Alice nodded. “I’m wasting away here,” she said, flexing her arms. They felt weak, even though a civilian would have thought her strikingly muscular. She’d worked hard to build up her strength. “And there’s nothing useful I can do for you. Not here.”
“It certainly seems so,” Watson agreed. He took a sip of his coffee. “It’s been a week since you had the operation. The medics inform me that no trace of the alien virus remains in your blood.”
“They seem pretty certain,” Alice said, although she was fairly sure that the reports included a great deal of CYA. They wouldn’t be entirely sure that all traces of the virus were gone unless they vaporised her entire body. She had a feeling the medics wanted to dissect her after she died, just to see if the virus had found a hidey-hole somewhere within her flesh and blood. The thought was terrifying. “And I haven’t had any odd ... sensations since the operation.”
“Indeed,” Watson said. He nodded to the biscuit tray. “Eat something, please?”
Alice took a chocolate chip cookie and bit into it. The biscuit tasted heavenly. Someone had used a fraction of their mass allowance on biscuits ... she had to smile at the thought. It wasn't the first time someone had chosen to bring along a luxury, something to remind them of home, rather than something more practical. She supposed she should be grateful. Food from Earth could be quite expensive in the asteroids. She didn’t think that any of the Belters were making cookies.
They probably will, one day, she thought. They’re quite determined to limit their dependence on Earth.
“I’ve read every one of your statements,” Watson said. “And I’ve read each and every report on your progress, from the day you applied to join the Royal Marines until ... well, yesterday.”
“I’m sure they made fascinating reading,” Alice said. She took a sip of her coffee and smiled at the taste. Watson was definitely an experienced officer. “What did you learn?”
Watson met her eyes. “Why did you choose the Royal Marines? You had to know there was a good chance you’d be rejected out of hand.”
“For being a woman,” Alice said, curtly. The Royal Marines - and the other front-line combat units - were supposed to be men-only. There were rumours of spec-ops units composed entirely of women, but Alice had never heard anything to suggest that those rumours had any grounding in reality. She would certainly have been invited to join if there was any truth in the rumours. “I wanted a challenge.”
“And you got one,” Watson said. “Didn’t you?”
Alice nodded. The recruiters had told her that the instructors wouldn’t make any allowances for her. Alice had accepted it - it wasn’t as if the enemy would go easy on her either - but she hadn’t really understood until she’d reported for training. They’d pushed her hard, practically daring her to complain about her treatment; she’d gritted her teeth and forced herself onwards, never allowing herself to show a moment of weakness. She’d come too close to disaster when she’d twisted her ankle, she admitted privately; she really should have taken that injury to the medics. But she’d kept going ...
She hadn’t graduated in the top ten. But she’d graduated.
“You don’t give up,” Watson said. “Sergeant Woodman said as much, in his report. He figured you could be killed, but not actually beaten. He was rather impressed with you.”
“I always thought he hated me,” Alice said. Woodman had been a bully. Or so she’d thought. Military instructors needed to act like bullies without crossing the line into actual bullying. “What else did he say?”
“Suffice it to say that he figured you were an asset we shouldn’t waste,” Watson said. “But” - he took another biscuit and held it up - “you are not in a good state right now.”
“I can get back into shape,” Alice said, feeling her chances of returning to active duty slipping away. “Marines have suffered much worse than me and returned to service ...”
“Yes, they have,” Watson agreed. “But your condition is unique.”
“I wasn’t the only one to be infected,” Alice said.
“No, but you are the only one to be freed,” Watson said. “There’s a school of thought that argues that we should keep you under constant observation.”
“I don’t think they’d learn anything useful,” Alice said, tartly.
“You’re also not in a good state, physically speaking,” Watson said. “Right now, I would not clear you for active service. You could not keep up with the platoon.”
“I’m trying to get back into shape,” Alice told him.
“Yes,” Watson said. “You don’t give up.”
He took a bite of his biscuit. “There’s also the possibility that you were ... influenced ... by the alien virus while it infested your body. A number of people believe you to be a security risk. They want you either locked up in a secure holding facility or - at the very least - discharged from the military.”
Alice tensed. She’d heard horror stories of captured soldiers being conditioned and returned to their fellows as unwitting spies. It hadn’t happened in decades, as far as anyone knew, but it was still horrific. She wasn’t sure she could withstand an attack on her mind. She’d been trained to resist everything from drugs to direct brain stimulation, but her instructors had made it clear that everyone broke eventually. They hadn’t said it directly, yet Alice had no difficulty reading between the lines. If they were captured and subjected to such treatment, they had to try to kill themselves before they were twisted out of all recognition.
“I have been tested extensively,” she said. “And the tests found nothing.”
“They know that,” Watson said. “But they also know we’re dealing with something alien.”
“And you don’t know its limits,” Alice said. She took a breath. How would she know she wasn’t under alien control? She thought her thoughts were her own, but what if she was wrong? How would she know? “Is there any way to be sure?”
“Not that we have been able to determine,” Watson said. “You see the problem, I’m sure?”
“You want to keep me locked up,” Alice said. She thought for a long moment. It wouldn’t be that hard to escape the asteroid, now she was no longer strapped to a bed. She could run ... and yet, the urge to run might be an alien command. How could she tell the difference between her thoughts and alien commands? She would never know if she was in control of her own body. “Damn it.”
“Not quite,” Watson said. “The issue was debated quite hotly. Some people argued that you should be kept locked up, as you put it. Others pointed out that we had no evidence that could be used to detain you. You’re not a traitor or a criminal, merely the ... victim ... of an unprecedented alien threat. You are no longer infected and keeping you here would be a legal nightmare.”
“I thought the government could hold whoever it pleased,” Alice said. “Or am I wrong?”
She knew she wasn’t. She’d read her history books. The emergency powers granted to the government after the Morningside Incident, which had brought the Troubles out into the open, had never been truly relaxed. If the government wanted to hold her without charge, it could do so with minimal oversight ... all the more so, she admitted sourly, as it wouldn’t be that hard to build a case for keeping her confined. It wasn’t as if she was being held in Colchester or another high security prison. The asteroid was more comfortable than the barracks onboard ship.
“No,” Watson said. “But the government does require a valid reason to detain you.”
“But it has one,” Alice said. She took a breath. “Get to the point.”
Watson smiled. “You cannot return to active service,” he said, bluntly. “You’re not in fighting trim, Alice, and there’s a question mark over your mental health. On the other hand, you are one of the few people who have encountered the new alien threat and survived. Your knowledge may be quite useful.”
“Everything I know is in my reports,” Alice said, dryly. She’d spent quite a bit of time writing down everything she co
uld remember, from the interior of the alien hulk to the sensation of being infected. “I held nothing back.”
“You have two choices,” Watson said. “First, you can remain here. You will be studied, of course, but otherwise it will be a reasonably comfortable existence. Given time, the doctors will find a way to confirm that you are no longer a threat and release you. You can then reapply for active service, as I’m sure you won’t waste your time here.”
“No, sir,” Alice said.
“Second, you can return to Invincible as a consultant. You will ...”
Alice choked. “A consultant?”
“You will be consulted on the alien threat,” Watson said. “And you can spend the time in transit getting back into shape. Again, you will be watched and monitored constantly, but at least you’ll be making a valuable contribution.”
Alice winced. She’d had a friend who’d been shunted over to the Attorney General’s Corps with those precise words. Perhaps he was making a valuable contribution, wherever he’d ended up, but he hadn’t joined the military to be a backroom bureaucrat. He’d wanted to join the infantry and test himself against Britain’s enemies. The idea of making a valuable contribution was little more than consolation for the simple fact that one had been shifted out of the combat arms. And now she had been shunted out too.
“You won’t be part of the Royal Marine contingent,” Watson said, confirming her worst fears. “But you will be able to train with them. I can have orders cut for you to be tested and, if you pass, to be allowed to join the marines again. However, your CO may have his doubts about someone who was touched by the aliens. You might be wise not to push.”
“I know,” Alice said.
She looked down at her hands for a long moment. She didn’t want to stay on the asteroid, even if she wasn’t being held in tight confinement. She wanted to get stuck into the enemy before it was too late. She had no doubt there would be war. She’d felt the virus from the inside. She knew how aggressive it was, how quickly it had adapted itself to a whole new biochemistry. Coexistence was not an option.
And yet, if she returned to Invincible, what would she be?
Not a marine, not really. She couldn’t reclaim the uniform until she returned to active duty or chose to transfer sideways into the support arms. She wasn’t sure she could stand it, even though - as an experienced officer - she’d have a far better handle on what the combat arms needed than someone who’d never seen the elephant. Perhaps it was her duty. And yet, after everything she’d done, she didn’t want to end up a useless REMF ...
“I’ll just have to qualify for active service,” she said. She looked up and met his eyes. “I’ll return to Invincible.”
“Very good,” Watson said. He finished his coffee and poured himself a second mug. “I’ll arrange transport tomorrow, after you complete a final battery of tests. Once done, I suggest you get a good night’s sleep. I imagine there will be quite a few questions when you return to the ship.”
“Probably,” Alice said. “Unless they don’t want to come too close to me for fear of being infected ...”
She allowed her voice to trail away. Was there a danger? She didn’t know. Her environment would be closely monitored. She would be monitored too. If the virus started to take her over - again - the ship’s doctors would know long before she became contagious and take precautions. Invincible was the sole ship that had encountered the aliens. The crew knew, all too well, the dangers of letting the virus get a foothold amongst them. Alice would be surprised if the ship wasn’t constantly flooded with UV lights.
Which will make it impossible for the virus to spread, she thought. And if the crew are in combat suits, or even sealed shipsuits, they should be safe from harm.
“You may experience some isolation, yes,” Watson said. “And there will be some ... ah ... precautions taken, just in case you do become a threat. But otherwise ... you will be free to spend your time doing everything you need to do to reapply for active service.”
If they trust me enough, Alice thought. Major Henry Parkinson might refuse to recertify her, even if she passed all the tests. He’d be in an awkward position, for sure. He won’t be entirely certain he can trust me. He’ll look at me and wonder if an alien is looking back.
“I understand,” she said, firmly. “I won’t change my mind. I’ll go straight to Invincible.”
“Tomorrow,” Watson corrected. He stood. “I wish you the best of luck, Alice, whatever you decide to do in the future. You can change your mind up to the point you actually climb aboard the shuttle. After that ... you’re stuck.”
Alice shrugged. It wasn’t as if she’d been able to choose her duty assignments. She went where she was sent. She’d spent a few months on embassy duty, which had been boring, and a few months guarding bases in the Security Zone, which had been anything but. Returning to Invincible was better than remaining in a prison, no matter how comfortable it was. She would have a chance to ...
Her lips twisted into a wry smile. She’d have a chance to make a valuable contribution.
And I might have a chance to hurt the aliens, she thought. And that would be worth almost anything.
Chapter Six
“We’re coming up on Invincible now, sir,” Crewman Jones said. “Do you want to watch from the cockpit?”
Stephen looked up from his datapad. He’d thought he was keeping abreast of his paperwork - and Commander Newcomb had taken as much of the burden on himself as possible - but there were times when he wondered if the sole purpose of the Royal Navy was to churn out paperwork and drive its commanding officers insane. The flight had been spent skimming countless reports, from updates on production figures to the latest set of speculations about the alien virus and its motives. Stephen had been mildly relieved to see that very few of the navy’s analysts believed that the virus was friendly, or that it could be appeased in some way, but their scenarios were universally depressing. Humanity could lose the war without firing a shot.
“Yes, thank you,” he said.
He stood and walked into the cockpit, taking the co-pilot’s seat. Crewman Jones took the pilot’s seat and tapped a handful of controls, adjusting their course and speed as they approached the Hamilton Shipyards. The defences would be on a hair-trigger, watching for signs of alien attack. Stephen knew there were hundreds of ways to die in space, most of them involving nothing more than one’s own stupidity in the face of the cold equations, but dying because there was a mix-up with the IFF signals would be amongst the worst ways to go. Military technology had advanced radically since the day a caveman had figured out that he could use a club to bash his enemy’s head into mush, but it was still impossible to totally eliminate the risk of friendly fire. A blue-on-blue would be utterly disastrous.
“They’ve checked our IFF,” Jones said. “We are clear to enter the shipyard.”
Stephen leaned forward, spotting a handful of lights in the distance. The Hamilton Shipyards looked oddly disorganised, at least to civilian eyes. A handful of space stations, a cluster of spider-like construction slips scattered around seemingly at random, dozens of industrial nodes, working overtime to keep the fleet supplied ... he smiled, realising that the Royal Navy was definitely taking the threat seriously. The yard was working at full capacity.
“They’ve moved your ship out of her berth,” Jones said. “We’ll be docking in two minutes.”
“Noted,” Stephen said.
The shuttle steered towards a cluster of lights at the edge of the shipyard. Stephen watched, feeling his heart begin to pound in his chest, as Invincible took on shape and form. She was a long dark shape, flanked by two starfighter launch and landing tubes; she looked smooth, with a sleekness to her form that older designs lacked. His experienced eye picked out the sensor blisters and weapons mounts on her hull, yet they didn’t seem to weaken her appearance. Invincible looked deadly. Her designers had gone to some lengths to make her look striking.
Because the Tadpoles taught us that stars
hips could be elegant as well as functional, Stephen thought. Most human starships were blocky, ugly shapes. Even civilian craft were designed more for function than appearance. The Tadpoles, on the other hand, had turned their starships into works of art. And the navy wants to impress the people who pay the bills.
He scowled at the thought. The Navy League had been pressing for more fleet carriers and battleships for the last ten years, pointing out that Britain had to keep up with the aliens as well as the other Great Powers, but there was no denying that the navy was expensive. It wasn’t difficult to see why factions in parliament wanted to reroute some of the navy’s budget to more popular, vote-grabbing areas like health or education. And yet, the navy was Britain’s shield. If it fell, the nation fell with it.
“Invincible is ordering us to land in the main shuttlebay,” Jones said. “Is that acceptable?”
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