The Long Road Home (A Learning Experience Book 4)

by Christopher Nuttall

  The marine grinned, then sobered. “This society is a panopticon society,” he said. “The locals are always under surveillance. Big Brother has nothing on it.”

  Elton leaned forward. “Are you sure?”

  “We’ve been picking up billions - literally - of datastreams from within Imperial City alone,” Rhodan said. “I don’t think that there’s a single adult who hasn't been tagged with a nanotech spy, if they don’t have a tracking implant. Everyone is monitored, sir. A couple of AIs would be more than capable of watching everyone on the surface, all the fucking time.”

  “... Shit,” Elton said.

  “It’s like jail, only worse,” Rhodan said. “This level of surveillance is staggering, sir. I don’t think anyone dares ask questions, let alone step out of line. Anyone who does is probably snatched up before they can cause trouble and shipped off somewhere. I think the government is in complete control.”

  Elton swallowed, hard. He’d always been aware of just how easily technology could be perverted. The implants he used in his daily work could be adapted to enslave him, the starship’s internal monitoring system could be ordered to spy on the crew ... he’d watched the records from the Taliban’s last stand. They’d been so utterly outmatched that none of the fundamentalist assholes had even managed to get a shot off before they’d been wiped out to the last man. He wouldn't waste time feeling sorry for them ...

  ... But he knew, all too well, that such technology could easily be turned against its users.

  He looked up. “If this is a high-surveillance state,” he mused, “how did they manage to have a coup?”

  “Good question,” Rhodan said. “If the watchers were mere humans, I would have said that they simply got unlucky. God knows that monitoring umpteen billion humans would be beyond any purely human agency. But with a few AIs scanning every word for possible threats ... I don’t know how a coup could be organised. Perhaps it was just an act of desperation.”

  “Perhaps,” Elton said. He was no expert, but he was fairly sure that coup plotters had to do some pretty intense plotting to make sure the coup wasn't followed by an immediate civil war. Getting everyone to go along with the plotters wouldn't be easy, particularly not if the military wasn't secured in a hurry. “Are they still trying to slip bugs onto the ships?”

  “All of the freighters were given their own collection of bugs,” Rhodan confirmed. “I think we can be fairly sure that this is a fairly regular thing.”

  “And no one has the nerve to complain,” Elton finished. “They are a powerful race, aren't they?”

  He leaned back in his chair. “What do you make of it?”

  Rhodan looked back at him, evenly. “My honest opinion is that this society is going to explode, sooner rather than later,” he said. “We may be wrong - so far, we have very little access to their datanet - but it looks as though the planet is rigidly stratified. The poor have nothing, not even the vaguest prospect of rising out of their poverty. There’s no escape hatch, as far as we can tell; no political parties promising to make everything better. I think there will be riots on the streets soon enough.”

  Elton rubbed his forehead. “But you don’t know.”

  “No, sir,” Rhodan said. “If this was a human world, I’d be telling you to pull the ambassador and her staff out before the shit hits the fan. But this isn't a human world. There’s no way to know what will set them off.”

  “I know,” Elton said. “Let’s hope they’re less sensitive than the Tosh.”

  He scowled at the memory of a lesson, back in the academy. The Tosh had seen nothing wrong with having sex, whenever and wherever they wanted. They had none of humanity’s elaborate taboos against public sex, none of humanity’s concerns about monogamy and adultery ... it wasn't uncommon for visitors to their homeworld to be startled by the sight of two or more Tosh fucking like scaly rabbits. But, for them, eating in public was utterly forbidden. A human visitor had nearly set off a riot by opening a Twinkie and eating it in plain view.

  “Let us hope so,” Rhodan agreed. “Right now, the embassy is almost impossible to defend, with or without live weapons.”

  Elton made a face. Firing on someone - anyone - who tried to get over the wall was the sort of thing that would trigger a diplomatic incident, regardless of the provocation. And yet, the alternative was leaving his personnel to be lynched. Rebecca was the ambassador, but he was the one in charge. He would have to decide between opening fire, and accepting the prospect of a major crisis, or leaving his people to die. The buck stopped with him.

  And we can't even guarantee teleporting them out, he thought, grimly. There are so many force fields around the complex that getting them up might be impossible.

  “I know,” he said, finally. “Tell the guards to watch themselves.”

  Rhodan met his eyes. “They’d prefer clear guidance on what to do, sir.”

  Elton looked back at him, silently acknowledging the point. It was tempting to use weasel words, to do everything in his power to ensure that the blame landed on the marines - not on the man who was supposed to be in charge. His career would be destroyed if a major crisis occurred on his watch, whatever else happened. And not giving the marines precise instructions would only make matters worse.

  “They are to use lethal force if the wall is breached,” he said. “And take whatever steps they believe to be necessary to protect the ambassadorial staff for as long as possible.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rhodan said.

  ***

  “I don’t like this, sir,” Biscoe said, an hour later. “This system is mobilising for war.”

  Elton nodded, studying the live feed from a dozen stealthed drones. Deploying them within the system was an unfriendly act, but after the Harmonies had attempted to bug his ship he wasn't feeling particularly concerned about appearing unfriendly. All three of the gravity points were already heavily fortified, yet the Harmonies were doubling or tripling the defences. He wouldn't have wanted to try to punch through with the entire Solar Navy behind him. The planets weren't much better. There was so much firepower gathered to protect them that even the Tokomak would pause before challenging them.

  “We’ve been tracking hundreds of warships moving in and out of the system,” Biscoe added, grimly. “All from the Harmonies, as far as we can tell. They’re actually cloaking and decloaking, seemingly at random. I’d say they were trying to confuse any onlookers.”

  “They’ve certainly confused us,” Callaway added. “Captain, we’ve picked up enough starships to suggest that they’ve massed their entire fleet here.”

  “That’s not too likely,” Biscoe said. “They’d be leaving the rest of their space undefended.”

  “But we don’t know which of our sensor contacts are real ships and which are nothing more than ECM drones,” Callaway said. “They’re definitely preparing for war. There’s a lot of encrypted communications being sent, communications we haven’t yet managed to crack. I think trouble is brewing.”

  “It certainly looks that way,” Elton agreed, dryly. “Do you have an updated tactical survey?”

  “They’re a formidable naval power,” Biscoe said. He adjusted the display. Each of the rocky worlds were surrounded by a large halo of tactical icons. “I’d go so far as to say they were fortifying their planets to allow their fleet to be deployed elsewhere.”

  “On conquest missions,” Elton said.

  “Probably,” Biscoe agreed. He activated the starchart. “We don’t know what they’re thinking, but if they strike this way” - his finger traced out a pair of gravity point chains - “they could probably safeguard their positions against the Tokomak. It would be an effective declaration of war, I suspect, yet it would give them some defence in depth. Given enough time to fortify the new gravity points, they could bleed the Tokomak white.”

  He adjusted the starchart, pointing to a handful of other worlds. “Alternatively, they could secure these systems instead. That would allow them to block seven more gravity points,
letting them counter any Tokomak move to outflank their defences by using alternate routes to get a fleet into striking distance. It would also let them levy a shipping charge on every freighter passing through the sector.”

  “The other powers would object,” Elton pointed out.

  “They’d also have problems trying to muster the force to retake the systems,” Callaway said, enthusiastically. “Captain, I modelled out the entire war. It depends on the underlying assumptions, but if the Harmonies manage to fortify the gravity points ... well, I’d say they had an excellent chance of hanging on to their gains. The only wild card would be Tokomak intervention.”

  “They’re already running that risk,” Elton said. That was well understood. The Harmonies had broken so many laws that, ten years ago, Tokomak intervention would have been a certainty. “It’s quite awkward.”

  “They’ll also lose if they sit back and wait for the Tokomak to drop a hammer on them,” Biscoe said. “Going on the offensive is their only real hope for success.”

  “Maybe,” Elton said. He couldn't fault their logic - it made perfect sense - but he felt that something was missing. “Are they launching invasion fleets now?”

  “We haven’t tracked any large fleets leaving the system,” Callaway said. “But if they wanted to hit here and here” - he tapped a couple of stars on the chart - “they’d be hurrying their fleets through the gravity points, not sending them out in FTL.”

  Elton nodded, slowly. The Harmonies were doing everything in their power to conceal the full scale of their mobilisation, yet ... something just kept nagging at his mind. It hovered, taunting him. He knew he was missing something, but what? Callaway might well be right, he admitted. The kingdom’s entire fleet could be jumping through the nearest gravity point, one by one ... and his ship wouldn't have a hope of tracking them. They were too far to monitor ships moving at sublight speeds. And yet ...

  “Try and slip a drone or two closer to each of the gravity points,” he said. That wasn't the answer. He was sure it wasn't the answer. “See if you can track the forces coming in and out of the system.”

  “Aye, sir,” Callaway said.

  He hesitated. “It won’t be easy, sir,” he warned. “They have a lot of active sensors scanning space near the gravity point, including some we’ve never seen before. I don’t think we can get a drone too close without being detected.”

  And they won’t find it hard to guess who launched it, Elton thought, grimly. It isn't as if there will be a long line of suspects.

  “Do the best you can,” he said. “But try to avoid detection if possible.”

  Elton looked back at the main display. Odyssey had a solid lock on everything orbiting Harmony itself, as far as he could tell. It was unusual for cloaked ships to lurk so close to a planet, although he had to admit it was possible. And yet, beyond the high orbitals ... the enemy ships were cloaking and uncloaking, seemingly at random. What on Earth were they doing?

  They want to keep any watchers in doubt as to where their ships actually are, he mused, thoughtfully. But they’re doing it in a manner that cannot fail to convince any watchers that they’re trying to hide something. Why?

  “Commander,” he said, slowly. “Why would you want your opponent to know you’re trying to fool him?”

  Biscoe considered it. “To force him to watch you carefully,” he said, after a moment. “Or to convince him that you’re doing something when you’re not. He might waste a lot of time because you jerked his chain. And if he comes up with an answer, he’ll be too pleased to question it.”

  That, Elton conceded, was a good answer. But he didn't think it was the right one.

  He shook his head in annoyance. Nothing about the entire situation made sense. The Harmonies had invited humanity to send a diplomatic mission, yet they were now dragging their feet on opening discussions. The Harmonies were fortifying every gravity point in their sector, something they knew would worry the other Galactics, yet they weren't even trying to defuse the tensions it would cause. The Harmonies had enough wealth and power to create a paradise, yet they seemed to prefer to keep their people in bondage ...

  It made no sense. It just made no sense. Nothing about it made sense.

  He looked up at Biscoe. “Is there no civilian chatter we can intercept? No live-streaming? No television or radio?”

  “Not as far as we can tell,” Biscoe said. “The entire system is silent.”

  “We haven’t even seen any independent freighters entering or leaving the system,” Callaway added. “Not one, unless you count our hulls. I suspect the locals have a cartel system in place. Cargos fly through this system in their ships or they don’t fly at all.”

  Elton nodded. It was technically illegal, at least under galactic law, but who was going to argue with the Harmonies? No one, with the possible exception of the Tokomak, had enough firepower to bring them to heel. They could make whatever demands they wanted, now they controlled the gravity points, and the other powers would have to listen to them - or find a way to force them to comply. There was no hope of comparing notes with an independent freighter. Or, for that matter, of a bidding war that might knock shipping prices down.

  And it is frustrating too, he thought, sarcastically. The more he looked at the Harmony System, the less he liked it. A surveillance state that would make Big Brother wet his pants, a complete lack of free chatter on the datanet ... a probable lack of free enterprise too ... This system is starting to look better and better every day.

  He looked back at the near-space display. It was impossible to avoid noticing the giant fortresses, well within missile range of their position. Odyssey would be in deep trouble if the fortresses opened fire, although only a complete lunatic would fire antimatter warheads anywhere near a populated planet. Not that they were the sole concerns, either. There were a whole string of heavily-armed planetary defence centres on the surface, their heavy weapons no doubt zeroed in on his ship. The tactical scans had told him things he didn't want to know about their weapons and defences.

  Wonderful, he thought, as he rose. This system is definitely starting to look like a trap.

  “Mr. XO, return to the bridge,” he ordered, shortly. “Inform me if anything changes.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Biscoe said.

  “Mr. Callaway, simulate options for leaving orbit without their permission,” Elton added, as his XO left. “See if you can find a way to get us and the freighters out of here.”

  “Aye, sir,” Callaway said. He looked concerned. “Captain, do you think we’ll have to blast our way out of here?”

  “I hope not,” Elton said.

  He watched the younger man leave the compartment, then poured himself a mug of coffee and drank it, knowing it wouldn't be enough to stave off the tiredness. He wanted - he needed - something to happen, yet ... yet he knew, all too well, that he’d regret it when it did. Perhaps the Galactics were merely trying to take it slowly, as their own protocols insisted. They’d devised the rules after hundreds of years of experience in interstellar diplomacy. But he couldn't help feeling as though something was about to go spectacularly wrong.

  And to think we’re too far from Hudson Base, let alone Earth, he reminded himself. We’re alone out here.

  It wasn't a pleasant thought. He’d thought he'd known what it meant, back when the mission had been planned, but now ... now he was alone, thousands of light years from any potential backup. The buck had always stopped with him, yet now ... there was no one he could ask for orders, no one who could take the burden off his shoulders. His instincts were telling him to withdraw the embassy and set off home, even though his career would be ripped apart when he returned home. And yet ...

  We can't leave orbit without their permission, he thought. And will they give it to us?

  He cursed, wishing he could somehow lose the unease that pervaded his soul. There were too many things about the whole situation that didn't quite make sense, even for aliens. And yet, he couldn't leave. It would be
a major diplomatic incident, at the very least. All he could do was wait and see what happened ...

  ... And try, somehow, to escape the sense that the hammer was ready to fall.

  Chapter Fourteen

  That does, of course, raise another point. Can we, in whatever state, hope to beat the massed might of the Galactics? Would it be in our interests to delay the final confrontation until our tech reaches a point where we can crush them like bugs?

  Founding a Grand Alliance might merely provoke them to move against us faster.

  -Solar Datanet, Political Forum (Grand Alliance Thoughts).