Havoc of War (Warp Marine Corps Book 5)

by C. J. Carella

  “If we don’t stop the Black Ships in time, the galaxy may burn.”

  “Prophesying, or guessing?”

  “A little of both. I do know one thing: we don’t have a lot of time.”

  “There’s politics involved. The voters wouldn’t understand if we leave the Lampreys alone and send a fleet chasing about a bunch of renegades who, worst case scenario, are wrecking the Imperium. You know, the guys who want to exterminate us. As far as most everybody is concerned, Kerensky can kill them all. We can always court-martial him afterwards.”

  “The Warplings are the problem.”

  “I know. Heather McClintock agrees with you, by the way. So does my invisible friend.”

  Deborah had spoken to Atu, the alien entity that lived inside Zhang’s head. Not too long ago, she would have found the experience daunting. Not anymore. She’d spoken with angels. After that, a mere spirit manifestation didn’t seem quite so important.

  “All right, Grinner. I’ll talk to Heather and between the two us we’ll make as big a stink as possible.”

  “You mean it?”

  “Yes. I’ll pass on your message to General MacWhirter. Also to my Navy contacts, the few that will return my messages. And if I have to, I’ll go to Admiral Givens her own damn self. Don’t get your hopes up, though. We are small cogs in a big machine. Meanwhile, all this mess has made you forget something.”

  “What?”

  “Your date with that enlisted jarhead.”

  “Oh.”

  “I still don’t get what you see in him. I’ve known Russet since I had to play ground-pounder after the Lampreys blew up my ship, and the man is a shifty-eyed thug. A stone-cold killer, too, not that there’s anything wrong with that. He’s not even a bad boy type; he’s just bad.”

  “It’s…” Even telepaths needed to have their secrets. Corporal Edison sparked something in her that she’d thought long lost. That was all. Enough to risk a court-martial over, she supposed.

  “I don’t need to know,” Lisbeth said with an evil grin. Then, more seriously:

  “Have a good time, Deborah. While you can.”

  Three

  Third Fleet was ready to begin operations. Only one question remained.

  Admiral Sondra Givens had conducted extensive consultations with Earth, including some lengthy QE telegrams that had run enough of a tab to put a dent on her budget. In the end, circumstances had given her the deciding vote. She had mostly made up her mind, but wanted to hear one final opinion before she sent her final recommendation to Earth, a recommendation that would almost certainly be approved.

  Lieutenant Colonel Lisbeth Zhang entered the office with only a hint of the nervousness a recently-promoted mid-grade officer would naturally feel upon entering the den of a fleet admiral, let alone one with the personal history the two women shared. The Marine gave her a stiff, parade-ground salute and the standard ‘reporting as ordered, ma’am.’

  “At ease, Colonel. Have a seat.”

  Zhang complied. Her face was carefully blank. Sondra wondered if the former Navy officer was trying to read her mind or use one of her other warp-induced superpowers on her. The new implants recently given to all commanding officers were supposed to render them immune to ‘tachyon wave telemetry,’ the latest technobabble term for psionics, part of a futile attempt to make them sound less fantastical. Whether the special imps worked or not was highly debatable. Kerensky had been outfitted with an earlier version, and it hadn’t stopped him from losing his mind.

  “I have a few things I need to discuss with you, Colonel. But before we start, I want to advise you not to refer in any way to the unfortunate events at Jasper System. As far as I’m concerned, all such things are in the past and will stay there. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  Some five years ago, up-and-coming USN Lieutenant Commander Zhang had been in charge of a two-corvette task force. Both ships had been lost in action at Jasper System; Zhang had been the sole survivor. Among the dead was Sondra Givens’ favorite grandson, Omar. None of which had anything to do with the present, of course. Zhang had served under her in Sixth Fleet, and had done a commendable job there. But they hadn’t interacted directly until now, and Sondra figured she might as well get that out of the way.

  “I have read your emails, and the appended files from Lieutenant Genovisi and Field Agent McClintock. Your recommendation – some might call it something closer to a demand – is that we abandon our planned offensive into Lhan Arkh space and send Third Fleet straight to Paulus to chase after Kernsky’s renegades.”

  “That is correct, ma’am. That is, I made that recommendation based on new information provided by personnel under my command. I wouldn’t presume to dictate policy, ma’am, just provide intelligence that might affect the decisions of those charged with making policy.”

  Zhang was acting almost suspiciously normal. The Marine’s file noted that the fighter pilot was suffering from a number of stress-induced mental issues, any of which would have been more than enough to relieve her from duty and possibly commit her to a psychiatric institution, under normal circumstances. On the other hand, circumstances had been anything but normal since the Langley Project had led to the unexpected creation of a race of psionic super-soldiers.

  And if I put the term ‘a race of psionic super-soldiers’ in an official report, I’d join Zhang in an insane asylum in zip time, she thought mordantly. Even though that’s exactly what those eggheads created while trying to raise a crop of warp fighter pilots.

  Setting aside those thoughts, Sondra went on: “Well, your recommendations have received a great deal of attention. They were the subject of a meeting of the Joint Chiefs, and another one between the President and his full Cabinet. I’ve been told there was a great deal of to-and-fro, and even a hefty amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth. In the end, they decided to put the ball in my court. I get to make the final recommendations, which will be followed.”

  Zhang said nothing; she appeared to be looking at a spot behind and above Sondra’s left shoulder, with a slight twitching in her face that made the admiral wonder if the Marine was trying not to laugh. Or giggle. The reports said the Marine pilot had developed a very unnerving giggle.

  “I want to hear your opinion, in your own words, before I make a decision. You have the most direct experience with warp phenomena, and are probably the only officer qualified to evaluate Commander Genovisi’s story.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I believe I am.”

  “You have my permission to speak freely, Colonel.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. You have read the reports. Grinner, uh, Commander Genovisi spent a great deal of time in warp space while in transit between New Texas and Cascadia. During that time she was in communication with a Warpling, sorry, a Null-Space Sophont.”

  Sondra grimaced. That ‘NSS’ nonsense had been recently coined by the scientific community now that the previous consensus that all warp space apparitions were mere figments of spacers’ imagination had been finally abandoned. It had been immediately adopted by the Navy, with general orders to the effect that the terms ‘Warplings,’ ‘Foos’ or ‘demons’ were not to be used in any official communiques going forward. For all their devotion to rationality, a lot of people seemed to be fanatical about the intrinsic power of names.

  “In any case, the NSS in question claimed to represent a faction that opposed what we would consider ‘evil’ practices,” Zhang went on. “It helped Commander Genovisi survive the jump between systems, which her fighter should not have been able to complete successfully. The NSS wanted the commander to contact me with a message: that there was a war being waged inside warp space, and if Admiral Kerensky isn’t stopped in time, the balance may tilt in the favor of its enemies. Who are evil by our standards.”

  “Yes. All of that is in the report.”

  “Admiral… I have seen one of those NSS in action, on this side of the Starless Path, er, null-space. I am, maybe was, an atheist, but tha
t thing was too much like the Devil for comfort, ma’am. Even my personal guardian angel, Atu, was creeped out, and Atu is the closest thing to a god I’d encountered until then.”

  “Yes, your invisible friend,” Sondra said, carefully avoiding anything in her tone that could be construed as mockery or contempt. Zhang had been very reluctant to confide in others about the mental constructs – or spirits – taking up space in her head, for very understandable reasons. Even now, it was hard to give her story any credibility, except for the fact that madwomen didn’t perform miracles. The Marine pilot had, among other things, made a warp jump without benefit of a ship or catapult. Discounting her words as insane was not an option.

  “Yes. Atu is most likely a NSS itself, but one that only knows what the Pathfinder alien whose mind it copied knew and thought. I have this theory, Admiral; it’s kind of crazy, so I’ve only discussed it with a few friends.”

  “I would like to hear it, Colonel.”

  “Well, I think Warplings, er…”

  “You can call them Warplings, Foos or pink elephants for all I care, Zhang. Carry on.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Warplings are sort of funhouse mirror images of any sophonts who enter warp space. It’s like they only become sentient or sapient by copying our minds, or what is in our minds. These copies, or downloads or what have you, most often disappear when the original mind leaves, but a few of them, the more powerful ones, they sort of grow up, and run with it, with the thoughts or ideas they picked up. If they are gods or demons, they are something we, every Starfarer that is, something we created. Do you see what I mean?”

  “I think I do. A number of experts have come up with similar hypotheses.”

  “So, for example, Atu thinks it’s a Pathfinder, and for all intents and purposes, it is a Pathfinder, so it only has the dead alien’s memories.”

  Zhang paused and looked at that spot over Sondra’s shoulder, and the admiral realized that must be where the invisible friend was standing. She had to fight an urge to look around.

  “Anyway, Atu tells me I’m not exactly right, but I like the idea. It means there are no ancient evil monsters living in the Starless Path, plotting to cross over and devour the galaxy, see? It’s just errant thoughts given life somehow. Our dreams made flesh, if you will.”

  “And our nightmares.”

  “Those too. Doesn’t say much about us, intelligent life in general, does it?”

  “Your theory might explain why they prey on sophonts, too. They may derive more strength or power the more minds they copy, download or absorb.”

  “Yes. Except it’s also a matter of taste. They, or some of them, they enjoy the feeling of absorbing a life. Of taking a life. Enjoy enough to become addicted to it. Sort of like a vampire.”

  Of all the things Sondra had expected to hear in her Navy career, hearing the word ‘vampire’ used for something other than an enemy missile had never made the list.

  If it’s crazy but it fits the available data, then it might just not be crazy after all.

  “In any case, it appears not all of them are addicted to killing,” she said.

  “That is correct, ma’am. You might say some ‘good thoughts’ have also taken form inside the Path. I think that was the so-called ‘angel’ that contacted Commander Genovisi. I think they might derive some strength from our prayers, as a matter of fact. Unfortunately, most Starfarers are staunchly atheistic, so prayers aren’t exactly common in null-space.”

  “We are the glaring exception.”

  “Yes. Last poll I read, it was like fifty-seven percent of Americans considered themselves to be ‘somewhat, very, or strongly religious.’ Very unusual among starfaring civilizations.”

  And most likely only because the great secular bastions of pre-Contact America – the major cities, in other words – also happened to be the primary targets of the Snakes’ thermal bombs, Sondra thought. I don’t know if that counts as some cosmic irony, evidence of a deity with a twisted sense of humor, or both.

  “A lot of ‘good Warplings’ seem to have adopted religious, and particularly Christian forms. There are friendly ghosts, angels, saints and the like. There’s always been stories about spacers being visited by Saint Patrick and what have you, and maybe there’s a Warpling out there who thinks it is Saint Patrick.”

  “This is going to open numerous cans of worms,” Sondra commented. “Numerous giant cans.”

  “Yes, ma’am, which is one reason I’ve kept it mostly to myself. Plus I could be wrong. Maybe warp space is where Heaven and Hell and Great Cthulhu and the Great Pumpkin live. Above my pay grade.”

  “Above my pay grade as well. Go on.”

  “Of course, ma’am. From the looks of it, the Kraxan civilization did a number on warp space. If my theory is right, their twisted minds created a host of malevolent entities, which they fed with billions of sophont sacrifices. Or maybe the entities already existed and they became stronger. Either way, those evil things are still out there, and when they get the chance they feed on people.”

  “I wonder why it doesn’t happen more often.”

  “There is an element of choice involved, ma’am. It’s sort of like the old vampire legends, the whole bit about you having to invite them in before they can come into your house. It looks like they can’t just kick the door down and eat your soul. You have to let them in. Or someone from our side has to do it for you.”

  Zhang paused to let Sondra digest that bit. It all made a perverse sort of sense. It might even explain why suicide warp runs almost never worked; the hopeless, those already expecting to die, had in effect given up and given Warplings permission to devour them. She shuddered.

  “What is worse is that some Warplings can cross over. They can possess people, much like demons are supposed to. I’ve seen that happen twice, the first time during training. It was pretty bad.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen the footage of that and other incidents, and yes, it was all pretty damn bad.”

  “And some can actually manifest here. Physically. Like the Flayer at Redoubt-Five. You don’t know how close we came to letting it loose on the galaxy. That thing blew up one planet and slaughtered every sophont in another. Once it was on this side, it didn’t need permission to do whatever it wanted. If Atu hadn’t opened a portal to send it back… Well, I wouldn’t be around to see what happened, but nobody would have liked that.”

  First vampires, now demons, now monsters than can shatter planets. I’m going to need anti-psychotics after this interview is over.

  “You’d think the Elders of the galaxy would frown upon this sort of thing,” she said instead. If they were going to talk about myths, might as well bring them in, since the Elders were something everyone believed in, mostly because they occasionally provided incontrovertible evidence of their existence.

  “They do. After ‘reading’ a lot of Kraxan history – reliving it is a lot closer to what she does – Heather, er, Field Agent McClintock thinks that the Elders were involved in the Marauders’ downfall. At the very least, they put their finger on the scale at certain crucial moments. At some point, they decided that Kraxan and all its people needed to go away. And if we don’t stop Kerensky, they may feel the same way about us.”

  I’m having a hard time thinking of a happy ending – any kind of ending that can’t be summarized with ‘and everyone died’ – for this story, Sondra thought. Except this isn’t a story, this is history in the making.

  “The reason I sent my recommendations is that Commander Genovisi had a premonition indicating that time is running short. She believes Kerensky is going to initiate his attack on the Imperium soon, along with its NSS allies. Psychic visions don’t exactly provide timetables, ma’am, but her sense is that in a matter of months, things will escalate.”

  “You are aware of the political considerations involved,” Sondra said.

  “Yes, ma’am. Leaving the Lampreys alone isn’t an option. Not after the Days of Infamy.”

  “This is what I’m g
oing to do, Colonel. I’m going to split the difference and hope it’s enough. I’m going to sail Third Fleet into Lhan Arkh space, towards the nearest major system – that would be the Fifth Congressional District, to be specific – and depopulate it. Along the way, we will engage and destroy any Lamprey naval assets we encounter. I expect they will send everything they’ve got in the sector to protect CD-5. Once that is done, Third Fleet will return to Xanadu, conduct a quick rest and refit, and enter Imperium territory. I anticipate concluding the first phase of the campaign in no more than five weeks.

  “I realize that’s nowhere near Paulus System,” Sondra went on. “But I figure we won’t have to go to Paulus, will we?”

  “No, ma’am. Wherever Kerensky has hidden himself, sooner or later he’s going to fulfill his threat and head towards the Imperium capital system. Primus System.”

  “So we’ll either get there first and secure the surrender of the Imperium, or head Kerensky off somewhere in between. Either the Gimps geek and let us through, or they’ll be caught between Third Fleet and the Black Ships. Hopefully they’ll geek before Kerensky’s renegades sacrifice too many sophonts to their dark gods or embodied bad thoughts or whatever you want to call them.”

  “That’s… that’s a tall order, ma’am.”

  Sondra smiled at the understatement. Third Fleet would be operating largely on its own during the second phase of the operation, a long way from resupply, with a smaller force than had been considered enough for the job, and no guarantees they’d arrive to their objective in time to prevent an unthinkable disaster she’d been convinced was not only possible but highly likely. And first she had to beat the Lampreys and throw billions of them into the flames to appease the American people.