“I have no doubt of it,” Admiral Onarina said. “Just remember, we cannot afford a war of attrition.”
“Yes, Admiral,” Thomas said. “But I do feel we’re risking everything on one throw of the dice.”
“We are,” Admiral Onarina said, bluntly. There was no doubt in her voice, for she knew, possibly better than he did, just how much could go wrong. “And if there was any other choice ... believe me, I’d take it.”
Chapter Nine
I should have remained on a starship’s bridge, Susan thought, as her shuttle flew towards the alien ship. If I hadn’t let them promote me ...
She rubbed her forehead, feeling a dull ache behind her temples. She’d barely gotten any sleep, between holding meetings, smoothing out minor details that really should have been left to her staff and giving reassuring briefings to old ladies of both genders. There was an endless list of orders she needed to approve, items she had to handle personally ... she shook her head. She’d thought there was too much paperwork when she’d been in command of a ship, but she hadn’t known the half of it. An admiral didn’t even have the satisfaction of knowing she was in command.
The shuttle quivered, slightly, as it altered course. Susan turned, clearing her mind as the display updated rapidly. The Tadpole superdreadnaught - the term had stuck - looked very much like a battleship, but there was something weirdly melted about the design. Human ships were crude boxy shapes, thrown together from modular components; Tadpole ships looked as if they were made out of melted wax. It wasn’t easy to pick out the weapons emplacements, or the sensor nodes buried within the hull. Susan admired it absently, even as she contemplated how well she stacked up against a human ship. The Tadpoles were the most advanced race in the known universe. And if they decided to fight the human race for a second time ...
You’re being paranoid, she told herself. The war started because of a misunderstanding.
She groaned, inwardly. It was easy enough to predict, with a reasonable degree of certainty, what a human would do in any given situation. As long as one had a shared understanding of the situation, it was possible to calculate contingencies and lay plans to handle any reasonable response. But aliens were alien. Susan was all too aware that it was simply impossible to do more than guess at their thinking, let alone predict their actions. The Tadpoles, the Foxes, the Cows and the Vesy had their own ways of thinking. The only consolation was that they understood humans as poorly as humans understood them.
The intercom bleeped. “Admiral,” the pilot said. “We will match docking ports in two minutes.”
“Understood,” Susan said. “Keep the airlock sealed until I signal.”
She stood, feeling faintly absurd as she stripped and changed into her bathing suit. The idea of going to a diplomatic conference naked ... she’d had nightmares about being naked in front of the class, the first time she’d had to give a presentation, but actually doing it ...? She supposed it might have enlivened proceedings, at the cost of utterly destroying her reputation once and for all. Here, though ... she shook her head as she tied back her hair, carefully locked her facemask into place and headed for the airlock. The Tadpoles didn’t give a damn what she wore. They probably didn’t care if she visited in person. But she owed it to them to show the same courtesy she’d shown the others.
The airlock felt oddly warm as she stepped inside, the hatch hissing closed behind her. Susan took a breath, tasting something unpleasant at the back of her throat. The facemask hadn’t been used for quite some time. She put the minor discomfort out of her mind as the inner hatch started to open, feeling a frisson of panic as yellowish water spilled into the airlock compartment. It felt warm, against her bare feet. Susan calmed herself as the water rose rapidly, reminding herself she was perfectly safe. She couldn’t help checking and rechecking the facemask, just to make sure it was firmly in place. If it came off, while she was in the alien ship, she would drown. Drowning in space ... her lips quirked. That would look bloody stupid when someone wrote her obituary.
She padded forward as the gravity field shifted, then faded completely. The Tadpoles preferred zero-g to artificial gravity, probably because they spent most of their lives in the ocean rather than on the land. The water seemed to brighten as she swam into the alien ship, an eerie bioluminescence pulsing from everywhere and nowhere ... as if the water itself was glowing. She took a long breath as she spotted the Tadpoles waiting for her, three of them. It was easy to see why the first humans to meet them face to face had thought they were nothing more than beasts. On land, they looked like shambling parodies of humanity; in the water, they looked almost completely different. It was hard to believe they weren’t two different species.
“We greet you,” the Tadpoles said in unison. Susan’s facemask picked up the words and transmitted them to her. It had been over two decades since the war and yet ... it was hard to be entirely sure the translation was accurate. The Tadpoles lacked concepts humans considered important and vice versa. “Welcome.”
“I thank you, in the name of the human race,” Susan said, carefully. The diplomats had had headaches, when they tried to put together a common language. The more they tried to dance around an issue, the harder it became to translate. “We request that you approve our plan.”
The Tadpoles moved suddenly, spinning around each other in a complicated dance that wouldn’t be possible in normal gravity. Susan shivered, despite the warmth. The Tadpoles were less ... individualistic than humans, she’d been told. They did everything in groups ... factions. She didn’t really understand it. No one did. Her training told her that a starship couldn’t be run by council, that the crew couldn’t vote on anything, but ... the Tadpoles made it work. Somehow. She supposed it was hard for them to conceal their thinking from their fellows. A human dictatorship could convince each and every dissident that they were completely alone. The Tadpoles couldn’t do that.
“Your plan is sound.” The dance came to an end. Susan couldn’t tell if the Tadpoles had switched places or not. They all looked the same to her. No doubt they thought the same of their human allies. “We will assist with Phase One and proceed to Phase Two if it appears workable.”
Susan breathed a sigh of relief. “I thank you,” she said, again. She hadn’t dared hold out hope for anything more. The Tadpoles wouldn’t commit themselves to striking deep into enemy territory until they knew it was possible. “We can ask for no more.”
The aliens withdrew, moving back into the shadows. It was rude, by human standards, but ... she shook her head. The interview was over. She found it oddly refreshing. She’d had to spend too much time making small talk with people she detested, people who didn’t give a damn about her or ... anything, really, beyond their own power. The Tadpoles didn’t care about human etiquette. She wondered, as she turned and swam back to the airlock, why they’d agreed to the meeting in the first place. Had they considered it a diplomatic requirement? Or were they trying to humour their human allies?
She shelved the question as she swam back into the airlock, then keyed the hatch closed. The water level dropped sharply as it was pumped out, into the tanks. Susan ran her hands through her hair, promising herself a shower as the shuttle headed back to the flagship. Her hair hadn’t felt so grimy since the Second Interstellar War. Back then, the universe had seemed much simpler. They hadn’t known about the virus or what it could do.
The intercom bleeped as she hurried into the washroom. “Admiral?”
“Take us back to the flagship,” Susan ordered. She should have enough time for a quick shower. “And inform the Admiralty that the meeting was a success.”
Her lips curved into a smile as she stepped into the washroom and turned on the shower. It hadn’t been a long meeting, but she hadn’t expected it to last more than a few minutes at most. They never did. The Tadpoles understood humans found their native environment as unsettling and uncomfortable as they did the surface world. Susan nodded to herself as she undressed and stepped into the warm show
er. Humans and Tadpoles didn’t need to fight over anything. They could share entire worlds without any real contact.
And the virus threatens us all, she mused. They may not think like us, but they understand the danger as well as we do.
***
“I got to say,” Private Scott Davies said as they waited by the airlock, “I thought this was someone’s idea of a joke.”
Colin gave him a sharp look. It was impossible to imagine Sergeant Bowman playing a joke on anyone, let alone his subordinates. The man had rotated between active service and training duties for longer than Colin had been alive. He was strict - and no one crossed him twice - but fair. He wouldn’t set someone up for a pratfall.
And certainly not like this, Colin thought. He’d read the files very carefully, then read them again just to be sure he’d hit the high points. It was clear that whoever was behind the assignment wanted it to succeed. Perhaps. The cynic in Colin knew there were people who would openly promise the moon while covertly sabotaging their own efforts. He wouldn’t have volunteered me for the post if he didn’t have faith in me.
He sucked in his breath. The Vesy had been a primitive race when they’d been discovered by a bunch of Russian deserters. The deserters had thought, at first, that they were the last remnants of humanity and set out to turn the Vesy into allies for a war of revenge. And then they’d discovered they weren’t the last after all, which meant they’d be hung for desertion when their countrymen caught up with them. They’d become space pirates - the first and only known space pirates in history - until HMS Warspite had stumbled across their operations and liberated the system from their control. The Vesy had become, to all intents and purposes, a client race. No one was very comfortable with the situation.
The airlock hissed as it started to open. Colin tensed. The files had made it clear that the human settlers were trying to uplift the Vesy, without making them into pale copies of humanity or shattering their spirit once and for all. They’d been finding ways for the Vesy to earn money ... Colin wasn’t sure what he thought of that. It was a good way to make someone dependent, without making it so obvious it couldn’t be ignored. And yet, what did they have to sell? Only themselves.
He sucked in his breath as he saw the alien for the first time. Kevin - he promised himself he’d have a few sharp words with whoever had suggested the name - was alien. He kicked himself, mentally. Of course Kevin was alien. It was just hard to believe. He hadn’t seen many aliens in his career, unless one counted the zombies. And they’d been human before they’d been infected.
Colin forced himself to look the alien up and down. The Vesy struck him as fundamentally wrong. He was humanoid, wearing a standard battledress tailored to his body, but his proportions were all ... strange. Alien. He was tall, with scaly skin and a nose that looked as if it was a weird cross between a lizard’s nose and a pig’s snout. A handful of feathers seemed to be growing out of his head. Colin couldn’t help thinking of them as a mane.
Kevin saluted. “Permission to come aboard, sir?”
“Granted,” Colin said, automatically. The alien’s voice was strange - no one would be mistaking him for human any time soon - but understandable. “Welcome onboard.”
He watched the alien walk out of the shuttlecraft and onto the ship. Kevin moved like a dancer ... like a lizard, Colin’s brain pointed out. It looked as if he could run a great deal faster than the average human, something Colin vaguely remembered from the files. He made a mental note to go through them again, just in case he’d missed something. God alone knew how the attachment was going to work out. The only thing he knew for sure was that there were surprises in store.
“Come with me,” he ordered. His orders were to treat the alien like any other newcomer to the section. “This way.”
He turned, all too aware of the alien at his back. Whatever his orders said, it was hard to accept the alien as one of his men. He gritted his teeth, telling himself that the Vesy had gone through the same commando training as he had. And yet ... he hadn’t heard of the program until now. He was surprised he hadn’t heard so much as a whisper, even from the older marines and officers. Someone had probably worked overtime to make sure no one spoke out of turn.
They walked past a handful of crewmen, all of whom gaped at the newcomer. Colin smiled, despite himself. They’d have to get used to seeing the alien, somehow. Kevin would have to jog with the other marines, as well as carrying out hundreds of emergency drills until he could perform his duties in his sleep. Colin grimaced as he remembered just how much anti-alien feeling there was, down on Earth. The Bombardment had hardened a lot of attitudes. The Vesy weren’t responsible for that - they couldn’t so much as leave their homeworld without help - but he couldn’t count on people being smart enough to believe it. They’d probably find it easier to think one alien looked just like another ...
Never mind that they’re two different species, Colin thought. Idiots.
He sighed, inwardly, as he led the way into the tiny briefing compartment. Bowman had assigned it to the platoon, a favour Colin was sure came with invisible strings attached. The rest of his men stood to attention as he entered, something that surprised him. He was only a very junior corporal, not a lieutenant or a captain or ... he shook his head. Right now, it didn’t matter. He’d worry about it later.
And if a junior screws up, he thought morbidly, everything can be blamed on him.
“Stand at ease,” he ordered, watching Kevin out of the corner of his eye. The alien relaxed slightly, very slightly. It was hard to tell if the Vesy was actually standing at ease or not. “This is Kevin and ...”
“Hey,” Private Adams said. “What’s your real name?”
Kevin produced a hissing sound that reminded Colin of a teakettle on the brink of boiling. He wasn’t sure how Kevin made the noise and he was sure he couldn’t make it himself. The planners had been right, he decided, to give Kevin a human name. He made a mental note to have a series of long conversations with the alien, just to test his command of the English language. Kevin shouldn’t have any real problems, if he’d been through commando training, but it was well to be sure. Commando training was brutal, harsh enough to sort the men from the boys, yet it had one glaring weakness. Like all emergency training, it left out the emergency.
Colin cleared his throat. “We will be running training sims from now until departure,” he said. If there was one advantage to being on semi-detached duty, it was a certain freedom to run his training exercises the way he wanted them. “I expect each and every one of you to work towards our development. If the rumours are true” - he’d heard all sorts of rumours, some so insane he couldn’t even begin to believe them - “we’re heading deep into enemy space. I want to be ready to give the virus hell, when we meet it again. Any questions?”
There were none. Colin breathed a sigh of relief. Life hadn’t been easy for an immigrant family in Birmingham - he cursed himself under his breath, remembering that he’d been just as much of an arsehole as everyone else - and they’d been human. The girl he’d sneered at had grown into an exotic young woman ... he shook his head. He really had been an arsehole when he’d been a kid. Perhaps he should write her a note of apology, if he could find her again. He didn’t have the slightest idea where she’d gone. It was hard to believe she’d wanted to stay in Birmingham ...
“Good,” he said. He motioned for Kevin to sling his carryall under the table - thankfully, he could fit in a human-sized bunk - and then led the way to the training room. “Let’s go.”
Sergeant Bowman passed them as they entered the chamber. Colin was sure he’d be watching through the concealed pickups, gauging Colin’s performance as well as the newcomer’s. Colin wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The assignment might see him promoted, if things went well, or it might cost him his shot at a commission and company command. He groaned, inwardly, as he activated the simulators. Promotion was swift in wartime - the war killed far too many promising young officers - but it would
n’t come if he had a major black mark on his record. And who knew what he’d do with himself then?
I’ll think of something, he thought. Until then ... I’ll give it my best shot.
The simulation came online, projecting a handful of holographic targets. His stomach churned as he saw women and children in the infected horde. Ten years ago, accidentally hitting a civilian would have meant a beasting from the instructors. Now, infected civilians could be as dangerous as everyone else. He wondered, idly, what Kevin thought of firing on humans. It was hard to believe the Vesy loved their human patrons. Colin had had enough experience with do-gooders who thought they were helping to loathe them without reservation.
A problem for another time, he mused. A holographic image leapt at him and he stopped it with a holographic bullet. Right now, we have other problems.
Chapter Ten
“Welcome back, sir,” Staci said. “Had a good leave?”
Mitch frowned, all too aware he looked like a man who’d spent the previous night with his girlfriend. He had, he supposed. By the time Charlotte had dropped him off at the barracks, they’d done it four times ... he still couldn’t believe they’d made love in a moving vehicle on the streets of London. The thought of being stopped by the police, or the army, had added a spice to their lovemaking he hadn’t thought possible. And yet, he had no intention of talking about it to anyone. If the truth ever came out ...
Fighting For The Crown (Ark Royal Book 16) Page 9