct control, steering the missiles through a series of evasive patterns that were as close to random as possible. He swore as a handful of missiles vanished, picked off by enemy fire. The destroyers were pumping out so many plasma bolts that they were bound to hit something.
“Missiles entering terminal attack range now,” he said. The missiles picked up speed, hurling themselves forward. He braced himself as more flickered and died. Their courses were now all too predictable. “Impact in ten, nine, eight …”
The gunboat lurched. “That was a little too close,” Marigold said. “They’re trying to hit us instead of the missiles.”
Tobias nodded as the lead missile struck home, followed by three more. The enemy destroyer seemed to waver, then blew apart into a sheet of overheated plasma. The remaining four destroyers were picked off quickly, the last one launching a pair of drones before meeting its end. Tobias muttered a curse as the drones shot into interplanetary space, heading directly towards the tramline. There was no hope of catching them, even if they redlined the drives. He supposed it was a good sign. The enemy wouldn’t have needed drones if they had a flicker station somewhere within the system.
“All targets destroyed,” he said. His console bleeped as new orders arrived. “They want us to scan the planet.”
“I’ll try not to go too low,” Marigold said. In theory, the gunboats could make it through the atmosphere and land safely … for a given value of safe. In practice, it was very much a last resort. Landing safely would be a challenge even if the atmosphere wasn’t deadly. “You keep an eye on the sensors. Those ships might not have been alone.”
“Will do.” Tobias studied the active sensors as they came online. There was no point in trying to hide any longer. Local space looked clear, but he knew that could change at any moment. There could be an entire enemy fleet heading towards them with blood in its eye. “The planet looks nice, doesn’t it?”
He frowned as he glanced at the ever-growing orb. It was easy to forget that planets were big. The simulators suggested they were little bigger than the starships, when - in reality - the largest colonist-carrier mankind had constructed would vanish without trace against the sheer immensity of a colony world. He swallowed, hard, as he remembered the briefing. Landing without protective gear would be lethal. They’d breathe in viral particles and become infected. Death would be preferable.
“I think I’d prefer to go back to my childhood home,” Marigold said, tartly. “There’s nothing for us down there.”
Tobias nodded as more and more data flowed into the display. A city sitting on a river … a bunch of towns and villages, all seemingly deserted. There were no radio signals, as far as he could tell. His visual sensors spotted people in the fields, but … what were they doing? They looked like a giant swarming mass, covering the land. He wondered, suddenly, if the infected even needed to eat. It seemed impossible they could survive without food, but … the impossible became possible on a daily basis. The virus might have no qualms about animating walking corpses.
“I’m not picking up any ground-based defences,” he said, dragging his attention back to his work. The sensors couldn’t pick up passive sensors, or handheld antiaircraft weapons, but there were no fixed defences. Given the planet’s atmosphere, he rather suspected the virus wanted them to land. “There doesn’t look like anything standing in our way.”
“Good,” Marigold said. “Inform Lion.”
Tobias nodded, feeling a twinge of … something. Guilt? Or satisfaction? Colin was going to go down there and, if there was the slightest hitch with his mask, Colin would be infected. The nasty part of his mind insisted it would be a great improvement. The virus wasn’t pointlessly sadistic. The virus didn’t take pleasure in hurting people. It was monstrous, but … it wasn’t evil. Not like Colin. To be truly evil, one must have the option of not being evil.
“Signal sent,” he said. Colin wasn’t his problem, as long as they kept their distance from each other. “And now we wait.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“I need a piss,” Private Davies said. “Stop the bus!”
“You should have gone before we left,” Private Willis called back. “Go in the bag.”
“Shut up, the pair of you,” Colin growled. The shuttle was starting to shake as it dropped into the planet’s atmosphere. “We’ll be hitting dirt in a few minutes.”
He felt his skin start to itch as the shaking got worse, even though he knew the shuttle was a sealed unit. The virus hadn’t managed to get inside, not yet. The briefing had made it very clear that removing his mask, even for an instant, might be enough to get him infected and sentenced to - at best - a very uncomfortable spell in sickbay. Major Craig had gone over the problem in extensive, perhaps excessive, detail. There would be unpleasant injections, radiation treatments and endless tests. And a person who was pronounced clean might not be allowed to return to duty.
The shuttle rocked, again. No alerts flashed in front of him, but he still felt cold. The craft was dropping so rapidly he felt as if he’d left his stomach behin
d in orbit, banging and clattering as turbulence shook them to their bones. He’d never liked parachuting, but this was worse. He wanted to get down on the ground before it was too late. They had their orders, very clear orders. They had to snatch the terraforming station before the virus rallied its troops and counterattacked.
“We’ll be down in two minutes,” the pilot called. Another gust of wind shook the craft. It felt as if God Himself had reached down and slapped the shuttle with the back of his hand. The lack of pilot humour only made it worse. “Get ready to move.”
Colin braced himself, trying to ignore the yawning gulf in his stomach as he looked from marine to marine. He was no coward - he knew how to handle himself - but he was all too aware that a single missile hit would be enough to blow the shuttle out of the sky. If, of course, there were MANPADs on the ground. The records claimed the planet’s settlers didn’t have anything nastier than rifles, the sort of outdated gear that was normally shipped to colony worlds, but Colin knew better than to take that for granted. Smugglers were quite happy to sell weapons to colonists, even if the virus hadn’t shipped in a small arsenal itself or reprogrammed what remained of the planet’s industry to produce weapons. God knew there had been rumours of colonists plotting wars of independence for years.
The shuttle shook again, then crashed down. Colin stumbled to his feet as the hatch slammed open, revealing something akin to a gravel quarry. He looked from side to side as the fire team followed him out, noting just how close they were to the terraforming station. They had to secure it, quickly. He checked that everyone was out, then led the way towards the station. It wasn’t designed for defence - the structure looked rather odd, like an old-style factory bleeding smoke into the air - but it didn’t matter. If the virus had armed men nearby, it could put up a vicious defence. Colin couldn’t afford to risk destroying the structure if there was any way to avoid it.
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