“War Hog has jumped, sir,” Farley reported.
“Good,” James said, silently counting down the seconds. If the frigate had run into a hot reception, he knew, she might have been blown apart before she could jump out again. This time, an ambush would have been all too easy. “And our friend?”
“Holding position, as always,” Farley said. “I don’t think they did more than match our course and speed.”
James sighed. The alien diplomats seemed to have much less freedom than their human counterparts. Every hour, they sent back countless terabytes of data to their starship, detailing the talks with the humans and requesting instructions. The researchers had sworn the aliens probably never did anything individually, but their discussions seemed more than a little excessive. But then, if the aliens on the ship represented several different factions, it was quite likely the diplomats themselves couldn't form a consensus. They needed to talk to their faction-mates.
We need to work out some proper terminology for this, James thought, ruefully. The diplomats had urged the researchers not to place any simple words on the alien concepts, pointing out that the words could lead to misunderstandings. But humanity wasn't entirely used to a concept of nationhood where nationality could be switched at the drop of a hat. And then see if we can emulate anything of theirs that’s worth copying.
An icon flashed back into life on the display. “Captain, War Hog has returned,” Farley reported. “She’s transmitting now.”
James switched his attention to the secondary display as it started to fill with data. Local space was seemingly clear, but the system itself was clearly heavily industrialised. The frigate’s passive sensors had detected energy signatures all over the system, suggesting an industrial base on the same level as Target One – or Earth. Hundreds of spacecraft made their way through the system, thousands of settlements could been seen in the asteroids and planetary orbits. It was a staggering display of alien industrial might.
And if they’d been united against us, he thought morbidly, they would probably have won the war by now.
“Admiral,” he said, formally. “It looks as though we can enter the system.”
“It does,” Admiral Smith said. There didn't seem to be anyone waiting in ambush. “Take us through the tramline.”
“All ahead full,” James ordered. “Take us into the system.”
He braced himself, instinctively, as the carrier slid towards the tramline and vanished from the barren system, only to reappear, nanoseconds later, in the alien system. The display flickered, then lit up with the live feed from the starship’s passive sensors. If anything, the frigate’s preliminary scans had underestimated the sheer size and power of the alien system.
“I’m picking up cloudscoops, mining stations, industrial nodes ...” Farley’s voice trailed off. “Sir, if my observations are accurate, this system has a considerably greater industrial potential than Earth.”
James sucked in his breath sharply. Earth’s high orbitals had been colonised for over two hundred years, allowing humanity to move its industrial base from the surface of its homeworld to orbit. And then there were the settlements on the moon and the outer planets, the mining stations in the asteroids and the gas giants, the countless installations built by the spacefaring nations ... all of the economic predictions suggested that Earth would be the centre of the human sphere for hundreds of years to come. None of the settled worlds had anything like the same level of industry.
But the alien system was clearly older and far better developed.
He eyed the display, thoughtfully. “Is this their actual homeworld?”
“... Unknown,” Farley said. “One of the worlds is definitely within the life-bearing zone, and it is clearly heavily industrialised, but there’s no way to tell if it’s their actual homeworld.”
He paused. “It may be settled by multiple factions, though,” he added. “The analysts will have to check, sir, but I think their industrial base is actually quite inefficient for its size.”
James frowned, stroking his chin. The same could be said of Earth’s industrial base. Twenty-two nations, of varying size and power, had established industrial nodes, mining stations and other off-world facilities. Even with the threat of interstellar war against a ruthless alien race, few nations had been willing to combine their industrial bases with those of their rivals. But then, the duplication of facilities had probably worked out in humanity’s favour, in the long run. They weren't completely without a vitally important facility.
But if the aliens were showing the same pattern ... did it mean that the system was ruled by a collective of factions, rather than just one? Or were they completely misinterpreting the data? There was no way to know.
“Keep monitoring the system,” he ordered, finally. “Can you pick up any defensive installations?”
“No, sir,” Farley said. “There’s a number of starships passing through the system, without trying to hide themselves, but I can't get accurate data at this distance.”
“True,” James agreed. They were over twenty light minutes from the life-bearing world. The data they picked up would be out of date by the time they received it. “Inform me the moment anything changes.”
“We could launch probes,” Farley offered. “A ballistic probe would be almost completely undetectable.”
James hesitated. It was a tempting thought; they needed tactical data, particularly if they had to attack the system at a later date. But he knew the aliens might take it badly if they detected the probe – and he’d learned the hard way not to take anything for granted where alien technology was concerned. They might get lucky, after all, and it would be potentially disastrous.
It was easier sneaking up on Target One, he thought. There, we knew we were going to hit the system. Now ...
“No,” he said, out loud. “Passive sensors only.”
He paused. “And our shadow?”
“Still with us,” Farley said. “They came through the tramline just after we made transit. I don’t think they changed course and speed at all.”
“Keep an eye on him too,” James ordered. He settled back in his command chair, forcing himself to relax. “And tell the CAG that two starfighter squadrons can stand down. The remainder are to remain on alert.”
“Aye, sir,” Farley said.
***
Ted had rarely been intimidated in his life. As a young officer, he’d been too stupid to be intimidated; as an older drunkard, he’d been too drunk to be intimidated. But he felt intimidated, more than he cared to admit, as the alien system slowly revealed its secrets. It was growing alarmingly clear that the aliens had a far greater industrial base than humanity had realised.
Then they should have been able to deploy a much larger fleet, he thought, slowly. Did they only start building up a military after they encountered us at Heinlein?
But it didn't seem too likely. The Royal Navy – and the other spacefaring navies – had spent near two hundred years learning what worked and didn't work when it came to interstellar war. There had been no shortage of mistakes over the years, as well as ideas that had come before or after their time. Ark Royal herself was an example of an idea that hadn't quite worked out quickly enough to suit the planners. He found it impossible to believe that the aliens had only started to build their military machine after Heinlein. A fleet as large as the one humanity had observed would take decades to build.
We built up a war fleet too, he thought, remembering his history lessons. Early concepts of the demilitarisation of space hadn't lasted, not when there was something in orbit worth protecting. Early tin-can spacecraft had given way to larger, more powerful starships, with each spacefaring power seeking ways to outdo its rivals. Then they’d produced starfighters and carriers and fast frigates ... there had been no real way to halt the development of military starships. No spacefaring power would consider calling a halt when their rivals would take advantage of the opportunity to leap ahead of them.
And
yet, there had been no real threat ...
The thought bothered him. Had the aliens believed that there would be a threat, one day? The diplomats had asked and the aliens had claimed that humanity was the first intelligent race they had encountered, but it was hard to be sure. They might be lying – or there might be a translation problem. But would they have built up all the firepower they’d used against humanity if they hadn't seen a need for it?
Perhaps they were fighting each other, he thought, dryly. Humans didn't know about aliens until Vera Cruz and we still built up a shitload of firepower.
“Admiral,” Janelle said, “we’re picking up a signal from the alien ship. They’re requesting we approach the life-bearing world and enter high orbit. They actually sent very detailed diagrams.”
Ted wasn't surprised. If he’d been in charge of planetary security, he would have been very reluctant to allow a warship like Ark Royal anywhere near the planet without making damn sure she was harmless. And none of the aliens would ever mistake Ark Royal for harmless.
“Follow their instructions,” he said. “And watch for any signs of trouble.”
But the closer they came to the planet, he knew, the more damage they could do if the aliens decided to turn hostile. He could fire missiles towards the planet – or mass driver projectiles, inflicting horrendous damage. Even without the bioweapon, he could make the aliens pay an immense price for any treachery. And yet ... he knew losing the Old Lady would be disastrous for humanity. Ark Royal had come to symbolise humanity’s only hope of victory.
He watched, grimly, as more and more icons appeared in the display. The planet was heavily defended, with nine orbital battlestations and countless starfighters zipping to and fro, making no attempt to disguise the fact they were watching the humans with eagle eyes. There were fewer warships than he had expected; the largest one, holding station several hundred thousand kilometres from the planet, was a battlecruiser comparable to the ship Ark Royal had captured, months ago. He couldn't see any carriers at all.
They could be under stealth, he told himself, or perhaps they’re elsewhere. Or maybe they don’t exist.
He’d been forced to become more familiar with productive figures during the run-up to Operation Nelson than he’d ever wished to be. Producing starfighters in vast numbers was relatively simple. They weren't that complex, he knew; the real problem was producing starfighter pilots who could last longer than thirty minutes against the aliens. But the real bottleneck lay in producing carriers. Part of the reason modern carriers were so frail was that the designers had cut the armour back to the bare minimum. A carrier like Ark Royal could take upwards of two to three years to build.
Was it possible, he asked himself, that the aliens had worked their carrier force to the bone?
Wishful thinking, he thought, coldly. You don’t know anything of the sort.
“We’re entering orbit now,” Janelle said, breaking into his thoughts. “They’re inviting us to send a party down to the surface.”
She paused. “And they’re inviting you to join them.”
Ted was seriously tempted. He’d never set foot on an alien world; hell, this was the first semi-friendly visit any human had made to an alien world. The Marines had raided alien worlds before, but that had been far from friendly. And yet he knew he couldn't risk leaving his command or falling into unfriendly hands.
“Tell them that I respectfully decline,” he said. “No, tell the diplomats to decline for me.”
“Aye, sir,” Janelle said. “The analysts are sending you their preliminary report now.”
Ted glanced down at his console. The alien world – the analysts had dubbed it Atlantis – was almost completely drenched in water. There were no ice caps – or, if there had been, they’d melted long ago. Judging from the report, the aliens had deliberately created a greenhouse effect to heat the world to the standards they considered acceptable. Somehow, they’d managed to avoid the runaway effect that had made Venus so unsuitable for immediate settlement.
But we’re working on terraforming the world now, he thought. The aliens have just done the same as ourselves.
“It’ll be like walking into a sauna down there,” he said, gazing down at the orbital images. It was painfully obvious that once-great continents had vanished below the waves. Alien settlements, placed in shallow waters, could be seen everywhere. “Make sure the shuttle pilots are aware of local conditions.”
“Aye, sir,” Janelle said.
Ted turned his attention back to the tactical display. The aliens, either out of consideration or paranoia, had cleared orbital space around the flotilla, but he was far too aware that it was purely nominal. Ground-based weapons or starship-launched missiles could reach the flotilla within seconds. Ideally, he would have preferred to keep his distance from the planet, but the aliens had ensured it wasn't an option. He couldn't tell if they were trying to be welcoming or planning a sneak attack when he was looking the other way.
“Admiral,” Janelle said suddenly, “our shadow has revealed himself.”
“I see,” Ted said, as a light cruiser materialised some distance from Ark Royal. “And what does he want?”
“Unknown,” Janelle said. There was a long pause as she worked her console, accessing the live feed from the ship’s passive sensors. “But he’s exchanging signals with the orbital defences. They’re not even trying to hide the signals.”
“Odd,” Ted commented. Any amount of information could be sent via laser, with no one outside anyway the wiser. “Do they want us to know what they’re saying?”
“I don't think we can break the code,” Janelle said. “Even if they think they’re sending it in clear ...”
Ted shrugged. “Keep an eye on him,” he ordered, slowly. There was nothing else they could do, unless they opened fire and restarted the war. “And let me know if he does anything worrying.”
He settled back in his command chair. Everything rested on the talks. Everything.
And if they didn't work, he reminded himself grimly, he would have to deploy the bioweapon. No matter the claims the designers made, Ted doubted it would be completely effective. And the aliens would know that humanity had attempted genocide. The war would become utterly merciless. Humanity’s worlds would burn when the aliens struck back, exterminating large parts of the human race. And the survivors would find it impossible to rebuild their society.
Feeling sick, Ted forced himself to wait. There was nothing else he could do.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Well,” Ambassador Melbourne said, “is this better than flying a starfighter?”
Henry shook his head as the shuttle bounced through the planet’s atmosphere. It was impossible to fly a starfighter within a planetary atmosphere, thankfully, because he had a feeling it would be just as bad if he’d tried. The shuttle shook so violently as it descended that he felt sick, so sick that only bloody-mindedness was keeping him from throwing up everything he'd eaten over the last few days. Several of the Ambassadors and their aides had lost that battle and were vomiting into paper bags.
“No,” he said. The shuttle plunged, so sharply that he had the unnerving sensation that it was about to crash, then steadied. Outside, lightning flashed against the portholes. “In a starfighter, no one can smell vomit.”
The Ambassador chuckled as the shuttle rocked again, then shuddered so violently that Henry thought it had rammed another shuttle in midflight. He braced himself, trying hard to breathe through his mouth, as the shuttle lowered itself the final few metres, then hit the ground with a terrifying bang. The deck rocked so violently that, for a long moment, he was honestly not sure it was over.
“Well,” the Ambassador said. “See if I use this airline in future.”
Henry chuckled as he undid his buckle and stood. His legs felt unsteady as he staggered towards the hatch, which was being opened by two armed Marines. The shuttle’s display panel beside the hatch showed an alarming number of red lights, suggesting that the f
light through the planet’s atmosphere had been more hazardous than he’d realised. Whatever the aliens had done to terraform – alien-form – the planet had royally screwed up the planet's weather system. The flight had been thoroughly unsafe.
Maybe they did it on purpose, he thought, as the hatch opened. They wanted to discourage visitors.
The planet’s atmosphere smelt warm and mushy, almost like one of the few surviving tropical rainforests. Rain poured from high overhead, the raindrops falling so heavily that Henry was half-convinced that someone was pouring water on them from above. It was very hard to see past a few metres, but he was almost grateful. The ground below the shuttle might have been made of concrete – and slightly slanted to allow water to run down towards the ocean – yet it didn't look particularly safe.
He stepped out of the shuttle and smiled as he felt the rain pounding down, drenching his uniform within seconds. Behind him, the ambassadors slowly righted themselves, their aides working desperately to change their clothes before they caused a diplomatic incident by turning up smelling of vomit. Henry had no idea if the aliens had a sense of smell – he’d certainly never thought to ask – but they probably had a point. There was nothing to be gained by taking unnecessary risks.
Ark Royal 3: The Trafalgar Gambit Page 27