“I want to bring all of this to an end.”
“Then you can help us remove the Thieves from the world they have stolen from us.”
Caine looked at Marshall, and said, “They stole it from you?”
“It was promised to us, Captain Marshall, by our sacred ancestors who discovered it. After a voyage of centuries, long hardships, we hoped to build a new civilization to replace that which was destroyed on our homeland. We arrived to learn that the planet was already occupied.”
“Must you wipe them out?” Marshall asked.
“Initially, we wished to live in peace, and requested to build a settlement far away from them. We hoped to share the world, as you suggest, but they opened fire on us, and we were forced to retaliate. Since then the war has progressed, and we are close to victory.”
“And you will only settle for the destruction of the enemy?”
“Tell me with all honesty, would you trust them? They will survive, and breed, and there will be endless war. Better that we purge them now, remove them forever, end them as a threat. Then we would be willing to welcome you to our space.”
“You would?”
With a smile, she said, “We are not mindless xenophobes, Captain. Humans must stand together; the people of the surface have forgotten the lesson that our ancestors died to learn.”
“Humans?”
“It’s true,” Duquesne said. “Looks aside, she’s as human as you or I.”
“Of course,” Caine said. “No wonder we were fooled. Her people came from Tombstone, in the colony ship. They made it.”
“You have visited our former homeworld?” she said, shaking her head. “It is a shameful place. What we did to our home was terrible.”
“It was war, then?” Marshall asked.
“Between three factions, who unleashed weapons of fearsome devastation that destroyed the biosphere of our world, making it impossible to survive on the surface. Only the space colonies survived, and it was obvious that we could not last forever. The decision was taken to join forces and leave the system, to make a fresh start elsewhere.” She looked down, and said, “It is our shame.”
“We came close to doing it ourselves,” Caine said. “We were luckier than you were; we made it through that period.”
“Three times we, too, danced around the abyss, but eventually we stumbled. You might not have escaped yet, though you have advantages we lacked.”
“Faster-than-light drive,” Marshall said.
“What you call the hendecaspace drive is a marvel, Captain. We would trade much for its secret, and certainly would be willing to open peaceful relations for it.”
“Your appearance?” Caine said. “How?”
“Once it became clear that we were to operate in zero-gravity for an extended period, the decision was taken to adapt ourselves. We were, long ago, highly advanced geneticists, though much of the knowledge has been lost over the centuries. The additional arms, the curved toes, are useful, and there are alterations in our brains to make us immune to what you call spacesickness.”
“Why do you need a planet, then?” Duquesne asked. “You couldn’t use it if you had it!”
“These modifications are made after birth, not before. When I was in the womb, I would have resembled you.” She sighed, and said, “One day we will be able to produce normal children once again, and can reclaim our world, though it will be for them, not for us. I can operate in a gravity field, but not a strong one.”
“Must it be this world?” Marshall asked. “There are other planets, better suited than Haven for you.”
“You would move our population? There are ten million of us, Captain. Besides, why should we be the ones to be denied our birthright?”
Duquesne looked up from her workstation and started to laugh, her eyes widening, and turned to Marshall.
“What the hell is so funny, Doctor?” Marshall snapped.
“They’re both from the same damned planet, Captain!”
“What?”
“Mitochondrial DNA doesn’t lie. I had Logan send me up a sample, and it matches with the tests I’ve run on our four-armed friend here. And the samples we got back on Tombstone.” Turning to her, she said, “So, your people deserve that planet, do they? Good news, they already own it,”
“Doctor…”
“All of this has been for nothing!” she yelled. “Two centuries of war, millions of dead, two cultures smashed to pieces, and all of it for nothing!”
“Are you sure?” CA-41 asked.
“Of course I am. This isn’t even advanced technology. They could have done this test before the invention of the hendecaspace drive.” Duquesne looked at Marshall, and said, “Leave them, damn it. Just one more stupid dysfunctional family.”
“We didn’t know.”
“Your genetics…”
“How much science do you think survives seven hundred years? A population of ten thousand can only keep so much, and we were almost wiped out more than once during the trip. Our adaptations, those are automated, the same techniques we have used for generations, but we would not dare to tinker with them.”
“Will this change things?” Marshall asked.
“I will need to contact my superiors, and they will need to be convinced of the veracity of this information. They will insist on a fresh series of tests, and live subjects – but they will listen to such testimony, Captain. Honor will demand it.”
Looking at Duquesne, Marshall said, “Prepare a new series of samples, and walk our friend through them every step of the way. Once that is done, you can contact your fleet.” He paused, then said, “In English, though. Trust’s a scarce commodity at the moment.”
“You wish to be sure that I do not betray you? Captain, if what you have told me is true, then it changes everything. We know they ventured across the stars in a genetic ark, and that technology was within the grasp of our ancestors.”
“They’ve been there for two thousand years,” Caine said. “You had the capability to launch such an expedition that long ago?”
“There are no records of such a flight, but over time, records are lost. This system was known to us as a target for a trip, however, and had been for millennia. There had been probes, long-range surveys.” Sighing, she said, “That is why I said you were luckier than we. After we had explored our system, we had no easy way of leaving it. Had we developed the hendecaspace drive…”
“Then likely you would have reached Earth, maybe a thousand years ago.”
“I must conduct the tests. Our fleet will be upon us in a matter of hours.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
She smiled, and said, “Your assault gave me the opportunity to speak to my ship. Right until the end, it was still receiving updated tactical data. Including details of your hostages, Captain, who are alive and well.” Turning, she said, “Let us work quickly, Doctor.”
Duquesne looked up, nodded, and said, “Get over here, then. I need another swab.”
“I’ll leave you to it. Work fast.” He stepped out of the room, Caine hurrying alongside, and said, “At least we’re beginning to make some progress now.”
“We’ve convinced one person who is currently on board our ship. I don’t think that’s going to end the war.” She looked at him, and said, “I doubt the Seekers are going to be our biggest problem, anyway.”
“You might be right about that,” he replied. “Hopefully by now our tame spy will be ready to help us solve the other one.”
Chapter 21
“I’m getting too old for these commando missions,” Logan said as the truck juddered over a particularly deep pothole, throwing him against the canvas side.
Singh looked up at him with a smile, and said, “It reminds me of old times. During the Andean Pacification, I spent months in terrain just like this.”
Shaking his head, he replied, “Old war stories? From what I heard, that was some of the most vicious fighting to take place on Earth before the Interplanetary War.”
“Only for the first few weeks. After the insurgent leaders had been captured, we only had to mop up. A glorious summer in the mountains, the jungles and the villages. The people were welcoming, the climate pleasant, the ruins mysterious.” He smiled, and said, “I was much younger then, only recently commissioned.”
“Who was she?” Logan asked with a smirk.
“As I said, I was a lot younger in those days. The last I heard she was a grandmother.” He sighed, then said, “A world that no longer exists, I fear.”
The truck bounced to a stop, and the two of them rose to their feet with difficulty, footprints squelching in the mud outside. Gaxric pulled back the canvas sheet, and gestured for them to step out; Logan climbed to the ground with care, trying to find some solid surface to stand on, while Singh simply jumped down, water splashing over his boots.
“We’ve got about a mile to walk from here,” the rebel leader said. “As far as we can work out, no-one has spotted us yet. How long are you going to need to keep that laser set up?”
“Until the missiles come flying. We’ll have to set up a hidden position, keep well out of sight.” Pulling his jacket closed, he continued, “Preferably with some sort of shelter. It’s getting cold out here.”
“It’ll be dark soon,” Gaxric said, “and we have rain forecast.”
“Excellent,” Singh said. “That should keep the guards in their barracks for a while. The less visibility we have, the better it will be.”
“Better for them to ambush us as well, remember,” Logan said.
“Are you always this pessimistic?”
“What do you think they taught me in secret agent school?” Looking at the thin trail cut into the jungle, he said, “Let’s get moving. This is going to be quite a hike.”
Nodding, Gaxric gestured to a young man holding a rifle, and the two of them started down the track, cautiously moving from step to step, their eyes darting around for potential threats. Logan followed, looking around more with curiosity than fear. He knew enough to watch for loose twigs or anything that might make a noise, but as for anything that might live in this jungle, his imagination was his only guide.
He glanced back at Singh, who was stalking through the undergrowth as though reliving his past; his old jungle training must have come back to him in a hurry. Logan had never even walked on a world without a spacesuit, not as an adult, and certainly not in combat conditions; he tried to cast his mind back to old, half-remembered novels and movies, trying to remember what the form was.
On the map, this trip had seemed like a short excursion, a twenty-minute walk. Common sense had warned him that it was likely to take rather longer, but they had barely taken thirty paces when the path made a sharp turn to the right, around a tight thicket of trees.
If their route was going to be this entangled, it was going to take a lot longer than he had hoped to get through. With a loud crash overhead, rain began to fall, first in thin trickles, then heavier and heavier, running down the back of his neck. He began to shiver as he tried to pull his jacket tighter, but it didn’t seem to be helping.
The path, never very promising, quickly collapsed into a sea of mud they trudged through, his feet squelching with every step. He didn’t have to worry about loose twigs any longer; instead he tried to conjure up the hot shower he would have when he got back up to Alamo after all of this was over. He shivered again, looking with envy at the stolid Singh, who continued to stride through the undergrowth with purpose.
“Quiet,” Gaxric said, raising a hand. “I think I hear something.”
The group froze, slowly kneeling down, and Logan reached for the pistol at his belt. In all of this mirk, he might get away with a single shot if he was lucky. Singh had his gun in his hand, but Gaxric slid a slender blade down his sleeve, the weapon dropping into his hand, held by the blade.
Up ahead, a shadow was moving in the trees, heading in their direction. Every second they were still was a cold agony, the wet mud beginning to seep through his shoes, his body shaking. He tried to line up a shot, steading the pistol on his arm; no matter that it wasn’t the correct stance, it was the only way he might hit what he was aiming at.
Gaxric moved first, throwing his blade through the air, a brief glint from a stray sunbeam as it curved towards its target, digging its edge into the target. Logan raced forward to him as the body tipped silently into the mud; the rebel walked forward and retrieved his blade, then pulled a dark vial from a pocket and began to carefully apply it to the knife with a brush, leaving a finger-hold at the end.
“There’s nothing native to this world that a human can eat,” he said, “but there’s a hell of a lot here that will kill you.” Waving up the vial, he said, “The sap of one of the trees. Brush against it with your skin and you’re a dead man.”
“Let’s hope he’s the only guard,” Singh replied, hurriedly searching the body. He pulled out a boxy communicator and stuffed it into a pocket, then took the pistol from the guard’s holster; he hadn’t even had time to draw it before he died. “Ready?”
“Let’s move,” Logan said. Gaxric led the way once again, the three of them carefully stepping over the body; he made sure to mark the location so it could be recovered later, when all of this was over. All the guard had done was be in the wrong place at the wrong time; at the very least they could arrange a decent funeral for him.
On they trudged, slowly crawling through the jungle as they made their way to their objective. Occasionally Logan caught sight of a better path, a clearer way forward, but Gaxric made sure to avoid it. While he longed to step onto the wooden slats and out of was becoming a mudbath, they had to stay as clear of the patrols as possible.
Half an hour later, the rebel stopped again, dipping his fingers down into the mud and smearing it over his face; nodding, Singh did likewise, carefully painting a pattern across his cheeks and forehead. They looked over at Logan, gesturing at the path by his feet.
“Come on. Camouflage,” Singh whispered.
Logan looked down at his muddy jumpsuit and tried to resist the urge to laugh, but dipped his fingers into the cold, messy ground and started to rub it across his face, keeping his mind on the shower he was earning more and more by the moment.
Moving cautiously back, Gaxric said, “We’re about a quarter-mile from the refinery. There’s a small rise, but we’re not going to get much of a view from here. How close do you need to be to get your laser lock?”
“Distance isn't important,” Logan said, “I just need line of sight. I could do it from here if it wasn’t for all these damn trees.” He glanced up, then said, “That’s it. How high is the canopy here?”
Nodding, Gaxric said, “A good hundred feet, nice and thick. You’d get a great view from up there, even in this weather, and they certainly don’t patrol it.”
Singh rubbed a hand against the slimy bark and said, “How are you going to climb it?”
“I’ve got a rope,” Gaxric said, unwinding a coil from around his belt, “but only just long enough.”
“We’re going to need some pitons, then,” Logan said. “Some way for me to get a foothold.”
“You’re going up there?” Singh said, frowning. “Have you ever…”
“I used to go climbing when I was a kid, and you’d be surprised how often that particular skill has come in handy over the years.” He looked at the tree, at the lower branches, and said, “I think I might just be able to pull this off.” Sliding his knife out of his pocket, he switched blades to a hook. “Singh, tell me you got one of these when you duplicated my kit.”
Nodding, he pulled out his knife, switched it to the same blade as Logan, and said, “I’m not sure it will hold your weight in this gravity, though.”
; “Both of them together should. Keep watch at the bottom. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve set this up.”
“How?”
“I’ll drop nuts on your head or something. We’ll work that out later.” Looking up, he said, “I ought to get a much clearer signal through to Alamo as well.”
Taking the rope over his shoulder, he dug the first of the hooks into the wood, carefully testing his weight on it. He wouldn’t want to be depending on it for long, but it was tough and hard, difficult to get the diamond hook into; this plan might actually work. He tied the rope around himself, testing the knot, then went back to the tree. The second hook went in a little higher, and he pulled himself off the ground, cursing Isaac Newton and anyone who had ever conjured up gravity as his shoulders started to ache.
Up he climbed, slowly and painfully, making his way up to the first set of branches he thought might support his weight, a good fifteen feet above the ground. Below, Singh and Gaxric were standing, looking up him, urging him on, and he reached across to the thick branch, grabbing on, and almost immediately slipping off, the slime worse up here than down on the ground. He hung on for a second from one hand, the hook making disturbing noises, before swinging back into the trunk, digging his hook in.
If all of the branches were like that, his original plan to take rest breaks wasn’t going to work. He looked up at the top of the tree, taking a deep breath; it seemed like an eternity away, and a little voice in his head was urging him to make his way back down, to think of something else, but sneaking through all the outer guard patrols could take hours, and lead to a lot more deaths. This way, he’d get the job done, and only risk himself.
Reaching up again, he dug the hook into the wood, pulling himself up hand over hand, trying to shut everything out except the trunk, the hooks and his hands, pushing with his feet whenever they found something to give him extra grip. Another fifty tugs should see him up to the canopy, and he counted them down, one after another, pulling himself up until his arms were growing exhausted.
There was a rustling below, but he couldn’t pay any attention to that, had to keep his focus. If anything was going wrong on the ground, there were two good people who would be able to deal with it down there, who could hold anyone off for long enough for him to make his ascent. Not that anyone could likely follow him, anyway; he was doing something very primitive with some very sophisticated kit.
Battlecruiser Alamo: Ghost Ship Page 20