And we’re taking the long road home, she mused. She was a little disappointed the fleet hadn’t encountered any major enemy worlds. We might be accidentally evading their fortifications ...
The intercom bleeped. “Admiral, Doctor Simpson is requesting permission to speak with you,” Richardson said. “Should I put him through?”
Susan glanced at the near-space display. It was blank. The next tramline was slowly coming into view, suggesting the fleet would begin transit - again - in less than an hour. She had time to speak to the xenospecialist, even though she doubted he had anything useful to say. The last report had been completely uninformative. She’d schooled herself to accept they might not learn anything useful from the mystery artefacts.
“Put him through,” she ordered.
Doctor Simpson materialised in front of her, wearing a civilian tunic rather than a shipsuit. Susan’s eyes narrowed in disapproval. The research ship - a modified survey cruiser - might be fast, but she wasn’t fast enough to escape the enemy if they caught her with her drives offline. The doctor should wear a shipsuit at all times, even if he was in his bunk. Better to put up with some mild annoyance than get killed if someone blew a hole in the hull.
And if someone had to vent the ship to kill an infection, she thought. She’d have to raise the issue with the ship’s commanding officer. He wouldn’t have time to get dressed before it was too late.
She pushed her annoyance aside. “Doctor,” she said. “Have you made any progress?”
“We believe so,” Doctor Simpson said. “We’re still nowhere near understanding how the alien tech actually works, but we’re getting a sense of what it can do.”
“Interesting,” Susan said, slowly. One didn’t have to understand technology in order to use it. Human history made that all too clear. “What does it do?”
Doctor Simpson leaned forward. “We reviewed the records from the landing parties as well as the sensor drones and whatnot,” he said. “The level of viral matter in the air was quite high when we first landed, even though it was either dead or dying. Its cohesion had been shattered beyond effective repair ...”
“I am familiar with the BioBombs,” Susan said, cutting him off. “What does this have to do with the alien tech?”
“The level of viral matter in the alien basement was actually quite low,” Doctor Simpson explained. “It was actually live, at least until the hatch was opened and it was exposed to the contaminant outside. And yet, if the bioscanners were accurate, the viral matter was ... effectively inert. It wasn’t part of the planetary mind. The biological researchers think it was in a form of stasis.”
Susan frowned. “And that had something to do with the alien tech?”
“We think so,” Doctor Simpson said. He looked discomfited, just for a second. “I ... we ... feel slightly unsure of ourselves, when we look at the alien artefacts. We thought that it was sheer incomprehension, that there was at least fifty to a hundred years between their tech and ours. Or, perhaps, that the artefacts are alien, that they repel us on a very primal level. But this isn’t true when we view them through sensors. It only affects us if we’re in close proximity.”
“I see.” Susan stroked her chin thoughtfully. “It’s not uncommon for people to find aliens disconcerting.”
“Aliens,” Doctor Simpson said. “Not alien tech, just aliens.”
Susan wasn’t so sure. Tadpole technology tended to look more than a little odd to human eyes. It was all too clear it had been designed and built by creatures that had a very different way of looking at the universe. The laws of physics didn’t change - science worked as well for aliens as it did for humans - but viewpoints did. She doubted she’d ever be truly comfortable on an alien ship and suspected they felt the same way. They just weren’t designed for humans.
“We believe the artefacts were designed, at least in part, to keep the virus away from the settlement,” Doctor Simpson explained. “It may explain why the virus seemed content to ignore it.”
“You believe the artefacts put the virus to sleep, whenever it gets too close to them,” Susan said. “Are you sure?”
“No, Admiral,” Doctor Simpson said. “We’ve run tests. There is a slight, a very slight, effect on the brainwaves of anyone who spends more than a few minutes next to the artefacts. It appears to be harmless - as far as we can tell, it doesn’t actually do anything - but it is very definitely there. The viral particles, being a lot smaller than human brains, may be more strongly affected.”
“Interesting,” Susan mused. “How does this actually work?”
“We don’t know,” Doctor Simpson admitted. “There are some ... neural weapons designed to interfere with brainwaves, for want of a better term, but they have detectable effects.”
Susan’s eyes narrowed. “You just told me you could detect an effect.”
“I beg your pardon,” Doctor Simpson said, with a frown. “I can detect the effect, but I can’t detect what’s actually causing the effect. The artefacts are doing something, we just don’t know how.”
“I see.” Susan stared down at her hands. Radios worked, but humans couldn’t detect radio waves. Not naturally. It required a radio set to pick up the messages ... she looked up at the doctor, feeling a flash of paranoia. If the artefacts could cause flickers in someone’s brainwaves, what else could they do? She didn’t want to find out the hard way. “I assume you’re taking all precautions?”
“Yes, Admiral,” Doctor Simpson said. “The artefacts are isolated from the rest of the ship. The handlers who inspect them directly undergo full decontamination as they enter and leave the isolation sector ...”
“Good,” Susan said, when he’d finished. “I’ll discuss the matter with my staff and get back to you.”
She closed the connection, then muttered a curse under her breath. The fleet was approaching the next tramline. She didn’t need more problems, not now. And yet, there was no way to be sure the artefacts didn’t pose a threat. The virus had been content to ignore them ... perhaps the planet-wide mind hadn’t noticed a tiny fraction of its body had gone to sleep. Or ... she wondered, suddenly, if they were a trap. Had they been meant to pick the artefacts up? Or ... she shook her head. Anyone with the power to predict the future so perfectly wouldn’t need to arse around playing games. They could have brushed humanity’s navy aside and blown Earth to dust any time they liked.
The thought mocked her as the fleet drew closer and closer to the tramline, the scouts hopping ahead to make sure the coast was clear. The uncertainty gnawed at her. She thought she could trace a line from Sir Francis Drake and Lord Nelson to her command, but ... in truth, neither of the two would really have understood her world. Even Sir Theodore Smith would have been astounded by Vanguard, Invincible, and Lion. They were light years ahead of the old Ark Royal.
Worry about it later, she told herself, as the scouts began to return. Right now, we have other problems.
The intercom bleeped. “Admiral,” Richardson said. “The scouts have returned. They’ve located a major alien base.”
Susan nodded as the sensor records were downloaded into her terminal. The alien world was nowhere near as intensely developed as the previous target, but ... it wasn’t an opportunity she could afford to turn down. There didn’t seem to be many defending starships ... she frowned, wondering where the ships had gone. They couldn’t be the fleet they’d evaded unless they’d missed a whole string of tramlines. That fleet had seemed to come from behind them, unless they’d sneaked through the system ... no, the timing didn’t work out. And yet ... if that were true, where were the defenders? The orbital fortresses weren’t enough to protect an entire world.
She shook her head. There was no time to worry about it. The virus had to know, by now, that it had been conned. She couldn’t risk giving it time to reinforce the defences, not here. She had to blow through the system and then make her escape, before it was too late.
Susan tapped her terminal. “Command conference, twenty minute
s,” she ordered. “We have an operation to plan.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tobias had an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu as the gunboats hurtled towards their targets on a ballistic trajectory, exactly the same tactic they’d used during the previous battle. The planet ahead of them was neither as heavily industrialised or defended as the last target, but it was wrapped in a glowing haze of active sensor emissions. The virus might not know the fleet had entered the system - it wasn’t clear if they’d managed to evade the enemy fleet - but it clearly wasn’t taking anything for granted. Tobias was all too aware they were going to be detected quite some time before they entered missile range.
He scowled as he peered down at his console. The missiles were flying beside the gunboats, passively waiting for orders. It struck him, not for the first time, that the Royal Navy considered the gunboats completely expendable, perhaps even more so than the unmanned missiles. Their targeting sensors, which would be used to point the missiles at their final destinations, would draw fire to them, rather than the missiles themselves. Tobias knew the odds - it wasn’t as if the navy had tried to lie to the gunboat pilots - but it still bothered him more than he wanted to say. He knew, deep inside, that he wasn’t very brave.
“The sensor emissions are getting stronger,” he said. The virus would spot them soon, if it hadn’t already. It could have caught a sniff of the gunboats and artfully avoided doing a sensor focus, ensuring the gunboats didn’t realise they’d been detected. “They may have us already.”
“We should see it if they launch starfighters,” Marigold reminded him. “They’d have to launch them openly if they wanted to catch us.”
Tobias nodded. Starfighters were designed for ballistic launches - he’d seen it done - but they wouldn’t be able to move at speed until they brought up their drives. He glanced at the overall display, calculating the odds. The enemy would have had to have seen them a long time ago if it wanted to get starfighters into position to ambush them, unless they’d come up with something completely new. He frowned as his sensors picked up more and more industrial activity. The virus could have used shuttles to tow the starfighters into position, then leave them lying doggo until the gunboats came within range. It would have required an extreme dose of paranoia, but the virus had already lost a major industrial node. Tobias didn’t care how many dozens - perhaps hundreds - of such worlds the virus possessed. Losing the planet’s industrial base had to hurt.
Red light washed across the display. “Fuck,” Tobias swore, as enemy sensors focused on the gunboats. “They have us!”
A quiver ran through the gunboat as Marigold flash-woke the drives. “Bring the sensors online,” she snapped. There was no point in trying to hide now. Red icons flared around the enemy positions as they launched wave after wave of starfighters. “Pick your targets now!”
“On it.” Tobias worked his console. The virus might have realised the gunboats were escorting missiles, but it would still have to find them ... not an easy task, when the missiles were tiny on an interplanetary scale. They weren’t designed for stealth, not exactly, but as long as they didn’t bring up their drives they were relatively safe until they got a great deal closer. “Targeting ... now.”
He smiled, grimly, as the display rapidly narrowed. The enemy orbital industry had the same weaknesses as the previous world, with a handful of installations that couldn’t be replaced in a hurry ... if, indeed, at all. Once they were taken out, the world would be a great deal less useful to the virus. And, beyond the world ... there were no orbital towers or elevators this time, but the BioBombs would still do a great deal of damage. Tobias remembered the images from the last world and smiled again. This planet was just as thoroughly infected with the virus. And the infection was doomed.
The red icons swooped closer. Tobias gritted his teeth as he forwarded the targeting data to the missiles. They should be able to reach their targets alone, going live only a few moments before they actually struck home. It was never easy to maintain the balance between speed and stealth, between the need to get into striking range without being detected and the need strike their targets before anyone could react and start shooting them down. The missiles were programmed to deploy sensor decoys the moment they were detected, but it would probably be too late. They’d be so close to their targets that the enemy point defence could fill space with plasma bursts. A single hit would be quite enough to take out the missile.
“Here they come,” he said. The gunboats linked together into a single entity, their point defence readying itself for the duel. “Prepare to reverse course.”
“Two minutes,” Marigold said. “Let them come after us first.”
Tobias nodded, sweat beading on his back. He understood the logic - they had to lure the starfighters onto the gunboats, in hopes of keeping them away from the missiles - but he didn’t like it. The gunboats were supposed to be tougher than the average starfighter, according to the techs, yet a single plasma bolt in the wrong place would be enough to disable or destroy them. They’d practiced emergency escape procedures, but he was all too aware that they might not have time to grab their survival packs and jump. The gunboats were too big for proper ejector seats ...
The enemy starfighters swooped down on them, their plasma guns already firing madly. Tobias watched, knowing the engagement was already out of his hands. The gunboat datanet was the only thing that could spot opportunities and make use of them, snapping off a shot in less time than it took a human to notice the opportunity was there. The lower half of the display filled with tactical notes, the computers assessing enemy patterns and trying to predict them. They weren’t that good. The virus might not think along the same lines as its human foes, but it understood the virtue of randomness. A pilot who flew a predictable flight path was a dead pilot.
He smiled, despite everything, as four enemy starfighters vanished. The host bodies were dead ... he wondered, suddenly, if they’d ever been alive at all. It was impossible to imagine sharing his body with an intelligent virus. There’d been a lot of jokes about the concept, when humanity had first realised the truth. The jokes had grown steadily less amusing as the virus ground its way towards Earth. Tobias couldn’t help thinking that they were doing the host bodies a favour. They didn’t deserve to live as nothing more than hosts for a virus ...
“Reversing course ... now,” Marigold said. The compensator field shivered, just slightly, as the gunboat spun around. It wasn’t anything like as manoeuvrable as a starfighter, but it made up for that by bristling with point defence weapons. There were no blind spots that would allow an enemy a clear shot at the hull. “The starfighters should be on their way.”
Tobias nodded. The fleet had launched starfighters the moment the enemy sensors had picked up the gunboats, but they were still quite some distance from the planet. It would be quite some time before they reached the gunboats ... not long at all, in an objective sense, but quite long enough for him. The enemy starfighters redoubled their efforts, even as the enemy commander - he guessed it was the planet itself - unleashed its remaining defenders. A wall of shuttles and starfighters emerged from the planet and rocketed towards the gunboats.
Marigold let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-gasp. “All that for us?”
“And the fleet,” Tobias said. The virus couldn’t be in any doubt about the fleet’s presence now. The starfighters weren’t even trying to hide. It wouldn’t require a genius to deduce there were at least five carriers lurking in interplanetary space ... and, if there were carriers, there were probably battleships and cruisers, too. The days when carriers had mounted raids on their own, or with only a handful of escorts, were over. “They’re trying to keep them away from the planet.”
He glanced at the missile status display. They had to hold out for a few more seconds, just long enough to let the starfighters and shuttles roar past the missiles. Once they were past, the missiles could go live, forcing the enemy to decide between reversing course or continuing to
attack. If they hesitated, even for a few seconds, the choice would be made for them. They might not even manage to do anything at all. The admiral’s briefing, passed down from officer to officer until it finally reached the gunboat crews, had suggested she would be quite happy to blast the planet from a distance and leave it - and its defenders - to die on the vine.
An alert sounded. “The missiles are going live,” he said. “Let’s see what they do ...”
He allowed his smile to widen as the missiles showed themselves, their drives coming online and boosting them towards their targets. The enemy formation seemed to shudder - for a moment, he genuinely believed the virus was a telepathic entity - and hesitate, before it reversed course and started to spit fire at the missiles. It had already lost its best chance to strike them down, he noted; the missiles were faster than any shuttle or starfighter. The window of opportunity was closing.
“Our starfighters are here,” Marigold said. “I’m setting course for the barn.”
Fighting For The Crown (Ark Royal Book 16) Page 28