“So what does this mean?” General Gage asked.
“All we have at the moment is conjectures,” Heather said. “It could be that the Tah-Leen pick off passing ships for unknown reason. We don’t know what, if anything, they did to those ships, or why. It can’t be piracy – Xanadu generates more revenue in a year than the combined value of the all the ships that went missing over the last century, even assuming none of them fell prey to normal warp accidents.”
“Or it could be something completely different,” Ms. Smith countered. “Maybe something in the local spacetime curvature around the system is affecting FTL travel through it. We consulted some astrophysicists and got back several possible explanations. What makes us suspicious is that the disappearances tend to occur at the same intervals: between twenty and forty days. Such a steady rate seems too regular to be a natural event.”
“I’m surprised we haven’t lost any of our ships.”
“No American ships have disappeared in Xanadu, but two human merchantmen have. A Columbian-flagged vessel fifty years ago, and one from the GACS about twenty years before them. Both governments launched inquiries but got nowhere with the Tah-Leen, other than receiving a copy of the arrival and departure records. The Hrauwah, who’ve lost a good dozen ships during that time, also got nowhere with their investigations. Anyone who pushed matters further was threatened with the loss of transit privileges through the system. Most Starfarers will simply let the matter drop at that point. All of which is somewhat worrisome under the current circumstances.”
“So we are heading into what may be a trap of some sort, and there is next to nothing we can do about it,” AIC Petrosyan said, her expression showing how little she liked that idea. “We have a six-destroyer squadron for an escort, fifty agents in the protective detail, thirty master-at-arms aboard the Brunhild, and the Marine company we brought along for a dog and pony show. What was the most heavily-armed ship among the missing?”
“The most notorious disappearance involved a multi-ship formation about two hundred years ago. A Lutarri five-vessel task force,” Heather said. “Two light cruisers, a battlecruiser, a troop transport with a regimental-sized complement, and a converted transport carrying a diplomatic delegation. The records of their mission have been scrubbed, but by reading between the lines we believe they went to Xanadu on a mission not unlike our own. A month after their arrival, they officially left the system – and vanished into hard vacuum for all anyone knows”
“The Lizards didn’t declare war over that?” General Gage asked; his use of the Lutarri’s common nickname made Secretary Goftalu frown slightly. “That’s not like them at all. They’ll throw down even over unintended insults to their honor.”
“Not only did they not officially react to the event, they did their best to erase all records of the disappearance,” Smith said. “Our analysts had to piece it together from data that couldn’t be easily doctored or erased. Basically, some ten thousand personnel ceased to exist, along with the vessels involved. We had to retrace their steps by using secondary sources of information the Lutarri didn’t quite manage to eliminate.”
“This is crazy,” the Marine general said. “You’d expect someone to call the Snowflakes’ bluff.”
“The last time someone launched a major attack against Xanadu was four thousand years ago. The Nootari civilization sent a large fleet into the system with the intention of seizing it. Over three hundred warships of all classes went in and were utterly destroyed. According to the records of passing civilian ships that witnessed the battle, the attack inflicted no discernable damage on the Tah-Leen facility. That defeat led to the downfall of the Nootari. Within a century or so, their species and civilization were extinct; most of their former colonies were absorbed by the Galactic Imperium. More recently, a Horde incursion about ninety years ago was also obliterated. I didn’t include their thirty ships and three asteroid bases into the count of disappearances, because those vessels’ fate is on record. They were engaged and destroyed by Xanadu’s defenses.”
Fromm frowned. The Horde were nomadic raiders, traversing space in massive warp-capable converted asteroids. Their ships consisted mostly of captured and scavenged hulks, fitted with whatever weapons they could steal. The incursion Heather was describing would be bad news for a lightly-defended system, or for a small formation like the destroyer squadron escorting the Brunhild, but not against serious opposition. Still, it showed that Xanadu could still defend itself.
“The long and the short of it, ladies and gentlemen, is that we need to prepare for the worst,” Sec-State said. “First and foremost, we must take the greatest care not to offend our hosts, because they are highly likely to respond to any transgressions violently. Secondly, I suggest you work on contingency plans for the possibility we may need to fight our way out of Xanadu. I know the most likely answer is that we’ll die in the attempt, and the US will be in no position to avenge us for at least the short and medium term. But if that is the case, let no one say we didn’t do our best.”
Fromm nodded approvingly at her words. The State Department was generally derided as being the province of ‘rats more interested in talking problems to death than actually accomplishing anything, and who considered fighting to be beneath them, but even they knew that when the shit hit the fan the best thing to do was to fight. Win or lose, the enemy needed to learn Americans wouldn’t meekly accept their fate. That had been a US tradition since First Contact.
“We’ll do what we can,” AIC Petroysan promised. “Captain Fromm and I have already drawn some contingency plans. We’ll reexamine them in light of this new information.”
Fromm cast a regretful glance at Heather.
So much for a pleasure cruise.
* * *
So much for having any fun at all.
Heather McClintock sat down with a sigh and looked at her fellow spooks.
“You didn’t tell your boyfriend about me, did you?” June Gillespie said, just a hint of accusation in her voice.
“Nope. He rejected your advances completely on his own,” Heather told her fellow agent with a smile. “Maybe you’re no longer his type. Assuming you ever were.”
“I turned him down, back in the day,” June said, not looking particularly upset about the whole thing. Her attempt to seduce Peter had been just basic fieldcraft. Test for weaknesses, even among your own people, because a cheater may end up betraying other confidences. The fact that she’d also score points on someone like Heather, whose meteoric rise hadn’t earned her many friends at the Agency, would have been mere icing on the cake.
“None of us have the plumbing to engage in a proper pissing contest,” the third agent in the room said in a bored tone.
Senior Special Agent Debbie Smith looked like what she normally pretended to be: a middle-aged, overworked chief of staff who wasn’t vain enough to spend her government salary on the rejuv treatments that could keep her looking twenty-nine for the rest of her life. Besides performing her official duties, Smith was a CIA operative who used her position in the State Department to handle dozens of covert agents, double-agents, informants and assorted other assets. Heather had no idea how she managed to do both jobs, and do them well. SOPHINT – Sophont Intelligence – was Smith’s specialty, although she’d also been known to dabble in Operations when circumstances required it. This assignment might well be one of those occasions.
“So let’s get down to business, shall we?” Smith went on. The three women were in her cabin; as work acquaintances, this after-hours gathering wouldn’t raise an eyebrow even if someone noticed it. And this room had a grav-wave disruptor field that made sure their conversation remained private.
“Yes, let’s,” Heather agreed, ignoring the hostile looks from the junior agent.
She didn’t care for June Gillespie; the woman was just the kind of dilettante that the Agency often attracted, people bored with mundane life who went into field work to have some adventures without the combination of tedium and da
nger that a military career entailed. Most of them didn’t stay for long; they lacked the patience to move up the ranks and the intestinal fortitude to make the tough choices that sort of work often demanded. Ms. Gillespie had joined the CIA shortly after graduating at NIT. Her career at Boeing and this later posting at the State Department had been part of her cover. Her track record wasn’t very impressive, and there probably would have been bad blood between her and Heather even if the woman hadn’t made a move on Peter.
“I’m here to brief you on the Agency’s own contingency plans,” Smith said. “AIC Petrosyan will do her best, of course, but I think we can all agree that no conventional solution is possible if the Tah-Leen turn out to be hostile.”
“You can say that again,” June said. “Peter and his jarheads may be able to slaughter primitive aliens by the cartload, but they aren’t going to do much against an advanced civilization.”
Tell that to the Vipers, Heather thought.
“On the other hand, what do you expect us to do?” June asked. “Hack into a two-hundred-thousand-year-old civilization’s systems?”
“Software development seems to have been relatively stable over the last few millennia,” Heather said. “The Puppies have done some innovative work along those lines, but they are the exception to the rule.”
“And finding out the Tah-Leen are another exception could get us killed. Not to mention derail the diplomatic mission.”
“Nobody is going to try anything unless the situation deteriorates or I decide otherwise,” Agent Smith said. “We have the new implants. That may give us an edge even over our ancient super-advanced alien hosts.”
“Warp telepathy,” June said in a dismissive tone. “I haven’t noticed any difference since the procedure. From what they told me, I thought I would have gained magical powers by now, or lose my mind, most likely both.”
“Your new imps haven’t been activated yet,” Smith explained.
Heather frowned at that. “The briefing didn’t mention they needed to be activated.”
“That was an extra safety feature. It also helped weed out the overly-suggestible among the end users. Anybody who started complaining about hallucinations and other issues had the implants removed before they were activated.”
“Nice. So when are they going online?”
“Tonight, as a matter of fact. I want to make sure you are all right before we make our next warp transit, which is due thirty hours from now. The first ten to sixteen hours are the worst. I know that from experience, by the way.” Smith’s grin was utterly humorless. “It was about as unpleasant as my first warp jump, as a matter of fact.”
“How truly great,” Heather said.
June looked vaguely ill, but she didn’t demand to have the implant removed, which showed more courage than Heather would have given her credit for.
“Once they are activated, we are going to run some simulations to see how you handle the new systems. Our contingency plans are directly related to those simulations. If things go south, we will attempt to take over the habitat’s primary systems. If the Tah-Leen decide to kidnap or murder us or both, we’re going to try and turn off the lights – and life support – until they cry uncle or everyone is dead.”
“Including us.”
“Sampson and the Temple. Ideally, we convince them to let us go, but if that is not an option, we burn their house down with everyone inside.”
“I can live with that,” Heather said.
* * *
It was chasing her. She ran in the dark, as fast as she could, but it was like moving through molasses, and she could feel it getting closer and closer. A vast presence, cold and merciless. And hungry. One touch and it would devour her, body and soul.
“Huh!”
Lisbeth Zhang didn’t scream. The sudden waking exhalation was loud, but it wasn’t a shriek. For several seconds, she leaned forward, hands on her knees, panting, cold sweat running down her face. At least she hadn’t woken up screaming in uncontrollable horror. Progress. The first time she’d almost given Nando a heart attack; it was probably one of the reasons the two pilots had stopped seeing each other. He’d started waking up screaming as well.
She got herself under control with some effort. The dreams didn’t hit her very often, but every time they did, it was rough. They brought her back to her earliest childhood fears, to the first time she’d felt small and helpless in the face of danger. But that wasn’t the worst part, not by a long shot. What got to her was the certainty, even now that she was fully awake, that what she’d just experienced was as real as the mattress under her body or the canned air she was breathing, as real as the stars in the sky and the dance of the atoms. There were things in warp space, and she’d lingered there long enough to attract their attention.
The chase was on. Awake and sleep, in warp or in the real world. The chase was on. And sooner or later, it would reach its inevitable end.
“Just deal with it, Marine,” she told herself. “If they ever catch me, I’ll make them sorry they did.”
Empty words, but they made her feel a little better. Running in fear had never been her thing, not as a child growing up in the mean streets of Fugeetown in Providence, RI, the second-largest city in New England, which wasn’t saying a lot. Not running away had often gotten her beaten up, but she’d always made sure the bullies went home with a little something to remember her by. A black eye of their own, bruised testicles, a scratched cornea one time. That unwillingness to retreat had gotten her far at New Annapolis and in the Navy, and now in the Corps. In her dreams, she might be driven by terror into running, but if she had any say about it, she’d stand her ground and face whatever came her way.
Yeah, whatever. Just dreams. You’re hero-signaling over some stupid nightmares.
She knew that was a lie, but sometimes lies will keep you going in spots where the truth will just paralyze you like a deer caught in the headlights.
Going back to sleep wasn’t an option. Lisbeth rolled off the bed and to her feet, sat down on her work armchair, and lay back as her imp flooded her senses with sights and sounds. No new emails, unsurprisingly since she’d last checked her inbox a whole four hours ago. No personal or professional business to tend to, since she was on detached duty on a freaking passenger ship, with nothing to do except rub elbows with assorted ‘rats. She’d had a couple of fun evenings with Captain Orlov, but he was in the Cromwell now, and it wasn’t like she could hijack a shuttle and pay him a visit. That only left staying in her room and catching up on her media.
She hadn’t revisited her C.S. Forester collection in a while; she’d read Mr. Midshipman Hornblower during her first year in Annapolis – it was part of the suggested list – and gotten addicted to the series in short order. Maybe that would help her relax.
Before she could access her library, a faint but familiar tingling in the back of her head made her sit up. There were others nearby. Others like her. Warp Adepts.
Until a few moments ago, the seven ships in the task force had one Adept besides herself, and thirty-five Warp Sensitives. The latter were all part of the Navigation Departments of each vessel. Navigators’ exposure to warp was greater than most people; as a result, their perceptions had been altered, even enhanced in some ways. Adepts went beyond that. Lisbeth suspected she and her kind were no longer fully human.
Ever since boarding the Brunhild, she’d picked up on someone on a higher level than a navigator but not quite as dialed-in as a warp pilot. She even knew who it was: the Secretary of State’s Chief of Staff, of all people. Lisbeth had kept that knowledge to herself, though. For one, the pseudo-Adept in question hadn’t detected Lisbeth, and the last thing she wanted was to bring attention to herself. Only her fellow pilots really understood what she was going through. She’d seen Adepts who’d gotten too chatty about their abilities and ended up being poked and prodded by assorted research weenies, missing out on flight time and in a couple of cases removed from circulation altogether. No way she was goi
ng to bring down that sort of crap on herself. She’d left the woman and her mysterious vibes alone.
And now there were two more. They had sprung into existence at some point after she went to bed.
That should have been impossible. It had taken months of brutal conditioning, a multitude of warp exposures, and hefty doses of exotic drugs and nanite treatments to turn her into what she was: a human being capable of performing multiple jumps in and out of warp space without losing her life or mind, along with other gifts and curses she was still in the process of discovering. How could someone be exhibiting those traits all of a sudden?
Somebody’s been playing with fire.
And, predictably enough, those somebodies had gotten burned. She could feel the two newbies were in trouble. Her connection with them wasn’t as intimate as what she had with her fellow pilots, but it was close enough to feel the waves of terror and pain coming off both of them. Uh, oh.
To reach out to them would be to risk another bout of nightmares that were probably real enough to hurt her. To mind her own business and ignore their plight was another form of running away, though.
She reached out.
Lisbeth immediately recognized one of the people undergoing the frenzied mental struggle. Heather McClintock, the State Department puke who’d turned out to be a better than average grunt and an all-around decent person. Also some sort of spook, although she’d made a point of never admitting to it. And now McClintock’s mind was in turmoil, as her fears came to life all around her. The other newbie was undergoing the same battle. And the third one had jumped in to help them and had gotten caught in the same trap instead. Whatever they’d done to themselves, it’d exacted its price while they slept. She had to help them.
She used the meditation techniques she’d learned in warp-flight school to detach her perceptions and focus them on the three victims. Flashes of their nightmares flashed through her mind like a poorly-edited VR production, old memories and imaginary fears come to life. They were just like what people experienced during warp travel, except while in the normal space.
Warp Marine Corps- The Complete Series Page 70
