“Enemy Battleship Four has stopped firing,” Anisa said. “Sensors indicate that she’s lost her main guns. She’s ... she’s bringing herself around.”
“Warn our ships to watch for kamikaze tactics,” Stephen snapped. The hell of it was he would have let the alien ship go if she’d started to limp away from the battlefield. There was no point in expending weapons killing a ship that could no longer hurt his fleet. “If she brings herself to bear on one of our ships ...”
He felt his heart twist as the alien battleship lunged forwards, redlining her drives as she plunged towards North Carolina. The American battleship struggled to alter course, to evade the sudden threat, but she was too unwieldy to change position in a hurry. Stephen watched, helplessly, as the remainder of the fleet targeted the alien ship, blowing great chunks of debris out of her hull as they tore her apart. And yet, she kept coming. Stephen couldn’t look away as she rammed into North Carolina. A moment later, both starships vanished in a single giant explosion.
“North Carolina is dead, sir,” Anisa said. “I can’t see any lifepods.”
Stephen bit down a sharp reply. The range was still closing ... and, if all the enemy battleships decided to ram their counterparts, his fleet was doomed. They were all doomed. His carriers would start taking fire from the big ships too, their puny weapons unable to even scratch the enemy hulls. Had he made a mistake? Would it have been better to order the fleet to scatter? Had he given orders that had doomed them all?
“Continue firing,” he ordered. “Where are the marines?”
“I’m not sure,” Anisa said. “They went into the haze.”
“Fuck,” Stephen said.
***
Alice heard someone praying quietly as the breaching pod made its slow way through the battlefield, but she ignored it. She was tempted to pray herself, even though she’d never been particularly religious. It hadn’t been easy to believe in God when her religious education had consisted of Sunday School, where attendance had been mandatory and God help the girl who asked too many questions. Now ... she shook her head. God would help them or not, as He wished. He knew she didn’t have time to pray.
She watched the battle through the passive sensors, knowing that they might be picked off at any second. The breaching pod was supposed to be stealthy, but there were so many active sensors in close proximity that it was quite likely that someone would catch a sniff of their presence. And then what? They might be ignored, on the grounds they weren’t posing a threat to anyone, or they might be blown out of space. It was quite possible that they’d be taken for a stealthed recon drone. Alice wouldn’t have tolerated an enemy spy platform anywhere near her position and she assumed the virus would feel the same way too. A spy in the right place could guide enemy missiles directly to their target.
The enemy command ship was positioned at the rear of the formation, surrounded by starfighters and destroyers. A novice might accuse the enemy CO of being a coward, of being unwilling to risk his skin, but Alice knew better. The CO had to stay alive, even if it meant directing operations from a safe distance. And the virus wasn’t remotely human. It didn’t need to worry about inspiring loyalty in its subordinates. It was, in one sense, a single entity ...
“We’re making our approach now,” she said. The enemy ship was coming closer, seemingly unaware of their presence. “And the starfighters are on their way.”
***
Richard gritted his teeth as the human starfighters plunged through the enemy carriers and fell on the rear formation like hawks on mice. The enemy command ship held position - she was too big to alter course in a hurry - but its escorts rapidly reoriented themselves, ready to defend their commander to the death. Richard snapped orders as a hail of ECM drones shot past, going active as they plunged into the teeth of the enemy formation. His display flickered repeatedly, translucent images of starfighters and missiles shimmering into life even though he knew most of them were nothing more than sensor ghosts. The virus would suddenly have more targets than it could handle.
“Break through the outer line, take the command ship,” he snapped. “But don’t engage her with torpedoes.”
It went against the grain - they might have a clear shot at the enemy commander - but the orders had been definite. They were to distract the enemy ships, to keep them from spotting the marines, but they weren’t allowed to actually kill the command ship unless the marines were wiped out. It struck him as the sort of plan that could go wrong very easily, and quickly too, but the commodore hadn’t given him a chance to protest. If there was even the slightest chance of disrupting the enemy command and control network ...
An enemy starfighter lunged at him. He blew the bastard out of space, flashing towards the command ship. It was studded with point defence weapons, all of which seemed to be trying their level best to kill him; he wondered, suddenly, why the virus hadn’t bothered to give its command ship many offensive weapons. Perhaps it was a specialised design, or perhaps ... it had simply assumed that the command ship would remain at the rear, giving orders from a safe distance while the battleships and carriers would do the work. He had to smile at the thought, even as he spotted a marine breaching pod making its way towards the target. The virus might be a little more human than he’d thought.
His head spun, again, as he picked off two more starfighters. The virus seemed to be adjusting its targeting, ignoring his starfighter even though he was in close proximity to the hull. No, it was ignoring all the human starfighters ... he felt his blood turn to ice as he realised the marines had been spotted. A pair of breaching pods and a shuttle vanished before he could finish the thought. The marines were doomed ...
His hands started to shake, helplessly. He was going to die. They were all going to die. He saw an alien starfighter swoop down on the breaching pod, weapons already spitting fire. It was only a matter of time before it scored a hit. Richard barely had time to take aim himself. The range was already closing ...
... And he had a second, just a second, to realise his mistake ...
... And then his starfighter smashed into the alien craft.
Darkness.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
A dull shudder echoed through the breaching pod as it landed on the alien ship.
“Get ready,” Alice snapped. The cutter was already going to work, digging into the alien hull. She checked the live feed, noting that only a handful of other pods had made it through the alien point defence. It didn’t seem right to have marines die in space, unable to see their enemies ... let alone fight back. She put the thought out of her head. She’d mourn the dead later, if there was a later. “Once the hatch is open, get in there.”
She checked her rifle automatically, then her belt. She was practically naked ... she put that thought aside too. She couldn’t wear a suit of armour inside the alien ship, and anything else would be worse than useless if they ran into an alien patrol. Plasma weapons could burn through anything, short of full armour. She braced herself as the hatch opened, Hammersmith and Tindal dropping into the alien ship. The special weapon felt warm against her bare skin as she hefted it onto her back, although she knew she was imagining it. Just looking at the nuke made her skin itch. She knew she was being silly. It wasn’t as if the weapon would explode if she happened to drop it on the deck.
Or if someone puts a plasma bolt through me, she thought. It takes more than that to trigger a nuclear warhead.
She slipped the control bracelet over her wrist, armed the detonation sequence and dropped down into the alien ship. The heat struck her at once, a gust of tropical air carrying with it the indefinable scent of the virus. It seemed to pervade the air, catching in her throat as she took a breath. She checked the meter automatically, one hand reaching for the mask she wore around her neck. The boffins had claimed the air was breathable - and she, at least, was in no danger of being infected - but she found it hard to believe. The virus felt clammy, touching her like an unwanted lover. She shivered at the unpleasant sens
ation ...
... And yet, she couldn’t help feeling as if she’d come home.
She could feel the virus pulsing through the air. It was all around her ... it was her. She could feel its thoughts, moving at the very edge of her awareness. It was singular ... no, it was a multitude ... no, it was singular ... whatever it was, it was completely beyond her comprehension. And yet, she was sure she could understand what she was hearing, if only she listened carefully enough. The thoughts were tantalisingly close.
A hand touched her arm. She jumped.
“Alice?” Hammersmith was staring at her, his eyes worried. “What’s happening?”
“I can feel it,” Alice said. She shook her head. “We have to get deeper into the ship.”
She let them lead the way down the corridor, trying to ignore the thoughts and feelings rushing all around her. The virus was pulling at her, trying to absorb her ... she wondered, suddenly, if she’d breathed in enough of the virus to let it take control of her. She silently cursed the boffins - and herself, for listening to them. They’d been so sure the virus would think she was already infected ... they might have been right, but they hadn’t really understood the virus. The host-bodies were nothing more than cells in a single giant entity. It was too large to see her properly, or to realise that she was a threat as long as it didn’t focus on her, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t accidentally absorb her ...
The virus is a sociopath, she thought, numbly. To it, we’re not quite real.
The pressure grew stronger as they ran further into the ship. She could feel aspects of the virus slowly becoming aware of her, flashes of anger and alarm running through the biochemical network all around them. She wasn’t surprised when they turned a corner and ran into an armed patrol, weapons already raised. The marines opened fire at once, blasting the host-bodies down before they could react. Others appeared, coming from doors and passageways ... Hammersmith threw a stink bomb further down the corridor, just to see what would happen. Alice had to smile as the virus convulsed with shock. The stink bombs had been more effective than anyone had deemed possible.
“It knows we’re here now,” she snapped. Her instincts were screaming. “We have to get deeper into the ship.”
Alice tapped her wristcom, trying to locate the other boarding parties. There was no answer. She couldn’t tell if they were being jammed, or if there were no other boarding parties ... she wondered, grimly, if those parties had been wiped out already, simply because she hadn’t been with them. She hoped they’d survived. She didn’t want to think about more people dying for her.
“Keep moving,” she snapped. “Hurry!”
A blob oozed around the corridor, gelatinous tendrils already reaching towards them. Tindal blew it apart with a burst of plasma, only to reveal two more right behind it. Alice threw a grenade at them, watching grimly as it bathed both creatures in fire. The virus didn’t seem worried, as far as she could tell. It had an endless supply of host-bodies to throw at them. A droplet of water splashed on her head ... she looked up, a second before the ceiling seemed to fall on top of them. Liquid poured down, threatening to drown them. A pulsating life seemed to reach out to take her ...
Shit, she thought. She could see her team thrashing around helplessly as the virus grabbed hold of them. They were dead, even though they didn’t know it yet. They’d either die quickly or spend their rest of their lives as host-bodies. Why didn’t we see that coming?
She grabbed hold of the bracelet, holding it in her hand as the virus overwhelmed her. She could feel it focusing on her, pushing into her ... a surge of anger ran through her as she realised it was trying to rape her. It was slicing into her mind, pushing more and more of itself into her ... it wasn’t angry, she realised dully. It was trying to understand her. On some level, it thought she was still a host body. She laughed - or thought she laughed. The virus might be pervading her entire body, oozing along her bloodstream and penetrating her organs, but her thoughts were still her own.
A shock ran through her as the virus focused on her. It was so large, so loud ... it beat down on her, battering away at her mind. She gritted her teeth, trying to keep her thoughts straight as it tried to take control. The virus was feeling betrayed, the same kind of betrayal she’d felt when her body had been unable to meet the demands she’d placed on it. It was a very personal betrayal ... it was perfectly capable of multitasking on a level that humans found frankly impossible, but it was bringing more and more of its attention to bear on her. She laughed again as her defences started to crumble. She was so very small, and yet she had its attention.
I’m a virus inside the virus, she thought. In her dazed state, it was almost funny. A cancer in the cells.
She focused, snapping out commands. She wasn’t sure she was actually speaking - she wasn’t sure if she was actually breathing - but it didn’t matter. The virus recoiled in shock as she told it to stop shooting, to stop fighting ... the commands weren’t real, yet they felt like real commands. She was suddenly very aware of just how the virus thought. It was more like a computer than they’d realised. She was a computer virus, issuing orders that would screw up the system ... and the subunits, unable to tell the difference between real and fake orders, were trying to follow them. The virus itself could countermand her, but it took time ... time it didn’t have.
But it will win, she thought. Her mental defences were starting to collapse. She could feel the virus reaching into her mind. She clung to her memories - her childhood, her adolescence, her adulthood - but it wasn’t enough. It was going to win. Not unless I ...
It was hard to move, but all she had to do was press her finger against the control bracelet and push. There was a tiny moment of hesitation, a second in which she could pull her finger away and live, then the world went white.
***
“Commodore,” Anisa said. “The command ship is gone!”
Stephen glanced up, sharply. The virus had been showing signs of confusion, but - whatever was going on - its electronic servants had continued to fight. “What happened?”
“I think one of the nukes must have gone off inside the ship.” Anisa stopped, dead. “Sir, their entire fleet has gone mad.”
Their command network must have been knocked out, Stephen thought. The virus’s fleet was convulsing, as if it had taken a terrible blow. The starships were swinging out of formation, their weapons firing madly in all directions; their starfighters were spinning around, as if the intelligence controlling them had suddenly let go. A handful of enemy ships started firing at their enemies, unable to tell the difference between friend and foe. It worked. It fucking worked.
“Signal the fleet,” he snapped. He had no idea how long the confusion would last. He needed to take advantage of it as quickly as possible. “The battleline will close with the enemy and finish him.”
He snapped out orders as his fleet began to inch forward, the battleships in the lead. The survivors were badly damaged, but they could still fight. Rearmed starfighters zoomed out ahead of them, falling on enemy battleships in a desperate bid to destroy them before it was too late. The confusion that had gripped the enemy ships had even spread to their point defence. Stephen didn’t need the analysts to tell him that the enemy point defence was suddenly ineffective. He just had to watch the starfighters delivering their torpedoes without hindrance.
“Order the fleet to engage with their remaining missiles and mass drivers,” he said. It was just possible they’d score some hits. “And keep moving forward!”
The enemy fleet shattered. Starships and starfighters fled in all directions. Stephen couldn’t tell if the confusion had driven them insane, or if it was a desperate bid to preserve as much of their fleet as possible, but it hardly mattered. His battleships raked their opposite numbers with fire, then went on to bring their guns to bear against the alien carriers. Stephen felt a surge of hope, mingled with grim determination. They could still lose, if the enemy fleet behind them caught up in time, but the virus would
know it had been hurt. The remains of the MNF had avenged the defeat at Zheng He.
But the virus doesn’t care about such things, Stephen thought. Humans would - it wasn’t uncommon for humans to want to retaliate, in hopes of beginning negotiations from a position of strength - but the virus didn’t have any pride to sting. It took no pleasure in victory, nor did it feel any despair in defeat. The only thing it cared about was survival. It just wants to live.
“Two carriers down,” Anisa reported. “Three ...”
Stephen saw a fleet carrier blow apart, then keyed his console. The probes watching Enemy Force One were reporting that the fleet had shown some minor disruption, but the virus had clearly managed to regain control before it was too late. There was no hope of defeating both forces. He wondered, grimly, just what had happened on the alien ship, during her final moments. The plan had been simple enough - and the ship’s destruction had given the death blow to her fleet - but the results had been spectacular. He had a feeling he’d never know.
The Right of the Line Page 39