... Or the virus might not even notice.
She shrugged. It didn’t matter. She’d find out soon enough.
Sure, her own thoughts mocked her. And then you’ll wish you’d stayed in ignorance.
***
“I’m having that déjà vu feeling all over again,” Richard muttered, as he strode into the briefing compartment. Some of the pilots waiting for him were familiar faces, despite his best efforts; others were strangers, transferred to Invincible after their motherships had been crippled or destroyed during the battle. “How many times do we have to do this?”
Monica elbowed his back. “As many times as necessary.”
Richard made a face. Monica had been his constant companion over the last few days, never letting him out of her sight. He ate with her, drank with her ... even slept with her, although nothing had actually happened. They’d been working too hard to do more than fall into the undersized bed and go to sleep. She’d made him eat properly ... God, he wanted a stim. He needed a stim. She didn’t understand ...
His hands started to shake. He clasped them behind his back as he took the stand and looked at his pilots. Some looked confident, even though they knew the fleet had been soundly thrashed; some looked pale, unable or unwilling to meet his eyes. He felt a pang of guilt for not knowing them, for not taking the time to welcome them aboard the ship. It wasn’t as if he’d had time for a dinner party - the very thought was absurd, when the fleet was fleeing for its life - but he could have spent some time with them. They were more than just cogs in his machine.
And how many of them, he asked himself morbidly, will be dead in the next few days?
He cleared his throat. “Thank you all for coming,” he said. “I trust that you had no problems settling in?”
There was a long pause. His squadron leaders had reported there had been some friction, mostly over seniority, but the problems had been rapidly smoothed out. There just wasn’t time for a long debate over who should be in command if the shit hit the fan. Besides, Invincible was the host ship. Everyone else had to fit into her command structure. Which would have been fine, he noted grimly, if the command structure hadn’t been shot to hell. Half of his original starfighter pilots were dead. Their squadrons were so badly damaged that they might well have been decommissioned, the survivors parcelled out to other squadrons, if they’d had the time. As it was, reconstituting them was a nightmare and a half. There just weren’t enough survivors to keep the squadron traditions alive.
He allowed his eyes to wander over the pilots. “It will not be long before we are called to go back into action,” he said. “By then, we have got to work out all the kinks. I intend to spend every waking hour in the simulators, ironing out any problems that might develop before we actually have to fight. The ready squadrons will remain ready” - they couldn’t operate a CSP when the entire fleet was in cloak - “but the rest of you will be in the simulators. Any questions?”
There were none. Richard allowed himself a tight smile. The pilots were young, but they were no longer virgins. The poor bastards who had been rushed from the academy to fill the gaps in his roster had seen the elephant now. The ribbing and wisecracking was gone, replaced with a grim determination to survive long enough to see home again. And the older pilots had known the truth long before the fleet had been kicked out of Zheng He. The war wasn’t a game. The empty bunks in Pilot Country bore mute testament to the pilots who had gone to war and never come home.
Although we didn’t waste any time replacing them, Richard reminded himself. There had been no time to empty drawers and cabinets, let alone check to see what the dead wanted the living to do with their possessions. We can’t let ourselves be sentimental now.
He sighed, inwardly, as he dismissed his pilots. He’d have to sort out everything the dead pilots had left behind, sooner rather than later. The newcomers needed the living space for themselves. But ... he didn’t want to do it, not when he couldn’t even remember the names of the pilots who’d died under his command. He silently kicked himself for not giving the duty to the squadron leaders, although they had too much work to do themselves. It was too late now.
“That could have gone better,” he said, once the pilots had hurried out of the compartment. “I need a drink.”
“I imagine we all do,” Monica said, tartly. “But what would Captain Shields say if someone tried to fly a starfighter while drunk off his arse?”
Richard shook his head. “How many of those young men are going to be dead in the next few days?”
“Probably too many,” Monica said. “But you know what? You can give them the best possible chance by working them hard.”
“I know,” Richard said. He intended to drill the pilots hard, working them until they became a well-oiled team. It wasn’t going to be easy, even though most navies used the same starfighter protocols. Integrating a whole squadron of foreign pilots was one thing, integrating a handful of individuals from a dozen different nations was quite another. “God alone knows what’s going to go wrong.”
“As long as it happens in the simulator,” Monica said. “Better to chew someone out for fucking up than hold a funeral.”
“Fuck,” Richard agreed. They hadn’t held a funeral for the dead, not yet. He understood that the ship and her crew simply didn’t have time, but it still rankled. He felt as if the dead were waiting, trapped in limbo until the living said goodbye. “There are too many ways this could go wrong.”
“Yeah.” Monica snorted. “But you know what? We could be dead by now. We should be dead by now. And we’re still alive. We might as well live while we can.”
“I suppose.” Richard’s hand was shaking again. He wanted a stim. Or alcohol. He wasn’t picky. “What now?”
Monica made a show of looking at her wristcom. “We get something to drink, then get into the simulators. And then we show the maggots how to kick alien ass.”
They’re not maggots, Richard thought, as they walked to the hatch. The newcomers were many things, but inexperienced was not one of them. And that’s half the problem.
***
Stephen had never really liked the CIC, although he’d used it during emergency drills that - somewhat unrealistically - insisted that the bridge and secondary bridge had both been knocked out while the CIC had survived. There was something about the compartment that made it hard to believe that he was in command of a starship ... even though, he had to admit, he wasn’t currently in command. He was morbidly certain that someone back home was going to make a fuss about that, as technically Stephen had relieved himself of command ... something that was against regulations. A captain could not lay down his command without risking a court martial.
And they’ll probably say I’ve mutinied against myself, Stephen thought. The grown-ups in the Admiralty would understand that he couldn’t command the fleet and his ship, not at the same time, but his family’s political enemies would scent blood in the water. They could charge me with all kinds of offences if they wished.
He shook his head. The first two jumps had gone well - better than he’d feared - but he knew it was only a matter of time before the fleet made contact with the enemy again. It wouldn’t take the virus that long to work out where the fleet had gone, even if it thought that Stephen had retreated into a dead end. Would it realise that there were other tramlines, including some that might lead into virus-controlled space? Or would it take the risk of pushing the offensive towards Earth?
Stephen let out a long sigh as he studied the display. He’d always known he would take command of a fleet - one day - but he hadn’t realised just how difficult it was merely to get all the ships moving in the same direction. Seventy-five ships, from twelve different nations ... normally, it would be tricky to coordinate the fleet without stepping on someone’s toes and creating a diplomatic nightmare. He’d never thought that having an alien fleet on his tail, breathing down his neck, would be a good thing, but the prospect of the fleet being run to ground had managed to co
ncentrate a few minds. It helped, he supposed, that most of his subordinates were captains. There was no one who had spent the last few years flying a desk.
Although admirals have to work harder than I thought, he acknowledged. The first exercises - simulated, thankfully - had been disasters. It had taken time for the ships to get used to the new command arrangements. They just weren’t used to working together. If they spend so much of their time being diplomatic ...
He shook his head. His fleet was getting stronger every day, as his ships were repaired and his magazines were reloaded, but he knew they weren’t ready for a straight fight. Admiral Zadornov and Admiral Weisskopf had done a lot of the work, yet ... all their command arrangements had been shot to hell. Stephen was leery of taking his fleet into battle. If humanity hadn’t been desperate, he might have argued against invading Alien-One.
His intercom pinged. “Captain,” Newcomb said. “Long-range sensors are picking up a lone alien ship. Plotting thinks she came from Tramline Two.”
Stephen keyed the console, bringing up the system display. The unnamed system was barren, save for a pair of tramlines. There wasn’t even a single asteroid or comet, as far as his sensors could tell. The alien ship ... he cursed under his breath. The virus was clearly trying to survey the systems along the tramline chain, even if it was exploring from the wrong end. The ship on the display might not have noticed his fleet - it might not even have heard of the Battle of Zheng He - but that would change soon. And then ... it wouldn’t take the virus long to realise that Stephen might have taken his fleet in the direction of Alien-One.
Particularly if they know our ship managed to escape through the unexplored tramline chain and made it home, Stephen thought. They’d know where we were going.
“A survey ship,” he mused. The alien ship wasn’t much bigger than a destroyer ... smaller than a human design, he supposed, but the virus didn’t need big survey vessels. “And one who isn’t worried about being detected.”
“No, sir,” Newcomb said. “We had no difficulty spotting her.”
Stephen smiled, grimly. “That ship cannot be allowed to survive,” he said. The sensor displays were clear. There were no hints of cloaked ships in the vicinity ... cloaked alien ships, at least. The alien ship was alone, completely alone. It offered ... opportunity. “Signal the fleet. We’re going to take that ship.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Chapter Thirty
I must have been completely mad, Alice thought, as the breaching pod glided towards the alien starship. Why the fuck did I come up with this idea?
She shivered, despite herself. She’d done dumber things in the past - she was sure of it - but nothing came to mind. Going into battle wearing nothing more than a halter top and a pair of shorts that barely covered her ass ... she knew, with a grim certainty that defied all reason, that she looked utterly ridiculous. She’d spent hours mocking Stellar Star for showing more skin than anyone should in a combat situation, but now ... she was wearing next to nothing herself. The logic was sound, yet ... logic wouldn’t protect her if the breaching pod was opened to space. A single glancing hit would be enough to kill her ...
It would kill her anyway, she reminded herself. Combat armour was tough, but not that tough. It gave an illusion of protection, nothing more. Bullets might bounce off her armour, but plasma weapons designed to kill starfighters and burn through starship hulls would go through an armoured marine like a knife through butter. And it would make it impossible for her to deploy her pheromones. She shuddered again, realising - emotionally - how fragile the plan truly was. Something that had seemed perfectly logical, in the safety of Marine Country, seemed like an insane gamble once she started to put it into practice. Her imagination was suggesting all sorts of ways the plan could go wrong.
She glanced at her protective team, silently daring them to say something. She’d worked close-protection duties herself, in the past. It was easy to start mocking the poor bastard you were meant to protect, particularly when the idiot insisted on walking into danger rather than staying somewhere nice and safe. She’d heard chatter about gormless idiots ... she silently asked their pardon, now she was the one being protected. She was going to do something so dangerous and stupid that she could easily get her protectors killed, even though they’d volunteered for the task.
It could be worse, she told herself. I could be escorting some dumb starlet through LA.
She put the thought aside as a dull quiver ran through the pod. In theory, the pod could reach the alien ship without being detected. There was no drive field, nothing that could be detected by a passive sensor; the hull was made of stealth materials, while the pod itself was steered by gas jets. They should be able to land on the alien ship without setting off an alarm. But she knew better than to hope that they pulled it off. A routine active sensor sweep might just reveal their presence, when they were too far from their target to land and too close to escape. The flight of starfighters behind them, coming in on a ballistic trajectory, might just be able to cover them ...
Or they might not, she thought. We might be picked off in a flash.
She slotted her mask into place, taking a long breath as air started to move. She knew better than to risk breathing the air on an infected starship, even though the virus would think she was already infected. There was no way to know what would happen if more viral matter - live viral matter - got into her bloodstream. Would it go dormant, on the theory she was already a host-body, or would it bring the virus in her body back to life? She didn’t know. The rest of the squad was even more vulnerable. There was a good chance they’d never be allowed to return to Invincible, even if they succeeded. They might just be infected ...
It will show up in their bloodstreams, she told herself, firmly. And any infection can be countered before it overwhelms them.
Sweat trickled down her back as the range closed. The alien starship was small, compared to a fleet carrier or a battleship, but that didn’t mean it might not be thoroughly infected. The virus might have integrated itself so thoroughly into the ship that it might as well be a single, living organism. It might react badly, the moment it realised she was there; it might throw everything it had at her, just to keep her from interfering with its control. Or it might not even notice what she was doing. Alice had plenty of experience tuning out people shouting, particularly when they weren’t shouting at her. The virus and its host-bodies might not even realise she was trying to issue commands.
“Getting closer,” Hammersmith said. He spoke quietly, his voice soft, but it felt as if he were shouting. “And we’re crossing the point of no return.”
Alice let out a breath. “I think we crossed that a long time ago.”
She fought to control her heartbeat as the seconds rapidly ticked down to zero. This was it, the moment of truth. The moment when she would prove that she could still be useful or ... she wasn’t sure what she’d do if the attempt failed and she survived. Go back to the lab and play guinea pig until she died? Try to move somewhere that wouldn’t think twice about accepting her? Or throw her career out the airlock and snap her father’s neck? It was a tempting thought ...
An alarm sounded. “Active sensor sweep,” Tindal said. “They got us!”
“The starfighters are going live now,” Alice said, glancing at her display. “If we’re lucky ...”
She felt a moment of bitter regret as the alien starship started to turn, orienting itself on the starfighters. She could have done so much with her life ... if the alien ship targeted her now, she’d be dead before she knew she was under attack. And ... the last seconds ticked away, a dull thump echoing through the pod as it touched down. Moments later, she heard a whine as the hull cutter went to life. New alerts flashed up in front of her as the alien gravity field pulled her down. The alien hull was steadily being opened ...
“They know we’re here now,” Hammersmith said. He hefted a weapon as the lower hatch started to open. “Watch my back.”
Alice n
odded. The virus had to know where the pod was now. How long would it take to react? It had near-complete control of its environment. In theory, it could seal off a section within seconds. In practice ... she wasn’t too sure. There was no way to know. Another whine echoed through the pod as the cutter tore into the alien hull. Hammersmith waited until the hatch was open, then jumped down. Alice braced herself, hanging back despite a grim impulse to follow him. She had to know it was safe.
“Hot like a sauna, smelly like a farm,” Hammersmith said. “You coming?”
Alice followed the rest of the squadron and dropped into the alien ship. Hammersmith was right. It was hot. She could feel the virus in the air, prickling against her; a dull itch started to pervade her scalp, as if she had nits or lice. She told herself, firmly, that she was imagining it as she looked around. The alien ship looked crude, unfinished. Yellow-gold liquid was leaking out of the gash in the hull, slowly changing colour as it hit the air. It took her a moment to realise that she was looking at pure viral material. The virus had definitely infected the entire starship.
The Right of the Line Page 30