09- We Lead

by Christopher Nuttall

  And that won’t be easy, he thought. Tadpole Prime is heavily defended.

  Stirling cleared his throat. “I can't think of any good reason to deny you permission to proceed,” he said. He smiled, thinly. “I’m not even sure if I have authority to deny you permission to proceed. I wish I was coming with you, but ...”

  He shrugged. “I’ll have my spies keep a close eye on their formations,” he added. “And if they start to withdraw, I’ll give chase. But my logistics are pretty crappy right now.”

  “It's the same story everywhere,” John said. “We just don’t have enough freighters to support the war effort.”

  “Converting half of them into carriers or troop transports probably didn't help,” Stirling commented, ruefully. “Building more will have to wait until after the war.”

  “We probably took too many STUFT ships,” John agreed.

  “I’ll make what preparations I can,” Stirling said. “The Tadpoles are being careful about mounting a full-on counterattack. I can't say I blame them, given how closely the Foxes have entrenched themselves to Tadpole Prime, but it is a problem. The diplomats are going to have fun.”

  John winced. “You can launch the offensive yourself,” he said. “Can't you?”

  “Theoretically,” Stirling agreed. “In practice ...? The Tadpoles might be very concerned, post-war, if we are the ones who liberate the occupied systems.”

  “Politics,” John sighed. He’d become familiar with the political realities ever since he’d been promoted to flag rank, but they never ceased to grate. “I wouldn't have thought it was that much of a concern.”

  “We might still lose the war,” Stirling agreed. “But ... haggling with human powers is one thing, but haggling with the Tadpoles is quite another. No matter what the ambassadors say, I don’t think we really understand each other.”

  He shrugged. “When do you plan to depart?”

  John leaned forward. “Do you have time for some exercises? My tactical staff would like to hold at least one full-sized drill before we head to UXS-566.”

  “My staff will be delighted,” Stirling said. He showed his teeth. “I look forward to kicking your ass around the system.”

  “My marines also need to carry out at least one landing drill,” John added. “If we can do that, I think we can depart in a week. I take it there’s no chance of shore leave?”

  “There’s nothing in the way of facilities,” Stirling said. “But there are some lovely beaches, if you want to give your crews a day or two on the sand. It’s their last chance for quite some time.”

  John nodded. “And there I was thinking you would have built an entire resort by now,” he said. “My crews will be very disappointed.”

  “So were mine,” Stirling said. “But right now? Digging in is far more important.”

  ***

  Henry wrinkled his nose as he stepped through the airlock, despite nearly a decade as a practicing diplomat. The smell - a strange mixture of fish, decaying flesh and something indefinably alien - pervaded the chamber, threatening to make him gag even though he was supposed to be used to it. But then, he reminded himself, it had been over a year since he’d set foot on Tadpole Prime. His memory had clearly faded.

  Five Tadpoles were clearly visible in the water, swimming from side to side with a grace Henry could only admire. It was easy to tell that water was their natural habitat, that creatures that seemed surprisingly clumsy on dry land moved with ease and power under the waves. A sixth swam in a moment later, coming up the pipe that led down to the sea; two more followed, one splashing up and out of the water. Henry ignored the droplets of water flying through the air, knowing it was a friendly greeting. The meeting place - the swimming pool, the disrespectful called it - hadn't been used since Unity had been founded. Unity had been meant to serve as a joint colony, but the two races were largely incompatible. Neither group of colonists had been particularly interested in talking to the other.

  He smiled as he saw the goldfish, trying to keep their distance from the Tadpoles. His daughters had been shocked when they discovered that Tadpoles considered goldfish a delicacy ... Victoria, in particular, had been horrified. She’d owned a goldfish for three years before the poor creature had died. He’d had to swear, time and time again, that he’d given Golden a proper burial, rather than tossing the fish into the sea.

  Henry pushed the thought out of his mind as he sat down by the poolside, splashing his feet into the water. There were diplomats on Earth who had never learnt to adapt to the new universe, to talking to aliens with very different physical requirements to humanity. They hated the thought of not wearing suits, of not sitting at tables, of not being treated like kings and queens ... Henry had found it easy to adapt, simply because he’d had less to unlearn than the professionals. People might scorn at holding diplomatic talks while wearing shorts, swimming trunks or bikinis, but it worked. It wasn't as if the Tadpoles were entirely comfortable in the meeting place either.

  The water rippled. Henry watched, impassively, as five Tadpoles surfaced. It was easy to see how they’d been mistaken for animals, the first time a human had set eyes on them. Their shapes were just too alien. And yet, he could spot the signs of high technology, the earpieces and voders used to communicate with humans. If that had been noticed, twelve years ago, countless millions of people wouldn't have died.

  “I greet you,” he said, carefully. It was always best to keep it simple. The computers translated - theoretically - but no one took the translations for granted. A tiny mistake could lead to outright disaster. “We intend to launch an offensive against our common foes.”

  He repeated his statement twice, using different words each time. It was the only way to be sure the Tadpoles understood what he was saying, even though he'd had to speak quite sharply to a number of ambassadors who’d mistaken the Tadpoles for mentally-disadvantaged children. Everyone who was anyone on Earth spoke English, something that made ambassadors lazy. It was hard for some of the professionals to comprehend that their words, no matter how carefully formulated, might mean something very different to their counterparts.

  “This is understood,” the Tadpoles said, finally. It was impossible to tell which one of them was talking. The computer-generated voice seemed to come from nowhere. He studied their faces for a moment, but none of them appeared to be speaking. “You have developed an enhanced gravity-manipulation effect generator.”

  Henry honestly wasn't sure if that was a question or not. Were the Tadpoles referring to the Jump Drive or something else? Sneaking into enemy space without one would be harder, but not impossible. And yet ... deducing the existence of an FTL drive would have seemed one hell of a jump for humanity, yet maybe not for the Tadpoles. Their understanding of interstellar gravity waves had always been ahead of humanity’s.

  And they may have developed a jump drive of their own, he thought. Even if they haven’t, they now know it’s possible.

  “We plan to hit the enemy rear,” he said. He took a datachip from his shorts and held it out to them. “If they redeploy their forces, you will have an opportunity to counterattack.”

  The Tadpoles took the chip, then vanished under the water. Henry watched, wishing he had a way to listen to the debate. But he suspected that he wouldn't understand, even if he could listen. The Tadpoles were democrats in the truest possible sense. Everyone got a vote. Hell, there were even xenospecialists who believed the Tadpoles were inching closer and closer to a collective hive mind. Henry wasn't so sure - the Tadpole Factions seemed to split regularly, whenever they became too harmonious - but it was a possibility.

  He leaned back as the Tadpoles surfaced. “Engaging the enemy will bring risks,” they said, finally. “Launching a counterattack could leave” - the computer refused to translate the next word - “homeworld defenceless.”

  Their only homeworld, Henry thought. It was the logical word. But logic was sometimes nothing more than a way to be wrong with confidence, when the Tadpoles were concerned.
They don’t want to risk uncovering their homeworld.

  “The stalemate may be broken from the other side,” he said. The Foxes would eventually try to take Tadpole Prime. And the Tadpoles had to know it. “They will eventually launch an attack too.”

  He sighed, inwardly, as the discussion raged backwards and forwards. These Tadpoles wouldn't be able to give him a final answer, he knew. Only the Grand Chorus on Tadpole Prime could do that. But ... he sucked in his breath. The discussion would start about the same time Task Force Cromwell reached UXS-566. And maybe, just maybe, the Tadpoles would be ready to go on the offensive when the task force hit the enemy rear.

  And even if they don’t, he told himself, Admiral Stirling can still move on his own authority.

  Chapter Eighteen

  UXS-566 was a barren wasteland, orbiting a dull red star.

  It was, Susan decided as the fleet probed its surroundings, so unimportant that hardly anyone would consider it worth visiting, certainly not twice. UXS-566 had only one tramline, a weak line of gravimetric force that would have been completely inaccessible before the war, and nothing beyond a handful of tiny comets that were barely worthy of the name. No planets, no asteroid fields ... there was literally nothing to attract anyone, save for its location. An alien- star was a mere five light years away.

  And yet the star doesn't have enough gravity to create a second tramline, Susan thought, coldly. This system is forever useless without the jump drive.

  Admiral Naiser’s face popped up in front of her. “Captain,” he said. “The scouts report that the system is empty. I see no reason to delay any longer.”

  “No, Admiral,” Susan said, after a quick glance at the tactical display. The task force was completely alone, as far as the scouts could determine. There was certainly no logical reason for the Foxes to be picketing UXS-566. “There’s nothing to be gained by waiting.”

  She sucked in her breath. The task force had departed Unity and made its way towards UXS-566, a star system so far off the beaten track that there was no logical reason to go there. And that alone would worry the Foxes. Why would humanity send such a powerful formation into deep space, where it couldn't affect the war? Simple logic would suggest that humanity did think the deployment could affect the war. She knew that aliens were ... well, alien, but they couldn't be that alien.

  And they might be trying to invent the jump drive themselves, she thought. We’ve certainly given them plenty of incentive to improve their Puller Drives. They may even have recovered intact hardware from the first engagement.

  “Then the task force will proceed to Point Suez,” Admiral Naiser said. “And we will take every precaution to ensure that we are not detected.”

  “Aye, Admiral,” Susan said.

  Admiral Naiser’s face vanished. Susan issued orders, then forced herself to relax as the task force slowly moved deeper into the unnamed system. She thought she understood, now, the sheer terror and hopelessness that must have gripped Admiral Smith and his crew, back when they’d found themselves trapped at the end of a string of tramlines. Ark Royal had cheated, in the end. It had been a desperate gamble, one that could easily have cost Admiral Smith his ship and humanity the war, but it had worked. Now ...

  Her eyes sought out the alien-grade tramline, a thin line of invisible force heading back to human space. What if it vanished? What if there was a sudden shift in gravity and the tramline simply popped out of existence? What if they remained stranded ... it had been the plotline of a dozen books, back when the tramlines were new and humanity was alone in the universe, but there had never been any sign that the network might collapse. And yet ... she told herself, firmly, that she was being silly. There was no reason to think that the tramline would collapse, let alone that it would collapse now.

  “Captain,” Reed said. “We are approaching Point Suez.”

  “Slow to all-stop,” Susan ordered. She kept her voice calm. Her crew didn't need to hear her fears. “Once we’re at rest, relative to the planned jump line, inform Admiral Naiser.”

  She felt her stomach clench uncomfortably. She’d had plenty of reasons to be nervous in the past, but this was different. This was like ... like going into a vacuum chamber for emergency decompression training. That had been nightmarish, she recalled. Too many promising cadets had washed out of the academy because they couldn't handle vacuum training. She’d known she’d been safe, yet even she had had problems ...

  And it hasn't even started yet, she thought. What will it be like when we activate the drive?

  “All-stop,” Reed said. “We are at rest.”

  “Inform the admiral,” Susan reminded him.

  She studied the display for a long moment. The boffins who’d designed the jump drive claimed it would work, theoretically ... but what if it didn't? None of the tests had included a large human fleet. What if a rogue gravity surge reduced the entire fleet to atoms? Or what if they found themselves in the middle of an alien fleet base? Or ... she shook her head, firmly, as the engineering crews went to work. No doubt the admirals who’d watched in disbelief as ironclad warships cruised onto the water without instantly sinking below the waves had felt the same way. Technology advanced ...

  ... And those who failed to adapt were left behind.

  And sometimes we need to return to the past, she reminded herself. Ark Royal had been outdated fifteen years ago, permanently on the verge of being scrapped. And then, twelve years ago, she had been all that stood between humanity and a quick savage defeat. The newer carriers have more in common with Ark Royal than Formidable and her sisters.

  She rose. “Mr. XO, you have the bridge,” she said. The most optimistic projections suggested that it would be at least ten hours before the jump drive was ready. She needed to get some rest before they jumped into ... into what? There was no way to know what they’d find at ES-19. “I’ll be in my ready room.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Mason said. “I have the bridge.”

  ***

  Commodore Juliet Watson-Stewart was in heaven.

  She cared little for rank or for the niceties of interpersonal communication. The ass-kissing and brown-nosing tactics used by many of her fellow officers were a complete mystery to her, something she’d once found frustrating. But as more and more of her life was consumed by science, by finding an answer to all of life’s questions, she had steadily stopped caring about how she appeared to others. She was an objective person in a world where far too many of her fellows were subjective, where something could be a compliment or insult based on tone and status and situation ... all things she didn't understand. She simply didn't choose to waste her life on subjective matters. All that mattered was coming up with new theories, finding a way to test them and then turning the confirmed theories into realistic hardware.

  “It's coming along nicely,” Mike Johnston said. Her husband gave her a tight hug, heedless of the others in the compartment. “The power curves are forming exactly as you planned.”

  Juliet smiled as she leaned into his embrace. She’d never thought about love, not really, not even when she’d been a little girl whose mother had tried to read her soppy stories of how princesses found their princes and got married. Most men - and women - thought she was either boring or weird, depending on their mood. She was so introverted that she honestly hadn't realised that two-thirds of the men she met admired her looks, at least until it had been pointed out to her. But she found it hard to care about that either. Very few men or women could keep up with her, mentally.

  Her husband couldn’t either, not in the theoretical realm. But as an engineer - as someone who converted her concepts into practical technology - he was first-rate. And she loved him for it.

  “The gravimetric flux appears to be intact,” she said. She had tested the jump drive, of course. But taking so many ships through the tramline was new. “The power lines will need to be boosted.”

  She reached for her computer terminal and hastily input a series of ideas before they faded back in
to the background hum. Mike Johnston had told her that she was always thinking, even during sex, and he was right. Sex jogged her mind in ways she hadn't known were possible, at least until she’d started having it regularly. She wished she’d been allowed to fit herself with a direct neural link - her early work on computers had given her an uncanny insight into how the machines actually worked - but this was the next-best thing. Perhaps if she were to alter the gravity field to serve as a power sink ...

  “The charging should be finished in seven hours,” a technician said. “However, the batteries may lose capacity.”

  Juliet tensed against her husband. Someone had broken her trance ... she felt a hot flash of anger, mixed with frustration and annoyance. Mike Johnston hugged her, then ordered the technician away. That was, Juliet considered, the other advantage to having a husband. He stood between her and the outside world, driving away everyone who would seek to interrupt her thinking. But now ... she rubbed her forehead in annoyance. She wanted to see her theories at work, she wanted to be there in case something happened, but ... maybe they should just have stayed at home. The asteroid research base crew were far more understanding of her requirements.