Nodding, McBride tapped in a series of controls, the flickering, cracked viewscreen snapping into life as text scrolled down the display, a stream of information washing over the three of them as the recordings of the last, desperate flight of the shuttle played.
“There,” Romano said. “Thirty seconds before launch. A systems update.”
“Who the hell starts a system update during pre-flight?” McBride asked.
“Would that knock out the systems?” Petrov asked. “That sounds like a pretty fundamental design flaw.”
“It wouldn’t,” Romano replied, reaching over to the engineering station, “not under normal circumstances. Unless conditions were safe, the update would simply wait until there was an appropriate time. Or at least, inform the pilot so that he could take precautions.” He frowned, looking over the data feed, and said, “The update lasted less than a millisecond.”
“That’s impossible. The check time alone….”
Romano slumped in the pilot’s couch, and said, “A virus. Someone hit the shuttle with a virus. One designed to hide itself as an update, work its way through the network and shut down the systems. The trajectory had the shuttle going over the ocean. If Flynn hadn’t been such a hot pilot, it’d be ten thousand feet below water right now, even if anyone aboard her had survived.”
Petrov’s face grew pale, and he said, “We were in communication with the shuttle for several minutes. If there was a virus on board, it could be all through our network, and we’ve got a max-speed data link with the mainland.” Making for the door, he said, “I’ve got to...”
“No need,” McBride said. “Trust me, Doctor. If this bug had hit you, you’d know by now.” He paused, then asked, “What sort of firewall have you got?”
“I don’t know. Just a normal one, I guess. We only have standard government security. We’re an experimental farm, for God’s sake, not a military base.”
Looking at Romano, McBride said, “Then what sort of virus gets through last-generation Space Force firewalls, but not a civilian outpost with no special security systems?”
“One tailored perfectly to crack American software,” Romano replied. “We know...” He stopped, looked at McBride, and said, “Six weeks, and the Guild haven’t had a chance to get hold of any of our software. We didn’t leave anything much behind at Enkidu. Maybe the fighter, but I purged the systems before they captured it, and the base blew up before anyone could possibly have transferred any information away.”
“We know they’ve got some PacFed equipment...” McBride replied. He stopped, looked at Romano, and said, “You think it was someone on Lincoln.”
“It’s the most logical answer. Even if I hate it.”
“Could someone tell me what is going on?” Petrov asked. “Should I alert the President that the planetary computer network is about the crash?”
“No need,” Romano said. “It’s a lot worse than that. We’ve got a saboteur on board. Unbelievable as it sounds, one of our people is working for the Guild.”
Chapter 4
“I can’t believe it,” Commander Vikram Singh, Executive Officer, said, dropping into the chair opposite Forrest. “There has to be another explanation. Why would any of our people decide to work for the Guild?”
“Money?” Commander Sandra Kirkland, Lincoln’s Operations Officer, suggested. “Safety? Who knows? Surely that’s not the important factor. Far more critical is that we’ve got somebody on board who is determined to prevent us from launching our attack. If that shuttle had gone down, it could easily have meant the end of the alliance. It’s fragile enough as it is. At the very least, we’d have been delayed.”
“We still could be,” Singh replied. “I don’t see that we can leave until we’ve got some idea of what we’re facing. We can’t go into a firefight with a knife like that at our backs.”
“Commander Brooks,” Forrest asked, turning to the engineer standing by the wall, “Have you completed your initial systems check?”
Frowning, the man replied, “Captain, I’ve got to make it clear that this is extremely provisional, and that I haven’t had a chance to run anything like...”
Raising a hand, Forrest interrupted, “Fine, Commander. I get it. Bottom line.”
Taking a deep breath, Brooks said, “I haven’t found any sign of sabotage on board. Not in any of the combat-critical systems, anyway, but there are dozens of places I haven’t checked. Any of them could wreck us. I’ve got my people working all over the ship...”
“Assuming we can trust them,” Singh said. “It looks like we don’t have any assurances that we can.” Shaking his head, he said, “I still don’t understand why, and that gets to the heart of it.”
Looking around the room, Forrest said, “We’re proceeding with the mission as planned. Departure in fifteen minutes, just as we’d intended. Which means that in a little over three hours, we’ll be launching our attack.”
“Captain,” Singh protested.
“If they wanted to destroy this ship, they’d have done it already,” Forrest said. “They had enough chances during our time in drydock. Hell, there are a hundred ways I can think of to slow us down that we’d never have spotted. Little things that we’d have written off as accidents. Instead, we broke all records getting this ship ready for battle.”
“Maybe that’s it, then,” Kirkland said. “Someone wanting to stay behind.” Glancing at Singh, she said, “Several of the crew did overrun their shore leave, and there have been a couple of requests for early termination of service. Which I instantly rejected, given that we are at war.”
Turning to her, Singh said, “That excuse isn’t going to work forever, Commander, and the longer we’re out here, the worse it is going to get.”
“Commander,” Forrest said. “Why was I not informed that some of the crew were AWOL?”
He paused, sighed, and said, “I thought it best that no official notice was taken, Captain. One group managed to miss the transfer shuttle.”
“To be precise,” Brooks added, “They were too drunk to leave the bar. I went down and found them, Captain, and all of them are down in Waste Reclamation as we speak.”
“Another went out into the woods for a bit, and…,” Singh turned back to Forrest, and added, “Damn it, Captain, these are men, not machines, and they’ve been through the greatest psychological trauma you or I can possibly imagine. We’re asking a damn sight more of them than we have any right to do, and they’re still somehow keeping themselves together. If some of them need to get drunk on leave, when their ship could not depart in any case, I think they’ve earned that right.”
“Commander,” Forrest snapped, “That does not happen again. I don’t necessarily disagree, but that decision is mine to make, not yours. I want the name of every crewmen who overran, and I want them at Captain’s Mast tomorrow morning.”
“And then what, skipper?” Brooks asked. “Are you going to court-martial them? Most of them are critical people, some of our best, and...”
“If we don’t have discipline, then we’re done,” Forrest said, turning to the engineer. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that. All we have is this ship, our uniform, and each other. That’s not much, not compared to what our people have lost, but it’s going to have to suffice.” She looked around the room, and continued, “I’m aware that we will eventually have to face this problem head-on, but right now, we’re heading into a firefight.”
“That’s another thing, Captain,” Singh said, glancing at the door. “A lot of the crew are of the opinion that this isn’t our fight. That’s one reason I encouraged them to spend some time on Zemlya, hoping that they might start to make connections, have something to hold onto, but I know that a significant portion of the crew...”
“I don’t recall ever taking a vote on whether or not to go to battle,” Kirkland replied. “Captain, this is ridiculous. We’re at war, and I
don’t think the Guild is just going to let us fly off into the wild black yonder in any case. We fight, or we’re enslaved. I would have thought that was simple enough to comprehend.”
“Even under normal circumstances,” Singh said, “all command is ultimately by the consent of the crew. You push them too far, and they’ll break. And I think that this shuttle incident is the first example of that. Flynn is an excellent pilot, and they were flying over water. Had the shuttle gone down, there’s every reason to expect that the passengers and crew would have made it out in one piece. They weren’t out to kill anyone. Not yet, anyway.”
“Your concern for my well-being is noted, Commander,” Forrest replied. “I’m forced to agree with Commander Kirkland, though.” She paused, then said, “I understand how the crew are feeling. I think we’ve all had those same thoughts ourselves. I know I have. The fact remains that we are at war, and that we’re up against an enemy every bit as ruthless as the Pacific Federation ever was.”
“Worse,” Brooks said. “I don’t recall PacFed’s war goal as the enslavement of all humanity.” Looking around the room, he continued, “That’s what we’re talking about, isn’t it.”
“Perhaps Commander Singh is correct in that we need to make clearer to the crew just what we’re fighting for,” Kirkland said. “I’ll prepare another briefing, Captain.”
“They’ve already sat through four of them, Commander,” Brooks said. “Words and pictures aren’t going to cut it. They need something more visceral than that.”
here was a knock on the door, and she looked up, saying, “Come in.”
The door slid open, and Romano walked inside, datapad in hand, saying, “I’ve completed my first analysis of the potential suspects, Captain.”
“How many on the list?”
Sheepishly, he said, “A hundred and thirty-two. Including everyone other than yourself in this room, ma’am.”
“Including you?” Singh asked, raising an eyebrow.
“For the sake of completeness, sir, absolutely.” Grimacing, he added, “There’s just not much to work on, ma’am. This list complies those who were outside security pickups for the length of time needed to prepare the data package over the last twenty-four hours...”
“And those with the skills required?” Kirkland asked.
“I didn’t take that into account, Commander.”
“But...”
“Anyone working as a double agent, ma’am, would probably not have that particular skill-set on their service records. I’d be looking for someone who was corrupt before, maybe someone who was selling data to a corporation. Maybe even to an enemy government.”
“God knows we were having enough trouble with security before all this began,” Kirkland said. “I got tangled up in the investigation into those failed fighter components, back at Ross 154. We lost half a dozen pilots because some contractor got greedy.” Turning to Romano, she said, “Then you think we’re dealing with someone already used to betraying us.”
“I still find it hard to believe,” Singh replied. “What possible motivation could they possibly have for working against us now? I’d expect that they’d either go deep and dark or leave the ship at the first opportunity, try and hide out on Zemlya, or ship out somewhere else.”
Nodding, Kirkland replied, “If the crew learned that one of their own had been working against them, I doubt they’d live long enough to get to the brig. Still less a theoretical court-martial.” Turning to Forrest, she added, “None the less, I agree with Lieutenant Romano, Captain. It’s a lot easier to think that we’ve already got a saboteur on board, rather than someone that the Guild has managed to turn against us in the last six weeks.”
“Then we need to go through the list again,” Brooks said, “and work out who might have had an opportunity to be contacted. Maybe someone who went down to the surface...” He paused, sighed, and said, “No, there’s no point. Damn near everyone had shore leave, and those that didn’t could have met someone either on the ship or the dockyard. That’s no answer.” Shaking his head, he said, “I’m an engineer, not a detective, Captain. I’m not even sure where we’d start.”
“Lieutenant Romano seems to be making process,” Singh said. “Why not let him run with it.” Turning to the young officer, he asked, “Have you any experience in investigative work, Lieutenant?”
“I’ve watched every episode of CSI: Callisto, sir.”
With a thin smile, Forrest replied, “That’s probably about the best we’re going to get. There’s nobody on the ship with the requisite qualifications, not in investigative work, anyway. Consider this your primary assignment, Lieutenant. I’m giving you full security access for the duration of the mission. Find the saboteur. No matter where the trail leads. Work with Commander Kirkland.”
“Captain?” Kirkland asked. “My duties...”
“There is no more important priority for any command officer than the safety of the ship and her crew, Commander. I want you and Romano working together on this. Give me some names.” She looked at the two of them, and added, “And watch yourselves, as well. As soon as the saboteur realizes that you’re looking for him, you’re going to become his top targets.”
“Understood, ma’am,” Romano said, glancing at Kirkland.
“Dismissed, then. I expect frequent updates, but keep them off the communications channels. Nothing related to the investigation is to go through the network. We don’t know who else might be looking. That’s all.” The officers rose, saluted, and turned to leave, and she added, “Commander Singh, if you could please remain for a moment.”
As the others left the room, Singh said, “Captain, I still think we should postpone the attack. Even if it’s just for twenty-four hours. We need to give Romano time to get the investigation moving, and if we can find our saboteur...”
“We don’t have time, Vik. The Lemurians aren’t going to be able to wait for that oil forever. Besides, there are other considerations.” Leaning back in her chair, she continued, “There are more worlds out there we might be able to draw in. Most of them are old rivals, might not work together unless the need is desperate and the potential rewards are great. We’ve got to have a victory here, Commander. A big one. Something that can convince the neutrals to join our cause, or the Guild could sweep across every major world in a matter of years.”
Nodding, he replied, “Then you’re hoping this will be the cornerstone of our offensive strategy. I understand that Lemuria’s a pretty isolated world...”
Gesturing at Zemlya, serenely floating in space, she replied, “There are ambassadors from a dozen planets down there, all of them reporting to their governments that we’re willing to go to war to help out a potential ally. You can bet that the Zemlyan and Lemurian ships will have people on board reporting to them.” Cracking a smile, she added, “At least, they will if General Markova’s intelligence staff have done their job right.”
He nodded, then said, “Just out of interest, why did you saddle Romano with Kirkland?”
“She’s the ship’s Operations Officer, Vik.”
“Granted, but…,” he paused, glanced at the door as if afraid of being overheard, and continued, “She’s an empty uniform, skipper. Tony Romano’s one of the best junior officers we’ve got, and I can’t help but think that he’ll work a lot faster reporting to me. There’s no need to give him that much of a safety net, and she’s only going to get in the way.”
“Empire-building, Commander?” Forrest asked, an eyebrow raised. “You’ve got far too much to do already, just keeping this ship running. And more than before, if I’m trying to run an allied task force at the same time. It’s Kirkland’s job, and I’m letting her take a swing at it under combat conditions. Maybe we’ll be surprised. Maybe I’ll end up finding something else for her to do, and replace her with Lieutenant Fox. One way or another, we’re better off knowing just what she’s capable of.”<
br />
“I just wish it could be something less critical.”
“Find me something, and I’ll gladly consider it.” She walked to the door, stepping out onto the bridge beyond, all eyes locked on her was she entered the command center. Lieutenant Fox turned from her station, snapping a salute as she moved to her chair.
“Captain on the deck!” she said.
“Contact the rest of the ships in the formation, Lieutenant,” Forrest said, settling into the familiar command chair. “Inform them that we will be breaking orbit in two minutes.” Turning to the helm, she continued, “Petty Officer Merritt, prepare for departure.”
“Aye, Captain,” he replied, his fingers dancing across his controls, eager to unleash the might of Lincoln’s primary engines once more. “Releasing umbilicals. We are now on internal power and gravitation.”
“Signal from the surface, ma’am,” Fox added. “General Markova wishes us a safe voyage and happy hunting. And we have departure clearance from Orbital Control.”
“All ships have reported in,” Singh said, moving to the tactical desk, a hologram of local space flickering into life. “They’re moving into jump formation right now.”
“Very good,” Forrest replied. “Helm, take us out, just as planned.”
“Aye, ma’am. Executing course change.” He fired the ship’s thrusters, pulsing them in series, edging them out of the latticework of the support structure into which Lincoln had nested for the refit. Brooks and his crews had worked around the clock for weeks to get the ship back into combat condition, and one glance at the status boards showed the quality of the job they had done.
Except that there were still ample signs of the fighting the venerable ship had taken part in. There hadn’t been any time for the cosmetics, and no time for anything that wasn’t vital to the combat functionality of the ship. Too many amber lights still flickered on the board, the maintenance routine thrown completely out by the urgency of their refit. If they’d had another ten days, even another five, that might have made all the difference.
Never In Vain (Lincoln's War Book 2) Page 4