Zero Hour (Expeditionary Force Book 5)

by Craig Alanson

  It was not the height of the Thuranin that intimidated Oostlet and the five other Wurgalan under the dome. It was not even the advanced technology of the Thuranin, nor their visible cyborg enhancements.

  What made Oostlet instinctively tremble, from a place way down inside the still-primitive parts of his brain, was the hulking combot that accompanied each of the two Thuranin. Not only did the combot loom over his scrunched down form, the combots resembled a nasty predator on the Wurgalan home world, a creature which still haunted the imaginations of all Wurgalan. Sometimes, Oostlet wondered if the Thuranin had deliberately given their cyborg-controlled combot companions an appearance that frightened and repulsed their clients; over his years of dealing with the Thuranin Oostlet had come to the conclusion that the patrons of the Kristang had done exactly that. Whether the combots elicited a fear response from the Kristang was unknown; the lizard warriors would never admit to fearing anything in the galaxy.

  Arrival of the Thuranin starship in orbit had come as a complete shock to Oostlet and his fellows; a visit by the Thuranin was almost more unwelcome than the ship that had raided the planet and stolen a priceless Elder artifact. The Thuranin ship was already in low orbit, with dropships descending rapidly toward the surface, before the battered Wurgalan garrison received a signal from the third planet; the cyborgs had jumped in there first, and jumped away soon after learning of the raid. The Thuranin presence in the star system was not in response to the raid; the cyborgs had not been aware of recent events until they were informed by the Wurgalan leadership on the third planet. Whatever the original purpose of the Thuranin visiting the star system, they were now wholly focused on investigating the raid.

  And focused on punishing those Wurgalan who had allowed the unknown raiders to steal an Elder artifact that had been entrusted to the Wurgalan by their patrons the Bosphuraq. Technically, customarily, legally, all authority to punish the actions of the Wurgalan rested solely with their patrons the Bosphuraq, but that would not stop the Thuranin from taking action. ‘Correcting’ the behavior of the Wurgalan would bring shame on the Bosphuraq, which truly was the main reason the Thuranin would insist on severe punishment for those Wurgalan involved in the failed defense of the Elder site.

  Fortunately for Oostlet, he had been on the other side of the planet when the raid occurred, and he was a civilian administrator rather than a military officer. Part of the blame would attach itself to him anyway, but he would likely escape with his life.

  He hoped.

  The pair of Thuranin cyborgs, usually flatly emotionless on the exterior when speaking with other species, were allowing themselves to show distinct anger. “Your forces were completely, shamefully unprepared,” said the Thuranin leader, a female designated Liv-426.

  “I am further shamed to agree, Eminence,” Oostlet responded automatically, for one never disagreed with a Thuranin. Not if, that is, one wanted to live. Thuranin had been known to retaliate against dozens of Wurgalan, for a perceived slight from one. Underneath his carefully placid exterior, Oostlet seethed with outraged anger. Wurgalan forces on the planet had been adequately prepared for the most likely threat scenario. With additional aircraft stationed there for training, the force structure was more than adequate for any of the attacks thought most likely. It was unfair of the Thuranin to criticize the Wurgalan for failing to protect the Elder site from an overwhelming attack. An Elder site, Oostlet burned to say, that the Bosphuraq had abandoned as a useless relic not worthy of protecting.

  Oostlet said nothing about his private thoughts.

  The Thuranin leader leaned forward slightly, as did the menacing combot. “Your guards here were clumsy and cowardly, and your pilots failed to follow basic air combat principles. We are, again and as always, greatly disappointed by the utter worthlessness of your species, despite all the advantages you have been provided by your superiors,” Liv-426 continued.

  Advantages? A muscle on Oostlet’s back rippled in anger before he forced it to relax. Any technological advances the Wurgalan had made had come from observing and reverse-engineering equipment from other species, or by taking in battle, stealing or buying technology from species such as the Kristang. The Bosphuraq had done little to advance the capabilities of the Wurgalan, and the Thuranin had actively sought to stunt the technological advancement of any lesser species.

  Oostlet voiced none of his thoughts. It was not necessary. He knew the Thuranin despised his lowly species, just as he was sure they knew he and all his fellows hated the Thuranin. Ritualistically, he bowed and said the proper words. “It is a great burden to be part of a people who continue to disappoint such great ones as yourself.”

  “Your commander will of course remove herself from future operations, as a result of her failure here,” Liv-426 announced dismissively, as if announcing the impending death of a sentient individual who had done her best under impossible circumstances was not even worth mentioning. Under the Thuranin, military commanders of client species who failed were expected to kill themselves, as atonement for their failure, and as an example to others. Oostlet thought privately that policy only lead to Wurgalan commanders who either took no risks in battle, or were never able to learn from their mistakes.

  And that, Oostlet thought, may be exactly why the Thuranin demanded the death of Wurgalan commanders who suffered defeats. If client commanders were allowed to learn and gain wisdom, experience and perspective, those clients may grow in strength and someday threaten the Thuranin.

  Oostlet kept those types of thoughts to himself, for his own safety and the survival of his species. “Our commander will pay for her failure, per our standard practice,” he replied with a bow, wondering if at that moment, the commander were already dead.

  “Leave us,” Liv-426 waved a hand, and her combot companion mimicked the gesture. As the primitive Wurgalan bowed low and backed away, Liv-426 addressed her companion through a cranial implant, the preferred method of communication between Thuranin. Liv-426’s throat already ached and felt dry from the unfamiliar act of speaking using her vocal cords. “Thex-1138, analysis?”

  Thex-1138, a male who, to non-Thuranin eyes appeared almost identical to his female companion, responded without turning toward his leader. “The data provided by the Wurgalan was nearly complete and unaltered, they only edited out the slowness of their initial response. It is curious; either they do not care that we see how incompetent their forces here were, or they know we can determine the truth independently.” Upon arrival, the Thuranin destroyer had demanded all available data on the recent engagement, and the Wurgalan had complied swiftly if not entirely truthfully. Receiving a data package from the Wurgalan was a mere formality, because the Thuranin had long ago fully infiltrated the data systems of their client species. “The attackers appear to be Kristang, or,” he transmitted an emotional overlay of bemusement, “they wanted the Wurgalan to think they were being raided by Kristang.”

  “How so?”

  “Analysis of flight characteristics of the attacking airspace craft matches those of known Kristang types almost exactly. Almost. Conclusion: either the Kristang have enhanced capability airspace craft, or the attackers used ships of technology beyond that of the Kristang, and artificially restricted flight capabilities to mimic Kristang technology.”

  “Consistent with Kristang using stolen Thuranin technology?” Liv-426 asked without turning to look at her companion.

  “Consistent with someone using technology of our development level,” Thex-1138 clarified. “Perhaps there is an additional level of deception involved; the attackers may have wished us to believe they were Kristang. Perhaps the attackers were Bosphuraq in disguise.”

  “No. If the Bosphuraq realized something here was of importance to them, they could simply have ordered the Wurgalan to deliver it to them. This is Bosphuraq territory,” Liv-426 reminded her companion. Technically, their ship should have requested permission from the Bosphuraq to visit the Wurgalan star system, but relations between the two erstwhi
le peers and allies had deteriorated to the point where Thuranin Central Processing had ordered warships to conduct recon missions in Bosphuraq territory, to keep an eye on their ‘allies’. “Their ground team?”

  “Again, consistent with Kristang, with anomalies. They wore standard Kristang light battle armor, however all of the attackers were on the short side for Kristang warriors, and they moved slowly and clumsily. Their legs,” Thex-1138 added, “bent in the correct direction for Kristang.”

  “So, the ground team at least, was not Bosphuraq,” Liv-426 observed. Having evolved from birds, the Bosphuraq’s ankles were where other bipedal species had knees, making it appear their legs bent in the opposite direction. No Bosphuraq could fit inside a Kristang armored suit, for a variety of anatomical reasons. “Ruhar?”

  “It is possible the attackers were Ruhar,” Thex-1138 agreed although the emotional subtext of his transmission implied skepticism. “Leader, there might not have been a ground team at all. Those armored suits could have been remotely controlled. If that is the case, then any species could have been involved.” Even the insect-like Jeraptha, he added to himself.

  “That is insightful analysis,” Liv-426 praised her companion. “Their starship? What conclusions have you reached?”

  “It was stealthed, of course, and Wurgalan sensor coverage was shamefully inadequate, so information is limited. Again, on the surface the flight profile is consistent with a Kristang starship.”

  “On the surface?” Although all their communication was through cranial datalinks, Liv-426’s lips bent upward in a smile.

  “Based on a rough estimate of the attacking ship’s mass, it must have been a Kristang heavy cruiser or battlecruiser. Trace gases recovered are inconclusive; they roughly meet the molecular profile to be expected for a Kristang capital ship, but could also be one of our own ships,” Thex-1138’s shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “Trace gas analysis was not determinative. The jump drive signature was very curious.”

  “In what way?”

  “It had all the characteristics of a Kristang unit, right down to the sloppy way discoherent radiation leaked at both ends of the jump wormhole.”

  “But?”

  “But it was too perfectly distinctive. It was as if someone wished to mask their drive as a Kristang piece of junk, and pulled together stereotypical characteristics randomly. All Kristang jump drives are flawed in some way; the drive of this ship was too flawed. It could be a drive that is poorly maintained in a manner shocking even for Kristang, or a Kristang ship that sought to mask its own signature.”

  “That is not what you think, is it?” Liv-426 did not need Thex-1138 to send an emotional subtext to read her underling’s thoughts.

  “No, leader. I believe it more likely the ship was not Kristang at all.”

  “That would explain how it got all the way here.” No single Kristang starship was capable of crossing the vast gulfs of interstellar space on its own. Rarely, the Kristang had been known to use multiple, disposable ships to assist one ship in traveling between stars; discarding burned-out drive modules along the way. That event was rare because of the extreme expense, and because almost half the ships attempting such a journey failed to reach their destination.

  Mostly, the Kristang relied on the Thuranin for interstellar transport. Liv-426 knew no Thuranin military ship had brought Kristang to the star system, and no legitimate civilian transport ship would take on a contract to bring Kristang there. That left far too many possibilities. The Thuranin’s own Advanced Research Directorate was known to play dirty tricks the military was not made aware of; if they for some reason wanted to steal the Elder artifact from the Wurgalan, the ARD might have hired Kristang mercenaries and provided them with transport. Or the Kristang could have simply have paid for a ride on a Thuranin smuggler ship.

  Making the puzzle more complicated was the Kristang practice of hiding away warships with crews in cold sleep. The raiding ship could have lain dormant for decades, even centuries, until activated by a code message unwittingly delivered by any passing ship. Disgraced warriors, youngest sons without prospects, and minor clans of falling fortune were known to hide starships in the asteroid belt or Oort cloud of vital star systems, with ships and crews dormant until their clan awakened them at the right moment for a sneak attack. Mercenary groups even parked such ships in space, waiting for tempting contracts for anyone who paid the exorbitant fees.

  In this case, Liv-426 thought it unlikely any Kristang had the patience, or foresight, to park a valuable starship in an unimportant Wurgalan star system.

  The raiders could have been Jeraptha. They could have been anyone. “What else have you learned from your analysis?” Liv-426 asked.

  “If it was a heavy Kristang warship, they used only one maser cannon during the attack. Weapons fire was accurate, suspiciously accurate for Kristang, but the projected power was significantly less than main armament of the Kristang heavy cruiser. And too strong for secondary maser cannons.”

  Liv-426 knew a beam from a maser cannon could be as distinctive as a fingerprint, identifying not only the type of maser cannon, but the individual cannon aboard a particular starship. “Possible identification?”

  “No,” Thex-1138 transmitted an emotional overlay of disappointment, irritation and annoyance. “If I had to guess, it is most similar to the maser battery of our older star carriers, but there are enough inconsistencies to rule that out. Unless that maser cannon was old, poorly maintained, and had been significantly altered during service.”

  Liv-426 made the unnecessary gesture of turning her head to look directly at Thex-1138. “That would be consistent with a star carrier that had been captured by Kristang, without access to spare parts and proper maintenance.” Both Thuranin knew that Central Processing had warned all ships in the fleet to be alert for a rogue star carrier that was suspected of being involved in multiple, unexplained and mysterious incidents throughout the sector. Even Central Processing admitted such reports were little more than rumors based on unconfirmed anecdotes, but such rumors had attracted attention and inquiry from the Maxolhx. Any time the Maxolhx became interested in events in Thuranin space, Central Processing went on full alert.

  “The Kristang are engulfed in a civil war that has consumed their entire society and resources. Why would any Kristang with access to a star carrier bother to raid this site? Surely they would use a star carrier to gain a tactical advantage over other clans.”

  “Because,” Liv-426 explained with an emotional overlay of lecturing a dimwitted subordinate, “they seek a strategic advantage. If a group of Kristang have access to one of our star carriers, and they have somehow discovered how to make use of Elder technology that has evaded the understanding of all other species in this galaxy, they could become extremely dangerous and powerful.”

  “They could dominate their society and quickly end the civil war,” Thex-1138 nodded in appreciation.

  “They might dominate us,” Liv-426 warned. “The Maxolhx would look favorably on anyone who brought them a significant technology advantage over the Rindhalu. The lizards have long chafed at being under our control. This group of Kristang could free themselves, become our peers,” there was no mistaking the emotional overlay of anger. And a touch of fear. “Central Processing will expect us to stop the lizards before this gets too far. The object they took, what was it?”

  “We do not know.” Responding to a sharp look, Thex-1138 added “We know the configuration of the object. We do not understand its function. The object did not respond in any meaningful way during extensive testing, nor did identical objects at other locations. The Bosphuraq,” Thex-1138 glances sideways at Liv-426 to gauge her reaction, “believe the device creates or maintains a connection to other spacetimes.”

  “The Bosphuraq?” Liv-426 was mildly surprised her companion had dared mention the rival species.

  “They have in many cases made more progress in understanding Elder technology than we have,” Thex-1138 said warily.
When Liv-426’s mouth tightened in anger, Thex-1138 hastened to add “Even the Maxolhx consult the Bosphuraq on matters of Elder artifacts.”

  Liv-426 looked away. After a moment, she nodded almost imperceptibly. “The birdbrains do have their uses. Thex-1138, I would not speak so admiringly about the Bosphuraq on an open channel. Central Processing might not understand the subtle difference between you appreciating specific accomplishments of the Bosphuraq, and your assessment of their superiority.”

  “Their superior understanding of Elder technology is a fact. We must, first, deal with facts if we are to surpass the Bosphuraq,” Thex-1138 stated calmly, no longer concerned about Liv-426’s reaction. “Understanding our enemy is the key to defeating them.” Neither of them thought it odd that their supposed allies the Bosphuraq were considered more of an enemy than their official opponents the Jeraptha and Torgalau.

  “That is a true, if dangerous, notion.” Liv-426 then pinged their pilot. “Nicc-1701, prepare for takeoff, we will be leaving. There is nothing more we can learn here.”

  “Acknowledged,” Nicc-1701 responded from the cockpit.

  “There is one thing we do know, Thex-1138,” Liv-426 looked through the dome to the nearly black sky above.

  “What is that?”

  “We know what the attackers were seeking. And we know the one here,” she pointed to the wrecked artifact, where the object had been cut away, “is not the only one.”

  Chapter Five

  Hans Chotek ultimately approved our planned raid of target Bravo, after wasting three days by asking stupid questions and imposing a condition that I didn’t like. Because Skippy knew exactly where the Thuranin satellite was located and he had demonstrated he could make our cranky jump drive perform a medium-distance jump with pinpoint accuracy, I wanted to hit the target immediately. Jumping directly in from far outside the system would give us the advantage of complete surprise.