09- We Lead

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Aye, Captain,” Parkinson said.

  Susan smiled, coldly. Crew morale had suffered after the jump, after so many officers and crewmen had been stunned or rendered comatose. No one - on Vanguard, at least - had suffered any lasting effects, but it had still been frightening. Now ... morale would be restored, once it sank in that they’d blown away an alien starship and captured an alien world with almost contemptuous ease. They’d need it, she knew. The next engagement would be far harder.

  And they might already have sent a warning up the chain, she thought, grimly. One of the orbital installations might be the FTL communicator, for all she knew. The marines would inspect anything that wasn’t trying to fire on the task force. The alien homeworld might already know we’re here.

  “Captain,” Jean said. “Orbital space is clear. I’m not picking up any ground-based defence systems.”

  Susan frowned, although she wasn't too surprised. Ground-based systems were expensive - and largely ineffective, unless produced in vast numbers. Earth, Britannia and a few other worlds got that level of investment - the remainder, smaller and poorer, had to rely on orbital weapons platforms. It wasn't that much of a risk. Orbital defences could fight enemy starships well before they entered bombardment range.

  And I suppose it’s proof that the alien economy is not that different to ours, she thought, with a flicker of grim amusement. They’re not prepared to expend vast sums of money - or whatever they have that passes for money - on building pointless defences.

  She sobered. The jump drive had proved its worth, particularly if the jump shock effect could be curtailed. All of a sudden, planetary defence planners had a whole new problem to worry about. Formerly, they'd known attackers had to come through the tramlines; now, attackers could come from anywhere within ten light years. Hell, for all she knew, it might be possible to hop all the way to Earth, jumping through star systems that weren't connected to the tramline network. Defence planners were going to have a fit when they found out how the universe had changed.

  Admiral Naiser’s face blinked up in front of her. “Good work, Captain.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Susan said. She was a little surprised Admiral Naiser hadn't chosen to command the operation himself, even though she saw the logic. It wasn't as though he wasn’t experienced in such manoeuvres. Tiny Warspite had taken out a fleet carrier an order of magnitude larger than herself. “I believe that orbital space is now secure.”

  “Understood,” Admiral Naiser said. “And the planet itself?”

  “It poses no threat, as far as we can determine,” Susan said.

  She waited, unsure what the admiral would say. The planet was harmless, as far as her sensor crews could determine. There was nothing to be gained by dropping rocks and bombing the world back into the Stone Age. But Admiral Naiser could order an all-out bombardment if he wished. It would be a perfectly legal order. Hell, it would receive a great deal of popular support. Humanity had lost a great deal of its compassion, for better or worse, during the Age of Unrest.

  But Admiral Smith refused to allow planetary bombardment when we were fighting the Tadpoles, she reminded herself. Killing soldiers is one thing, but slaughtering defenceless civilians ...

  She gritted her teeth, feeling her headache starting to return. The injection was wearing off, slowly but surely. She would need to return to her cabin soon, before she collapsed on the bridge. By then, her ship had to be safe. There didn't seem to be any other warships in the system, but it was impossible to be sure. The task force was far too isolated for her comfort.

  “Hold position,” Admiral Naiser said, finally.

  ***

  Planet Three, Henry considered as he rubbed his pounding forehead, was the sort of planet that would make any survey ship captain very happy indeed. It could have easily passed for Earth, although it was clear that the planet hadn't birthed any intelligent life form. Two-thirds water, one-third land ... the person who claimed settlement rights, under other circumstances, would wind up very rich indeed. But Planet Three was already settled, a dozen large cities resting along the coastline.

  All settled by Foxes and Cows, he thought. The xenospecialists were already going to work, but a cursory look had told him that the planet was very similar to worlds humanity had settled. Chances were the colony wasn't that old, he thought. There was little reliable data on enemy breeding habits, but there didn't seem to be many factories or spaceports on the surface. This is still a stage-one colony world.

  Admiral Naiser looked at him. “Your recommendation, Your Highness?”

  Henry scowled. If Admiral Naiser was still feeling any discomfort, he was hiding it very well. It was very annoying. They were roughly the same age, after all. Coming to think of it, Admiral Naiser had been a year ahead of him at the academy, learning to fly starfighters before his deployment to HMS Canopus. Henry couldn't help feeling a flicker of envy. The admiral had a genuine naval career, not something that could be snatched away at the whim of his family. And he ...

  And he was getting off track. “The world is largely harmless,” he said. “It contributes nothing to the enemy war effort. There’s nothing to be gained by turning it into a billiard ball. I say we just finish checking the orbital installations, then leave it alone.”

  Admiral Naiser met his eyes. “And what happens if the FTL communicator is down there?”

  Henry glanced at the live feed from the analysts. Hundreds of farms and small communities had been identified, along with a handful of more modern installations, but nothing really stood out. If the FTL communicator was on the surface, it was very well hidden. There wasn't even any radio chatter, let alone anything more advanced. He found himself morbidly impressed by their discipline. The alien communications network would have gone silent, the moment they realised that they were under attack, yet he would have expected a few more leaks. A number of civilians had kept using their radios during the Battle of Earth.

  Which would have gotten most of them killed if the Tadpoles ever took the high orbitals, he thought, wryly. The Foxes seem to be a little more careful.

  “I can’t pick out a place it might be,” he pointed out. “Can you? Or do you want to search the whole planet?”

  Admiral Naiser gave him a dark look. Henry concealed his amusement with an effort, even though his headache was growing worse. Searching the whole planet was the sort of idea a politician would put forward, rather than an experienced spacer. There were nearly half a billion square kilometres to search ... and limiting the search to land, leaving the oceans alone, wouldn't make it much easier. It was hard to comprehend just how big a planet truly was, on a human scale, when starships crossed hundreds of light years regularly. And yet finding something on the surface might be completely impossible.

  “Point,” Admiral Naiser said. He sounded oddly amused. “Is there anything to be gained by destroying the handful of installations on the surface?”

  Henry shrugged. “From a military point of view, no. We’re not planning to land troops, are we? Convincing them that they’re beaten isn't necessary, not here. And even if we did, we’d have to beat them on even terms. Stamping on them from orbit isn't going to impress them, let alone convince them of our superiority.”

  “Very good,” Admiral Naiser said. He keyed his console. “Captain, the planet is to be carefully watched, but otherwise left alone. The marines will inspect the remaining orbital installations and see if some of them - any of them - are interesting.”

  “Yes, sir,” Captain Onarina said.

  She sounded relieved, Henry thought wryly, as he settled back into his chair to await developments. He didn't really blame her. There was a nasty streak of anti-alien feeling running through the human race, a call to unite humanity against the rest of the universe. If Admiral Naiser had ordered a mass bombardment, it was quite possible he would have been given a medal when he returned home. Admiral Fitzwilliam wouldn't be pleased - he’d served under Admiral Smith, who’d insisted on fighting a civilised w
ar - but he might be overruled by Parliament. Parliament was far too used to ordering punitive strikes against rogue states that thought Britain was a push-over.

  And this war began with a sneak attack, as far as we are concerned, Henry thought. The Foxes thought differently, but their opinion didn't count. There’s a strong call to make sure the Foxes can’t threaten us any longer, even if it means committing genocide.

  He shuddered at the thought. Humanity had known atrocities, from the casual destruction of entire towns and villages to mass slaughters, from forced population relocations to deliberately starving refugees to death ... there had been far too many atrocities during the Age of Unrest, atrocities casually carried out by both sides. And yet, the deliberate extermination of an entire race would be an order of magnitude worse. Worse than the destruction of Carthage, worse than the Holocaust, worse than the Purging ... it would be utterly impossible to defend.

  But people will try, he thought. There were elements in Britain - the Humanity League, in particular - who considered him a traitor, just because he was an ambassador. They thought the Royal Family should lead a crusade against all inhuman elements. If they see this as a war to the knife, there will be no mercy.

  He felt cold. And if we start slaughtering their populations, his own thoughts added, they’ll start slaughtering ours.

  The console bleeped. “Admiral, we inspected the orbital installations,” a voice said. “We didn't find anything inexplicable. They were just basic communications relays and surveillance systems. Very primitive.”

  “Understood,” Admiral Naiser said. He glanced at Henry. “Onwards, then.”

  “Yes, Admiral,” Henry said. “Onwards.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Susan wrenched herself out of sleep, cursing under her breath.

  The nightmares had been unpleasant, yet all she could remember - upon waking - was a dark looming presence and a sense of doom that had chilled her to the bone. She should have expected it, she reminded herself. Bad dreams were a known side-effect of the stimulant she’d taken, hours ago. And yet, the sheer intensity of the feelings had caught her by surprise. She'd been convinced, at some level, that she was going to die.

  She sat upright, feeling sweat running down her body. That hadn't happened, if she recalled correctly, since she’d graduated from the academy. They’d made her work hard to keep in shape, preparing to serve on a starship. She shook her head as she swung her legs over the side and stood, feeling oddly wobbly. Maybe a good third of her crew would be feeling the same way, she thought, as she headed for the shower. They’d all taken similar drugs to recover from the shock.

  And if that happens, our ability to fight is going to be limited, she thought, as she checked the status display. The jump shock got all of us.

  It wasn’t a pleasant thought. Vanguard and her consorts were steadily making their way towards Tramline One, altering their course to ensure they didn't jump into a predictable location in the next star system. There was no sign of any enemy presence, save for the handful of miners. Even they had gone dark. And yet she knew an entire fleet could be lurking out there, with a third of her crew disoriented. Perhaps she should suggest that half of her personnel be sedated, if they had to use the jump drive again. They might be spared the worst of the shock.

  She undressed rapidly, cursing her decision to get into bed without doing more than removing her shoes. She’d been in no state to take command, even if they did run into an alien fleet intent on slaughtering them. And Paul Mason hadn't been much better off. Jean Granger would have had to take command, if the battleship had to fight. Susan promised herself, grimly, that they’d be carrying out more exercises for junior officers. God alone knew how many billets would need to be replaced at short notice, if they had to jump again.

  The shower bleeped as she stepped inside. She felt a pang of guilt as she keyed her command code into the system, overriding the water restrictions. Cold logic told her that there was no need for any actual limitations, not when almost every last drop could be recycled, but old habits tended to stay even after they were no longer necessary. It hadn't been that long since she’d had strict limits on water consumption.

  She closed her eyes as the warm water washed over her body, stripping the sweat from her skin even as it woke her up. They’d completed the first part of their mission. The Foxes now had to react to a large enemy fleet in their rear. And they’d killed an alien ship without getting their paint scratched, let alone taking more substantial damage. They had nothing to be ashamed of, not now. And yet, the nightmare still haunted her.

  You had nightmares when you went to boarding school too, she told herself, sharply. She shut off the water, allowing it to drain. It’s normal to worry when things change.

  The intercom bleeped. “Captain, this is Parkinson. There’s something here I believe you should see.”

  Susan scowled. “Understood,” she said. It didn't sound like a cloaked alien fleet. “I’m on my way.”

  She donned a fresh uniform, checked her appearance in the mirror and hurried out the hatch, passing a pair of marines. Even they looked ... wretched, somehow, even though she couldn't put her finger on it. She hadn't seen anyone looking so downcast since she’d completed her final set of exams, years ago. And she’d passed ... so had the others, if she remembered rightly. But everyone had been convinced that they’d failed.

  The bridge seemed quieter, even though Tramline One was clearly visible on the display, a line of gravitational force lancing out of the primary star. Admiral Naiser had decided to take a calculated risk by bringing the fleet so close to the star, although the risk of being singed was minimal unless they went a great deal closer. But the risk of sensor disruption was a great deal higher. The star put out enough radiation to blind some of the more sensitive sensor drones protecting the fleet. Finding an elusive alien fleet - if one existed - would be a real challenge.

  “I have the bridge,” she said, automatically. “Mr. Parkinson. What have you found?”

  “This, Captain,” Parkinson said. He pointed to the display. “The tramline was behaving oddly so close to the star, so I did a more detailed sensor scan. I found this.”

  He tapped an icon, surrounded by smaller icons. “I don’t know what it is, Captain, but there’s a gravitational flux around it.”

  Susan frowned. “Does it pose any danger?”

  “Unknown,” Parkinson said.

  “It might be a bomb of some kind,” Jean put in. “Or it might be designed to manipulate the tramline in some way. Perhaps using it to signal messages from star to star.”

  The FTL communicator, Susan thought.

  Her mind raced. Was it possible? One of the theories certainly suggested that the Foxes had found a way to send messages up and down the tramlines, although she’d observed enemy tactics that suggested they didn't need the tramlines to send FTL messages. Or was it something else? An experiment to enhance the tramline? To gain access to alien-grade tramlines? Or ...

  We have to take it intact, she told herself.

  She studied the display for a long moment. Parkinson had already vectored one of the stealthed drones towards the device, allowing them to take a closer look. It wasn't actually that large, no bigger than a standard tourist shuttlecraft. And yet, it clearly wasn’t a shuttlecraft. It looked more like a communications satellite. Or was she thinking that, she asked herself, because she wanted to believe it was a communications device? Capturing an intact FTL communicator would be a real feather in her cap.

  “Inform Major Andres that he is to dispatch a team of marines to inspect the device,” she ordered, finally. It would be easy to manoeuvre the device into the shuttlebay, but she was unwilling to take the risk. A bomb that size could do real damage to her ship. It would have to be placed into one of the freighters, if one could be spared. “And once it is confirmed safe, it is to be removed from the tramline and transported to the fleet.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Granger said.

 
Admiral Naiser is supposed to be asleep, Susan thought, as she took her command chair and studied the display. Let him rest for a little longer, if necessary. We can handle the mission ourselves.

  ***

  “Take us in very slowly,” Sergeant Tosco ordered. His voice sounded odd through the spacesuit’s radio - the shuttlecraft was depressurised - but there was no mistaking his sharp tone. “We don’t want to trigger anything unpleasant.”

  Teach your grandmother to suck eggs, George thought, rudely. She might not be a marine, but she’d taken the xenotech course at the academy, back when it had first been introduced after the war. I know what I’m doing.

  She kept the thought off her face, even though he couldn't see her face behind the suit, as she steered the craft towards the alien device. Sergeant Tosco had been in a foul mood, ever since he’d been allowed to leave his bunk. Clearly, he thought that his near-collapse and pounding headache was a sign of weakness. The fact that George - almost certainly the weakest person in Marine Country - had endured the jump with only a mild headache had rubbed salt into the wound. He’d been snapping at everyone over the last few hours. She would have been more annoyed if he’d been the only one, to be honest. Two nasty fistfights had broken out and two more marines had had a very unpleasant shouting match before their superiors had intervened.