And it might have all kinds of advantages, she mused. Does it even need to have human-sized tubes if it can absorb monkeys or chimps into its gestalt?
She shuddered at the thought. Xenospecialists had argued for years that primates had to be a certain size before they could develop intelligence, although she’d always had her doubts. There were plenty of humans who weren’t very intelligent, even though some were bigger than her and others were smaller. And yet ... it couldn’t be denied that most known intelligent life forms were - on average - roughly the same size. The virus itself was the only real exception, and even it needed a critical mass to function. But that wouldn’t stop it absorbing every life form, intelligent or not ...
“I’ve got motion,” Tindal said. “They’re coming.”
“Let me go first,” Alice said. She moved forward, gritting her teeth. The air seemed to grow warmer, droplets of liquid splashing against her bare skin. “Don’t fire unless fired upon.”
“We’re fucked,” Tarter said.
Alice kept her thoughts to herself. Tarter was probably right. The marines were effectively trapped, unable to manoeuvre or even take cover. A pair of HE grenades would probably be enough to wipe out the whole squad, armour or no armour. She doubted the virus would be so quick to kill them - it would want to infect the intruders, surely - but there was no way to be sure. It might want to be rid of them before they could do something dangerous.
A pair of aliens rounded the corner and came into view. They’d been humanoid, once. They might have been very close to human. Now ... Alice felt sick as she saw viral matter oozing around their eyes, pulsing with a weird uncanny life ... she knew, with a certainty she couldn’t put into words, that the virus was looking at her. She didn’t need to glance at her biological warfare sensor to know that the level of viral matter in the air was rising sharply. She could feel the virus’s presence pulsing through the air.
It’s a distributed system, she reminded herself. And it grows stronger and stronger with every breath.
She braced herself as the aliens came closer. They seemed to ignore her, focusing their attention on the marines behind them. Alice allowed herself a flicker of relief at how they clearly thought she was one of them, even though she wasn’t responding to the virus’s commands. It had to know she wasn’t part of the gestalt. The xenospecialists had been right, she guessed. At this level, the virus wasn’t particularly bright. Faced with a contradiction - Alice was infected, yet not part of the gestalt - the virus had decided to ignore her. It made her smile, even as she gathered herself. God alone knew how many military bases had been infiltrated because someone, upon seeing a stranger, decided that someone else must have cleared him for entry.
“Stop,” she said. She used her command voice, pushing it out as much as possible. “Stop!”
The aliens stopped dead, the viral matter clinging to them wobbling like purple-black jelly. Alice could feel surprise running through the gestalt, astonishment at having its orders countermanded ... she wasn’t sure if it was real, or if she was interpreting what she was feeling through a human filter, or even if she was just imagining it ... it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it was working. She was giving orders, and the virus - or at least two of its host-bodies - were listening.
“You did it,” Hammersmith said. “Tell them to die!”
Alice barely heard him. She could feel the virus shifting around her, its awareness growing stronger. Confusion reverberated through the air. It knew it was under attack, yet it couldn’t see the source of the attack. It was a blindfolded boxer, unable even to see the enemy. It couldn’t hit back and yet ... given time, it would work out what had happened and counterattack. If nothing else, sooner or later it would realise that any host body that wasn’t following orders had been subverted.
She concentrated as hard as she could on a single command. “Stop.”
The alien shivered, then collapsed to the deck. His partner fell a second later. Alice walked forward, pushing the command as hard as she could. She could feel it echoing through the gestalt, sense dozens of host-bodies collapsing as her command pounded into her head. And yet ... she could also feel the virus’s mentality, trying to regain control. It might not have expected to be challenged, not in its own domain. But it wasn’t helpless, either.
She looked up, sharply, as a blob of viral matter quivered into view. It looked absurd, as if a mass of jelly had decided to go walking, but she could sense the danger. Tentacles of viral matter were lashing out in all directions as the virus struggled to take back control. She wasn’t sure what would happen, if one of them managed to strike her. Nothing? Or would the virus retake control of her? This time, there would be no escape.
“Stop,” she said. “Sleep.”
The blob seemed to stop, as if it was torn between contradictory demands. There were no eyes, as far as she could tell, but she was sure it was looking at her. It knew what she was, it understood what she was doing ... the gestalt drove it on, even as she told it to stop and sleep ... it wanted her dead. Her hand dropped to her pistol, ready to draw and fire if necessary. The blob quivered, again and again, then collapsed into a mass of liquid. A shudder ran through the ship as the gestalt fell apart. Alice smiled, even as she felt the liquid lapping against her feet. The virus had lost. The entire ship was going to sleep.
Hammersmith glanced at her, sharply. “What happened?”
“I think I won,” Alice said. The marines hadn’t seen the real contest. To them, she’d merely been speaking and staring. “The ship is shutting down.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t blow itself up,” Tindal muttered.
Alice shrugged as she picked her way through the remains of the blob and headed down the alien corridor. There were dozens of host-bodies, all lying where they’d fallen. Liquid dripped from countless pipes, splashing and pooling on the deck. She felt droplets fall on her back, crawling down her legs like living things ... she shivered, even though she knew it was harmless. The virus was asleep. The temperature seemed to be falling, although she suspected it was an illusion. A starship wouldn’t cool so rapidly unless the hull was opened to space. Pulsating masses of viral material lay everywhere, quivering in a manner that reminded her of a human taking a breath. There was something so alien about the virus in its natural form that she felt utterly disgusted just looking at it. The virus wasn’t ... it wasn’t right.
“Contact the ship,” she said. “Tell them we’ve put the virus to sleep.”
“And hope they can take control,” Hammersmith said. He chuckled, suddenly. “Do you think there’ll be a reward for us?”
“Probably.” Alice shrugged, again. Prize money was great, if she had time to spend it. She had a feeling she wouldn’t. “They’ll have to see if they can take control first.”
She frowned. The xenospecialists might be able to take control ... or they might simply open the ship to vacuum, freeze the remaining viral cells and leave the ship for later recovery. If, of course, they didn’t just point her at the local star and send her to fiery death. She shook her head at the thought. No, they wouldn’t do that. They’d want to find a way to make use of the ship. She just had no idea how. The ship might have carried a humanoid crew, but she hadn’t been designed for humanoids. The command and control system was carefully integrated with the virus.
“They’re sending the specialists over now,” Tindal said. “And we’re being ordered to return home.”
“The bastards are trying to snatch the prize money,” Hammersmith joked.
“I doubt it,” Alice said. Prize money went to the entire ship, not just the boarding party. She would get a bonus, if she lived; she didn’t know about the others. “They probably just want us out of the way.”
She sighed, inwardly, as they started to make their way back to the breaching pod. The plan had worked, this time. She’d taken control of an infected ship. But ... would it work a second time? There was no hint that the gestalt had managed to send a warning
before it had collapsed, there was no suggestion that there was anyone in the system to hear a warning, if it had been sent, but ... she swallowed, hard. A little more viral matter, a slightly stronger gestalt ... it might easily have gone the other way. The virus might not be able to see her, but it didn’t have to see her to stop her. If it had vented that section of the ship, it would have thrown her into space to die.
I guess we’ll find out, she thought. Going back to the ship wouldn’t be pleasant, not when they’d be poked and prodded for hours before they’d be allowed to return to Marine Country, but it beat staying on the alien ship. And then we’ll know.
Hammersmith grinned at her. “Just think! All the people who doubted you! You can look in their face and gloat as you collect the money from the wankers who bet against you!”
Alice had to laugh. She wasn’t surprised to hear that people had been laying bets. People had been betting on her ever since she’d joined the navy. “The odds weren’t in my favour, then?”
“I bet on you,” Hammersmith said. “And I won.”
“I should have bet on myself,” Alice said. It was a morbid joke, but it made her laugh. “I would have got the money ... and if I’d lost, I wouldn’t have been alive to hand over the money.”
“I’m sure that’s cheating,” Tindal said, primly.
“It’s not really cheating,” Alice assured him. They could hardly claim money off a dead body. “It’s merely creatively interpreting the rules.”
“Ouch,” Hammersmith said. “Remind me never to gamble with you.”
Alice laughed.
Chapter Thirty-One
“You’re sure you can fly the ship?”
Commander Tomas Patel nodded, shortly. “Yes, sir. The command and control systems weren’t as badly damaged as your marines feared. The biological command network is beyond repair, as far as we can tell, but the hardware is still operational. We can’t get her to dance on the head of a pin, I’m afraid ...”
“I see.” Stephen cut him off. “And can we steer her down the tramline chain and back into Alien-One?”
“I see no reason why not,” Patel assured him. “The real difficulty will be exchanging signs and countersigns when we reach our destination, but I fancy we can bluff our way through.”
Stephen wasn’t so sure. The virus might ignore a starship, friendly or not, prowling through the edges of an infected star system, but there was no way it would let a ship close to a major facility without asking some very pointed questions. It knew how easy it was to subvert an entire ship ... it knew, all too well, that a ship that had the right communication codes might still not be friendly. God knew everyone had been paranoid when HMS Raleigh reached Zheng He. The virus might feel the same way about the captured survey ship.
“And if you’re wrong?” He studied the display for a long moment. The alien ship looked undamaged, as far as he could tell, but it was difficult to say what an alien eye might see that a human would miss. “What then?”
Patel frowned. “We die.”
Stephen made a face. Patel and his team had trained to take control of alien ships and operate them, but ... there was a difference between flying the captured ship back home and actually taking her into the heart of enemy territory. Too much could go wrong, particularly if the virus suspected trouble. There would be no hope of getting away if - when - the shit hit the fan. Patel and his team would be killed. Or - worse - infected.
“Very well,” he said, finally. “If you feel it can be done, then prepare the ship for departure.”
“Yes, sir,” Patel said. “We should be ready to leave in two days.”
Stephen nodded. He’d already detached four destroyers, with orders to sneak up the chain to Alien-One and report back as soon as possible. Raleigh hadn’t seen any alien settlements between Alien-One and Zheng He, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. And even if they didn’t ... sneaking into Alien-One wasn’t going to be easy. He had no doubt they could skulk around the edge of the system until doomsday, if necessary, but that would be completely pointless. They had to do as much damage as possible to the system before the virus reacted to their presence.
“Make sure you fit a cloaking device,” he said. “We don’t want them to see anything until it is far too late.”
“Aye, Captain,” Patel said.
His image vanished. Stephen stared at the terminal, wondering if there would come a time when they didn’t dare let Patel and his team back onboard. The virus might have gone to sleep, as far as anyone could tell, but that wouldn’t stop it being dangerous. Everyone on the captured ship wore a hardsuit, with strict orders not to open the mask or remove anything wherever there was the slightest danger of infection. Stephen didn’t envy them. By the time the fleet reached Alien-One, the team would be practically drowning in their own waste.
He put the thought to one side as he pulled up the records from Alien-One. They were out of date, but he wouldn’t have any more recent data until the destroyers returned. He doubted the virus could have moved many of the facilities, even if it did have unmatched economic muscle ... it might feel safe, he reminded himself. The sheer weight of firepower protecting Alien-One was staggering, even if most of the ships Invincible had seen on her last voyage had been deployed forward to Falkirk and Zheng He. Stephen knew they didn’t have a hope of punching through the defences without taking heavy losses, not if they mounted a single strike. They’d have to be clever.
If only we knew what the virus would consider a serious threat, he thought, as he worked his way through a number of possibilities. Would they react badly to a visible threat? Or would they be more alarmed by a handful of starships?
He sighed, then tapped a command into his terminal. The tactical staff could take his handful of ideas and either turn them into a workable concept or prove they were impractical. He hoped they’d come up with something. Bombarding Alien-One itself with stealthed projectiles was perfectly practical, but he had the nasty feeling that it wouldn’t really slow the virus down for long. The virus had plenty more host-bodies ...
“Maybe if we use the captured ship as a Trojan Horse,” he mused. “It might just work.”
His doorbell bleeped. He glanced up. “Come.”
The door hissed open. Newcomb stood there. “Captain,” he said. “Or should I call you Admiral now?”
Stephen had to smile. “Perhaps we should stick with Commodore,” he said. There could only ever be one captain on a ship. A captain from another ship would be given a courtesy promotion to commodore, just to avoid confusion. “But I don’t suppose it matters at the moment.”
“I’ll try not to let the command chair get too comfy,” Newcomb said. “Although it will be a wrench to go back to being a mere commander.”
“You’ll be a captain yourself soon, unless you fuck up.” Stephen allowed his smile to grow wider. “This is wartime, Commander. Promotions are based on merit.”
“I hope so,” Newcomb said.
Stephen nodded. By the time they returned to Earth, Newcomb would have real command experience. It wouldn’t matter how he’d got the job. Any irregularities would fall on Stephen, not his XO. Newcomb would be ideally positioned to be given one of the newer ships, or simply allowed to remain in command of Invincible if Stephen were to be promoted himself. But it wouldn’t matter, if they didn’t return to Earth. It was quite possible that no one would ever know what had happened to the fleet if they didn’t make it home.
He put the thought to one side. “What can I do for you, Captain?”
“The ship is as close to ready as we’ll ever be,” Newcomb said. “And the foreigners have integrated well.”
“That’s a relief,” Stephen said. “I was afraid there’d be problems.”
“We solved most of them,” Newcomb assured him. “And now we won a brief engagement ...”
Stephen had to laugh. The alien survey ship hadn’t managed to fire a shot before she’d been captured. She hadn’t been expecting to encounter the h
uman fleet - there was no hint that she had seen the sheer mass of firepower bearing down on her - but it hardly mattered. The engagement had been, to all intents and purposes, completely one-sided. He didn’t really think it merited the term engagement.
“Morale is starting to climb up again,” Newcomb said. “But there have been some problems, with people wanting to mourn the dead.”
“I don’t blame them,” Stephen said. “But, right now, our priority is to get to Alien-One.”
“And then ... what?” Newcomb frowned. “Do you have a plan?”
“The beginnings of one,” Stephen said. “I shot it to the tactical staff. They can tell me if it’s workable or not.”
“Make sure you run it past the others too.” Newcomb leaned forward. “You can’t take them for granted.”
“I know,” Stephen said. “But I also know that we have too much work to do.”
The Right of the Line Page 31