Imperative - eARC

by Steve White

  After a pause, Yoshinkuni sat very straight. “Does anyone have any good news to report as a result of today’s encounter with the Kaituni picket ship?”

  Wethermere nodded. “I do, Admiral.” The two humans’ eyes met oddly when Ossian uttered her title of rank. Ankaht had the impression that one, or maybe both of them were about to smile. Which was quite puzzling: none of the social cues indicated a source of mutual amusement or—

  “Our encounter today proved something we’ve suspected,” Ossian was continuing. “The Kaituni do not possess, and don’t seem to know very much about, our stealth technology.”

  “As I remarked an prior occasions,” Ankaht commented, “there was little record of it in your naval communications during the last war. As I recall, stealth technology was still in trials in the Rim Federation when the war started, and the Terran Republic was reserving it for special battlegroups.”

  Wethermere nodded. “Yes, but there was the possibility of more recent additions to Amunsit’s technical intelligence. Specifically, once we learned that she was able to communicate with the Dispersates, and that her agents had been studying our military publications assiduously, it was always possible that they had learned more about our stealth systems than was available during the war with your Dispersate. And if that had occurred, then it was likely that the Kaituni had come up with a set of protocols to detect and counteract it. Instead, as we witnessed in the encounter with the picket and, from what I gather, your debrief of its commander, they have no functional knowledge of it.”

  “None,” Ankaht confirmed.

  Modelo-Vo scowled. “Sounds like damned poor technical intelligence work, to me. So poor that it makes me wonder if they do, in fact, know, and have taken steps to suppress that knowledge from their second-tier units so they can trick us into making wrong assumptions later on. That wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

  Ankaht made sure her answering tone was calm and unhurried. “Actually, my surprise runs the other direction, Commander. I am frankly stunned at all the technical intelligence Amunsit was able to gather. When you consider the small number of agents she was able to field, the fact that they didn’t have direct access to any of your classified materials, and that their human contacts and operatives were mostly limited to members of the criminal community, it’s rather impressive that Amunsit accumulated the mass of data that she did, and that the Kaituni were able to act on it all so quickly and cannily.”

  Wethermere was apparently aware that Modelo-Vo’s posture suggested an inclination toward continuing the argument. He forestalled that with a comment of his own: “Commander, this is not so much a lucky break as it is the law of averages finally swinging our way—and in relation to a technology that neither Torhok nor Amunsit faced in the last war and which has not been a high-profile news item since then. If you take a look at both popular journalism and the journals of the service academies—and everything in between—their coverage of military technology is understandably dominated by the size, complexity, and expense of the devastators and super devastators. The emphasis on smaller matters that mostly pertain to smaller ships didn’t even make the news—and let’s face it: stealthing is never going to be that useful to the larger capital ships. Their own drive emissions at low speed threaten to overload the stealth field’s energy absorption capacity.”

  “Still,” protested Modelo-Vo, “are you saying that Amunsit’s agents have never even heard of stealthing?”

  “Only in passing,” Ankaht answered. “The commander of the picket indicated that she had been told that the human mentions of a ‘stealth technology’ had been presumed to refer to a next-generation improvement upon the cloaking technology which we both possessed during the last war.”

  “And it’s not?” asked Jennifer somewhat hesitantly. “I mean, stealthing isn’t simply an extension of cloaking technology?”

  “Not at all,” Modelo-Vo replied brusquely. “Cloaking was a partial sensor-repelling field that directed both active scans and the ship’s own emissions away from enemy sensors. Of course, the success of that was largely predicated upon knowing where the enemy was—particularly in the case of hiding one’s own emissions.

  “But a stealthed ship is fully surrounded by a sensor-repelling field—which is why it’s called ‘the black bubble.’ Any active sensor emissions get absorbed by it, so nothing returns to the enemy, just like when you scan empty space. Of course, the stealthed ship pays for that. Not only is it blind—remember: nothing comes in—but it can’t send anything out. So it can’t use its sensors, can’t send messages. Which has really limited its applicability. Frankly,” he turned toward Wethermere, “I’ve been wondering how the commodore managed to time getting the Viggen in so close behind the Kaituni picket. While Viggen was running its black bubble—which I understand takes up most of its old cargo compartment—you shouldn’t have been able to coordinate with the Fet’merah, and shouldn’t have known when the target moved far enough away from the warp point for you to slip in behind it.”

  Wethermere smiled. “I think it’s more accurate to say that no radiant energy can get in or out of the black bubble.” He aimed his smile at Ankaht, just then. “But selnarm isn’t radiant. It’s a phenomenon rooted in quantum entangelement, which means it doesn’t traverse space-normal. It starts in one place, and immediately shows up somewhere else.”

  Modelo-Vo stared then shrugged. “I guess I should have figured that out myself.” That self-deprecatory statement improved Ankaht’s opinion of Yoshikuni’s young Fleet Tactical officer considerably. “But I still don’t see how it’s really going to help us during routine operations, when you need to keep scanning your environment to be able to react to changes in a volatile battlespace.”

  Admiral Yoshikuni sent a sideways glance at Wethermere—and again, Ankaht was sure she was just barely suppressing a smile—before she commented, “The commodore and I have been working together on that very problem of retaining combat responsivity while fully stealthed. For security reasons, we’ve kept that work confidential. But when we start shadowing the Bugs, we’ll share what we’ve come up with—and see how it works.”

  Kiiraathra’ostakjo sat very straight. “‘Shadowing’ the Bugs? Admiral, do you mean to follow them?”

  Narrok answered. “That is precisely what we mean, Admiral. It was our plan to enter the Star Union ourselves, and so move toward Earth. We shall continue to do so, while avoiding the Arachnids. But in order to achieve that end, we will inevitably need to keep abreast of their positions. Hopefully, they will demonstrate the same behavior as they did during your war with them: they will attempt to raid the worlds of the Star Union for…” Narrok paused, searching for the right word “…sustenance.”

  “You’re talking about billions of thinking beings, Admiral Narrok,” Jennifer pointed out in a low voice.

  “Regrettably, this is true. Regrettably, we are also powerless to do anything to intervene, not if we wish to achieve our prime objective: complete the long journey to the warp line that connects to Earth, and which Admirals Trevayne and Waldeck are surely defending. With any luck, this fleet could be large enough to help ensure victory, there. And if the Star Union has paid any attention to news of the recent events in the Khanate, they will be prepared to defend themselves from aggressors.”

  “True,” Jennifer allowed. “But they weren’t expecting aggressors who would stick around to eat them.”

  “At the risk of sounding insensitive, Ms. Pietchkov, I must point out that whether the Star Union was to be invaded by the Omnivoracity or the Kaituni only changes the manner and timing of their demise, not the probability of it. Indeed, were I in their place, I would prefer to be invaded by the Arachnids. Their technology is inferior and they are—or at least, were—driven by immediate objectives and appetites: they might decide to bypass strong resistance. Perhaps long enough for us to defeat the Kaituni and return to deal with the Omnivoracity. Conversely, the Kaituni would be determined to destroy strong resistance
immediately, wherever they find it, and then lay waste to the resources with which that resistance might be rebuilt. And then, at their leisure, they would return so that they might—scientifically and methodically—depopulate all those worlds.”

  “Of course,” Yoshikuni said, leaning forward to pick up the thread, “even if we did want to attack the Bugs, we’d be fools to do it without the advantage of surprise, and I don’t think we’re going to get that.”

  “Why?” asked Jennifer.

  “As Councilor Ankaht has indicated, the picket monitoring Unity warp point Three just took over this post from a small collection of Kaituni ships a few days ago. They’ve since gone through to Franos. I believe that enemy squadron is going to stay right behind the Bugs, herding them toward the crucial targets the Kaitun want removed in the Star Union. So it’s almost a certainty that we’d run into that flotilla before we could jump the Bugs themselves—and I suspect the first thing the Kaituni would do is whistle up their Arachnid war-dogs. No, Ms. Pietchkov, as much as I sympathize with your concerns, we’ve got to stay on course with our original plan. And now we have yet another reason to follow it: so we can double back and the hit the Bugs in the Star Union. By surprise, if possible.”

  Yoshikuni’s eyes moved sideways toward Wethermere—again. “Speaking of surprises, Commodore—”

  “Yes, Admiral?” Wethermere responded when it was clear that Yoshikuni’s hanging tone was intentional.

  “I thought I told you ‘no carriers’ on today’s operation.”

  “Roger that, Admiral. None were present.”

  “Oh no? Then how was it you had four fighters hiding in the belt behind the Fet’merah, just in case there was trouble?”

  “I’m sorry, Admiral,” Wethermere explained, “I may have neglected to inform you that both the Fet’merah and the Woolly Impostor had their cargo holds modified to hold fighters, or most other forms of small craft. No combat launches or landings at high speed, of course, but so far, we’ve been able to do without them.”

  “Evidently,” Yoshikuni seemed to stare at Wethermere’s carefully expressionless face and Ankaht could not determine if the admiral was going to frown or smile. She actually did both—and then turned to formally bring the meeting to a close.

  Ankaht suppressed a stunned tri-blink. What had become of the daunting, indeed ferocious, Admiral Yoshikuni? This person at the meeting did not seem to be her, not exactly. As Ankaht had seen over the past few weeks, Miharu Yoshikuni was not hesitant about tongue-lashing incompetent subordinates or, most especially, those whose deference was anything less than absolute. Of course, Ankaht reasoned, Wethermere would not be a likely irritant to the admiral to begin with: Ossian was anything but incompetent, and he hadn’t been insolent in any material way. His tone had been more—well, playful would be the word that came to mind. But still, she was an Admiral, and—

  Ankaht’s mind stopped. Were Yoshikuni and Wethermere—intimate? Granted they knew each other. Granted they were the right age for each other. Granted that they were both extremely intelligent. And granted that, among humans, crisis often proved the catalyst for strange pairings—but this? She turned to Kiiraathra’ostakjo, mentally reminded herself to make sure that the vocoder’s volume would remain very low—and stumbled over how to phrase the surprisingly intrusive question she found she absolutely needed to ask.

  The Orion glanced over, looked more closely at her when he evidently detected perplexity upon her face—merciful Illudor, even aliens can plainly see my discomfiture! —and then looked away with one of his closed-lip smiles. “So you have noticed, too.”

  Ankaht replied. “Yes, I have, if you mean—that is, if you are referring to—”

  “Wethermere and Yoshikuni. Yes. I think it began the first time we met on her ship. I suspect, from prior casual conversation with Ossian, that the admiral, as the human expression puts it, has had her eye on him for some time. At least since the war games he participated in at the start of this year. She requested him to work as the Fleet Tactical Officer attached to her flagship for a while. Then she had him delivering personal reports with rather unusual frequency, given the separation between their ships during maneuvers. He suspected she might be assessing him for possible promotion.” The Orion’s smile widened. “I wondered if she might have been assessing him for different reasons, but elected to remain silent.”

  “But why?”

  “Councilor Ankaht, I am not much learned in the ways of humans, but I have learned this: do not become involved in their counterinstinctual premating rituals of approach and avoidance, beckon and rebuff. It is terribly confusing and gives me a headache. It is doing so even now. You will kindly allow me to take my leave.”

  Part Five

  The Numbers of the Beasts

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  As Ian Trevayne had been certain they would, the Bugs advanced into Pesthouse from Home Hive One on the heels of Combined Fleet. First came a hurricane of SBMHAWK missiles, streaking through the warp point in a stroboscopic flicker of explosions from superimposed transits, targeting the massive fortresses. Then came phalanxes of monitors, in the inexorable, soulless, seemingly unstoppable way that Pesthouse’s younger defenders had read of in history books and the older ones, in some cases, heard of from their grandparents and great-grandparents.

  But those defenders were ready for them, and fueled by the hatred and loathing of the Arachnid abomination that would endure as long as a human or Orion or Ophiuchi or Gorm was alive in the universe.

  Trevayne had been relieved to see that Hugo Allende had followed his orders to the letter. He had brought Combined Fleet’s now-vulnerable devastators and superdevastators back and positioned them just within heavy missile range of the warp point. From there they unleashed a datalinked torrent of firepower into the advancing Bug monitors in coordination with the battered but still-fighting fortresses, while Combined Fleet’s lesser capital ships poured in the searing plasma bolts of energy torpedoes and its fighters weaved through the holocaust, seeking out the enemy’s blind zones and stabbing viciously with their own rapid-fire energy torpedoes. The volume of space around the warp point became an inferno of destructive energy in which the Bug ships vanished into coruscating clouds of debris and vapor almost as rapidly as they appeared.

  After a time, Trevayne took a calculated risk. It wasn’t impossible that the Bugs possessed whatever weapon had caused Cyrus Waldeck’s devastators and superdevastators to so inexplicably explode. But if there was any truth to his assessment of the Kaituni/Bug relationship, they almost certainly didn’t—and there wouldn’t be any Kaituni ships accompanying them. So he ordered Allende to bring his mastodonic killing machines into the range where they could use the gee-beams powered by their prodigious engines—and Allende obeyed unflinchingly. Within that range of those ships, no monitor-sized or smaller ship could hope to live. And Trevayne heaved a deep but (he hoped) inconspicuous sigh of relief when none of Allende’s ships vanished in mini-novae.

  Soon, the Bugs sullenly withdrew, and no more came. Trevayne had a breathing space to call his senior flag officers together for an intelligence briefing.

  *

  Zeven Provinciën’s Intelligence center had no facilities for a phantom holographic staff conference, as Li Han’s did. So Combined Fleet’s task force commanders attended in the flesh. Trevayne preferred it that way—and not just because it brought him into physical contact with Magda for the first time in far too long. In fact, he was coming to rather like Zeven Provinciën, despite its name’s association with a rival of his personal hero Nelson’s reputation.

  Threeenow’hakaaeea was, in terms of accepted human/Orion rank equivalencies, the most junior task force commander present—in fact, he commanded a task force only by virtue of Trevayne’s hasty integration of Second Fleet’s remnants into Combined Fleet’s organization. But it would never have occurred to Trevayne to not have him there—and not just because they badly needed a representative of his race. No; he was t
here not just as an Orion but as an officer of the PSU, in the midst of what was by now a predominantly Terran Republic/Rim Federation fleet defending the PSU’s human core of the heart worlds. But then, the distinctions between the various polities seemed increasingly irrelevant in the face of the inconceivable calamity that threatened to overwhelm them all.

  “In the course of the destruction of the fortresses in Orpheus-1, and in the course of our own fighting retreat from that system,” Andreas Hagen began, “we were able to obtain a considerable amount of sensor readings on the Bugs—”

  “That’s what I call putting the best possible face on things,” Adrian M’Zangwe muttered.

  “—and still more became available during the recent action here at Pesthouse. We have now had a chance to evaluate these data, and have been able to draw a couple of conclusions about what the Bugs have been up in whatever concealed system or systems they have inhabited since the Fourth Interstellar War.

  “First of all, their ships are no larger than they were two centuries ago. Their most massive classes are still monitor-size.”

  “Which may not be a bad thing for them, given the…new realities,” said Magda grimly.

  “Secondly, analysis of their combat efficiency, as compared with archival data from the Fourth Interstellar War, indicated that they are making far more lavish use of automation than they were then. This is particularly true of their smaller craft. Simply put, they’re reacting faster.”