The Syracuse Deception

by T. S. Williams

  He offered her a warm beverage and gestured for her to sit. “So…. You and I need a long chat about what is going on out here in the void. But before I’m ready for that, I find myself in need of some advice”.

  She looked at him a little aghast. She hadn’t expected any confidences to be shared with this man.

  “Alright. What kind of advice?”.

  “Our rescue mission has thrown up some loose ends. What’s the intelligence view of our new guests?”.

  “They are our best and worst chance to avert an interstellar incident”. Athena paused to order her thoughts. “The Blight’s behaviour has radically changed. There was much more thought behind this trap than usual”.

  She paused to sip her tea “When you acted on my call for help, you upset the plan. A relief force from Laurentia, should have walked into a fight with the Lakedaemians”.

  He gestured for her to continue.

  “If there are other similar incidents along our shared border, we might already be at war. The people on this ship from both nations might be the only ones who know the real culprits to any aggression. In this situation, I think we use the Admiral to try and get both nations back from the brink”.

  He leaned back and sipped his strong black coffee thoughtfully. He’d expected Athena to be more interested in swifting the Lakedaemians off to the back of beyond for a long ‘conversation’. However a chance to shore up the kingdom’s current foreign policy was welcome. Particularly as when he got home he be answering for flying so completely in its face.

  She finished her drink “Anything else, Commander?”.

  Magnus took the opening offered “Yes. Once Doctor Stamp has cleared our new guests, I’m going to interview the Admiral, personally”.

  Athena looked unimpressed “Who was your interrogation lecturer?” she asked sarcastically.

  “It was a post grad self-study course.” Magnus looked rueful “Really not my skill set. So I’d like you to watch over”.

  “Unexpectedly wise. When?”.

  “In about eight hours. I need a good sleep before I try and get anything from a Lakedaemian Flag Officer”.

  She got up, moved to the hatch. Magnus thought he would be left in peace, but over her shoulder she said “How long until you can drop me and my package off?”. She continued into the passage without waiting for his answer. The more he interacted with her, the more needlessly abrasive she became. Perhaps the discipline necessary to not give herself away in the field came at a price.

  He awoke eight hours later, slightly dreading the upcoming conversation. His mind’s eye ran through the ship’s intelligence database looking for a briefing on Admiral Hecate as he hurriedly showered. The report he found was depressingly short, which only added to his negative feelings.

  An admin headache was forming up in his inbox. Procrastination, aided his morale, in the precise opposite of institutional wisdom. If paperwork didn’t know it was being ignored, it couldn’t hurt him. He slipped away from his cabin and decided to combine two jobs with one.

  Rather than take breakfast alone he set off to the mess deck. He could improve his mood with food and take the crew’s collective temperature after a dramatic few days. Just two people would normally run the ship at condition two. Even at condition one accepting a huge amount of computer support, a single person could run and fight the ship in a pinch. Consequently, eight people were in the mess hall.

  The first thing Magnus had noticed was that a number of tables had been pushed together. Dreadnought’s whole understaffed crew could have eaten at the same time with room for the Lakedaemians to boot. A chair at the head of the table had been respectfully left unused. It was a polite invitation for the Commander to join them, which he was glad to partake in.

  He grabbed a tray, strolled over to an extruder station and ordered. One coffee, strong like a rhino, two rolls, one bacon with Pee & Lemming sauce, one sausages with brown sauce. A breakfast for champions. And Starship Commanders.

  He slid into his implied chair. Jack Armstrong was sitting on his right, Greg Jones to his left. “Morning Skipper” from them both.

  Their conversation was a welcome break from new Blight strains, interstellar incidents, assorted grave causes for concern, acerbic intelligence officers and lost foreign Admirals. Their good natured banter washed over him, Armstrong was arguing strongly it wasn’t really his fault the delta-two assault shuttle had been irradiated beyond recovery and that Greg Jones should not recommend to the Admiralty they add the time to replace it to his century of service. Particularly as those bureaucrats would take as a good idea, having no joke detecting capacity whatsoever.

  “If I have to serve fifteen more years of this shit, I’ll glue your feet to your eyelids when you’re drunk”.

  Hmm, mild threats of violence. Magnus thought it was easy to tell when you’re a Para’s mate.

  Jones, replied “I’m a Flight Lieutenant, you’re a Corporal. It’s I’ll glue your feet to your eyelids when you’re drunk, Sir”. He paused “And who’d fly you to pubs then, hmm? Is revenge worth a life of sobriety?”.

  “Nothing’s worth a lifetime of sobriety!”.

  As happens often between friends, the conversation jumped topic.

  “How about meat?”

  “What?”

  “If you had to give up meat, or alcohol, which would it be?”.

  “I’d kill anyone who get between me and beer or steak”.

  “Doc Stamp better watch out at your next medical then. You’re getting a bit round for a Para”.

  “Don’t make me gut you, fly boy”.

  The moment of normality passed. Armstrong and Jones left for their posts. Magnus proceeded down to the interview suite.

  Manipulation was the key to any good intelligence interview. Make the subject feel comfortable. Appear sympathetic, then sit back and listen to the words that spill forth.

  This time, interview room no. 1 was configured with three comfortable chairs and a well-stocked coffee table. No room for note taking. Laurentians could record everything via mind’s eye. It gave a subtle advantage to the home team.

  Rather than give away Athena’s status and presence aboard, she set herself up in the observation suite. Sensors from the interview room fed back the emotional state of the subjects based on heartbeat, body temperature, sweating and brain activity.

  Hecate was brought in by a slightly over attentive Thresher and politely introduced to Magnus. She’d slept, showered and been provided with a clean Lakedaemian uniform from the extruders. She looked composed and ready, which was more than Magnus felt.

  In Magnus’ mind’s eye, the sensor read outs confirmed her heart was at resting rate and no sweat was detected. Hecate probably realised Dreadnought’s Commander would not have rescued her crew, just to push them out an air lock.

  She spoke first after introductions “Kind of you to risk the Blight to rescue us, Commander”.

  She paused then with a just smattering of sarcasm “And so lucky you were in the area. I though all of Laurentian battlecruisers were part of the decommissioned Patrol Flotilla. Shouldn’t this venerable old lady be rotting in orbit around some backwater”. She was starting out with the tough questions.

  His mind’s eye bleeped “Time to lie. Tell her you received an SOS drone sent by Spirit’s crew” was the terse message send by Athena.

  He smiled “Not luck I think, Admiral. Misdirection. Dreadnought was undergoing routine testing. He had to make sure the mothballs were working properly. We received an SOS drone from a merchant ship, Spirit of Free Enterprise”.

  He paused and looked embarrassed “We were the nearest ship by a long margin. The drone may have been tampered with, but interstellar law requires a humane response. We jumped in through Coppinger’s Graveyard and followed her out into interplanetary space. The crew were all dead when we caught up with her. Most died by vacuum exposure, the rest gunfire. The Blight revealed itself. I was trying to escape when you arrived and were set upon”.


  She looked pained and her heart rate spiked at the mention of her raw defeat. “We weren’t there by accident. We were drawn here too. We were deployed for large scale pirate activity. A veritable raiding fleet. I expected a High Guard battle group massing on our border, tired of the Treaty of Good Faith, ready for war”.

  A small tear formed in the corner of her left eye. She blinked and spoke quietly “Forgive me. A lot of good people died because I didn’t see through a ruse by the Blight”. She took a deep breath “It normally acts like a virus. This is devious enough to be human”.

  From the observation suite, into his mind’s eye, Athena kept up her ruthless commentary “She might even be genuine about that. Or just really good at acting”.

  Magnus nodded, in a way he hoped was encouraging. It was hard to hold a conversation in his head and one in real life “Yes Ma’am. It took us by surprise too. This strain seems far more dangerous than most”.

  Another message through his mind’s eye “Good now seal the lie”.

  Magnus continued “If you hadn’t triggered that trap, we’d have died in your place. Or we’d have been tricked into fighting each other. We were too far away to help you but we saw your shuttles escape down to the moon. What happened to the others?”.

  “We only had limited survival rations. They sacrificed themselves before they knew of your presence. A noble gesture, now even more tragic”, Hecate stayed on message.

  “Absolutely not true. That’s….” Athena paused, lost for words “horrifying” popped up in the corner of his vision.

  “I think we need to get you and your people home. You can warn your government and I, mine. We need to pour soothing oil on these troubled waters before an incident becomes a war”.

  “It may be too late. When I took my force out, it had been after days of reports of High Guard ships harassing our merchant shipping. Other naval assets were on the move to interdict what we thought were hostile Laurentian vessels”.

  “Seems unlikely she’d give away fleet readiness so easily. Could be a bluff, her readings are ambiguous again” flipped up in his mind’s eye.

  “We are can drop you off in Socotra System. We understand your fleet has a small but well-used post there”.

  “OOH! Well bluffed Commander” slid across his vision.

  Hecate replied in a strangled voice “We weren’t aware that was known outside our own fleet’s circles”.

  “Nice confirmation” Athena seemed momentarily impressed.

  “That many supply ships are hard to hide”.

  Hecate’s tone became suspicious “Why should I trust you, Commander? How do I know this isn’t all some bluff? Your ships rigged to give out fake Blight emissions”.

  Magnus nodded “Good question, Admiral. You saw my crew fight and kill those ships. I don’t have any more proof than that”.

  “I’ll think on it, on the way to Socotra”, Hecate passed, then continued “When we arrive, try and resist just barging in” she warned. “It’s a young system. Lots of particulates. Sensor returns will be poor. Someone might shoot down a Laurentian ship there and not bother asking questions”.

  “Noted, I’ll approach sub light from interstellar space. No jumping in system”.

  Chapter 11

  An event horizon burst into existence just outside the Socotra system. After a few picoseconds, it expanded to a cylinder 1609 metres in length and 167 metres in radius. In brief flash of radiation, 6.8 million tonnes of starship appeared. She accelerated gently along her flying course, stretching her sensor tail into shape.

  In Dreadnought’s CIC, Magnus had assigned himself the watch. He’d was accompanied by Harry Bainham at the Sensors post and Arnold Wrigglesworth at the Flight post. Atypically, Magnus was running the ship from the Tactical post with smart missiles and gamma cannons ready to go. Just in case harsh negotiations were called for.

  As expected, Socotra was a small system. The gas giant was barely a gas runt. The three rocky planets were dry and lifeless.

  With scans complete, Magnus was satisfied there were no immediate threats, he directed Dreadnought to cross into the Socotra system proper, using a stealthy approach until a Lakedaemian presence was confirmed.

  The hours wore on, crossing half a solar system, even a small one took days. Unfortunately, Dreadnought was fated to find trouble. After nearly eight hours in system, flares of weapons fire and drive plumes were detected near Socotra 3. The battle’s light was already old by the time it reached the ship.

  As more sensor data was accumulated, events became clearer. Two low tech frigates were fighting each other to death over Socotra 3. Dreadnought’s contact database identified them as of the eighty-year-old Hoplite class. They matched each other shot for shot, neither quite seeming to gain an advantage. Like two retired boxers, each knew all the moves even if their punches weren’t quite as telling. The tell-tale emissions of large scale infestations of Blight radiated from both.

  It seemed there was competition between Blight strains.

  As the planet below rotated to show an ever-differing surface, Dreadnought picked up evidence of the expected base.

  Eventually, one of the two frigates gained a momentary advantage. It’s missiles slammed home into its competitor’s main drive. The stricken frigate ceased evasion and more missiles followed the first, ripping it apart. The survivor seemed to enjoy a pyrrhic victory. Her own drive lost power and she began spiralling down to the planet’s surface.

  Hours later, her final impact was surprisingly gentle and well-aimed. She came down only a few kilometres from the Lakedaemian base.

  Magnus decided he’d need to talk to Admiral Hecate again. Blight strains fighting each other, it implied something of immense value was present.

  The meeting in interview room no. 1 went ahead without further delay. Athena had grudgingly agreed to observe at short notice.

  “Commander, I see we are deep in system. You didn’t heed my warning. This is not a place to blunder about in”.

  “Admiral, forgive my abruptness, two Blight ships just fought to the death over Socotra 3. One survived long enough afterwards to crash near your base. What’s worth fighting for down there?”.

  Admiral Hecate paused, gathering her wits before sharing interstellar secrets “A number of special …… projects proceed from this location. We thought it was out of view from peeping Toms”.

  Magnus prodded her “The fate of our species is hanging in the balance, Admiral. The time to be coy passed over Salmis four”.

  “A number of the projects were really baring fruit. One was our effort to duplicate your reactionless drives. Linked but separate, our effort to improve jump drive performance near large masses. Another was to trying to improve our battle suits”.

  “The Blight seems to have got its hands on plenty of ships with a reactionless drive, I doubt it cares about power armour”.

  “There may have been more projects. Ones I didn’t have a need to know” she said offhandedly.

  “Was there anything on the planet before your base. We know you’ve been down there for over two centuries”.

  Hecate smirked “It’s closer to four centuries, that I know of. It could be longer. Rumours have recently surfaced amongst the senior military, there’s a vast archeo-tech facility buried deep, almost down to the mantle. I’ve never heard anything official”.

  She smiled ruefully “We know Laurentia has ruthlessly exploited its own archeo-tech caches. We wanted to do the same”. She paused, swallowing her pride “It’s been a struggle unlocking it’s potential. I was hoping to get dropped off without giving away our prize”.

  In his mind’s eye Athena spat out “Say nothing. Just nod. Never interrupt an enemy when they were making a mistake. Or a source who was handing out free weapons grade intelligence”.

  He followed the advice, trying not to fill the space in the conversation, encourage her silently to keep talking.

  “One project I know of that did succeed is about to be very useful
”.

  “Sounds interesting?”.

  Just when he didn’t want an interruption, he heard a chime in his mind’s eye, Harry Bainham had sent an urgent message. “Skipper, we’ve detected movement at the crash site. Blight constructs appear to be converting parts of the wreck. Activity is ramping up”.

  Through his mind’s eye he linked to the Tactical post. Dreadnought’s smart missiles faced over an hour’s flight. Far too slow. The light speed gamma cannons weren’t effective at that range. He replied to Bainham “I want ground strike on the Blight shipwreck. This is your launch authority. Make it happen. Fast”.

  He settled back in his chair contemplatively. The Admiral spoke first “It’s easy to tell when you’re using the computers in your head. Your faces all go so blank”.

  He said nothing, just looking at her. Waiting.

  She eyed him again then astutely said “You are going to put a shore party down in the base. You’ll bomb the shipwreck, then try to find out what the Blight are after”.

  “I’m thinking about it. I don’t have the numbers to take and hold the facility. It’ll be a raid, not an occupation”.

  “I can’t stop you, even if I wanted you too. And I don’t want to” she said as a matter of fact. “One project experimented with replicating Blight emissions”.

  “What for?”.

  “We were trying to trick it. Avoid it’s attacks. Protect our people. Maybe even infiltrate it for a change”.

  “Did it work?”.

  “We had limited success. The big infestations were too smart to trick. The small infestations, like people or person sized machines could be fooled for a few hours. After a certain time period, a new cipher seemed to come into use. We could never figure it out quick enough to avoid detection”.

  “Can we replicate it here?”

  “Yes. An experimental system is built into the armour suits of my Hippeis”.

  “Your what?” he face showed his confusion.