His eyes drifted to the second tramline. There was probably a flicker platform there, but - even if there wasn’t - it was unlikely to matter. The enemy could slip a cloaked ship into New Washington and jump from there into the other occupied system, taking the shortest route between the two systems. He scowled, wondering how the tactical planners had missed that. They’d been so focused on the flicker network that they’d missed the simpler answer. His fingers danced over his console, updating the steady flow of observations to the jump-capable drone. If something happened to Unicorn, if they didn’t make it home, they wouldn’t die for nothing. He intended to make sure of it.
“I’ve zeroed in on the enemy fleet,” Hannah said. She was young, so young Mitch wasn’t sure how she’d been promoted so soon, but she knew her job. “There’s no hint they’ve moved.”
“There wouldn’t be,” Mitch said. He shared a glance with Staci, who was manning the tactical console. It wasn’t common to have the XO also serve as a departmental head, let alone a bridge officer, but Unicorn was too small to have the roles assigned to separate people. “Tactical, your assessment?”
“We’re too far out to get anything more,” Staci said. “I recommend we move closer.”
Mitch nodded. “Helm, take us in as planned,” he ordered. “Be ready to shut down our drives or evade if we pick up even the slightest sniff of enemy ships within attack range.”
“Aye, sir,” Hinkson said.
The air on the bridge grew tense as Unicorn started to glide into the enemy system. The crew spoke in hushed voices, when they spoke at all. Mitch knew it was silly, as there was no way the enemy could hear them, but there was no point in commenting on it. Besides, it was better to maintain discipline than risk someone doing something that would alert the enemy. The latest passive sensors were supposed to be able to track something as tiny as a datanet signal pulse. Mitch had his doubts - the signal would be tiny, barely detectable - but he didn’t want to take chances. The entire mission depended on the corvette getting in and out without being detected.
He kept his face under tight control as the enemy ships grew on the display. Mitch had made a career out of taunting bigger ships than Unicorn, yet even he couldn’t help a frisson of fear as the enemy ships took shape and form. The battleships were monstrous designs, bristling with giant plasma cannons and missile tubes … each capable of obliterating Unicorn with a single salvo, if they so much as guessed at her presence. The brainships carried less offensive firepower, but their designers had crammed hundreds upon hundreds of point defence cannons and sensor nodes into their hulls. There were so many sensor nodes, Mitch thought, that they’d actually interfere with each other. He hoped that was the case. The more he looked at the enemy ships, the more he feared the worst.
“Deploy the second sensor platforms,” he ordered, quietly. “And hold us here.”
“Aye, Captain,” Hannah said.
Mitch watched the sensor display as more and more data flowed into the tactical computers. It was impossible to tell when the enemy intended to move. They’d wrapped their ships in a sensor haze that would make it difficult, if not impossible, to get any closer. He’d hoped to slip a probe right through their formation, but the risk was too great. They’d have to make do with what they could see from a distance.
“As long as the ships hold position, we should have no trouble tracking them with optical sensors,” Staci pointed out. “The missiles should be guided right to their targets.”
“And we’ll have to overwhelm their sensors,” Mitch agreed. The brainships could put out more point defence firepower than anything smaller than an orbital battlestation. They could fire off so many pulses that there was a very good chance they’d take out most of the missiles even if they didn’t have solid locks on their positions. “That’ll be tricky.”
“I think we can tailor our seeker heads to their systems,” Staci said. “As long as they don’t open up their formation, they should have problems coping.”
Mitch nodded. “Hannah, can you pick up anything from the planet?”
“No, Captain,” Hannah said. “The planet appears to be completely dead. There’s no hint the enemy has a presence on the surface, let alone the original colonists.”
“Crap.” Mitch had hoped they’d be able to make contact, although he hadn’t placed any real faith in it. The colonists had every reason to be paranoid. They’d be more likely to stay underground for the rest of time, if they could. “Did the virus just blow up whatever it could see from orbit?”
“Unknown, Captain,” Hannah said. “Our current position doesn’t allow for optimal observation.”
Mitch frowned. It was out of character for the virus to simply drop nukes or kinetic projectiles from orbit. The virus didn’t have to worry about spreading itself too thin. It could just infect the entire colony, turning the population into helpless slaves. It certainly didn’t need to worry about leaving garrisons behind to keep the planet under control. Why bother? Once the system was infected, the concepts of freedom, independence and resistance would be gone for all time.
“Keep an eye on the planet,” he said. It was unlikely the colonists would risk signalling, and he couldn’t reply unless he was sure he was dealing with allies, but it went against the grain to just abandon the system. “Helm, hold us here, but be ready to move if there’s a hint of enemy contact.”
“Aye, sir,” Hinkson said.
Mitch studied the display, cursing mentally as the constant sensor watch told him things he hadn’t wanted to know about their weapons and defences. Their communications were odd, a strange mixture of a constant flow of information mingled with a strange quiet. A human fleet at rest would be exchanging messages all the time, from official orders and backchannel requests for information to private communications between lovers and friends. The virus didn’t need to do anything of the sort, he reflected sourly. It was one entity that broke into a multitude of smaller entities and reformed into one as easily as he changed clothes. There was no individuality amongst the infected, no sense that any of them were different. The dark ships chilled him to the bone. It was all too easy to imagine the virus steadily spreading from system to system until it overwhelmed the entire galaxy and turned it into a single entity.
Imagine a boot stamping down on a human face, forever, he thought. Now, imagine a world where there’s no need to stamp down …
“Captain, I picked up a faint signal burst from Tramline Two,” Hannah said. “I think I’ve located the flicker station.”
Mitch glanced at her. “Can you confirm?”
“No, sir,” Hannah said. “Not without getting a great deal closer. But it’s in the right place for a flicker station.”
Mitch checked the display. They had twenty hours before Lion was supposed to make transit and link up with them at the RV point. He would have preferred longer, although he supposed there was little in the system that merited examination. The enemy fleet didn’t seem to have a logistics element. That puzzled him, if only because the fleet might take New Washington only to be tossed out again by a human counterattack. The virus would have to resupply its ships … he glanced at the trackless wastes of interplanetary space and made a face. An entire fleet train could be hiding there, utterly invisible.
Or it could be on the far side of Tramline Two, so they have a buffer between New Washington and their supply base, he mused. They could just bring them forward as soon as they start the offensive.
He frowned. “Helm, take us towards the flicker platform,” he said. It was on the other side of the system, hours away. “We’ll leave the sensor platform here.”
“Aye, sir,” Hinkson said.
Staci glanced at Mitch. He had no trouble reading her unspoken message. The sensor platform was light-years ahead of anything the virus possessed, as far as anyone knew. If it fell into enemy hands, if they so much as got a good look at it, Mitch would be staring at a full-fledged court-martial. It would be hard to blame the brass for wanting him
put in front of the nearest wall and shot, he reflected sourly. The human race’s only real advantage lay in tech. Giving the enemy a chance to close the gap probably merited a fate worse than death.
We’ve no choice, he thought, as Unicorn started to move. They’d keep their distance from the alien ships as they plodded towards the tramline. We can’t be in two places at once.
He felt the tension start to rise again as he kept his eye on the tactical console. The enemy fleet was holding position - there was still no hint they knew Unicorn was there - but they were steadily gliding towards a second tramline. Mitch was tempted to jump through and scan the system, even though he had strict orders not to take the risk. It might be important to know if the enemy fleet train was there, waiting to move forward. Or … he wondered, suddenly, if they’d overestimated the enemy fleet train. The virus had overwhelmed at least four alien races, judging by the zombies they’d faced since the first catastrophic encounter, but it might not be used to fighting multi-system powers. It might not have realised it was currently waging war against three multi-system powers.
Or perhaps that’s nothing more than wishful thinking, he thought. Why bother building a huge fleet if you didn’t think there’d be anything worth fighting?
The thought hung in his head, tantalising him. Humanity had built space navies before it had discovered it was not, and never had been, alone in the universe. But then, humans hadn’t needed aliens to fight. Much of human history involved humans trying to kill other humans. The virus didn’t have that problem, did it? It could no more fight itself than Mitch could willingly chop off his own leg. Why would it bother to build a giant fleet when it had no reason to assume it could be threatened? Who knew? It might be waging several different wars simultaneously.
He felt tired, drained, as Unicorn approached the tramline. The odds of something jumping through at just the right time to ambush them were so low they were literally incalculable, but he still felt edgy. He felt like a mouse trapped on one side of a wall, knowing the cat might be on the other side with a certainty that defied logic. There was no hint the cat was there, but … he knew it was there.
“Captain,” Hannah said. “That’s definitely a flicker platform.”
“We’ll mark it down for destruction when we hit the system,” Mitch said. “Tactical, reprogram a shipkiller for remote operations, then deploy it. We’ll send the engage command when battle is joined.”
“Aye, Captain,” Staci said. Her fingers flew over the console. “A shame we can’t mine the tramline.”
Mitch nodded. Every year, without fail, a politician would come along and insist the navy mined the tramlines. A particularly ignorant or obnoxious politician would come up with all sorts of explanations for the navy’s failure to mine the tramlines, assigning the admirals all sorts of motives that made no sense in the cold light of day. They never seemed to grasp the sheer immensity of the tramlines. Even if the minelayers knew precisely where the enemy ships would materialise, it would be difficult to lay enough mines to take them out. And, even if that worked, the first explosions would clear the minefield, allowing the remainder of the invasion to come forth. It was a great idea, on paper. In practice, it was impossible.
“Helm, take us back to the RV point,” he ordered, once the missile was deployed. “Sensors, keep a wary eye on the passive sensors. I want to know if anything so much as twitches out there.”
“Aye, sir,” Hannah said.
Mitch stood. “XO, I’ll be in my cabin. Pass command to Commander Tucker when his shift begins, then join me.”
“Aye, Captain,” Staci said.
Mitch headed for the hatch, trying not to show his tiredness as he made his way to his cabin and splashed water on his face. It wasn’t his first recon mission, but he would have preferred to spend longer scouting the rest of the system. Not, he admitted sourly, that there seemed to be anything worth logging. The system wasn’t precisely useless - in fact, it could support a major colony - but there’d been no time to develop it before the virus had arrived, smashed the defences and infected the planet.
He shivered, suddenly unsure The virus was … insidious. He understood combat, be it hand to hand or starship to starship, but the virus was different. How did one fight an enemy inside one’s body? The reports made grim reading. A marine, one of the healthiest human specimens in the world, had been infected during the very first encounter. She’d been kept alive, barely. By the time she’d died, the virus had been starting to overwhelm her again. How did one beat an enemy like that?
The hatch bleeped, then opened. Staci stepped in, looking tired. “Sir?”
“I was wondering.,” Mitch said. He keyed his terminal, bringing up reports from the last few years of war. “The virus seems to have relatively few logistics ships.”
Staci raised her eyebrows. “And you think it might be getting a little overstretched?”
“It’s possible,” Mitch said. “The war has been raging for five years. The virus has taken heavy losses.”
“So have we,” Stacy said.
“Yes, but it still has the firepower to overwhelm New Washington and turn our flank,” Mitch said. He’d seen the enemy fleet. Two fleets of roughly the same size could take New Washington. “Why has it lingered here?”
“You might be engaging in wishful thinking,” Staci said. She sounded as if she wanted to believe him, but didn’t quite dare. “It’s alien. For all we know, it’s waiting until the stars are right.”
“I know.” Mitch could hardly disagree with her reasoning. “But if I’m right, we might have a chance to slow it down, perhaps even stop it.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Transit complete, Captain,” Lieutenant Fitzgerald said. “Welcome to Farnham.”
Thomas nodded as the display rapidly started to fill with icons. The enemy fleet was still holding position - or at least it had been, several hours ago. His eyes tracked the ever-expanding probability spheres on the display, calculating that the enemy fleet had to be somewhere within a vast volume of space. There was no indication the enemy had so much as altered position in the last few hours, but there wouldn’t be. He felt his heart start to race as the icons grew sharper. They were going into battle for the first time.
“Captain,” Lieutenant Cook said. “I’m picking up a tight-beam laser from Unicorn. All command and communications protocols check out.”
Which means nothing, when the virus is involved, Thomas thought, coldly. Unicorn might have been attacked, captured and subverted the moment she crossed the tramline.
He scowled, cursing - once again - the sheer lack of knowledge. The navy had done everything in its power to secure starship datacores, but there were limits to how far they could protect them from involuntary traitors. The xenospecialists were still arguing over how much the virus comprehended what it might have gleaned from its new hosts, yet it was undeniable it had succeeded in duplicating IFF codes long enough to get a starship into firing range. The impersonations had never lasted very long, but they’d lasted long enough to cause real trouble. And what few complex precautions the navy had been able to devise had actually hampered military efficiency.
If this goes on, we’ll be utterly unable to coordinate, he mused. We’ll wind up shooting each other instead.
He keyed the display, bringing up the datapacket. Unicorn had done a good job, although her commander had warned they’d been unable to get too close to the alien ships. Thomas wasn’t too surprised. It was never easy to tell when and how the virus would react - it had sent entire fleets after single survey vessels and ignored entire battle squadrons trying to sneak up on it - and Captain Campbell had chosen to err on the side of prudence. Thomas had to smile. A known fire-eater would be understandably pissed at having to stand off and watch from a distance when he could be firing missiles into an enemy fleet, although it was unlikely he’d have been able to do much damage. Unicorn just didn’t have the firepower to tip the scales one way or the other.
“My compliments to Captain Campbell,” he said, “and inform him we’ll proceed with Hammer-3.”
“Aye, Captain,” Cook said.
Thomas glanced at the helmsman’s back. “Helm, take us into firing position,” he ordered. “Mr. XO, inform the gunboats that they are to launch in two hours from now.”
“Aye, Captain,” Donker said.
And hope the crews are really up to scratch, Thomas thought, silently. He’d never been wholly sold on the program. The concept was sound, but a great many other concepts had also been sound … only to flop when they’d come face to face with reality. They’re about to deliberately pick a fight for the first time.
He felt the tension start to rise as Lion glided further into the system. The enemy fleet hadn’t moved, something that worried him more than he cared to admit to his crew. They were just sitting there. Farnham was largely useless, he supposed, but still … a human fleet would have been quartering space for unwelcome eyes or simply lurking under cloak until the time came to move to the next target. Farnham wasn’t worth protecting, either. The virus could easily afford to trade space for time if the humans mounted a major counterattack. It cared as little for the infected colonists on the ground as Thomas cared about his toenail clippings.
His eyes moved from officer to officer. They’d gone through every scenario they could imagine, from the probable to the downright insane, but none of them had been real. The thought nagged at his mind, a grim reminder that Lion was an untested ship with an untested crew. They all had combat experience - these days, it was hard to find a front-line officer who didn’t - but they hadn’t fought together before, not for real. Thomas told himself that they’d drilled endlessly, until they could fight in their sleep. It wasn’t reassuring. The enemy might do something unexpected and catch them by surprise.
The Lion and the Unicorn Page 16
