Libor: Katana Krieger #2

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Libor: Katana Krieger #2 Page 5

by Bill Robinson


  Precisely at 0800 three people enter the room, Admiral Baylor from Naval Experimental Research Division, not-for-long-Ensign McAdams, and Chief Petty Officer Olivia Gomez, also part of Yorktown's crew. Benson's voice rings out across the space before they can start in.

  "Captain Krieger, you're on." Everybody looks my way. I float down to the front, the box in my damaged left hand.

  "Ensign McAdams, attention!" She wasn't expecting that, and it takes her a second to comply. I get the rare treat of being able to look down at someone while they assume that rigid posture, usually I have to float up to get above them. Then, for lack of any better idea, I play one of the oldest tricks in the book.

  "Mr. McAdams, you are out of uniform."

  "Sir?" There's a laugh from the back of the room. I should have come up with something more original.

  "Lieutenant, junior grade, McAdams, you are wearing the wrong insignia."

  I reach out to her collar and remove the single gold bar, then take a silver bar out of the box and snap it onto her uniform. She can do the rest by herself later.

  Floating back a foot, I give her one of my more snappy salutes. She returns it, a huge smile across her face. She still hasn't cut her very blonde hair, what was barely on her neck when she joined Yorktown is now shoulder length and yearning to be free.

  "Congratulations, Courtney, you've more than earned it." I put my right hand out, which she grabs with both of hers and almost sends us into orbit with a monstrous shake.

  "Thank you, Skipper, thank you!"

  I give her a big smile, put the box into her hands before she hurts either of us, and float back up to my seat. The research Admiral is talking before I get comfortable.

  He starts in with an analysis of every meaningful piece of alien technology we have encountered. Unlike everyone else we've seen, these three do not waste our time.

  The alien engines are less efficient than ours, though intelligently configured to give their ships greater maneuverability. Their laser cannons, gigantic 42 inchers, are that way primarily because they are not all that good at miniaturization of the operating parts. While the 42's are as efficient as cannons we build, the remains of an approximately three inch cannon we brought back show it to be much less efficient than our cannons of similar size.

  Yorktown was almost destroyed a couple weeks ago by a weird electromagnetic pulse. The EMP humans know sprouted from nuclear explosions, this EMP is from something else, they aren't sure what, but it apparently can be handled and they have a plan to shield my ship before we go.

  They understand the chemical composition of the magic coating the aliens had on their ships, a coating that made them very stealthy and also resistant to laser fire. They have been unable to duplicate the metallurgy, and chalk that up to organic compounds that are mixed into the titanium and other metals. I stop them after that comment.

  "Are you saying it's alive, sir?"

  "No, Captain, it's not living. We hypothesize that they use a quasi-biological process to create the alloy. We've never seen anything like it. We're also sure we'll spend years figuring out how to duplicate it, and then apply the technology in other ways. When this leaks out, private contractors are going to make billions off of it."

  I don't have a response to that, and the Admiral moves on.

  He loads everyone's pad with a set of photos I took inside one of the alien ships showing every instrument on its control panel. There were alien snowflakes on each control, and Naval Experimental has translated them and modified the photos with arrows labeling the controls (or most of them anyway) in English. From their 20 minute overview, not a whole lot different than a human control panel, except they don't use knobs or small switches at all, just big buttons and lots of sliders.

  Then he turns us over to Courtney who gives us toys.

  An app transfers onto the pads that is heavily modified facial recognition software. Take a picture of a Libor, the app digitizes it and sends it to all the other nearby pads running the app. If we can't tell them apart using our eyes, we will be able to tell them apart by theirs. Even lets us give them names.

  Another app has the dictionary of their language we captured enhanced with search capability. Enter an English word, up pops the matching alien snowflake. Enter a sentence, up pops a sentence of snowflakes. We don't know anything about their grammar, so maybe not as helpful as all that, but fun anyhow.

  I type in "Freeze or I'll shoot," just for fun.

  Then the conversation turns to zombies.

  The Admiral puts the diagram of a molecule up on the screen in front of us.

  "This is the chemical released by the fungus that took control of our people. As you are aware, men under the influence lose their free will then die slowly, women simply die. We're convinced it's artificial, a designer drug."

  I'm about to open my mouth, General Cuellar beats me to it.

  "You're saying this is a biological warfare agent." Not asked as a question, but definitely the same one I had.

  "Yes. One beyond our capability to produce. And it gets worse." He clicks and another molecule is on the screen.

  "This chemical is an opioid. Again, we believe it to have been artificially created by the aliens. All of the human confederates of the Libor we've autopsied have significant amounts of this in their systems, including the traitor who boarded Yorktown. They were addicted to it."

  "Imagine being dependent on an incredibly potent chemical, one we believe to be many times more addictive than heroin, with no way to get more except from them. I suspect you'd do anything they asked to get your fix. We believe that these aliens don't fight each other with missiles and guns, they attack each other through their biological weaknesses. Infiltrate and undermine, not shock and awe."

  Another click and a couple graphs appear on the overhead.

  "As you can see here, the fungus is killed by our standard anti-fungal drugs, but only if administered early. Once the fungal chemical kills off certain parts of your brain, killing the fungus just keeps you alive a little longer, it doesn't bring you back."

  "Captain," he looks at me, "We'll put your entire crew on anti-fungals before you go, and stock your sickbay with large quantities of them, plus every antibiotic and anti-viral we've got. These aliens are exceptional biologists, who knows what else they have in their arsenal."

  I don't have a snappy response, so I ask a question.

  "What about the other drug, sir?"

  "Opioids attach to specific receptors in the brain. We will give you chemicals that can compete with the drugs for access to those receptors without getting you high. We use them to treat addicts." He holds up a three inch long tube, a small auto-injector cartridge.

  "It's not clear to us how well they will work since they're designed for natural opioids and we obviously can't test them on humans addicted to the alien drug. They also have side effects that make it inadvisable to use them prophylactically. To protect yourself, you would need an injection prior to being exposed to the alien weapons, perhaps 30 to 60 minutes for optimal impact, though that is also a guess."

  "If you encounter someone who's already addicted, there's nothing you can do to cure them. A month in a hospital might work, but cold turkey withdrawal would surely kill them."

  He may be an admiral, but he's also pretty depressing. Fortunately, the seminar is over, and lunch is served. I don't have much of an appetite, and would have preferred a nap, so I spend most of the break helping my new Lieutenant fix her uniform while I dream of my bed.

  Admiral Baylor finishes his private conversation with General Cuellar, then gathers Courtney and Olivia up about 12:55 and hurries them away. I manage to grab a sample of one of the injectors before I return to my seat, to find my row empty. Admiral Benson is gone, Admiral Everingham is on his pad in the far corner. Something's up.

  The Senator enters the room, with an Admiral of his own. No aides, no professors, no entourage, just the two of them.

  Admiral Jasmin "Jax" Quintana, Chi
ef of Naval Intelligence, and the smartest person I have ever met, is on his six. I wish they'd come separately so I could hear first hand what she really thinks.

  He moves to the podium, sharp face with sharper eyes, big politician smile.

  "Admiral, General, Captain. I am thrilled to be here with you. We're about to embark together on the greatest adventure in the history on mankind. When we next sit together it will be to describe a new partnership that will create unlimited opportunities for trade, ensure peace, and exploit exciting new technologies."

  Seriously? He should be saving the speech making for the public. If we make it back alive, we'll be sitting here next to figure out an attack plan for Admiral Lee and his battleships.

  "The secrecy surrounding this mission is critical, we cannot permit the Empire or Dynasty to beat us to the Libor. We cannot let media attention or political gamesmanship interfere with our determination to make friends with the Libor and bring them into the Union fold."

  "One week from today, we will be on our way to the jump point. We have a detailed operational plan, which I will let Jax go over. Let me make just one comment before she starts. Yorktown is a Navy vessel, but this is a civilian operation. Other than the Marines the President is making me take as personal guards, there will not be a display of weapons or military testosterone that would make the Libor nervous. We are going with open arms, we want to learn their language and make friends as quickly as possible, we must do nothing to scare or worry them about our intentions. Any questions for me?"

  He makes eye contact with all three of us. No one says anything. He floats away from the podium.

  "Admiral."

  She floats into place, tall, distinguished, pushing 60 but in perfect shape. Black hair with hints of grey in a bun on her head. No one knows, certainly not her, but I once saw that hair unleashed. You all know how that changed my life.

  "Captain Kreiger." I know it's a request, not a statement.

  "Yes, sir?"

  "I had intended to get with you in private and I apologize for that. We believe that the Libor are functioning with poor intelligence. Capital I intelligence, that is. They have not seen any of our large warships, only our little guys. Corvettes mostly, a destroyer, and your frigate. Of those, your ship is by far the most potent adversary."

  "We should have recognized the problem and dealt with it earlier. The enemy has been targeting the frigate fleet, unaware of the existence of our heavies. They destroyed Saratoga and Independence in port, they've been trying to destroy Yorktown and her skipper."

  "We've got security details on you, Captain, and on Captain Weaver. We've moving Constitution out of Armstrong Station and over here to Grissom as soon as we can. Again, I apologize that we didn't act sooner."

  "Naval Research hypothesize that the Libor war through subterfuge and fifth columns, not by open battle. We concur. We don't yet understand why. We'd like to send intelligence officers with you, but given the limitations on the delegation, you and your RISTA team will have to be our eyes and ears."

  The Senator interrupts.

  "Admiral, we've been over this. Can we proceed to the mission, please?"

  "Yes, sir. Captain, there's been a plan for first contact in place for decades. Implementing it has been made somewhat easier because humans have had contact with the Libor, some for years, just not at a nation to nation level. While we do not have access to a living human who has been in contact, we have a number of their pads."

  She locks on my eyes.

  "As you know, we have no data on their oral communication, other than diaries and documents from several of the conspirators saying that they cannot understand the Libor language and don't believe oral comm is possible for us."

  What the?

  "We do have a decent dictionary of nearly 1,600 written words, converted to their symbols, that puts us well out on the path to communicating. Our linguists will use large video screens to display their words and the human equivalent. It should be a relatively speedy process to establish communication without having to speak to one another."

  I get it, we're hiding some important facts from the Senator. They might have let me in on the conspiracy earlier. The alien's helpers understood bits of their speech, and Courtney McAdams showed it can be broken into words by changing frequencies.

  "Yorktown will jump in half way between the sun and the primary planet. Your corvettes will hold station near the sun. Yorktown will make herself known by transmitting pre-set data packets on selected frequencies that we know the Libor use. We assume the aliens will recognize we are there in peace from our modus operandi and send a political delegation out to meet you."

  "The Senator and the linguists will make contact aboard the alien ship, while in constant contact with Yorktown. Going to their ship is designed intentionally to assure them again of our peaceful intent."

  "You will download copies at regular intervals of all data transmitted to you to your battle group, they will jump back to Gamma Upsilon where Admiral Sutherland's destroyer group will be waiting to move the data back to Earth. Just in case they don't yet understand the difference between their jump tech and ours, you'll use short range jumps at all times."

  "Otherwise, once on scene you'll do what the Senator wants, and get everyone home alive."

  Nice theory.

  "Questions?"

  Nobody has any. Hopefully, we're done.

  The Senator moves forward again.

  "That's it then. Captain, I'll see you on board Yorktown in six days, and," he looks at his watch, "in six days and 16 hours, we'll be en route to Libor Prime."

  He floats out. I reach for my water tube, my hand shaky. I finish every drop in the time it takes the Senator to exit and the door to close. Admiral Quintana heads our way, grabs a seat just in front of me, one row down. I need to hit the head, but I'm going to just have to hold it.

  Then ChiNO nearly makes me wet myself.

  "Katana, Admiral Benson was relieved of duty this morning."

  I don't respond, but I'm sure my face was way more polite than I would have been verbally.

  "We got orders with the daily download from the Secretary. Response to two frigates blown up and you almost getting killed in the middle of a Navy station. SecDef also ordered me not to name a replacement. I'd guess he has someone in mind, but I have no idea who. You can take his decision to not consult me on either decision as an indicator of our current level of trust. Admiral Benson will be on the next ship out to Canada 2 for reassignment."

  Admiral Benson and I have worked together for well over a year, we trust each other, I have tremendous respect for him. Now he's gone, a week before the biggest mission of my career.

  The Marines are smart, they have only four generals. Cuellar is in overall command. One subordinate oversees all detachments on Navy ships. Another is in charge of the lone land based Marine battalion, which historically could even be headed by a colonel. And finally, the fourth oversees the special forces, a bunch of four man Recon units and 12 man Raider units. Every other task they have is headed by a colonel or less.

  The Navy has only twice as many personnel, but nearly 40 admirals. Some I like, some I don't, most I don't even know.

  Admiral Quintana changes the subject.

  "Captain, we have a set of directives for you, which Admiral Benson's successor will have to live with. Assuming he or she won't be here for several days, you can be far enough along with mission planning that it would be unwise to change. We'll give you some options, so that the new FRIGCOM can still personalize your orders at the last minute without altering them meaningfully. You can read them later."

  I guess they don't trust SecDef to choose well either. She touches her pad, and mine beeps.

  "We've been through your data and reports," she continues, "and I absolutely agree with you that the Libor are still in our space, and that they are connected to their home world, not a splinter group."

  "Aye, sir. It's an invasion with plausible deniability."<
br />
  "Affirmative. Your mission parameters are technically to go back to Gamma Nu and Gamma Upsilon to collect data from the probes you left behind then proceed with all due speed to Libor Prime. Those data will be returned to us, but you are free to act if you discover an alien presence from them. Admiral Sutherland will be following you to Upsilon. He does not need all four of his ships to deliver data to us, you can trust him to check out anything suspicious that you find but choose not to go after personally, though he won't engage without superior numbers."

  "We currently have no missile equipped warship except Yorktown that we can retask from its present assignment to explore those sectors until after the election, and we're not comfortable sending a single destroyer or corvettes against enemy ships equipped with 42 inch cannons and coated against laser attack."

 

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