Deathtrap

by Craig Alanson

  Emily Perkins considered that she was owed plenty of favors, and she needed to think about how to collect. “Forget that for now. Run the data forward.”

  “I did what you said,” Shauna explained as the images ran forward at high speed, flickering when there were gaps in the coverage, switching from visual wavelengths to infrared when clouds passed over the target sites. At times, the images were not primarily visual at all, being composites of remote sensor data with plenty of guesses where sensor coverage was not available. When the images got to the present, that is, several hours before Perkins arrived, Shauna ran them backwards, also at high speed. She zoomed the image in to focus on one area and went forward and back, forward and back. “You see it?”

  “Yes,” Perkins sat back in her chair with satisfaction. The feeling of satisfaction stemmed from catching the Kristang breaking the rules, and from being able to use that knowledge to protect lives in the Alien Legion. And, she thought with a smile she concealed from Shauna, from knowing that knowledge was something the Ruhar in orbit, for all their advanced technology, did not have. “Jarrett, this is good work. Damned good work.”

  “I learned from the best, Ma’am.” Shauna was about to give herself a mental pat on the back when she felt Perkins’ hand thump her shoulder.

  “Damned good work, Sergeant,” the colonel was grinning as she rarely did. “Let’s take a closer look at that site. Unless you have another site you want to show me first?”

  “No, this is the most promising candidate.” What Shauna had done is look for anomalies in surface traffic patterns, anything from convoys of trucks driving an indirect route or stopping at unusual locations, to groups or even individual Kristang on foot, walking under the tree canopy of a forest. What she found, by running the images forward and back at high speed, were patterns, patterns that should not be there. The human eye and brain are excellent at pattern recognition, or ‘recursive probabilistic fractals’. Some types of AIs were, of course, programmed to be just as good or better at the particular skill that carbon-based beings had acquired the hard way through trial-and-error of evolutionary biology. However, that did not mean AIs understood what they were seeing, or could make sense of something they didn’t expect, something they had no context within which to process a pattern.

  Shauna’s eyes had found interesting things in the images, sometimes it helped to slightly unfocus her eyes so she could pay attention to the big picture without being distracted by the overwhelming detail. She found that trucks regularly stopped on a lonely stretch of road through a dense forest. The drivers or AIs controlling the trucks thought they were fooling any watching sensors by speeding up before and after they stopped, so the time of their passage through the thick tree canopy was little different than if they had continued at a steady speed. She only detected the odd activity of the trucks by comparing faint infrared satellite images that gave her glimpses through the tree cover, then checking a network of acoustic sensors the Ruhar had scattered across the surface. Those sensors, designed to pick up sounds of gunfire, had poor coverage and sound from a distance was muffled, especially as the trucks mostly made their stops during the area’s frequent summer afternoon rainstorms. By syncing up the images and sound data, Shauna became certain the trucks were stopping, because the electric whine of their engines disappeared when the trucks were in the middle of that forest.

  Activity of the trucks became sporadic, then halted altogether as the Legion had begun to assert control of the planet. Trucks were only allowed to run in convoys escorted by Legion guards, so there was no opportunity to make clandestine drop-offs.

  That is when the images began to show Shauna small groups of Kristang, walking on foot or riding ATVs, approaching the area mostly at night. That area was designated as farmland, with forested sections in places where the ground was rocky or the soil poor for growing crops enjoyed by the Kristang.

  “What do you think, Ma’am?” Shauna looked up when she had shown Perkins all the useful data.

  Perkins withheld judgment for the moment. “What do we have for subsurface scans of this area?”

  “Plenty,” Shauna called up the data, both the initial set provided by the Kristang as part of the treaty, and the scans the Ruhar had conducted from orbit. “They match.”

  “Of course they do. The lizards would alter their data set to show what they want us to see. A scan done from orbit is not going to detect the flaws we see along the margins of a lizard stealth field.”

  “You want an overflight to confirm?”

  “Don’t need one, and I don’t want to show our hand. This joker,” she adjusted the image to show a particularly industrious Kristang farmer who made regular trips into the forest at night, driving an ATV without lights. That farmer also made regular trips into the local village to buy supplies, more supplies than the farm could possibly use. “He is all I need to see. He’s bringing, or selling, something to people in those woods. Those trucks you saw, they brought the gear and the people, there have got to be lizards under those trees. Since then, the local farmers have been supplying fresh food, and whatever the soldiers hidden in those trees want.”

  “Can we estimate the number of troops from the amount of stuff the farmers are bringing?”

  “I don’t think so, except that there are enough soldiers to cause a problem for us. It also tells us they are sloppy and undisciplined. I can see one or two soldiers on guard duty at night, buying fresh food without their commander knowing about it. The scale of this activity? Either those Kristang didn’t bring enough food when they established their base, or they didn’t expect to be there this long.”

  “We’re making them keep their heads down?” Shauna asked hopefully.

  “It’s more likely they’re waiting for something that was supposed to happen by now. Like a group of lizard ships jumping into orbit, I need to talk with the commodore about this threat. Jarrett,” she stood up and tugged on her uniform top to straighten it. “This is good work. Keep watching that site and see if you can find any others, they can’t all be this sloppy. I can’t believe the lizards would put all their eggs in one basket, they must have more hidden caches of weapons somewhere on Fresno. Don’t tell anyone about this yet, I don’t want an opsec failure blowing this opportunity.”

  Commodore Sequent, commander of the three Ruhar warships assigned to support the Legion at Feznako, reviewed the data and let out a long whistle, which made Perkins struggle not to laugh as the whistle made a screechy musical tone. All she could think of was a barbershop quartet of whistling hamsters from an old TV commercial, with the hamsters wearing straw hats.

  The commodore was not wearing a straw hat, and he was frowning. “I agree this is a threat,” he announced with a touch of irritation. His Fleet intelligence people should have detected what was obviously a hidden cache of weapons and troops. “You want orbital fire support when you take this site?” That could be a problem. Commodore Sequent had only three warships, plus a support ship for light repairs, spare parts and fuel. The support ship was parked far from the planet where it hopefully would be safely away from any attack the Kristang might launch. Of his three warships, he had the two destroyers and a frigate equally spaced in orbit, to provide optimal close space support for fire missions directed at the ground. Still, not every area of the planet was under his ships’ effective cone of fire coverage at all times. He simply did not have enough ships to accomplish the mission, and for that, he blamed the Alien Legion in general and Lieutenant Colonel Emily Perkins in particular. Sentiment in the Fleet, particularly among the senior officer corps, was strongly against the Alien Legion. The Fleet was stretched too thin already, and bringing in aliens would allow, even encourage, the federal government to take territory the Fleet would need to protect. Ruhar security did not require taking the planet below, and if security needs did require establishing firm control of that star system, then the Army should have been tasked with taking it. In the opinion of Commodore Sequent, the operation at Fresno
was nothing more than a foolish experiment.

  No, it was worse than that. It was a real-estate deal. The federal government had awarded a juicy contract to a well-connected company, to provide logistical support for the initial wave of colonists, then the company would have exclusive development rights for twelve years. That, in Sequent’s well-informed opinion, was why the Alien Legion had been allowed to stumble and fumble their primitive, amateurish way of taking over the planet. Somebody stood to make a lot of money on Fresno, and they had pulled strings to get the Alien Legion there. The federal government had already given the development company a whopping advance payment, and that was why Sequent’s small and inadequate squadron was charged with supporting the Legion. The federal government was risking the lives of his squadron to protect their investment. If the Fresno campaign failed, the federal government would not blame the untested Alien Legion. They would blame the Commissioner first, and Commodore Sequent second.

  To the commodore’s surprise, Perkins shook her head side to side, a gesture Sequent had learned meant the same for humans as it did for Ruhar. “No,” she declared. “I don’t want to spook them by hanging a gun platform over their heads.” She paused to see if those words had translated properly. “Can you arrange for your frigate to be overhead at 0530 local? That will give us time to get in position and conduct the assault, with your frigate as a big stick if any lizards are feeling adventurous.”

  Sequent nodded, then made a counter-offer. If there was to be any action in this thankless and tedious occupation, he wanted to be involved. “My destroyer can provide a significantly bigger, as you called it, stick,” he smiled.

  “Thank you, Commodore, but no. If we need the big guns of a destroyer backing us up with close-space support, then we are in very big trouble. Sir, I think you should pull your destroyers away from the planet, and leave only the frigate here. The frigate should be moved into a higher orbit, where it can jump away quickly without having to climb out of the gravity well.”

  “You expect Kristang ships to attack?” Sequent knew the suggested redeployment of his ships made sense only if an attack by starships was anticipated.

  “The lizards hid their firepower for a reason, and they know it is suicide to break out against the Legion with your ships in orbit; you could pound them into dust without the Legion firing a shot. The lizards aren’t stupid, they have got to be planning something bigger than a spoiling attack.”

  “The Kristang are fond of grand, defiant gestures,” Sequent reminded the alien, who did not have his long experience in the war. “Those hidden troops may attack your Legion simply to satisfy their honor, before they inevitably surrender the planet.”

  “They could,” Perkins agreed. The Legion had been warned about suicide attacks by young Kristang warriors who had no prospects within the clan, and sought to die honorably in battle. “Do you want to take a risk with your ships?” When the Commodore hesitated, she cocked her head and added “If we lose this planet, your federal government is not going to blame me.”

  “I see your point,” Sequent conceded. “I will time my destroyers to jump away when you launch the assault, so my action does not alert the enemy that something has changed. Tell me, Colonel Perkins, why am I not discussing this with General Ross, or the commanders of the Verd-Kris contingent, or the Ruhar general in overall command of the Legion? Or, with Commissioner Yusafft?”

  Perkins smiled. “Operational security, Commodore. Someone tipped off the lizards that we were coming here, before the Legion was officially given approval by your government. Besides, I would rather present the operation in a neat package with a bow on top, that prevents a lot of useless debating back and forth.”

  “Colonel,” Sequent flashed a toothy grin. “I see now why your unit is called the ‘Mavericks’.” He had researched the meaning of that term when he first heard the famous Perkins would be bringing her team to Fresno. “It is pleasing to me that you are on my side in this war.”

  “What’s your assessment?” Perkins asked her team as they walked up and out of the long, gently-sloping tunnel that led down into the underground cavern where the battalion of Kristang troops had been living, waiting for an order to emerge from their lair and strike a blow against the Legion. Away to her right, she could see Commissioner Yusafft grinning for the cameras, slapping people on the back and congratulating everyone in sight. Including General Ross, who stood next to but as far away from Yusafft as he could, with the general commanding the UNEF component of the Legion looking distinctly unhappy. The Commissioner was pleased and reveling in the glory of having uncovered and captured nearly sixteen hundred Kristang troops in the underground cavern. In that cavern, hidden beneath thick plascrete walls and overlapping stealth fields, were not only a battalion of soldiers, but enough weapons to start and sustain a small war. The cavern held rifles, personnel carriers, anti-aircraft missiles, fighter aircraft and even a portable maser cannon capable of hitting a starship in low orbit, though that cannon had power for only two shots. Two shots would be enough to disable a ship not protected by a defense shield, or to make a shielded ship think twice about flying over the site.

  Commissioner Yusafft was triumphant that his team, as he referred to the Legion, had foiled a dastardly attempt to violate the treaty and commit violence that could accomplish nothing. With the plot uncovered and the perpetrators disarmed and in custody, except for sixty or so stubborn idiots who had insisted on fighting and died for their stupidity, peace was now assured and the Ruhar takeover of the planet could proceed on schedule.

  It all sounded like bullshit to Emily Perkins.

  “Ma’am,” Jesse was first to pop the seal on his skinsuit helmet and swing the faceplate up. “If you ask me, this ain’t nothin’. Sorry, Shauna,” he added in a low voice. “I know you’re proud of finding this place and all, but, these losers were no threat to anybody.”

  “It’s all right,” Shauna slung her rifle. “Jesse is correct, Colonel,” she agreed with a sour expression. “If this unit was stashed away to take the planet back, that cavern would have been filled with elite troops. Or at least competent ones,” she leaned to the side and spat on the ground. The air inside Ruhar skinsuits was dry and it irritated her throat. “You saw the video?”

  Perkins nodded. She had not been allowed to accompany her team inside the cavern, having to monitor video and sensor feeds from skinsuit helmets and drones as they penetrated the cavern from three entrances. What she saw was a mess, the occupants of the cavern had piles of gear stacked haphazardly everywhere, and the place was filthy. Food wrappers, dirty clothing and discarded packaging were scattered all around the floor, cots had dirty blankets balled up or allowed to lie on the floor. The weapons also were in poor condition, with six of the fourteen fighter aircraft not able to get in the air. Perkins had seen a video feed of a crate of rifles, which were clearly old and well-used and had not been cleaned in a long time.

  Shauna continued. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, I really thought I had found something. The troops in there couldn’t have done anything but shoot themselves in the foot. They weren’t any of these last-ditch suicide soldiers either, most of them looked relieved to get out of there. One thing you couldn’t tell from the video feed is how bad it smells in there,” she spat on the ground again and took a sip of water. “I cracked my helmet seal for a moment when the Major gave the All-Clear signal. That was a mistake. The ventilation in there is poor, they didn’t have it set up right.”

  “This was a sham,” Dave concluded, trying to scrape something gooey and nasty off one of his skinsuit boots.

  “I agree,” Perkins said quietly with a glance to General Ross, who certainly wanted to speak with her soon. “The lizards didn’t care if we found this place,” she reproached herself for thinking she had been so smart to uncover the hidden cache of enemy troops and weapons. “Or they wanted us to find it. Jarrett, when you get back to base, pull in the rest of the team and look at that data again. This time, look for something
less obvious, I steered you wrong this time. I need to talk with Ross.”

  “What’s the next move, Ma’am?” Jesse asked while looking over Perkins’ shoulder to where Captains Striebich and Bonsu had parked the Maverick’s Buzzard.

  “The next move is, we disperse the Legion and go on full alert, I’m sure General Ross will agree. If this weapons cache was a decoy, then they must have others ready to hit us. We need to find them, pronto. Hit them before they hit us.”

  The immediate effect of capturing the hidden troops and weapons was not what Perkins had hoped for. It was the opposite of whatever she had not dared hope for. Within hours of the Legion’s raid on the cavern, the Kristang reacted by declaring five other provinces that were not yet officially under Ruhar control, would also be hosting festivals like the one planned for Chulot. Each of the five provinces would hold gladiator contests with forty Keepers forced to participate. Instead of one horrifying event, there would be six festivals on six consecutive days. All broadcast on the planetary network. If human soldiers on Fresno did not break after viewing the first festival, the steady drip, drip, drip of revolting images might break even the strongest will. Perkins did not trust herself not to lash out at the Kristang, she could not fault the people under her command if they were tempted to do the same.

  “I hate to say it,” General Ross barely looked up from the mug of coffee sitting in front of him, a mug that had sat untouched since breakfast. He turned it to the right, then left, then right again, spinning it on the desktop. “We have to consider disarming the UNEF contingent, pull all of us humans all back to base, get the Verds to watch over us until these gladiator festivals are done. Commissioner Useless asked me about my plans for doing that at our meeting this morning. He stressed that we cannot have any, any, violations of the treaty,” Ross finally looked up, the bags under his eyes heavy from lack of sleep. “If humans hit the Kristang here, the lizards will retaliate against Ruhar on planets the lizards are taking over. With the Bosphuraq-Thuranin offensive going on up there, the Ruhar have lost three planets with significant populations already.”