Unless they have so many core systems they can afford to lose one, Stephen thought, morbidly. There was no way to know just how far the virus had spread over the last few thousand years. A hundred worlds like Alien-1 would be able to produce and support a war machine that would grind Earth - and her alien allies - into powder. That’s what we’re here to find out.
“Captain,” Morse said. “The Russians are requesting permission to hop through the tramline first.”
Stephen hesitated. He’d intended to send one of the destroyers through first, just to make sure the other side was clear. He didn’t like to admit it, but the tiny destroyers were expendable. And yet ... he scowled, studying the Russian ship on the display. He’d done his best to befriend his Russian counterpart, but the man had kept his distance. Stephen wasn’t sure if Kaminov had his own agenda, or if he was worried about running afoul of his political commissioner ... he shook his head. There was no way to know. But if the Russians wanted the dubious honour of jumping through the tramline first ...
“Inform them that they may take the lead,” Stephen said. “And remind them not to hesitate if they run into trouble.”
He forced himself to wait as the tramline slowly came into view. The odds of the enemy mounting a successful ambush were very low - every spacer knew that, beyond a shadow of a doubt - but if the enemy had managed to track the flotilla they might just get a fleet into place to open fire as soon as Invincible crossed the tramlines. Her sensors down, her cloaking device fluctuating ... she’d be naked and vulnerable. But the enemy would have to get very lucky to succeed. Stephen had studied interstellar war extensively and he knew that only a handful of ambushes had ever been pulled off successfully. Even the most skilful crews would need a great deal of luck to succeed.
“Captain,” Sonia said. “We’re in position.”
“Very good,” Stephen ordered. Sweat prickled down his back. “Order the Russians to proceed.”
He forced himself to watch, as dispassionately as possible, as Yuriy Ivanov slowly moved towards the tramline and vanished. A timer popped up on the display as soon as her icon flashed out of existence, counting the seconds until her planned return. Stephen braced himself, wondering just what the Russian ship had encountered. If she had run into a trap ... he cursed under his breath. If the Russians didn’t return, he’d have no choice, but to back off and find another jump point. The Russians would have to fend for themselves.
And they might just be infected, he thought. The doctors seemed confident that it would take hours for the virus to infect a ship’s crew, but Stephen didn’t dare take that for granted. If the virus was more aggressive than they’d realised, if it could take over a body in less than ten minutes, the Russian ship might become an enemy before his crew had a chance to get suspicious. The virus has changed everything.
An alert sounded as Yuriy Ivanov flashed back into the alien system. A datalink opened a moment later, the records being automatically shunted into a sealed computer system. The Royal Navy was all too aware of the dangers of being hacked, even though the Russians would have to be mad to try something during wartime. But if the ship was no longer friendly ... Stephen gritted his teeth until they started to hurt. There were just too many unknowns.
“Local space on the far side of the tramline appears to be clear,” Alison said. The analyst decks were already studying the records. “However, there is definitely a great deal of industrial activity within the system.”
We already knew that, Stephen thought, ungraciously. They have nearly as much industry within this system as we do orbiting Earth.
He studied the records for a long moment, knowing the decision to jump - or not to jump - was his and his alone. It looked safe, yet there was the constant nagging doubt. There could be an entire fleet on the far side of the tramline, just waiting for them. The Russians hadn’t sprung an ambush, but that meant nothing. Yuriy Ivanov wasn’t a prize compared to Invincible.
“Prepare to jump,” he ordered. “The destroyers will take the lead. We’ll jump after them, with the survey ships following. Yuriy Ivanov can bring up the rear.”
He half-expected the Russians to argue, but they said nothing as the flotilla shook itself into formation, then headed towards the tramline. Stephen felt his heart start to race, despite the near-certainty of remaining undetected as they entered the enemy system. If they were wrong, they were in deep trouble ...
“Jump in ten seconds,” Sonia said. “Five ... four ...”
The universe seemed to darken, just for a second. Stephen sucked in his breath as the display blanked, then hastily started to reboot. A sun - an enemy sun - appeared in from of him, followed by a handful of planets and energy sources. There was no sign of any enemy spacecraft near the tramline, but there were hundreds of tiny ships making their way to and from the giant asteroid field. It looked as if the system’s industrial activity had increased markedly over the last six months. Stephen couldn't help finding that an ominous sign.
“The remainder of the flotilla has made transit,” Alison reported.
“They’re asking for orders,” Morse added. “Captain?”
“Order them to hold position, for the moment,” Stephen said. More and more data was flowing into the display, none of it reassuring. There were limits to what they could find out with passive sensors, but - for the moment - it didn’t seem to matter. “We need to pick up as much as we can from here before we head further into the system.”
“Aye, sir,” Morse said.
“I’m picking up a small squadron of starships,” Alison said, sharply. “Warbook calls them five heavy cruisers and a fleet carrier.”
Stephen tensed. “Heading towards us?”
“Not precisely,” Alison said. “I’d say they were heading towards the tramline.”
“Falkirk can handle them, if they’re going there,” Commander Newcomb said. “Unless they’re building up a greater fleet.”
Stephen nodded, tersely. It certainly looked as though the aliens weren’t heading towards his ships, although it was impossible to be sure. And yet ... Newcomb was right. Five heavy cruisers and a carrier would be smashed into atoms if they tried to punch their way into Falkirk. What were they doing? Setting up tripwires? Or drilling themselves? Perhaps they needed to exercise their crews too ...
“They’re reducing speed,” Alison said. She frowned. “Captain, I think there’s an enemy installation here” - an icon flashed up on the display - “but I can’t tell for sure.”
“Deploy two stealthed drones,” Stephen ordered. He didn’t want to take the flotilla any closer to the enemy ships than strictly necessary. “And let me know the moment they detect anything.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Stephen knew, as his ships drifted away from the tramline, that he should get some rest. But he couldn’t force himself to leave his bridge as more and more information flowed into the datanet. It was rapidly becoming clear that they’d underestimated the system’s industrial potential. He was starting to wonder if Alien-1 alone possessed more industrial nodes than the entire Human Sphere. It was possible, he supposed, even though he’d grown used to thinking of Sol as the most heavily-industrialised system in known space. The desperate push to match the Tadpoles - and support the growing colonisation effort - had paid off in spades. But it was starting to look as though it hadn’t paid off enough.
Alison swore, quietly. “Captain, the probes just got a clear look at the alien installation,” she said. Her voice was very quiet. “It’s a fleet base, larger than Nelson or Nimitz. There’s an entire fleet there.”
Stephen leaned forward. “Show me.”
The display updated, again. Stephen resisted the urge to swear too as the alien fleet snapped into view. Hundreds of ships, spearheaded by a dozen battleships and twenty fleet carriers ... it was a force, he thought, that could do immense damage to Falkirk. Or Sol, if it managed to punch its way through the interior defence lines. And who knew what would happen then?
&n
bsp; “That’s a lot of ships,” Commander Newcomb said, quietly.
“They might be hoping to intercept our ships, rather than set off to invade the Human Sphere,” Lieutenant-Commander David Arthur said. “If they expect us to invade ...”
“They might be caught out of position if we did,” Newcomb snapped. “No, that’s an invasion force.”
“It certainly looks that way,” Stephen agreed. “Communications, raise Daring. She is to return to Falkirk immediately, carrying a warning. The defenders have to know what might be coming in their direction.”
“Aye, sir,” Morse said.
Stephen studied the display for a long moment, trying to determine if there was any way Invincible could take the offensive. She carried mass drivers as well as more conventional - and modern - weapons, but there were just too many alien ships for his crews to guarantee hitting anything. The alien ships might have stepped down their drives, but they hadn’t powered down all of their sensor systems. It was clear they weren't entirely unprotected. A mass driver attack might do nothing more than alert them to Invincible’s presence.
“And order the remainder of the flotilla to proceed to survey the system, remaining under cloak at all times,” he added. “And then we have to decide how to proceed.”
“Aye, sir.”
***
Alice had known, beyond a shadow of a doubt, when Invincible had crossed the tramline into Alien-1. She’d felt it, of course, but she’d also felt ... something nagging at the back of her mind from the moment the jump had been completed. Space seemed to hum with the virus’s presence, a call she had to fight to ignore. And yet, it didn’t seem to be aimed at her. She honestly wasn't sure if she was imagining it or if it was a form of telepathy. The virus didn’t appear to be telepathic, as far as she could tell, but ... it was impossible to be sure. She hoped she was imagining it. There was no way to win against a telepathic opponent.
Unless you act so swiftly that the opponent has no time to read your mind, she thought, sourly. But you have to start by realising that your opponent is telepathic.
She dismissed the thought in irritation and turned her attention back to the display. The captain and his officers seemed to believe that she would have an insight into how the virus was deploying its forces, but in truth she couldn’t think of anything the analysts hadn't already come up with for themselves. The virus was definitely preparing for war, although it seemed to be moving on its own schedule. There was something terrifying about the sheer lack of concern it seemed to be showing about the prospect of being attacked first. Was it a sign that the virus hadn’t been attacked before - that it had always been the aggressor - or that Alien-1 and its installations were heavily protected? How many starships - and weapons platforms - did the virus have? Could it guarantee the safety of its installations even if it sent over two hundred ships into human space?
Probably, Alice thought. Or perhaps it just doesn’t care.
It wasn’t something that sat well with her, even though she’d sensed the virus’s true nature from the moment she’d been infected. She’d been taught to value the men under her command, she’d been taught not to spend them lightly ... but the virus simply didn’t care about individuals. It wasn’t precisely a hive mind, yet ... it wouldn't blanch at throwing hundreds of thousands of bodies into the fire if it meant ultimate victory. The bodies were meaningless. She didn't think that the virus could afford to spend battleships and fleet carriers quite so freely - it took nearly fifteen months to build a battleship and at least two more months to shake the ship into fighting trim. Unless the virus already had so many battleships that it could afford to spend them like water ...
She dismissed the thought as more data flowed into the network. It was starting to look as though her first guess had been right. Alien-1 and the other planets within the system were heavily defended. The virus might not be taking a big risk after all. And that meant ... trouble. She idly calculated just how many ships the virus might have, then dismissed the thought. There was no way to be sure. The only thing she knew for certain was that Alien-1 wasn’t alone. There had to be other systems under the virus’s control. The constant stream of ships heading in and out of the other tramlines proved it.
And it won’t be long before they go on the offensive, she thought. And that will be extremely bad news for Falkirk.
***
“Well?”
Captain Pavel Kaminov kept his face under tight control as he turned to face the wretched zampolit. He was a patriot, willing to lay down his life in defence of Mother Russia, but he couldn't help finding the political commissioner to be a headache. If there was one thing he envied his British counterparts, it was the lack of a government watchdog peering over their shoulders at all times. He wouldn’t have minded so much if the man had had a gram of common sense - or at least experience serving on a starship - but his lack of either was so obvious that there was no point in trying to hide his true nature. It was just ... irritating.
“We have not yet located Dezhnev,” he said, coolly. There was no point in trying to lie. The zampolit had agents all over the ship. “She may have been destroyed.”
“They would have taken her intact,” the zampolit insisted. “She would be a valuable prize.”
“A prize with a commanding officer who had orders to destroy her, rather than let her fall into enemy hands,” Pavel said. It was an argument they’d had many times before. He’d insisted that Dezhnev’s CO would have destroyed her, if he’d thought he’d lose his ship, but the asshole was right. There was a good chance that Dezhnev had been captured intact, her databanks ransacked and her crew infected. “So far, we haven’t seen her.”
The zampolit looked thoroughly displeased. Pavel did his best to ignore him. If an alien ship had fallen into his hands, he’d have made sure it wasn’t held anywhere obvious. He’d have transferred it to an installation on the far side of the solar system and carefully dissected it, piece by piece. The British had done that years ago, when they’d captured a Tadpole starship. There was nothing to be gained by leaving a captured alien ship in orbit. Who knew? The original owners might want it back.
We do want her back, Pavel thought. But we also want to know what the bastards learnt from her.
“So,” the zampolit said. His face twisted, as if he’d bitten into something sour. “What now?”
“We do as we’re told,” Pavel said. His ship had orders to survey the gas giants, carrying out a tactical survey for the day when humanity went on the offensive. It galled him to follow foreign orders, but he hadn’t been given a choice. His sealed orders only came into effect if he located Dezhnev. “And we keep our eyes open for our missing ship.”
And hope for the best, he added, in the privacy of his own mind. Because if she has been captured, we’re unlikely ever to be able to see her again.
Chapter Thirteen
“Well,” Stephen said, addressing the holographic commanding officers. “It seems we have a decision to make.”
He took a sip of his tea as he studied the display. A week of carefully probing Alien-1 had yielded a wealth of data, none of it reassuring. A sizable fleet near the alien base, clearly preparing for deployment; secondary fleets orbiting the major worlds, ready to defend them against all threats; a network of orbital weapons and sensor platforms that seemed to have tripled in size since their last visit to the system ... Alien-1, alone, could mount a sustained offensive against the Human Sphere. He dreaded to think about the odds if there were two or three more alien worlds with similar industrial and military potential.
“We have already informed Falkirk of the alien fleet,” he continued. He tapped a control, bringing up an in-system display. “We now need to decide how to proceed. Tramline Two or Tramline Three?”
“Tramline Two,” Captain Hashing said. “The vast majority of alien traffic has come through that tramline.”
Captain Kaminov nodded in agreement. “It seems likely that any major alien worlds will be on the fa
r side of that chain,” he agreed. “The other system appears to have attracted far less interest.”
Stephen wasn’t inclined to disagree, although he knew it was important to survey both tramlines. There was no way to be sure that Tramline Three was useless. Indeed, if it was a dead end, there was no logical reason for any traffic to be passing through the tramline. It was possible, he supposed, that the virus did see a reason ... he shook his head. The only way to know what was on the far side was to go and look.
Which raises an obvious question, he thought. Do we detach one of the survey ships to examine the system or do we keep the flotilla together?
It was a tricky problem. On one hand, sending a single ship to survey Tramline Three would speed up the process; on the other, if the ship ran into trouble, Stephen would never know what had killed it. And yet ...
“I’m going to detach Raleigh,” he said, after a moment. “Captain Hashing, your orders are to cross Tramline Three and survey the far side. If you encounter other tramlines, you have permission to make up to two jumps into enemy space before returning to Alien-1. We will attempt to link up with you at the RV point” - he’d taken care to designate it before sending his ships prowling through the enemy star system - “but if you don’t make contact with us within a week head straight back to Falkirk. Make sure they know what happened before you do anything else.”
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