It could be worse, he thought. The xenospecialists hadn’t been bothered. Colin had been impressed until he’d discovered that intensive decontamination procedures were part of their job. They’d even told him that had been true well before they’d encountered the virus. We could be doing this every day.
He stepped through the final hatch into a changing room, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw the pile of clothes on the far side. The basic shipsuits were hardly BDUs, but they were better than nothing. Besides, they’d provide a little protection when - if - the ship was holed. He checked the mask automatically, then waited for the rest of the team. They’d already filed their reports while they’d been on the research ship, but - if he was any judge - his superiors would have questions. The significance of what they’d found wouldn’t have been lost on any of them.
And yet, there’s nothing I can tell them that wasn’t in the reports, he thought. The idea he could just look at a piece of alien technology and determine what it did - and how it worked - was absurd. We don’t even know what we found.
A dull quiver ran through the battlecruiser as she picked up speed. Colin stepped into the corridor and keyed the nearest terminal, trying to pull up a status report. The fleet was accelerating, leaving the planet behind. Colin shivered, despite himself. The planet had looked ghastly, even before the orbital bombardment had really started. It would be decades, perhaps centuries, before the planet could be settled, if indeed it ever could be. Colin knew retired military personnel could practically write their own tickets, if they agreed to settle newly-colonised worlds, but he wouldn’t settle that world for anything. It wasn’t even clear the biosphere would survive. The combination of dying viral matter and bombardment might kill the entire world. Perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing. The world could never be fully trusted, not ever. The virus could easily go dormant and wait.
He glanced back into the changing room. “Come on,” he said. “It won’t get any easier.”
Kevin joined him, looking tired. Or Colin thought he looked tired. The drooping feathers were meant to signify tiredness, but ... it was hard to read the alien body language. Colin had tried to draw Kevin out, to talk to him as more than just NCO to ranker, yet ... Colin shook his head. They had very little in common beyond the marines. Human jokes - the funny and the puerile alike - meant nothing to the Vesy. Colin had asked Kevin to tell him a joke, something his people would find funny, but Kevin hadn’t been able to answer him. It was difficult to believe the Vesy didn’t have a sense of humour ...
They are completely at our mercy and they know it, Colin thought, as they made their way back to Marine Country. Dozens of crewmen rushed past them, transferring weapons and supplies from the shuttles to the hold. They don’t want to offend us.
He shook his head at the thought. The Vesy jokes probably meant nothing to human ears. It was hard to explain human jokes to them, not without stripping out the humour. They depended on cultural and stereotypical references the aliens simply lacked. And even when they were explained, they were still meaningless. He rubbed his forehead as they stepped through the hatch. It would be a great deal harder with his fellow humans. Familiarity would make it harder to believe there might be differences, at least until it was too late.
Sergeant Bowman met them inside the hatch. “I hear you had an exciting time down there?”
“No, Sarge,” Colin said. “We were on duty.”
Bowman snorted. “You can probably put in a claim for a share of salvage rights,” he said, dryly. “Just remember to remember me in your will.”
Colin laughed. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll write a note right now. I remember Sergeant Bowman.”
The sergeant grinned. Kevin looked unsure of himself. Colin sobered as he remembered his earlier thoughts. The joke wasn’t funny unless one understood the context. Hell, the joke lost a lot of its humour if one assumed the sergeant was serious ...
He frowned. “Can we really put in a claim?”
“You should be able to,” Bowman said. “But it may be some time before they work out how much you deserve.”
“A kick up the backside, probably,” Colin said. “What we found is either worthless or priceless.”
“They’ll put a price on it,” Bowman said. “They can put a price on anything, these days.”
***
Susan would almost have preferred it if the alien ships had been launching starfighters and closing the range as much as possible. An enemy who was giving her all the time in the world to prepare to meet the offensive, an offensive everyone knew was coming, was being suspiciously accommodating. She studied the display, wondering if there was an enemy fleet waiting for her in the next system. It wouldn’t be that hard to set up an ambush, using the flicker network. Unicorn’s survey had found no trace of enemy presence, but that was meaningless. A star system was big enough to conceal every starship in human service and still have room for a Death Star or two.
Her lips twitched at the thought, before she dismissed it with a flash of annoyance. There were only two tramlines in the next system. They had to pass through them if they wanted to get home. She briefly contemplated reversing course and doubling back, perhaps hiding under cloak in a desperate bid to avoid contact, but she knew it wasn’t likely to work. They wouldn’t have anything like enough time to get organised, let alone evade the enemy starships long enough to break contact completely. She was all too aware they hadn’t killed every last enemy facility within the system. The cloudscoops, shipyards and industrial nodes might have been smashed beyond repair, and the planet itself was dying, but the remainder of the enemy presence remained intact. It would die on the vine, given time. It would still survive long enough to tattle on her to marauding starships.
“Admiral,” Richardson said. “The scouts are preparing to transit.”
“Order them to report back as soon as possible,” Susan said. They were going to have to evade the enemy ships long enough to reach the next tramline, yet ... a least-time course would be completely predictable. She just didn’t have the time to be clever. “And ready the fleet for transit.”
Her eyes returned to the display. The enemy fleet wasn’t making any attempt to slow her down. It was what she would have done, particularly if she was trying to buy time. The enemy fleet could have harried her ships, without closing the range to the point she could crush it. And that suggested it knew something she didn't. There had to be another fleet, forming somewhere ahead of her.
She studied the starchart for a long, chilling moment. The tramline projections were supposed to be complete, although no one knew for sure. It hadn’t been that long since humanity had realised the early projections were wrong because alien-grade tramlines had less of a gravimetric presence. The survey ships had been updating starcharts for years, including scouting within enemy territory, but ... she shook her head. They didn’t have time to conduct their own surveys. She’d have to risk it.
“They’ll know where we’re going,” she mused. “Perhaps we can take advantage of that.”
Richardson looked up. “Admiral?”
Susan rotated the starchart. “When we make the second transit, the least-time course for New Washington would run through Tramline Two, right?”
“Yes, Admiral,” Richardson said. He’d accepted the role of sounding board - and devil’s advocate - when they’d started to work together. “That would cut several weeks off the voyage.”
“But we could still get home if we went through Tramline Three,” Susan mused. “It’ll just take a little longer.”
“A couple of extra weeks, Admiral,” Richardson confirmed. “It would depend on our speed.”
“And what we encountered along the way,” Susan agreed. The tramlines were relatively easy to predict, but everything else ...? She shook her head. They were so far from the Human Sphere that no one had so much as looked at the alien stars through telescopes. Shipboard sensors just didn't have the resolution to pick out planets, let alone starships. “We co
uld feint towards Tramline Two, then head directly to Tramline Three ...”
She frowned. It depended on unknown unknowns. How many enemy ships were waiting for them in the third system? How many of them would be in position to watch as the human ships made transit? And how many of them would be close enough to notice a fleet of drones being deployed to create the impression the fleet was heading straight for Tramline Two?
Her fingers danced across the console, tapping orders into the system. Unicorn could operate independently, if necessary. Captain Campbell and his crew could loop through Tramline Two, passing through three other systems before they linked up with the fleet again or made their own way home. Susan disliked the idea of splitting her fleet any further - she’d already detached too many survey ships - but she knew the fleet needed hard data. They had to know as much as possible about the enemy interior, if they wanted to resume the offensive. The virus would find it a great deal harder to move or conceal industrial bases and shipyards. The navy would move to destroy them as soon as they knew the industrial nodes were there.
“Get me Captain Campbell,” she ordered, putting her doubts aside. “I have specific orders for him.”
“Aye, Admiral.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
There was nothing more depressing, Mitch had often felt, than a barren and desolate star system. It was the second time Unicorn had transited into the system and it hadn’t improved. If there was any alien presence within the system, it was keeping its head down and trying not to be noticed. Mitch eyed the console, wondering if there were unseen eyes close enough to track the fleet. It was quite possible. The fleet’s stealth systems weren’t powerful enough to conceal it while maintaining flank speed. And they didn’t want to risk activating the cloaking devices just yet.
He leaned back in his command chair and mulled over the orders he’d been given. He wasn’t blind to how much trust the admiral had placed in him, although she’d been honest enough to admit the scheme had only a fifty-fifty chance of working. It depended on too many factors that couldn’t be easily controlled. If the enemy had a starship close enough to watch as they transited the next tramline, the entire scheme would be worse than useless. He forced himself to wait as the remainder of the fleet entered the system, sensors sweeping for stealthed or cloaked ships. They found nothing. He knew, all too well, that proved nothing.
“Captain,” Staci said. “The fleet is setting course for the tramline.”
“Good,” Mitch said. The transit would take seven hours, assuming none of the starships lost a drive node or two. Warships were designed to keep going, even if they took a great deal of damage, but freighters were much more vulnerable. “Are the drones ready to deploy?”
“Yes, Captain,” Staci said. “The decoy emissions are already programmed into their cores.”
Mitch nodded as he studied the display. He would have preferred to have two or three other ships accompanying Unicorn, even if that meant being under someone else’s command, but the admiral couldn’t spare any more ships. Unicorn was expendable. The admiral had warned him to be ready to make the trip back home himself, if he lost contact with the rest of the fleet. He didn’t want to abandon his comrades, but he knew he might not be able to link up with them again. He tried not to consider the possibility that Unicorn might be the only ship that made it home.
The display sparkled with red icons. Mitch leaned forward. The enemy fleet was making transit, moving with an unhurried pace that suggested it knew the human fleet was heading straight into a trap. Mitch hoped the admiral was right about where that ambush might be, although a cursory glance at the starchart had suggested several other possibilities. Hell, they might be intercepted in this system. The only thing that argued against it was the simple lack of starfighter attacks. The virus seemed more interested in maintaining contact, in making sure it knew where the fleet was, than in bringing it to battle.
He stood. “You have the bridge,” he said, formally. “Inform me if anything changes.”
Staci took the command chair. “Aye, sir.”
“And get some rest yourself,” Mitch added. “We both need our sleep.”
He allowed himself a flicker of amusement at the hypocrisy as he walked from deck to deck, touring the ship. The crew looked ready for anything, although some of them looked tired and worn. Unicorn didn’t have enough crew to ensure that everyone was well-rested at all times ... Mitch directed some of the crew to catch up on their sleep, so they’d be ready when they made the second transit. It was quite possible the alarm would yank them from their bunks, leaving them feeling worse, but ... Mitch shook his head. The last thing he wanted or needed was the crew abusing stimulants. He’d be completely understanding, if he caught a crewman drugging himself, but that wouldn’t stop him from arranging a dishonourable discharge for that unwitting crewman. He just couldn’t take the risk of someone opening fire on something that wasn’t there.
Perhaps a bigger ship would have an easier time of it, he mused. But how could her captain know every inch of her?
He smiled at the thought as he returned to his cabin and checked his inbox. There weren’t many messages, all of them routine fleet business that was - somehow - still carrying on in the midst of a battle. He felt a pang of ... something ... at the absence of anything more personal, then brought up the message from Charlotte and watched it again before heading for his bunk. Common sense told him he should delete the message, before someone else saw it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. It would be like erasing something that had been placed in his trust.
You’re being silly, he told himself. Do you think you mean anything to her?
Mitch turned off the light, then closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It wasn’t easy. He’d long since grown used to snatching what sleep he could, even with an enemy fleet bearing down on him, but this time ... he tossed and turned, trying to clear his head long enough to go to sleep. His dreams were strange, flickering images that refused to remain in his mind when the alarm rang. He practically hurled himself out of bed, his head spinning as he looked at the display. It was clear.
He keyed the terminal. “Report!”
“We are one hour from the tramline,” Staci said. She sounded refreshed. “The drones are updated and ready to deploy.”
Mitch frowned. He hoped Staci had rested, but she couldn’t have slept any longer than he had. Hell, she wouldn’t have abandoned the bridge in a hurry. Command experience was not to be sniffed at, not when she was in line for a promotion to captain herself. He made a mental note to insist she got more rest once they were through the tramline, then poured himself a mug of coffee and drank it. There weren’t any stewards on Unicorn! Having his own coffee pot in his cabin was as close as he’d get to having a servant, unless he was kicked upstairs to a capital ship. Or flag rank ... he shook his head. That was a terrible thought. He would no longer be in command of his own ship.
He finished his coffee, splashed water on his face and returned to the bridge. The tactical display looked unchanged. The enemy fleet was still keeping its distance, close enough to the human ships to maintain contact while remaining far enough to ensure it could evade the fleet if it turned and tried to bring the alien ships to battle. Mitch was fairly sure that wasn’t good news. The virus might be concerned about losing more ships, but if it was biding its time ...
“The fleet will make transit in twenty minutes,” Staci reported. “Their cloaking devices are already powered up, ready to go online.”
Mitch nodded. The timing wouldn’t be a major headache, unless the virus had a starship close enough to monitor the transit. There was no way to be sure. If the timing worked, the fleet would go into cloak while the drones headed to the next tramline ... hopefully, leading the enemy fleet in the wrong direction. Mitch wasn’t sure how long they could keep up the deception, or how the enemy would react when it discovered the truth, but it didn’t matter as long as it bought them some time. The admiral needed time to make her escape.
“Take us through the tramline as planned, then deploy drones,” Mitch ordered. “Fuzz our emissions as much as possible.”
He tensed as the tramline grew nearer and nearer. If there was something on the far side, Unicorn was going to fly straight into their fire. A thought crossed his mind as they readied themselves for the transit. It might be possible to spring an ambush ... if not now, then later, when they linked back up with the fleet. The countdown began, ticking down to zero. Mitch’s stomach lurched as they transited, the display blanking and rebooting with commendable speed. There were no incoming missiles, just ... empty space.
“Activate the drones,” Mitch ordered. “Fuzz everything.”
“Aye, Captain,” Staci said.
Mitch leaned forward as more and more data flowed into the display. The system had five planets - unless there were more on the other side of the primary - but there didn’t seem to be much settlement. The rocky worlds could have been terraformed, and biological packages introduced, yet the virus didn’t seem to have bothered. Mitch didn’t understand it. The only industrial presence in the system was a pair of cloudscoops, orbiting the gas giant. A fuelling station? It was possible, but odd. There hadn’t been any need for the station, at least not until the previous system had been devastated. Perhaps the virus had just thought it was building a great deal of redundancy into the system.
Fighting For The Crown (Ark Royal Book 16) Page 26