Black Ops (Expeditionary Force Book 4)

by Craig Alanson

  “Inquisitor Shone,” Admiral Tashallo bowed his antenna in respect. “If you wish to conduct a review of our actions during the recent engagement, Captain Dahmen is available here, on this ship. Admiral Sashell departed with the 67th Fleet only two days ago. You could-”

  “I have no questions for Admiral Sashell. Nor Captain Dahmen,” the Inquisitor said simply. “My purpose here is to inquire about the message you reported receiving, the message which stated the Thuranin intended to attack.”

  This time, Tashallo was not able to fully conceal his surprise. The message he reported receiving? Was the Inquisitor questioning the authenticity of a message from Fleet Intelligence? A chill struck Tashallo’s thorax, then he quickly recovered. He had not risen to his lofty position by being rattled by unexpected developments. “Yes. I admit I was initially skeptical that Fleet Intelligence had acquired information so precise; the exact locations and times when the enemy would come through three wormholes. It was the fact of Fleet Intelligence offering sixty to one odds, and no points taken, that convinced me the information must be accurate. You will note I did not wager against Fleet Intelligence at first.”

  “I have so noted.”

  “Immediately upon reaching the decision to act on the information contained in the message, I issued orders to prepare the 98th Fleet to depart the Glark system, and I took a fast packet to confer with Admiral Sashell. We were able to-”

  The Inquisitor cleared her throat. “Admiral Tashallo, I read your report. Your actions were exemplary, as were those of Admiral Sashell, Captain Dahmen and the crews of all three task forces. You will all receive commendations, and I can tell you in confidence, Admiral Sashell’s claim to reset the handicapping of your wager post-battle will be rejected.”

  Tashallo smiled outwardly and groaned inwardly. A quick ruling in his favor could only mean that some people at Fleet Headquarters expected to get cut in on the 98th Fleet’s action. Damn it, Tashallo thought to himself, any time you get a major score, there are a hundred hands out looking for a taste. Fine, he would give them a taste of the vig, and the admiral commanding the Blue Squadron would expect to be paid his ‘tax’ although Blue Headquarters had not known about the battle until it was well over.

  The Inquisitor no doubt knew exactly what thoughts were racing through Tashallo’s mind, for she paused before continuing. “Congratulations to you, Admiral. I have been instructed to convey the gratitude of Fleet Headquarters, and of Admiral Mavanne in particular.”

  “I am grateful, for their, gratitude,” Tashallo stumbled.

  “That is not why I am here.”

  “Then, why?”

  “Fleet Intelligence reports that message, with its extremely accurate data on enemy intentions, did not originate with them.”

  “Wha-what?” For a moment, Tashallo was rattled.

  “Fleet Intelligence was shocked to hear of the battle you fought, they had no idea the Thuranin planned any kind of offensive. Indeed, they were about to issue an estimate stating the enemy was unlikely to mount any offensive operations for the next seven months.”

  In spite of his own shock, Tashallo automatically asked “What odds were they giving on that estimate?”

  The Inquisitor actually smiled briefly. “Four to six. Of course.”

  “If the message did not originate with Fleet Intelligence, then where did the packet ship pick up that message?” Tashallo assumed the message had been traced back to its origin.

  “We do not know. That ship was halted and thoroughly inspected. Its records indicate the message was received from a relay station near the Margulo system. That relay station’s records indicate it received the message from another packet ship, and according to the records of that other packet ship, it picked up the message directly from Fleet Intelligence Headquarters. The computers at Fleet Intelligence have no record of sending such a message, although it contained all the proper authentication codes, as you know. Somehow, one of those packet ships received a message it has no record of, and the records of both ships have been altered.”

  Tashallo’s head was spinning. “How is this possible?”

  “Admiral Tashallo,” the Inquisitor smiled, and Tashallo realized she was rattled. “That is why I am here.”

  After all the planning and preparation to set up our mock attack, once every possible thing was done and all we needed to do was wait, the waiting was driving me crazy. Everything was great. We had two ships prepped and ready for our mock attack on the Ruhar negotiation team. We had solid intel, and everything was proceeding on schedule and according to plan. Even better for me, Chotek had not raised any new objections or questions, and no one had thought up a better plan. The Glory and our Q-ship were going to jump into action, without any risk to the Flying Dutchman. Soon, I hoped, the Merry Band of Pirates would be enjoying a leisurely and uneventful ride home to Earth.

  And still I worried constantly that I had forgotten something important. “Skippy, there isn’t any possibility human DNA will be detected in the debris, after we self-destruct our two ships?”

  “No. I told you that like twice already,” his avatar had hands on its hips, shaking its head at me. “The only time humans went aboard the Glory, the boarding team was wearing Kristang armor that had been thoroughly scrubbed to remove all traces of DNA, or anything else that might possibly tie back to Earth. My bots did all the work after that, so the Glory is clean. And my bots scrubbed and decontaminated the Q-ship also.”

  “Great, thank you. Hey, uh, I’ve been thinking.”

  “Is that what you call it? Joe, the word ‘thinking’ in the dictionary just filed a defamation lawsuit against you.”

  “Oh, you are freakin’ hilarious. Listen, we’ll be leaving behind DNA from adult male and female Kristang in the debris. My question is, should we also leave at least a little hint about which clan conducted the attack? Like, uh, the Black Tree clan? You told us the Black Trees are the biggest rivals of the Fire Dragons.”

  “The Black Trees are bitter enemies of the Fire Dragons, true. I also told you that no clan would wish to be blamed for an attack on an alien negotiation team, so they would be extremely careful not to leave any evidence behind. The DNA is not a problem, because clans do not share DNA databases.”

  “Oh,” I felt foolish. “Sorry to have-”

  “However, ugh, I hate to say this; you might be onto something. Let me think a moment. Hmm. If we were able to leave behind evidence pointing to a clan, and make it look like someone had tried very hard to avoid leaving that evidence behind, that might be believable. If we could do that, and I emphasize if, then the best thing to do would be to point the finger not at the Black Trees, but at a minor clan within the Fire Dragon coalition.”

  “What?”

  “When I speak of the ‘Fire Dragon clan’, I usually mean all the various groups belonging to or officially allied with the Fire Dragons. Major clans all have acquired minor clans, or prominent families within the Fire Dragons have split off to form their own minor clans. My point is, there are likely many minor clans within the Fire Dragon coalition who are eager to move up in the hierarchy, and a civil war would be their best opportunity to gain advantage over their rivals. Many of these minor clans would welcome a wide-scale Kristang civil war, and they might scheme to prevent the Fire Dragon leaders from reaching a deal with the Ruhar to send a ship to Earth. It is also true that some minor clans do not like the idea of the Fire Dragons absorbing the assets of the White Wind clan, because bringing the White Wind into the coalition would knock some clans further down the hierarchy.”

  “Holy crap, Skippy, how do you keep track of all this freakin’ politics?” The situation of the Kristang reminded me of an old TV show my sister found and binge-watched; you needed a spreadsheet to keep track of the characters, and everyone dies anyway. “Damn, the Kristang must waste half their time worrying about getting stabbed in the back.”

  “They do, Joe. If you are a member of the warrior caste, you constantly must watch
your back, or there will be a knife in it. Internal strife is the greatest weakness of the Kristang. Well, that and their warrior caste’s foolish disregard of any technology that does not directly involve weapons.”

  “My heart bleeds for them, Skippy.”

  “I suspect you are not sincere about that, Joe. While you wasted time bitching about Kristang politics, I have been analyzing the idea of blaming the mock attack on a minor clan within the Fire Dragon coalition, that was my idea by the way. Joe, I like it! Damn, sometimes I am so freakin’ smart that I amaze myself. Yes, we can do this, and we should do this. This solves a problem I have been concerned about.”

  “A problem? What problem?” I asked suspiciously. “You didn’t mention any problem to me!”

  “No I didn’t, because then little Joey would have gone running to tell Count Chocula all about it, like a good and stupid little boy.”

  “Skippy, Chotek is the designated mission commander, I report to him. I have to inform him about possible risks to the mission. Crap, what is it this time?”

  “The Ruhar negotiation party are aboard a cruiser, escorted by two destroyers. They will also be protected by at least a dozen Kristang warships. To make our attack by two relatively weak ships seem credible, we will need to jump them in close enough to the target, so they aren’t blasted out of space before they can fire a shot.”

  “Uh huh, yeah, we discussed all that with the entire team. The magic of Skippy will make it easy to jump those ships in close, right?”

  “Correct. That is not a problem, just another example of my awesomeness, Joe. The problem is; how will the attackers get the intel to know exactly where the Ruhar ships are? Other clans know the Fire Dragons are talking with the Ruhar, and they may know roughly where, but how do we explain that our supposedly Kristang ships know exactly where to jump in to hit the Ruhar?”

  “Crap. You should have mentioned this before! I understand the problem now. Yeah,” I mentally kicked myself for not considering that issue, “how do we explain where the attacking ships get tactical intel like that?” Unless the attack was believed to be the work of a Kristang clan, the whole operation was a waste of time and energy.

  “Easy, Joe, thanks to my brilliant idea. I will plant evidence aboard the ships, leading the Fire Dragons to conclude the attack was carried out by a subclan in their own coalition. They will think they were betrayed by insiders, which happens often enough so it is not a big surprise. Framing a minor Fire Dragon clan for the attack will explain how the attackers got tactical intel, it will reinforce the Ruhar’s thinking that the Fire Dragons can’t be trusted to deliver on any deal, and it will weaken the Fire Dragon leadership. We don’t want the Fire Dragons regrouping and making another offer to the Ruhar in the future. In fact,” he paused, “yeah, this is great. If the Fire Dragon leadership thinks they have a subclan acting against them, they might decide to strike first and start a civil war, before their internal strife weakens them. Yeah!” He exulted. “Who do man? I’m da man!”

  “You da man, Skippy,” I rolled my eyes because his brilliant idea had started with me. “No one can argue with that. Is this something you can do quick, without Chotek knowing about it?” Unlike my increasing nervousness, Chotek had been super calm since he gave the final approval for the attack. He had been almost jovial, even attending the recent movie night, and mingling with the crew for snacks and coffee after the movie. The last thing I wanted was to approach him now to ask permission for something I should have thought of weeks ago.

  “The Count does not need to worry the chocolaty goodness in his pretty little head about it, Joe. I’m handling it right now, loading revised software into the operating systems of the Glory’s escape pods. Miraculously, one of the escape pods will survive the destruction of the ship; I’ll damage it so it’s not obviously a plant. The new software will point to the Top Hill subclan, and the Fire Dragon leadership will be furious. They will also be cautious, because the Top Hills have been increasing their influence in the last decade, and many subclans have begun look to the Top Hills for leadership. This will totally be believable, because the Top Hills have a well-deserved reputation for recklessness.”

  “Outstanding. There are no other potential problems you are keeping secret from me?”

  “No. Hmm, let me check. No, nope. Not that I can think of at the moment. Soon as I think of one, Joe, I will tell you first,” he offered cheerily.

  “Great. That’s fantastic, Skippy.” I contemplated my empty coffee cup and decided against refilling it. My nerves and my stomach didn’t need any more coffee. Checking the countdown clock on my tablet, I saw there was more than eleven hours before we launched our attack. The attack would commence at 0235 ship time, and no way was I going to get any sleep tonight. There were many days when I wished I was still a grunt with a rifle and a simple mission to perform. This was one of those days.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It was a good thing I didn’t try to lie down for an hour or two of sleep. At 1923 Hours, Skippy’s voice boomed out of the speaker in my office. “The Ruhar jumped in early, Joe, they’re at the rendezvous point already!”

  I asked Chotek to join me, then ran out the door and around the corner to the bridge. Major Simms was the duty officer, she vacated the command chair for me. “What does this mean, Skippy?”

  “Well, they didn’t jump in early to get a good parking spot,” Skippy said with sarcasm. “It means the Ruhar do not trust the operational security of the Kristang, Joe, that’s all. The Ruhar force is a cruiser and two destroyers, just like the intel expected. The Kristang ships have formed a defensive screen around the Ruhar, and, yup. All ships just activated damping fields. No ships on either side will be jumping away.”

  Chotek had come into the bridge right behind me, so he heard everything Skippy said. “Colonel Bishop, what is your recommendation?”

  Hans Chotek was a royal pain in my ass most of the time, but he knew to defer to the military on military matters. “Sir,” I replied, “I recommend we move up the attack. Go now. We’re ready. If we attack now, that will reinforce in the Ruhar’s minds that the Fire Dragons can’t be trusted with operational security.”

  “Or be trusted with anything else,” Chotek nodded. “Our sensor coverage is active; the microwormholes are in position?”

  “Yes,” I got out of the chair and pointed to a line of moving white dots on the main bridge display. To provide a real-time view of the battle, and so Skippy could adjust the actions of our attacking ships as needed, he had created a series of microwormholes. The near ends of those microwormholes were parked a kilometer away from the Flying Dutchman. The far ends had been loaded aboard a Kristang dropship and sent toward the rendezvous point at high acceleration. The unpiloted dropship had gently ejected one microwormhole after another as it continued to accelerate, then the dropship altered course and shut down. That dropship was on its way out of the Milky Way galaxy, and would drift onward through empty space until the end of time. The string of microwormholes were passing through the rendezvous area at high speed, one after the other. As one microwormhole went out of range, the next would be approaching the rendezvous. According to Skippy, we would have continuous and awesomely accurate real-time sensor data, extending eight hours before and thirty seven hours after the Zero Hour for our planned attack. With the Ruhar crashing the party early, it was a damned good thing we had sensor coverage already. “The third microwormhole will be at its closest approach to the Ruhar ship in sixteen minutes, and the fourth one is already within sensor range. There is no indication the Kristang have detected the microwormholes.” I knew that because if the Kristang had detected one of Skippy’s incredible spacetime tricks, the symbol for that microwormhole would be blinking red rather than white.

  “Very well, Colonel,” Chotek said as he took a step behind the command chair, and clasped his hands behind his back. “This is your show.”

  Suppressing a smile, I sat back in the chair. “Skippy, execute.”

>   If the attack had been planned by a Kristang clan, they would not have relied on the relatively weak weapons aboard our two ships. They would have jumped both ships in as close as possible to the Ruhar cruiser, with the attacking ships on a collision course. With the attacking ships almost certain to get pounded by the heavy weapons of Ruhar and Kristang warships, ramming was the best chance of inflicting damage on the negotiators before the attackers were disabled or destroyed.

  Jumping in on a collision course was what an attacking Kristang would try to do, and since our goal was for the Ruhar to think it was a Kristang attack, that is what we did. The difference is that the awesomeness of Skippy allowed even the crappy jump drives of our two ships to emerge from jump within half a kilometer of the target, while a Kristang-programmed jump would be nowhere near that precise. Although Skippy grumbled about being deliberately inaccurate, he jumped our two ships in believably off target. The Q-ship emerged on the wrong side of the Ruhar cruiser, with its momentum carrying it away from the target. Immediately, the Q-ship launched weapons and burned its engines to bring it back toward the cruiser.

  The Glory emerged on the correct side of the cruiser, although our little frigate was moving fast and would fly right by the Ruhar without making contact. That was good, we wanted it to look like the attackers intended to ram the Ruhar cruiser, but we didn’t want to actually impact the negotiators’ ship. The Glory burned its engines in a desperate attempt to avoid flying past the cruiser, a maneuver that the laws of physics were not going to allow. Our frigate also launched missiles and fired its masers.

  “Two direct hits!” Skippy shouted excitedly.

  “Chill, Skippy,” I ordered. “You can’t have the Glory’s weapons fire be too accurate. It’s supposed to be flown by Kristang, remember?”