“Do you think this Niburu thing turns them into a bunch of zombies?” Rubin had looked up some interesting reading material after a discussion with Harry. “According to some old beliefs in the Caribbean and certain parts of Africa, a shaman could, by feeding someone certain roots and presumably drugs, take complete control of that person’s actions. The legends say this process actually killed the person but kept the body alive.”
“You have a strange taste in reading, Lieutenant,” Len Myer interjected with a wry chuckle. “It certainly sounds as if it is the same sort of process, though I doubt the shamans refined it as well as these Niburu seem to have done.”
“Apologies for disturbing you, Admiral. Commodore Wright is online for you.”
James Heron was instantly awake and on his feet. “Put him onscreen in my office—I’ll be there in a second.” He strode into his office, smoothing his hair into place before looking into the screen.
“Good morning, sir,” said the Commodore. “Sorry to get you out of bed.”
“No, you’re not sorry, Jon.” The Admiral smiled. “I wouldn’t be either. Have you found them?”
“Yes, and so has something else. I’ve got the record, but the ship is disabled, and they’re in a bad way.” He grimaced. “They were boarded by some of those Niburu warriors. They killed them, but a lot of their people have been disabled.” He hesitated. “Funny thing though—they report that the people who were disabled first attempted to work with the warriors, or at least to move under their orders.”
“What? What’s happening with them now?”
“That’s just it. They’re sort of frozen, as if they’ve been parked to wait for something else. Oh, yes, and one more thing: Captain Yakashima says they weren’t moving sensibly. He’s sent me recordings. I’ll send them on. These guys behave as if they’re seriously drunk. Can’t keep their balance or walk properly at all.”
“Hmm, that gels with something the medics were saying at a briefing earlier.” Admiral Heron frowned. “That ship mustn’t be allowed to return home or to go to any colony world. These damned Niburu will track her to it. If you take the people off her, some of them may act as traces. Damn, this is going to be tricky.”
“I’ve already spoken to Captain Yakashima, sir.” Jon Wright paused. “He’s had orders from his high command. He’s quite definite. He refuses our offer of a rescue operation. All he will say is that he knows his duty, and so do his men.”
“I see.” The Admiral paused. “Very well, send us the record and the latest one from Captain Yakashima. Is there any hint the Niburu are still around?”
“We’ve not seen anything, but Yakashima is absolutely certain they’re watching.”
“I’ll leave it to you to make the decision, Jon. Don’t risk your ships if you think there’s a chance of them getting caught. Stand by them as long as you think you can help.”
“Thank you, sir. If, as I suspect, Captain Yakashima plans a suicide attack, it might be worth seeing what happens.”
“Perhaps, but play it safe. Plant some probes and let them capture the outcome.”
“We have a serious problem. The recording from the Han Sheng shows a weapon far more powerful than anything we possess. Even our most powerful weapon is a mere bow and arrow compared to what these ships deploy.” The Rear Admiral in charge of Intelligence Services keyed the display.
“Do we know how it functions?” demanded Grand Admiral MacQuillie.
“The WeapTech people think so, but we haven’t been able to make something like that work. The problem is in control and containment. Their efforts to replicate a similar weapon resulted in it tearing itself and the ship it was mounted to in pieces.”
“Our losses are mounting, and we haven’t had any real impact at stopping them. Even our stand-off particle beam projector can take on only one at a time, and they throw a cluster of small ships between the target and the weapon as soon as we attempt to use it.” The Rear Admiral rubbed a hand across his chin. “They sacrifice the smaller vessels to protect the larger ones, which, of course, promptly vanish.”
“So the only thing that we know works against them for certain is the Yakashima solution. Ram it and fail your reactor containment.” The speaker glanced around the table. “Not a popular option.”
“There is something else, though.” Richard Grenville studied his tablet. “According to the data from Beagle’s boarding party, these ships have oxygen-rich atmospheres and are surrounded by a very thin atmosphere as well.” He glanced at his colleagues. “Oxygen levels as high as this should mean these ships are on the point of self-ignition, if we can find a way to achieve that.”
The Grand Admiral smiled. “That’s worth exploring. See to it please, Yevgeni. What progress have we made on finding a way to detect them?”
“Ah, bit of a breakthrough there, sir. They have a heat signature, which means they show up if the scanners are tuned to the lower end of the infrared. Oddly, they also show up on X-ray, but in both cases, you don’t see the whole ship, just parts, which is why our scanners weren’t recognising them before.”
“Good—if we can see them, we can fight them off.” The Grand Admiral nodded. “The news is not good. Three more small colonies have been attacked and all communication lost in the last two weeks. It’s following a pattern. All of these worlds are colonised by the Consortium and not registered with the WTO. The likelihood is that they were identified by navigation information in the Jelaba Khan, the former Consortium ship they captured.” He hesitated. “If that is how they acquire information, then the next colony may be one visited by the freightliners taken at New Edo. We’re running checks on where they and any ships taken at the other sites have been.” He glanced round and added, “I’m afraid we may not have a lot of time.”
Martin leaned back in his seat, the display screens showing the material he had been studying for quite some time. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at Len Myers, the Surgeon-Admiral who had been working on the latest series of tests for the last twenty hours. “There’s a pattern here. Now we need to find a way to turn it off.”
“How long will it take, do you think?”
“Keine ahnung.” He shook his head. “Sorry, no idea—as long as it takes. We’ll begin in the morning. Now, I need some sleep, but first, I want to see how Harry’s doing.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Len said, pushing back from his workstation. “He’ll be pleased to see you, but keep your visit brief, for your sake as much as his. You need some rest.” He chuckled. “Doctor’s orders.”
“We’ve uncovered some interesting evidence in our investigation.” Theo L’Estrange placed his hat and coat in the hall cupboard and shut the front door. “It seems Dr. Stolt was, until recently, in the employ of the infamous Johnstone Research Institute, those wretched people who did all the experiments on Harry and Ferghal on Pangaea. Johnstone is now owned and controlled by IP Exploration, which is owned by another investment company that is owned by a holding company, which is a front for none other than Barcor.”
Niamh kissed his cheek as Herbert the android butler delivered a cup of Theo’s favourite tea. “Barcor? That’s the family corporation of Barclay, isn’t it? Wasn’t that the fellow who was director of security in the Consortium? And isn’t his son the one who made Harry’s life miserable at Fleet College?”
Theo grimaced. “The very same. Interestingly, he is also the major financier of none other than the LPSL—again through a web of front companies and trusts.”
Niamh’s eyes widened as she considered the possibilities. “So he could be behind these attacks on Harry?”
“There’s no direct evidence, and it would be difficult to prove, but it certainly looks like it.” Theo sipped his tea. “However, just in case that’s what’s happening, I’ve arranged a little lunch. One of those attending will be Herr Bokelmann.”
“Theo! The chairman of the Consortium himself?”
Theo smiled. “The same, but of course, the lunch is part of the ov
erall discussions about the next implementation phase of the treaty agreement for the removal of some of the restrictive trade laws.” He sipped his tea again. “It wouldn’t do to be too obvious. Of course, I might just happen to mention that one of their members is using his position to pursue a vendetta…”
“Theo, you never fail to amaze me.” She jumped up and kissed his cheek again. “You old fox. He won’t want it exposed, and that will force him to act.” She seated herself again. “Funny thing, I like Herr Bokelmann. I wouldn’t want to be his enemy, but he struck me as a man who lived by his word.”
“Very astute, my dear. You are right, not a man to make an enemy.” He smiled. “I expect he will make his views plain in the appropriate quarters and take the action he deems necessary.”
Harry found himself staring at a faintly luminous shape. Pressure began to build in his head and behind his eyes as the misty form took a recognisable shape. He wondered if he was hallucinating; it looked exactly like his father in his regimentals, and then, as it shifted again, Captain Blackwood of the Spartan.
My mind must be going, he thought.
“We are not a part of your imagination.” The voice was audible, at least to Harry’s ears, and it brought him fully to attention. “I come to tell you we have given your friends the information they need to counter your condition.”
“Then why does it take so long? Why can you not simply give them the answers? The information you give them is not easy to interpret.”
“It has taken much time to discover a way to communicate with your species. It is not as simple as your kind think. We speak now through the entity you know as the Provider of the Canids. You must rest now. You will be restored, but the Niburu must be destroyed. None must survive.”
“That decision is not mine to make. You must find a way to communicate directly with our Admiral Heron or with Grand Admiral MacQuillie. Only they can make such decisions.”
“Harry?” Rubin Bar Jonas skidded to a stop in the doorway. “What the..?” He gazed transfixed as the ghostly figure turned to face him. “Harry, are you okay?”
“I think so. Rubin, this is … these are … the Siddhiche.”
Stunned into silence, Rubin blinked and searched for an appropriate response, and in that brief pause, the holographic image faded.
“What do they want from you?” he finally said to Harry.
“He…it…came to tell me something.” Addressing the ship, Harry said, “Aesculapius, have you the full record of this? Please show Rubin what happened.”
Chapter 21
A Small Success
“Contact, sir. Identified, Niburu scout. Moving port to starboard.”
“Continue tracking. Lock primary weapons to target, and bring Ramillies and Hessen online. Fire on my mark.”
“Tracking, Ramillies and Hessen ready.”
The Admiral opened his comlink. “Val, prepare to transit. Link all ships. I don’t want any slow reactions.”
Captain Valerie Petrocova acknowledged the order and turned back to her displays. Under her breath, she said, “Let’s see you dodge this, my friend.” She stabbed the firing command switch for the primary weapon.
Three streams of purplish-green light focused on an apparently empty area of space. They intersected, engulfing and illuminating a hideous ovoid shape. It briefly appeared to writhe in agony before it ignited like a small sun.
“Now, Val. Transit!” The Admiral breathed out slowly. So, the Siddhiche had been right after all. The Niburu ships were vulnerable to the concentrated fire of the primary weapons.
Harry was almost deafened by the scream—high-pitched and persistent, it seemed to be everywhere. He wanted to shut his ears or cup his hands over them, but the paralysis prohibited it.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it was gone.
“Are you all right, Lieutenant? Your heart rate monitor went off.”
Harry focused his thoughts, which took some effort because the blood was pounding in his ears, and he was very aware that his heart was racing. “I think so. Who was that screaming?”
“No one here was screaming.” The med-tech sounded puzzled and anxious. “Your heart rate increased quite dramatically, but it seems to be coming back down now. You must have dreamed it.”
“Did Roberta or Anton not react?”
The med-tech checked their monitors. “Yes, as a matter of fact, they did, or at least their vital signs were off the charts for a few moments. I haven’t asked them specifically. What did you hear?”
“A very high-pitched scream. It lasted a few seconds then stopped. It sounded as if something was in agony.” Harry hesitated. “Please, can you fit the others with their cranial caps? I must ask them what they heard and felt.”
“I’ll have to get permission. Wait a moment while I brief the Surgeon Commander.”
“So we’ve finally managed to destroy one of these ships. That’s excellent news.” The Grand Admiral looked exhausted, but he smiled. “Well done, James. Has your team of scientists come up with anything more?”
“They’re making progress. There are several threads that look promising, but they aren’t prepared to set a timescale.”
“Typical but understandable. We’re in unknown territory here. Your drone monitors have picked up several of their ships apparently searching. A pity we haven’t anything to leave behind to give them a nasty welcome.”
“Have we managed to get any information on what’s happening at New Edo and the other colonies?” Admiral Heron asked.
“We managed a fly-by at Bayer Five.” He paused. “They got recordings of a swarm of twenty or more of these damned Niburu ships around the planet, and they’re systematically stripping it of all life. We have to find a way to stop them. It’s not even a case of trying to find an accommodation with them. I’ve now got demands from those idiots in the LPSL to send out search ships to look for four of theirs that supposedly vanished while trying to make friendly contact.” He managed to say the word friendly with just enough sarcasm to convey his disdain. “Damn fools—I told them I’ll do what I can, which is nothing at this point. Our ships are stretched to the limits as it is, even with the Sino Asian Fleet assisting us, and we cannot risk diminishing our forces at each of the systems we think are at risk.”
“I agree,” said Admiral Heron. “There is far too much at stake. But it won’t be popular.” He paused. “I expect to drop out at Lycania in two days, as per your orders. The system is close to the predicted track, but may not have been on that pirate’s navigation charts. Still, it puts us in a good position to go to the support of anyone within reasonable distance.”
“Exactly. It has the added advantage of putting you in the vicinity of the Provider on that planet, who we know is closely linked to the Siddhiche. It may give them the incentive to be a little more forthcoming with information and assistance.”
Surgeon Admiral Myers joined the group gathered around Harry’s med unit. “Your friends should be online in a couple of minutes, Harry. In the meantime, can you tell us what you heard? Anything you felt?”
Harry found this meeting exceedingly tiresome. None of them seemed to understand what it was like being trapped inside your own head, and none of them ever listened to what he was trying to say no matter how clearly he explained things. He huffed an annoyed exhale and said, “I heard a terrible screaming. It was very high-pitched, and it hurt—sir.”
The Admiral stood directly in Harry’s line of sight so that Harry could see him without turning his head. “Any idea where it came from? No one else heard anything.”
“I cannot tell, sir.” Harry regretted his petulance, but five weeks of this was making him petulant. Why did they always question everything he said? “As usual, it seemed to come through my ears. Did the others hear nothing?”
“I heard it. It was terrible, like an animal in severe pain.” Roberta’s voice from the audio system overlay a similar comment from Anton.
Len glanced at the doctors and scientists
clustered around the unit. “That’s unexpected, and it may not be good. Harry, Roberta, Anton, I think what you heard was us destroying one of their scouts.” He paused. “That’s the good news. What I’m not sure about is why you heard anything. It sounds as if this toxin may be linking you to these infernal ships or their occupants. That’s a serious problem, if it’s true.”
“That success of yours seems to have given us a breathing space, James.” The Fleet Council leader smiled his approval, as did the assembled Council members. They were conducting a video chat with Admiral Heron and his team.
“Thank you, sir. I’ve been following the sitcom reports. They seem to have pulled back from two of the colonies at least.”
“Correct, Admiral,” said the Council leader. “But the devastation is awful. There are very few survivors on either of them, and almost everything has been dismantled, stripped out or destroyed.”
James Heron frowned. “The briefings speak of thousands left paralysed, or to use the phrase of the popular media, zombified.” He grimaced. “I wish they’d stick to fact instead of these fantastic and fanciful headlines.”
“It has certainly caught the popular imagination,” the leader acknowledged. “Which brings me to the purpose of this conference, Admiral. We need your medical team to find the cure, and we need it now.”
“I understand, sir. However,” he indicated the several people gathered round his conference table, “I think my team are fully aware of the urgency. We are struggling to unravel a very complex organism, and we have discovered a complication.” He nodded to Martin Borner. “I had best let Dr. Borner explain.”
“Thank you.” Martin paused to gather his thoughts. “We are dealing with a parasitic organism that takes over the receptors in a specific part of the brain. We think we may have discovered a way to prevent it reproducing itself, but there are some risks. We don’t know whether simply killing it or disabling it will enable the body to recover the normal function. There is a strong possibility that it has adapted the relevant part of the nervous system to respond only to itself.”
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