Awakening Threat
Page 31
“So we have learned.” The Admiral was giving nothing. “Do they say anything about the weapons they tried?”
“No.” Dr. Palmer put the tablet down. “There’s no mention of the weapons or the technology the people used.” He shrugged. “I don’t think the writer knew about them. The inscriptions seem medical in nature, and that was the key to deciphering them.”
“I see. So they tell us about the people who were wiped out, but not much about the Niburu.”
“There is one reference, but it doesn’t make a great deal of sense. We think the writer may have been confused, or perhaps we don’t quite have the translation right. It mentions a parent that exercises control of all the others in a swarm. We think the swarm refers to the way they surround the planet, as we’ve seen elsewhere, but the parent doesn’t seem to make any sense in the context of ships or the creatures we’ve seen.”
“It may just be terminology.” The Admiral frowned. “Or, it could be a reference to a flagship—a ship such as this one, perhaps.” He smiled then paused. “So it seems the inscriptions confirm that the Niburu are an extremely aggressive race.”
“That is correct, sir.” Dr. Palmer looked down at his hands to collect his thoughts before he met the Admiral’s eyes again. “It seems we may have misjudged the Niburu. I will, of course, send the translation to the LPSL with a recommendation to cease all efforts at making contact, but your current orders prevent it.”
“I’m sure we can make an exception for this. I’m afraid the restriction applies to everyone, not just yourself. Our communications may be compromised, which makes it necessary to restrict signal content. If you provide my flag Lieutenant with your text, she will ensure it is transmitted or sent to the LPSL by secure means.” The Admiral rose. “Thank you for your efforts on this. Please convey my appreciation to your staff. I should think something like this required a great deal of effort on everyone’s part.”
For a moment, Dr. Palmer stared, not sure what the Admiral was implying. “Thank you, I will. One other thing, sir, about Lieutenant Heron—”
“Thank you for inquiring into his health. Lieutenant Commander Heron is fully recovered, though I believe Mr. Du Bois is still traumatised. Dr. Klonowski is back at work.”
“Yes. I’m glad to hear it.” The doctor swallowed. “I’m sorry about what happened. It was a serious misunderstanding.”
The Admiral nodded but said nothing, and Dr. Palmer took that as his cue to depart.
Commander Polen said, “Leader 36, follow my lead. Stick to the plan we’ve agreed. Strike groups, take positions as ordered and follow us in. Good luck all.”
Harry acknowledged the order, noting where his supporting strike groups were and the positions of his flotilla. “Time to move, Swain. Follow 771.” He glanced at Regidur. “Are all our missiles ready for launch?”
The growl from Regidur confirmed his weapons’ readiness.
Danny grinned as he followed the navigation plot. He couldn’t help thinking how different this was to the more formal and much more complex flow of orders, checks and counter checks on the big ships. He had found the rather relaxed discipline tricky at first, but was settling in fast. He glanced at Harry, delighted to be serving under him again. “Target’s showing no reaction, sir.”
Harry smiled. “Good. They may not have detected us yet. Keep watching them, though.”
“The leader and his group are about to transit, sir.”
“Thank you, Swain.” Harry watched the markers for the 34th and 37th flotillas wink out on the display as they entered transit. “Ready, Swain? Helms linked, on my mark.” He counted silently in his head. “Now.”
The 36th flotilla snapped into transit. Harry counted the seconds. “Drop out!”
When the display cleared, they were between the dead planet and the huge Niburu ship currently engaging the Commander and his flotillas.
“Missiles launched,” Regidur confirmed as multiple flares streaked away from 847 and her consorts.
“Take us out of range, Swain.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
The display blanked briefly then restored.
“Bring us round to recording position.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Danny’s hands danced across his navigation console. “Helm, bring us onto these coordinates, please.”
“Aye, aye, Mr. Gunn.” The Coxswain stifled his grin as he echoed the youth’s ancient and automatic reply.
Harry studied the giant ship for any sign of reaction or retaliation, but it gave every appearance of being undamaged, and only seemed interested in dealing with its immediate attackers. He asked the AI, “Do any of the others report any signs of damage to the enemy, 847?”
“Negative, Harry. All the missiles struck home, though.”
“Very well, we shall have to take a closer look and see what damage is visible.” He turned to Danny. “Plot in a course to take us directly underneath them, please, but wait for my order to execute it. Comms, tell the others to remain here and cover our pass.”
“Course plotted, sir.”
Harry waited for the confirmation of his signal. “Very well, take us past him, Mr. Gunn.” He watched and listened as Danny passed the course directions to the helm and brought the ship on a fast looping pass close to the underbelly of the enemy. Several of the barnacles launched toward them, but the ship’s plasma projectors dealt with them—something Regidur took particular pleasure in doing—or the barnacles were repelled by the ship’s coating.
Up close, the Niburu ship looked like a gigantic accretion of scraps and parts of all manner of things, but now there were puncture marks where the missiles struck.
“Looks like we got the bastard, sir.” The ScanRate’s remark confirmed Harry’s thoughts.
“Yes, but we don’t know whether we were effective.”
“He’s moving, sir.” The ScanRate’s voice was tense. “Trying to make a break for it by the looks of it.”
“Join the flotilla, Mr. Gunn.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Danny plotted the course and sent it to the helm. Harry looked at the scanner.
“He hasn’t shed any of those pods yet. I wonder why.”
“Perhaps the weapon has started working, sir.”
Harry nodded. “Good thinking, Danny—perhaps you’re right. We’ll see what happens next.”
He stared at the Niburu ship. Strange, he thought, it isn’t attempting to follow us or attack us. Why doesn’t it try to escape?
“ScanRate, search for any other ships,” Harry said.
“Nothing on scan except our own people, sir.”
Danny interjected. “Enemy has gone to transit, sir.”
The ScanRate reported, “He’s dropped out again, sir.” He stared at his screen. “He’s impacted something. Chunks of him have come adrift.” He adjusted his settings. “He seems to be in trouble, sir. Looks like he’s gone a bit crazy.”
“Give us a close-up on the command display, please.” Harry leaned forward in his seat, frowning as he studied the image. The Niburu ship was behaving very erratically. It made another attempt to transit, vanished briefly, then reappeared rather too close to the local sun. A few seconds later, it flared brilliantly, and the bright spark was lost from view as it plunged toward the star.
“Sit down, please.” Admiral Heron seated himself among the scientists and waited as the corvette Commanders resumed their seats. “Carry on, Commander Polen. I want to hear first-hand the result of your attack.” He nodded at the assembly. “Warts and all, please.”
“Thank you, sir.” The Commander faced his officers. “Right, Harry, your group delivered the missiles. What was the reaction?”
“Almost none, sir. We launched a total of twenty, all of them penetrated, yet the target made no visible response that we could see. Our instruments and the recorders show the punctures sealing themselves a few minutes after impact.” Harry turned to Kallie. “Your ship was the last to fire. I think you made some observations,” he prompted.
Commander Polen nodded, consulting his tablet. “Right, it seems to be a sort of autonomous response to penetration on these things.” He looked up. “What happened next that you observed?”
“Nothing for several minutes,” said Harry. “It ignored my flotilla, even when I took 847 closer to inspect the damage. Then it attempted to transit. The surprise was that it dropped out of transit barely seconds later, right in an asteroid field, where it was impacted by several large ones. Its second attempt to transit failed as well, rather catastrophically, I thought.”
“Looked as if it got confused,” Korinna chipped in. “It didn’t behave in a normal manner at all. It looked disoriented.”
A rumble of agreement grew among the assembly. The Commander tapped the lectern. “One at a time, folks.” He called on the Lieutenant Commander leading the 34th Flotilla. “Mark, take us through the decoy attack. Did the target strike you as malfunctioning in any way when we attacked?”
Admiral Heron and the scientists listened as each Commander added some snippet of information or an observation to the discussion. Rigorous study of the records from the visual scanners had revealed a great deal, but now, much of what couldn’t be gauged from the video recordings was surfacing. The Admiral was intrigued by the repeated observation that the enemy ship apparently seemed impervious to being hit by the missiles loaded with the infective agent. Was this a result of the lack of critical damage at the impact sites, or something else? He made a note to ask the science teams if there was any possible explanation from their understanding of the infective agent.
Commander Polen turned to the Admiral. “That seems to be everything, sir, unless you have some specific questions.”
“Thanks, but at the moment, no—not for your people.” He glanced at the scientists. “I’ve some questions for the experts here, but I think they are better discussed separately.”
“Thank you, sir.” The Admiral caught Martin’s eye. “Anything from your side, Doctor?”
“No. Danke, Herr Admiral. But I must answer one question you make. The high level of the oxygen in these ships will cause the agent to spread very rapidly. We don’t know what the creature it affects looks like, but as it absorbs the virus, it may start to feel, in human terms, sick. That may confuse it, and then, as the infection spreads, it may have some effect on its ability to think rationally or logically, like us when we are delirious with a fever.” He glanced at his colleagues. “If the Niburu have no natural resistance to this, it could prove fatal very quickly.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” said Commander Polen. “We have a new weapon, and now we are waiting on the WTO Supreme Council for permission to deploy it fully. The trial we conducted proved it worked, but there are a number of Council governments reluctant to allow its use.” The Commander waited, and the Admiral watched the reaction to his announcement.
“If we receive the go-ahead, how effective is the delivery?” The question came from a destroyer Captain.
Admiral Heron proffered a reply. “It’s not easy to deliver.” He waited while a murmur ran through the assembled Captains, Commanders and commanding officers. “It requires getting rather closer to these Niburu ships than any of us are comfortable with. The second problem is this: our test was successful, but we still don’t know how much is needed or how long it takes effect in a smaller dose than what was used in the trial.”
“If we have to get that close to deliver it, we’ll be putting our major ships at risk.”
The Admiral waited for the stir to die down. “Yes, so the major ships will not be the delivery vehicles. Their task will be to engage the enemy and allow the smaller ships to close in.” He activated the screen above and behind him. “The primary deliverers will be corvette class vessels. They will be protected and escorted by strike craft armed with a smaller version of the delivery weapon.” He let this sink in. “It is crucial that the enemy does not realise what we are delivering until it is too late. I will, therefore, attempt to engage their full attention by deploying in a battle formation and engaging their main ships.”
Chapter 35
Fallout
A semi-transparent figure hovered just above the floor in front of the Grand Admiral and the leader of the Fleet Council. The figure appeared in the form of one of the historic figures in the portraits that decorated the large office, on this occasion a twentieth century Admiral of the Fleet. It seemed the Siddhiche, having no definable form of their own, randomly chose one they considered appropriate to the message they were delivering. Their use of holograms to project a recogniseable form, presumably to emphasise their concern, made communication much easier.
“You must destroy everything of the Niburu,” the ghostly visitor announced.
Grand Admiral MacQuillie exchanged a glance with the leader of the Fleet Council. “You have told us this before, but we believe in the sanctity of all life forms. You are asking us to do something that is not as easy as you seem to think, and it goes very much against everything humanity has struggled to agree on over the course of many centuries.”
“You must put aside these scruples. The Niburu will not hesitate to destroy you. Why do you hesitate to destroy them?”
“If you are so sure that they must be destroyed, and you have given us the means to do so, why have you not taken this action yourselves?”
“We have provided you the means of this destruction to save yourselves. The Niburu do not threaten us. They threaten you and all other life like you. That is why you must destroy them utterly.”
The Grand Admiral rubbed his temples. This was going nowhere, and the shimmering figure radiated annoyance. He sighed. “As I have explained, humanity has a bad record of genocide in the distant past, so we have strict laws now to prevent anything of the sort. If I must argue for this destruction with the Supreme Council of the World Treaty Organisation, then I must be able to make a convincing case, or they will refuse to authorise it.”
“You must not spare any Niburu. This Council must not be swayed by scruples. They must be brought to understand that there is no compromise. There can be no survivors among the Niburu.”
“I think there is something about the Niburu you aren’t telling us,” volleyed the Grand Admiral. “If they are so dangerous, why don’t you deal with them? Why are you using us along with the Lacertians and the Canids to do this? You’ve given us the information to create this toxic agent, but if you knew how to create it, why didn’t you do it? Furthermore, why haven’t you used it?”
“It is not necessary for you to understand this. We are not threatened by them. You are. We have given you the means to destroy them and save yourselves. The Niburu must be destroyed. See to it.” The figure vanished.
The Grand Admiral turned to the Fleet Council leader. “I’m convinced there’s something they’re hiding, but I’m damned if I know what it is. They’ve given us a lot in these last months—just the new drives are worth the hassle—but this demand to wipe out an entire species? That doesn’t sit well, and I don’t envy you trying to get the Supreme Council onboard.”
“It won’t be easy, but I’ll work something out.” The Fleet Council leader grimaced. “I’m more concerned about these Siddhiche. They say they’re our allies, but they’re not being completely open with us.”
“No, they’re not, but I have people watching it. Li has hinted that they intend to capture one of these Niburu ships and learn its secrets. That could really create a dangerous situation.”
“We’ll have to deal with that if and when it happens.” The Fleet Council leader stood. “Right, I’ll set up a meeting of the Supreme Council. Send the record of this meeting with the Siddhiche across to my office. I’ll find a way to use it to convince them.”
Harry and a group of his fellow commanders studied the schematics of the new missiles. “We think the design wil
l be more efficient and, by penetrating further into the target, more effective in delivering the infective agent.” He indicated a long projectile inserted into the nose cone of the missile. “This is the real missile. It carries the agent in this small chamber, which is ejected by a gas propellant charge once the primary vehicle is stopped. Our trials against similar structures show that the lance travels a minimum of three times the penetration distance of the main vehicle. It has the advantage of releasing the agent in ideal conditions for it to breed and spread—clear of any heat source and the initial puncture in the hull.”
“Doesn’t that assume the propellants won’t ignite the target? Those damned ships burn for any reason.” The Commander of one of the 34th’s corvettes spoke. His ship had recently been damaged in an attack in which a massive flare erupted from his target and engulfed his ship milliseconds before he entered transit.
The briefing officer nodded. “You’re right, so these missiles use a different form of propulsion. The missile itself is inserted into a central tube. The propulsion unit is really a sort of cannon.” He grinned at Harry and Ferghal. “Something you gentlemen should be familiar with.” He let the banter die down. “The propulsion unit accelerates the missile to a point around two hundred fifty metres from the target, and then, quite literally, fires the carrier into it.”
The group clustered around the exhibit, noting its various components and asking questions.
“Let’s hope it has greater accuracy than our cannon provided,” Ferghal remarked.
“Aye,” Harry grinned. “At three hundred yards, our guns were likely to miss even a first rate. Let us hope these are better directed.”
“I think you can be certain of that.” The briefing officer was at Harry’s elbow. “The projectile here has a guidance system. It uses these gas jets to steer it and to increase velocity once it’s been fired.”