The Landfall Campaign (The Nameless War)

by Edmond Barrett

  “Alright, that’s the weakness. What’s the advantage?”

  “If they are supplied out of Dryad, there is a better chance that at least one or two modern ships will be available should the Rizr try something.”

  “I see.”

  “It’s a compromise deployment,” said Lewis dourly, “in the worst possible sense of the word. It reduces the border patrolling to the point of impotence without reliably strengthening Dryad. There is still going to be a lot of opportunities for the Rizr to make a move at the risk of only facing a handful of clapped-out ships.”

  “Maybe so Admiral Lewis, but it is something we can sell politically,” Clifton replied.

  “There is one last thing in relation to Dryad. We need to find a replacement for Admiral Shibanova,” Wingate said.

  “Why I thought he was…” Callahan looked confused.

  “Health reasons,” Wingate replied simply.

  “I’m sorry to be callous but there is very little point in sending a replacement for a sick man, to a posting that is likely to prove fatal,” Lewis said quietly.

  “Christ’s sake Paul!” Wingate objected.

  “Shibanova’s good,” Lewis replied with a shrug. “If it hadn’t been for that cancer, it’s likely he would have been one of the people sat at this table today.” He looked directly at Wingate. “Sir, we need anyone competent enough to run Dryad on the Nameless Front.”

  “I’ll send instructions for him to clearly nominate a successor out of the officers he has available,” Wingate said eventually. “As soon as we can, we’ll send out a relief. Although that might be awhile.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Come the Deceiver

  20th March 2067

  “How long are we talking here?” Commander Willis asked as she looked down the length of Hood’s port side engine room. With the ship docked and the reactors operating at minimum output, the engine noise was little more than a background hum, barely audible over the noise of the engineering crew hard at work. They’d only docked thirty minutes earlier but already all the access panels along the port side were open and a number of major components were being run out from their housings.

  “We should have the Number One Engine running again by end of third watch Skipper. Then barring any other problems, we’ll move onto that flaring problem with Number Three,” replied Chief Engineer Guinness as he wiped his hands on a grubby rag.

  “It looks like you’ve got things well in hand,” Willis commented. “You and your team are getting faster with the coils.”

  “Well no excuse at this stage,” Guinness grunted. “If you can’t get the hang of replacing ignition coils after having to do it three times, you’re never gonna get it. I just hope this set holds for a while. There’s a hell of a lot of other bits that need attention. The black water system springs most immediately to mind. Then there’s that wobble in the centrifuge and the environmental control on Deck Two…”

  Despite herself Willis sighed. While she found the Chief to be an easy person to get along with, not to mention a fine engineer, actually talking business with him was depressing. Hood’s engineering problems were continuing with monotonous regularity. For every three days the ship was capable of operations, another day was spent doing repairs and adjustments. The pattern was much the same for the rest of the squadron. By her own rough count, in the six and a half months they’d spent on Dryad station, they’d only clocked up about twenty days where all four ships had been simultaneously fully operational.

  Despite the background noise the Chief heard her sigh.

  “Respectfully Ma’am, I know you aren’t happy with these problems,” Guinness continued, “but they do have a silver lining. They keep the crew busy and well…I think we kinda need that.”

  “Something you’d like to tell me Chief?” she asked.

  “I’m not going to name any names Ma’am,” he replied, “but this crew is mostly made up of reservists. A lot of them seem to think if they aren’t actively fighting someone, they should be able to go home.”

  “Chief, the alternative to being here is the Nameless front where they would be fighting. No one gets ‘to go home’,” she replied frowning.

  “I don’t disagree with that, but it is natural. I served on this old girl during the last war and we spent most of it orbiting Earth waiting for the day it all hit the fan. Let’s just say a bit of work keeps people from moping. It would help Ma’am, if the news from home was a bit more regular, just something you might want to mention to the Admiral.”

  “Not really something in my control, or his but I will pass it on.” Willis paused and added, “You’re a reservist yourself Chief. How are you holding up?”

  “Ah, it’s different for me Skipper. No wife - not any more anyway - and I’m a granddad, not a dad. It’s harder for some of the younger fellers. Y’know wives and husbands, moaning on, when are you coming home? The kids don’t remember you. Haven’t you done enough? All the usual complaints.” Guinness shook his head, “One of the girls hubbies filed for divorce, with custody of the kids.”

  Willis let out a hiss of irritation, “Why don’t people tell me these things? I can’t do anything about things I don’t know about! Who is it?”

  “She confided in me Skipper and doesn’t want it going public,” Guinness replied evenly. He added with a shrug, “reading between the lines, I think it was a marriage heading for the rocks when we shipped out from Earth. There’s nothing we can do Skipper. The courts probably won’t move on it while she’s out here.”

  “Alright Chief, but keep an eye on that one. If we have to get her home, we have to get her home,” Willis replied.

  “Look on the bright side Skipper. At least we don’t have to worry about the ghosts.”

  “I’m sorry. Run that past me again Chief.”

  “First Battle of Pluto, we got a bit of a slapping covering the retreat. The Port side sponson took a direct hit and the whole gun crew was killed. Some people reckoned the sponson was haunted after that. Y’know, cold drafts, odd sounds, that kind of thing. But for my money there was probably a small hole that they didn’t manage to fix. I know I never heard any more about haunting after they removed the sponsons,” Guinness cheerfully explained..

  “You are a mine of information Chief,” Willis replied looking at her watch. “I have to go. I want to look in at the bridge before I head into a meeting.”

  On the bridge the main display was operating off an uplink from the main solar system detection grid, showing a high definition view of the whole solar system. The main focus of activity within the system was the mining industry on Dryad Two, but there were other centres of humanity elsewhere in the system, supporting those mines. Dryad Five was a gas giant, orbited by hydrogen skimmers and purifying plants that provided fuel for the entire system. Dryad Four was the home of the water industry that harvested the system’s asteroids. All the while, travelling between the three planets, were slow boats, in-system vessels without any kind of jump drive. The display was a mass of colour codes and lines that would completely baffle the uninitiated. Willis however could immediately pick out the single element that was out of place: a red icon showing Rizr protected cruiser hovering out on the edge of the system. Or at least it had been. Eight light hours out from Dryad Two, they were only now seeing a cruiser that had undoubtedly long gone.

  “Commander are you ready?” Admiral Shibanova said from behind her.

  Willis turned. The Admiral was standing in the bridge entry hatch. He looked out of breath, while his left hand remained clamped for support onto the edge of the hatch frame. Willis made a mental note, but refrained from commenting.

  “Yes sir. Ready when you are.”

  “We need close protection, close escort.” Mister Rourke pointed a single slender finger at Admiral Shibanova for added emphasis. “When the SS Trebal put out her mayday, it was four hours before any of your ships arrived. The crew obeyed your instructions and were murdered for it! In the past four months fi
ve of our ships have been attacked, three of which were destroyed and they nearly took the other two. Now five men, five brave men, have been killed. This may be the newest escalation, but I cannot believe it will be the last or the worst.”

  “If we don’t get close support,” chimed in Mr Khan, the second corporative representative, “we may have to suspend sending ships, until we do. That means deliveries of fuel to Dryad Two will stop.”

  “Please, Mr Khan,” Shibanova replied tiredly, “let’s at least keep threats plausible. You cannot stop routine transits. If your transports stop coming here to deliver fuel, they won’t be able to collect food and other supplies needed by the outer settlements.”

  “Admiral Shibanova, please,” objected Admiral Kinnear, “no one is making threats here. Mr. Rourke and Mr. Khan are merely stating a very valid point. The corporations have responsibilities to their employees and are also subject to rising insurance premiums. I do feel you need to take a more proactive approach, within the limits of practicality of course.”

  “But of course.” There was a weary note in Shibanova’s voice as he replied to Kinnear, before turning back to the representatives. “I understand your concerns gentlemen. They are fully valid, but I work within limitations. I have but four ships, four old ships. I cannot provide close escort to every ship in the system. That is simply not on the table.”

  “Then what is being offered?” Khan asked.

  “Random patrols. My ships will start intercepting your slow boats, spend a few hours with them, and then jump away again.”

  “I’m not sure I follow,” Kinnear said. “How is such an escort anything other than a fig leaf?”

  Willis glanced towards her superior, to see his response. Shibanova looked desperately weary, as well he might. The meeting had already lasted three hours and only now were they starting to get to the real issues. The rest had been so mundane that, at least in her opinion, Kinnear should have been dealing with it himself. Her face was almost sore from forcing herself not to frown at Kinnear. He knew her Admiral’s energy was now limited but that wasn’t stopping Kinnear from calling meetings that pointlessly dragged on for hours.

  “When one of their protected cruisers arrives in the system to raid, it follows a pattern. It spends several hours holding position at the edge of the system, giving its sensors time to build up knowledge of our activities. Of course being at the edge means the picture they get is hours out of date. If they start seeing my ships join slow boats randomly, then they cannot be sure that when they jump deeper into the system they won’t find themselves confronted by a warship.”

  “That’s not exactly a water tight screen,” Rourke complained.

  “Yes it is something of a gamble…” Kinnear started to add.

  “Gentlemen,” Shibanova cut him off, “you are telling me what you want. I am telling you what I can deliver.”

  “So four ships at a time…” Khan started to say.

  “One ship,” Shibanova interrupted again. “I will only send my ships out in pairs and maintenance issues will only allow for one pair at a time.”

  The looks of approval that had briefly appeared on Khan and Rourke’s faces disappeared.

  “What about the ships from the Aèllr frontier that come here for repairs?” Rourke asked.

  None of the three officers rushed to answer that one. It was an awkward subject, one that not even Kinnear was prepared to blunder in to.

  “Those ships are here for repair,” Shibanova replied eventually. “They’re not a part of my command.”

  “But…”

  “They are not a part of my command. I am giving you as much as I can gentlemen. Do not ask for more.”

  Shibanova was almost grey with fatigue by the time they returned to the Hood. Most of Hawkings Base was a micro gravity environment and had the Admiral been required to walk it, Willis doubted he would have made it at all. As it was, once they entered Hood’s centrifuge she had to discretely steady him with a hand on his arm. Once inside his cabin, he flopped onto his bunk, gasping for breath. Willis watched her superior with undisguised concern. In the six months since their arrival in Dryad she’d watched his health decline, each downward step coinciding with further escalation by the Rizr.

  “It would help if Admiral Kinnear would back you up. Instead he practically encourages them.”

  Shibanova’s breath rasped heavily. He was lying with his arm resting across his eyes.

  “The fleet kept him out here for too long. Gone native I think is the American term. He’s too close to the civilian authorities. He’s now more one of them, than one of us,” he replied without moving. “He’s also too used to idea of the Tample as an opponent who can be slapped down.”

  “Well sir, whatever about Admiral Kinnear, Khan and Rourke are right about one thing,” Willis said as she seated herself. “The Rizr attacks are escalating.”

  “Yes. First they tapped us, then they poked and now they are starting to hit us.” Shibanova paused for breath before continuing. “Always they have been ready to back away when we show teeth. This latest move demonstrate that they now believe we lack the means to respond.”

  Two days previously a Rizr protected cruiser had swooped down on the small in-system transport SS Trebal as she prepared to exit the mass shadow of Dryad Five. They must have wanted her intact as the Rizr ship had sent out a boarding party. But in line with Shibanova’s instructions to deny the Rizr the chance to seize human technology, the crew scrammed the reactor, smashed the computer and bailed out. The protected cruiser destroyed the escape pod.

  “We are like an old lion with jackals all around us.”

  There was a tap at the hatch and a petty officer stuck his head in.

  “Sorry to interrupt Ma’am. Commander Horan wishes to inform you that the cruiser Antarctica has just jumped in. She’s signalled that they have a problem with their secondary communications transmitter.”

  “Thank you PO.”

  “Ma’am, there’s something else. The Commander is asking if you could come up to the bridge.”

  “Go Commander. I will leave you to work out the deployment.”

  “Yes sir,” Willis replied as she stood up to leave. Hesitating at the cabin hatch, she added: “you’d better get some rest…” before realising Shibanova was already asleep.

  “What is it, Commander?” Willis asked as she entered the bridge. “Does Antarctica have something extra?”

  “No Ma’am,” Horan replied, “Antarctica is just the usual. She’s heading for the repair docks. What I wanted to show you is this contact here,” he said as he pointed into the main holo. “It’s an interstellar transport. It jumped in about an hour ago. According to the transponder it’s the Olivia.”

  “Don’t remember any ship of that name being here before.”

  “No Ma’am, it’s never been here before. That wouldn’t be a big deal but its transponder is squawking a wrong registry number as well.”

  “What do you mean wrong?”

  “The number would indicate it is Starloader class.”

  “But?”

  “Its engine profile looks like an Olympus class transport, one of the new ones. I suppose it could be a Rizr ship trying something.”

  “That’s pretty unlikely. It’s probably nothing. Someone’s just done something stupid.”

  “So, we take no action then Ma’am?” Horan said dubiously.

  “Oh no,” Willis replied with a firm shake of her head. “No, we aren’t allowing any unidentified ships approach. Contact Onslaught and Typhoon. Order them to intercept that transport and challenge it. When it turns out to be human, impress upon the captain that we would have been well within our rights to start shooting. I’m going below. Contact me if there are any more developments.”

  Three hours later Willis finished work on a patrol schedule that would give the most cover without wearing too heavily on the squadron’s engines and sent if off for the Admiral’s review. She’d just sat down to dinner when there w
as a tap at the cabin hatch.

  “Come in.”

  Commander Horan stepped in and closed the hatch behind him.

  “Ma’am, sorry to interrupt but I need to speak with you.”

  “Is there something wrong with the intercom?”

  “No Ma’am, but I felt it better not to put it across the system,” Horan explained. “We’ve been contacted by the captain of that transport.”

  Willis started to say something scathing, then stopped. If it was simply civvies whining, Horan would have given them short shrift without bothering his skipper.

  “That ship is Battle Fleet, one of ours.”

  “A support ship?”

  “Apparently not. Her skipper has asked permission to board. He wants to brief you and the Admiral. That’s as much as he’s willing to say. His name is Commander Vincent Espey.”

  “Vincent?” Willis exclaimed.

  “You know him?”

  “We’re old friends,” Willis paused. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise. Alright Alex, tell him he has permission to board.”

  An hour later Willis was waiting at the top of the personnel passageway when Vincent’s familiar face came into view. He guided himself in and saluted smartly, although his military bearing was slightly spoiled by the huge smile on his face. She’d known him for over ten years and yet he still looked the same as that first day at Fleet Academy. Dyed blond hair and a permanent tan, he always looked more like a professional surfer than any kind of military officer. After a moment she realised he wasn’t in either the fleets’ working or dress uniform. Instead he was wearing worn jacket from one of the small commercial lines.

  “Permission to come aboard?” he asked.

  “Granted, but what’s this?” she asked tugging at his lapel. “Did you get a better offer elsewhere?”

  “Just keeping things discrete Faithie,” he replied with a smile.