“Be careful,” he said. “Do you have a proper communications set-up?”
“Yes, sir,” Biscoe said. “We’ve got a talking head and, thanks to Fisher, a proper conversational overlay. We’ll be screwed if they want to have a long chat or exchange recipes or something, but it should hold up long enough to get us through the gravity points and into Daladier.”
“Let us hope so,” Elton said.
He felt oddly morose as he checked the makeshift datanet. Sending Lieutenant Dennis and Mickey Tyler to Hudson Base had been bad enough, but this was worse. He wanted to keep his crew on his ship, where he could protect them ... he knew it was a silly thought, yet it pervaded his mind. Cold logic told him that getting Odyssey home - or at least to Hudson Base - was more important than anything else, but his emotions insisted he should keep his crew on his ship.
“Make sure you keep a close eye on the drives,” he warned. “You don't want to be stranded in interstellar space.”
“We’ll be towing you all the way,” Biscoe said. “You’ll be with us if we crash back down to realspace.”
“How true,” Elton said.
He concealed his amusement as he detected a flicker of impatience - quickly hidden - on Biscoe’s face. It was always the same when a new commander took the chair - he wanted his superior officer to get off his ship as quickly as possible, just so he could bring the drives online and find out what his ship could really do. He didn't really blame Biscoe, either. It was far too likely he wouldn’t have his new command for very long.
Although he’ll probably receive a command if we return home, he told himself, as he took one final look around the bridge. No one can say he hasn't earned it.
“Good luck,” he said. He drew himself up into a salute. “And congratulations, Captain.”
“Thank you, sir,” Biscoe said, returning the salute. He was, technically, entitled to be addressed as captain, now he was in command of a ship. Elton rather doubted he’d be able to claim captain’s pay, but the Solar Navy would definitely give him a large share of the reward for capturing an alien ship. “We’ll see you on the far side.”
Elton keyed his wristcom. “Yasser to Odyssey,” he said. “One for immediate teleport.”
***
Rebecca barely noticed when Odyssey was yanked into FTL by King Whatever, even though the transit was rougher than usual. She was too busy reading the interrogation reports from the alien officers, then suggesting more and more questions for the marines to ask their captives. The result had been an influx of data that had alternatively fascinated or infuriated her. She’d already known they’d been conned, when the Harmonies had invited the Solar Union to send a representative, but now ... now, she knew the Harmonies would never betray the Tokomak.
Which is the sort of detail that should have been included on the stolen databases, she thought, coldly. But we took it for alien propaganda.
She shook her head in annoyance. The Solar Datanet was immense - even if one discounted the considerable fraction devoted to porn - but it was tiny, barely noticeable, compared to the vast records the Galactics had amassed. There was so much data crammed into their files, even the relatively small databases they practically gave away for nothing, that analysing and fact-checking it all would be impossible. Even record-keeping librarian AIs couldn't hope to check and verify everything. The details concerning races on the other side of the known galaxy might as well be fiction, as far as she could tell.
We can verify the position of stars, I suppose, she thought. But what about racial and political data?
Years ago, someone had speculated that the Tokomak had ensured that certain details were permanently excluded from the galactic databases. It had prompted an interesting debate at the time, with some parties agreeing that it was possible and others discounting the idea that the bureaucratic-minded aliens would ever willingly leave something out of the records, let alone lie. But - now - Rebecca could see that they didn't have to do it deliberately. They had so much data flowing into their databases that they couldn't verify it either. A piece of misinformation could cause no end of trouble, simply because no one had the time or ability to check it.
We might be better off encouraging them to scrap the database and start again, she mused, absently. But they won’t do it ...
The buzzer rang. She looked up. “Open.”
She turned as the hatch hissed open, revealing Captain Yasser. He looked tired, unsurprisingly. The crew had been working overtime for the last two days, trying to install a cloaking device in Odyssey and return King Whatever to something resembling flyable condition. Their captain had pushed himself as hard as anyone else.
“Elton,” she said. “Are we on our way?”
“We’ll enter the Ringer System in thirty-six hours, if the stardrive holds up,” Yasser said. He sat down, facing her. “And then we’ll know how good our talking head really is.”
Rebecca nodded. She had faith in the captain and his crew - and besides, there was nothing she could do about it. Either Odyssey made it through the gravity points and reached Hudson or she was caught and destroyed. There were no other options. She just hoped the Harmonies didn't know they’d lost a ship.
“I’ve been helping with the interrogations,” she said, changing the subject. She waved a hand at the terminal on the desk. “I think quite a few of the officers are going to want to defect when we reach home.”
“I’m sure they’ll be welcome,” the captain said. “Did they tell you anything useful?”
“Their entire society is on the brink,” Rebecca said. Even their leadership is breaking up into different factions. Some of them might actually want to help us.”
“And they also told us that there had been a coup on their homeworld,” Captain Yasser pointed out, dryly. “How can we be sure they’re telling the truth?”
“The marines are sure they can spot a lie now,” Rebecca said.
“And if they don’t know they’re lying,” the captain countered, “the sensors aren't going to register it as a lie.”
Rebecca made a face. “Point taken,” she said. “But most of their stories do agree.”
The captain shrugged. “Does it actually help us?”
“It might,” Rebecca said. “They’re a rigid culture - we figured that out, but we didn't realise just how rigid. Lots of ambitious officers thinking about a coup, even if they don’t dare do more than grumble. The captives mentioned hundreds of officers who got their heads lopped off for daring to grumble too loudly.”
“I suppose it must be a real problem,” the captain said. “Ambition combined with a lack of social mobility ...”
“Yeah,” Rebecca agreed. “But if we could take down their surveillance network ...”
The captain gave her a tired smile. “And how do you plan to do that?”
“It’s a centralised system,” Rebecca explained. “Couldn't it be taken out? Or hacked, perhaps. A real AI would make mincemeat of it.”
“Assuming we could get an AI onto their homeworld,” the captain mused. “They’d be very careful about allowing us anywhere near a central processor.”
He shrugged. “This doesn't help us now, Rebecca,” he said. “Sparking off an enemy civil war won’t get us home.”
Rebecca smiled, ruefully. “It isn't workable?”
“It might be workable, if we ever had a chance to get back to Harmony and land on the surface,” the captain said. “But right now ... there’s no way we can get back to Harmony, let alone break through the defences. Taking down an entire empire by ourselves is the stuff of bad movies.”
“Oh” Rebecca said. She’d had a boyfriend, once, who’d loved watching spy movies. “Are you telling me that Jamie Bond was unrealistic?”
The captain grinned. “Well ... let’s see,” he said. “There’s the bit when Jamie changes sex three times in two days. Then there’s the bit when s/he manages to rewrite the teleporter with her bare hands to get into the white cat-stroking villain’s lair. And
then there’s the bit where she somehow manages to convince a food processor to produce antimatter and then manages to teleport out a moment before the entire planet is destroyed ...”
“You’re spoiling my illusions here,” Rebecca protested, mildly.
“I think the threesome sex scene was the most realistic part of the movie,” the captain said, deadpan. “And that is saying something.”
He leaned forward. “But what the producers missed was what happened after the movie,” he added. “The story doesn't stop just because the end credits are rolling. What happens after Jamie kills the bad guy and blows up his planet?”
“Trouble, I imagine,” Rebecca said.
“Yes,” the captain agreed. “If you somehow crashed the surveillance system on Harmony, and you made sure the public knew it was crashed, you’d spark off a civil war. Millions, perhaps billions, of people would be killed. The other planets in their cluster would send starships and troops to put down the revolt - or, perhaps, to take out the homeworld and declare independence. Other powers would see a chance to take the Harmonies down a peg or two and attack, sparking off a whole series of wars. Do you want that on your conscience?”
Rebecca considered it, sourly. The truthful answer was no, she didn’t want it on her conscience. And yet, she felt sorry for the Harmonies. Not for their rulers, not for the aristocrats who were born into power ... but for the commoners, the poor folk who had nothing, not even the hope of a better future. Knocking down the surveillance network might just give them a chance of a better life.
And it might also buy Earth some time, she thought. The Tokomak would have to support their allies or lose them.
She sighed as she dismissed the thought. The morality of the situation didn’t matter. She couldn't hope to take down the enemy network, not while they were hundreds of light years from Harmony. And even if they did, the captain was right. The slaughter she’d unleash would be horrific. The nasty part of her mind insisted that it would benefit Earth - and that it wasn't her duty to worry about alien civilians - but she knew that was unconscionable.
“We may manage to free them, one day,” the captain said. “Or they may free themselves.”
Rebecca eyed him. “You know that isn't likely.”
“Perhaps,” the captain said. He smiled. “Their commanders haven’t done such a good job so far, have they? They’re out of practice. We blasted our way out of Harmony and escaped their fleet at Harmony because they didn't have any real experience to bolster their theoretical exercises. I dare say the coming war is going to cost their upper ranks terribly. They’ll have to promote commoners into those vacant slots to give them a fighting chance.”
“Maybe,” Rebecca said.
“They won’t have a choice,” the captain insisted. “Military technology is improving - hell, even they managed to adapt a little. If they insist on putting pampered aristocrats in command, they’re going to take heavy losses even if they don’t lose the war. And allowing commoners to rise will up-end their entire social system. That might make them more dangerous, Rebecca, but it might also create a faction that wants to overthrow the current order.”
“I hope you’re right,” Rebecca said. She keyed the console. “It just feels a little frustrating to be able to do nothing.”
“We’re on the way home,” the captain assured her.
“Yeah,” Rebecca said. She shook her head, feeling despondent. “And this is going to look great on my record.”
“You won’t be blamed for failing when you didn't have a hope of success,” the captain told her. “And you didn’t - they never intended to come to terms with us.”
“That's not what my superiors will say,” Rebecca said. “They’ll spend the next few years trying to find a way to blame me for the disaster.”
“Probably because they think there’s no need for diplomats in a war,” the captain said. “I dare say there will be some work for you. We won’t be fighting the war alone.”
“And some of our potential allies will back off if they think they can find an excuse to depart,” Rebecca pointed out. No matter how many ships they’d lost, the Tokomak were still stronger than humanity and its allies. They could easily intimidate many of the younger races into submission. “Blaming us for starting the war will look like a very good excuse.”
“We shall see,” the captain said. “But until then ... relax. Even if all goes well, Rebecca, we won’t be back home for nearly a year.”
“True,” Rebecca agreed. It was time to put the whole affair out of her mind. She deactivated the terminal and rose. “Is the captain allowed to use the swimming pool?”
Captain Yasser smiled. “The captain’s swimming prowess is not a government secret,” he said. He rose, stretching. “Shall we go?”
Rebecca smiled back, despite her concern. The captain was right. It would be a long time before they returned to Earth. She wouldn't need a year to compose a report covering all the details and making it clear that they’d been lured into a trap. Her reputation would suffer, no matter how carefully she wrote the report, but it would survive.
And the Grand Alliance might survive too, she thought, taking his hand. If, of course, we manage to parry the coming storm.
Chapter Thirty-Six
And, as another old saying has it, the prospect of death concentrates the mind wonderfully ... on the fact that it is housed in a body that is about to be hung. Or hanged - I can never tell the difference. Point is, anyone who joins our alliance does so at the risk of extermination, if the Tokomak join the war. Can we trust them to stick with us till the end?
The politicians you mention were protected from the war - and the costs it inflicted on their population. To a very large extent, they were also protected from their own people - kicking them out was hard and eventually impossible. Would this not be ALSO true of the galactic politicians? Collaboration with the Tokomak would bring vast rewards.
-Solar Datanet, Political Forum (Grand Alliance Thoughts).
“Captain,” Marie said. She sounded annoyed. Helm control was currently slaved to King Whatever, rendering her redundant. “We are entering the Ringer System.”
“Very good,” Elton said. Whoever was on guard would have seen them coming, he knew, but they shouldn't have seen anything beyond a friendly battlecruiser heading for the gravity point. “Time to realspace?”
“Seventeen minutes,” Marie said. A low shiver ran through the starship. “Captain, the battlecruiser’s drive may not hold up that long.”
“We’ll just have to pray,” Elton said. Dropping out of realspace and entering the gravity point without pausing to exchange messages wouldn't excite comment, he was sure, but crashing back into realspace would. If nothing else, the Harmonies guarding the gravity point would try to render aid to their injured comrade. “Mr. Callaway, is the cloaking device online?”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said. “It should pass muster.”
Elton made a face. They’d tested the stolen device extensively, but there had been limits. No cloaking device was perfect, not even the improved models coming out of Area 51. There was a small chance - but a very real one - that they would pass too close to an alien ship and be detected, even as they shadowed King Whatever. And if someone realised there was a cloaked ship at spitting distance, practically point-blank range, their immediate response would be to open fire. No one would question them.
“Let us hope so,” he said. They had tested the cloak against King Whatever’s sensors - and they were supposed to be the best the enemy had. “Make sure the field doesn’t fluctuate when we drop out of FTL.”
“Aye, Captain,” Callaway said.
Only a madman would try something like this, Elton thought, as he leaned back in his chair and forced himself to relax. A madman ... or someone desperate.
He’d told Rebecca that the plan had an excellent chance of success ... but, in truth, it was the most dangerous stunt they’d tried. Someone - particularly someone as officious as the Harm
onies - would ask questions if King Whatever returned to realspace too far from the gravity point. And they couldn't afford to try to answer those questions. They had to come out of FTL in the designated emergence zones, yet that would put them within weapons range of whatever was guarding the gravity point. Odyssey would be in real trouble if she was detected ...
“Realspace in twenty seconds,” Marie said.
“Cloaking device online,” Callaway added.
Elton gritted his teeth. Their shields and weapons were down. There was no choice - the cloaking device couldn't hide their energy signatures - but it meant they were naked, if the enemy caught a glimpse of them and opened fire. He might be able to fire back, if the weapons were powered up in time, yet without shields ... a lowly destroyer or frigate could cripple his ship. And then he would have no choice, but to take as many of them with him as he could.
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