“I don’t think I want to know,” Alice said. She’d been taught to respect the rules of war, if only out of simple pragmatism. It would be hard to blame the enemy for mistreating prisoners if enemy personnel were mistreated when they were taken captive. “And I hope this will help you find a way to defeat the virus.”
Bendix nodded. “We think it will,” he said. “Now ...”
It felt like hours before he finally consented to allow Alice to remove the helmet and change back into her uniform. Alice felt as if she’d been put through the wringer, even though she hadn’t really done very much. Basic commands, it seemed, were stronger - and produced more pheromones - than more complex commands. Indeed, the more complex the command, the harder it was for her to produce any pheromones. She was starting to suspect that there were layers to inter-viral communication that were completely beyond her ability to perceive.
“Or maybe there are subtle points we are unable to detect, yet,” Bendix said. “The virus was never allowed to take full control of you.”
Alice nodded, shortly. “I used to own a terminal that wasn’t ... well, it wasn’t mine. My grandmother had bought it for me, but she locked out the higher command functions before handing it over. I couldn’t access the higher levels until I was older. There was no way I could customise it for me.”
“An interesting comparison,” Bendix said. “And quite a good one.”
He shrugged. “We will manage to unlock the higher levels eventually,” he said. “It’s just a matter of time.”
“Yes.” Alice felt her stomach rumble. “Is there something to eat around here?”
“I’ll show you to the cafe,” Bendix said. “And then we can decide what to do next.”
“I have to report back to my ship,” Alice said. “Do you need anything else from me?”
Bendix said nothing for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted. He opened the hatch and led them down the corridor. “We’re in uncharted territory here.”
Alice winced, inwardly. She wanted to go back to the ship, to rejoin the marines and ... she’d earned it, damn it. She’d earned it twice. But she also knew her duty. If she was best suited to play the role of experimental animal, she needed to play it. She caught herself before letting out a heavy sigh. She didn’t want to be an experimental animal. She wanted to get out of the asteroid base before someone could suggest she stayed.
“Hey, Doc,” Tindal said. “Do you think you could stimulate arousal in men and women alike?”
“It’s fairly easy.” Bendix didn’t seem surprised by the question. “Arousal is one of the simplest emotions to simulate.”
Tindal grinned. “So you could ensure that I stayed hard all night long?”
Alice rolled her eyes. There were times when she thought that none of the marines had really grown up, although she supposed it shouldn’t have surprised her. Every time they deployed, they knew there was a risk they wouldn’t be coming back. It was rare for a marine to marry, let alone form permanent attachments outside the squad. A certain degree of horseplay was expected, even encouraged. It helped blow off steam.
“I didn’t know that was a problem,” Hammersmith teased.
“It could be done,” Bendix said. “Genital stimulators have been used in various ... ah, clinics for the last few decades. However, you would rapidly start to suffer from physical side effects. You don’t want to know the details.”
“None of us want to hear the details,” Alice said, sharply. “And no, you don’t want one for yourself.”
“Not until you’re old and gray,” Hammersmith chimed in.
Bendix led them into a small compartment and nodded towards the vending machines. “Take what you want,” he said. “Doctor Adamson should join us in a moment or two.”
“Glad to hear it,” Alice said. She understood why the base was largely empty, but it was starting to creep her out. “And then ... what?”
“We’ll see,” Bendix said, vaguely.
Alice eyed him, then turned to the vending machine and ordered a mug of coffee. It tasted foul, but she’d had worse. Another machine offered everything from ration bars to cheeseburgers. They would probably be reconstituted, she decided as she ordered one, but it didn’t matter. She’d learnt, long ago, not to worry about where food came from, particularly in space. It was safe to eat. That was all that mattered.
And Granddad ensured I wasn’t too squeamish, Alice recalled. Growing up on a farm had left her with no illusions. The roast beef she’d eaten the night before she’d gone to boarding school had come from a cow, not the supermarket. He never let me get too prissy about what I ate.
Her lips twitched. She honestly didn’t understand how some of her fellow boarders had managed to tie their shoelaces in the morning. How could they not know where food came from? Mankind needed food to live. Even if someone managed to eat a strictly vegetarian diet, they still had to kill plants to get their food. The poor girls had been so ignorant of the realities of life, they’d practically needed minders. Alice hadn’t envied the tutors at all.
She looked up as Doctor Adamson entered the compartment. “We’ve learnt a great deal from you,” he said. “And we could learn a great deal more.”
“I don’t know how,” Alice said, feeling her heart sink. “I’ve done everything I can, but ... the virus didn’t give me an operations manual.”
“We know,” Doctor Adamson said. “The problem, I suspect, is that the virus normally builds up command structures within the victim’s body. Yours were smashed during treatment and, so far, they haven’t managed to reconstitute themselves.”
Alice tensed. “I thought the infection was dead. Dead and gone.”
“We think so, too,” Doctor Adamson said. “And you were tested regularly, just in case. There’s no sign of the structures trying to rebuild themselves. However ... we have to be careful.”
“I know,” Alice said.
“They’re probably capable of manipulating pheromones to a far greater extent than you,” Adamson added. “You simply lack the control systems to really make use of your new organs.”
“That could be a problem,” Alice said, dryly. “Do you think you can convince the poor bastards down there” - she jabbed a finger at the bulkhead - “to emit the kind of pheromones you need?”
“We don’t know,” Adamson said.
“We can use implants to control someone’s body,” Bendix said. “But it is hard to do it convincingly. Outside remote control is practically impossible, unless we have a breakthrough. I don’t think we can turn one of the infected into anything more than a basic pheromone factory.”
You’re talking about living people, Alice thought. Humans.
She shuddered. She couldn’t allow herself to start thinking of the infected as human. Once the infection took control, they were dead. Dead ... yet alive. She knew just how lucky she’d been to escape the virus’s control. Everyone else ... euthanasia might be the only logical response. No, it was the only logical response. She had to clasp her hands to keep them from shaking. It was monstrous. And yet, it was the only choice. What good was a Conduct After Capture course if the POWs could simply be infected, then restrained until the infection took control of their bodies?
We can’t even trust ourselves to keep secrets, she thought. Anyone can be turned into a traitor once they’ve been infected.
“We will find out,” Bendix said. “And then we will know.”
“For the moment, we don’t think you have anything further to offer us,” Adamson said. “And your ... ability to issue commands might be useful elsewhere.”
“If I happen to stumble across an isolated group of infected,” Alice said. It was clever of the scientists to concede the possibility, but she had no illusions about how hard it would be to turn the concept into reality. Once she started issuing orders, the virus would notice her. “I might end up being killed out of hand.”
“You’re welcome to stay,” Bendix said. “We don’t have many guests
here.”
Alice made a face. “How many people are watching us through the sensor nodes?”
“Thousands,” Adamson said. He didn’t seem too worried, even though he had to know that the entire base would be under observation. There would be no privacy anywhere within the rocky shell. “They won’t be in any danger if something goes badly wrong.”
“True.” Alice allowed herself a moment of respect. If something went wrong - if the virus got loose - the base would be nuked. Adamson and Bendix would be dead before the virus could take over their bodies. She wondered, suddenly, just how many layers of security she hadn’t been allowed to see. “I’d sooner go back to the ship.”
“Just try not to get killed,” Bendix said. “We might have a use for you later.”
If they let me go back to the ship, Alice thought. They might decide I’d be better off elsewhere.
“We won’t let her get killed,” Tindal said. He munched his burger thoughtfully. “And she won’t let us get killed either.”
“We have been working on a few modified stinkers,” Adamson said. “Given a few days, we should be able to produce enough pheromones to stop the infected in their tracks. But we don’t think it will last very long.”
“No,” Bendix agreed. “Not on a planetary surface, anyway. The pheromones appear quite sensitive to local weather conditions.”
“Then perhaps we should concentrate on plunging a planet into a new ice age,” Hammersmith said. “Wasn’t there that concept of ... ah, terraforming Venus by blocking out the sun?”
“It was a little more complex than that,” Adamson said. “And merely reducing the planet’s temperature wouldn’t be enough to stop the virus. We’d need to find a counter-virus, something that can drive the virus out of its hosts.”
“And then the hosts die, because they don’t have brains any longer,” Alice said. She’d seen the autopsies. The infected weren’t under mind control. They literally didn’t have minds. If the virus were to be removed, if its control structures were to be smashed, the host would collapse and die. “We would be committing genocide.”
She took a breath. “And the hell of it is that we might not have a choice.”
“No,” Bendix agreed. “We might not.”
Alice took a sip of her coffee. Years ago, back when humanity had known it was the only intelligent race in the universe, people had speculated that aliens might be so alien that they were literally incomprehensible. There would be war, simply because the galaxy wasn’t big enough for humanity and a completely unpredictable alien race. How could it be otherwise when there was no hope of communications, of finding common ground? And yet, when humanity had encountered aliens, they had found ways to talk ...
She shook her head. The virus was different. It wasn’t interested in political power, it wasn’t interested in trade ... it merely wanted to absorb every other life form into its gestalt. How did one talk to it? How could one convince the virus that it needed to talk? She’d been as close as anyone to touching the virus’s mind and she didn’t have any idea how it could be brought to the negotiating table. Hell, she didn’t even know if the virus had any concept of diplomacy. It was simply too inhuman, too alien, to understand.
It can infect our bodies and puppet them well enough to fool people long enough to carry out attacks, she thought. And yet, it can’t talk to us ...
“We’ll keep in touch,” Adamson said. “And if you have any ideas, feel free to forward them to us.”
“I will,” Alice said. “And you let us know if you come up with anything useful.”
“It may not be possible,” Bendix said. “Security, you know.”
Alice nodded, tartly. She’d seen the BBC’s broadcasts. They hadn’t lied, not exactly, but they’d certainly kept some of the more disturbing facts from the public at large. Alice wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She’d met more than a few civilians who panicked at nothing - her sister was a prime example - but others were far more capable. Besides, it might be good for the civilians to be a little concerned, to keep their eyes out for signs of infection. The virus wasn’t going to be beaten by the military alone.
And the Home Guard might start shooting people on suspicion of infection, she thought, grimly. She’d trained alongside the Home Guard. They were enthusiastic, but inexperienced. And then all hell will break loose.
“I know,” she said, putting the thought aside. “Just get it to us as quickly as you can.”
Chapter Seven
“Well, they’re finally on their way,” Richard said, as he and Monica walked down to the flight deck. “They should be landing in ten minutes.”
Monica nodded. “I’ve got the bunks ready for them,” she said. “Germans and Italians and Americans ... oh, my.”
“We should count ourselves lucky to get the Americans,” Richard said. The Royal Navy and the United States Navy regularly exchanged starfighter squadrons. They used the same equipment, spoke the same language ... the Germans and the Italians used the same starfighters, but would they speak the same language? The last thing he needed was a communications breakdown in the middle of an engagement. “I don’t know the first thing about the Germans and Italians ...”
“Well, Germans come from Germany and Italians come from Italy,” Monica said. She grinned as he gave her a sharp look. “Beyond that, I don’t know. They do meet the basic requirements, don’t they?”
“Yeah.” Richard had read the files carefully. “They’re qualified, but beyond that ... I don’t know how they’ll fit in.”
“We’ll see,” Monica said. She paused as they stepped through a hatch into the observation dome. “And they’ll be just as eager to make this work, won’t they?”
Richard nodded. Germany and Italy had been hit hard during the Age of Unrest, hard enough to completely discredit their pre-war governments and do a lot of economic and structural damage. They’d been lucky their neighbours hadn’t been willing to exert the effort to keep them down, although it had been a close-run thing. Eastern Europe had historical reasons to be nervous of a strong Germany. If they hadn’t been equally worried about the Russians, they might have allied with the French to keep the Germans down. Even so, it had taken both Germany and Italy a long time to build up a presence in space and they were still far behind the Great Powers.
Although that may be about to change, Richard mused. The Great Powers are the ones who bear the brunt of the interstellar wars.
He leaned forward as the first starfighter flew into the flight deck and landed neatly on the metal surface. The Americans weren’t trying to show off, something that suggested a reassuring degree of experience. Only an idiot would try to show off when he was landing on a carrier, particularly an unfamiliar carrier. The Americans hadn’t built anything like Invincible for themselves.
And they may not have to build any, if the Amalgamation goes as planned, Richard thought, wryly. We’ll all be part of the same space navy.
“Interesting,” Monica mused. “They’re definitely an experienced bunch of pilots, but I’d say they were a little rusty.”
“Reservists, according to their files,” Richard said. “The Yanks didn’t recall them until the first Battle of Falkirk.”
“Surprising,” Monica said. Her voice hardened. “Or perhaps it isn’t so surprising.”
Richard winced. Rumour had it that Invincible and the remainder of the task force - a task force that only existed on paper, so far - was going to be thrown to the lions to buy time for Earth to assemble its defences. It was hard to argue with that assessment, particularly as they were receiving pilots who were either reservists or inexperienced graduates. He scowled as the next set of starfighters settled on the landing pad. If they were being sent to sell their lives dearly, more experienced officers and pilots would make the battle a more costly encounter for the enemy. If ...
“Go tell the Yanks to assemble in the briefing compartment,” he ordered. “I’ll join you when the rest of the pilots have landed.”
“Yes, sir,” Monica said.
Richard barely heard her. He was watching the Germans as they landed with a smooth confidence that belied Germany’s lack of a dedicated fleet carrier. The Germans had hastily turned a handful of freighters into escort carriers, if the files were to be believed, but Richard knew through bitter experience that escort carrier operations had very little in common with fleet carrier deployments. He wondered, idly, if the Germans had borrowed a French carrier before the war had broken out. The French were the only ones who might help the Germans, in exchange for later considerations ...
Or maybe they just did it in simulators, he mused, as the Italian and British starfighters landed. They looked wobbly, but resolute. This might be their first time on a real carrier.
The Right of the Line Page 7
