“We’ve found what I believe is their main control room for the sensor array on the roof,” he said. “There is definitely comms gear routing through it as well. We have to hope the kit they have in this building is their only way to speak to the spaceship above and also to anything further afield. It’s going to take time to figure out how it works.”
“McLeod and Byers are good, sir and I’m convinced they’ll do what you ask of them.” She hesitated. “Do you think you’ll be able to fool the crew of the enemy spaceship?”
“We’re going to have to. Red-Gulos sounds up for the challenge. In truth, I think he’s itching to prove his worth.”
“He doesn’t need to do that.”
“We both know it. I’m not going to hold him back. I have no desire to speak with the enemy myself.”
“There’re several hundred years of language divergence to overcome.” She laughed. “I wish I could be there to overhear the conversation.”
“I’ll let you know how it goes, Lieutenant. Over.”
He couldn’t stop himself from crossing to watch McLeod and Byers at work. It was plain to see they weren’t comfortable with the arrangement of the console.
“The language modules are struggling, to cope,” said Byers. “When the dictionary isn’t clear on the translation, it makes guesses. I thought the guys behind the modules were cleverer than this.”
Duggan recognized the frustration in her voice. “There’s nothing much they can do when they lack the necessary examples of alien script needed to construct their programs. This is what we have to work with.”
“I’ve got something,” said McLeod. He leaned forward in an oversized metal-framed chair a few paces away.
“What is it?”
“The beginnings, sir. This is a record of their inbound and outbound communications over the last few days.”
There was a list on one of the many screens. Duggan stared at it, trying to make sense. Some of the words were clear, but not enough for him to grasp the entirety of the messages. He called Red-Gulos over and the Ghast strode away from his position and joined the three of them at the console.
“Can you understand this?” asked Duggan.
The visors on the Ghast spacesuits were clear and Red-Gulos took on an expression which Duggan was beginning to recognize as a frown.
“Some. There are other words which are less familiar.”
Red-Gulos fell silent for a while, though his eyes never left the screen of text. Duggan was impatient and found it hard to keep his mouth closed. After what seemed like an age, though was in reality less than two minutes, the Ghast spoke.
“They sent a series of messages approximately two days ago to an unknown receptor, stating they detected the presence of gamma radiation near the wormhole. Afterwards, there’s another message describing the destruction of a planet – which we named Glisst - a short lightspeed hop away from here. Later, there’s a communication to describe the arrival of an unidentified spaceship into the atmosphere of Nistrun.”
“I didn’t think our activities would go undetected,” said Duggan. “What else was there?”
“There was a response, asking for confirmation on the location of the spaceship.”
“That can only be the Crimson they’re referring to. Did they give details of where we came down?”
“The installation controller advised that the Crimson was damaged, but they gathered insufficient data to state with confidence exactly how damaged.”
“There’s no mention that we crashed here on Nistrun?” asked Duggan with growing excitement.
“None – the installation simply states that we skimmed across the planet’s atmosphere at an unexpectedly low altitude. They provided details of several likely destinations, none of which suggest we might have landed on the surface.”
“Lieutenant Chainer is one of the best comms men and he only just caught sight of the base,” mused Duggan. “Perhaps the enemy saw nothing more than a glimpse of us. It’ll be damned good news if that’s how it happened. What are the subsequent communications?”
“There is an inbound communication stating that many warships are heading to this sector. The first scheduled to arrive is named Valpian – the vessel our tank detected as a ghost. This installation received further orders to keep a watch out for the Crimson’s reappearance.”
“Do they quantify the number of ships they’ve sent this way?” asked Duggan. “I’m curious to know what they think of us and how much of a threat they think we are.”
Red-Gulos grunted with grim humour. “It’s top secret, apparently.”
“They don’t want their own forces to know who we are?”
“Their high command is unlikely to know for themselves, Captain Duggan.”
“True. What other messages are there on this audit list?”
“The Valpian made the controllers of this installation aware when it arrived. The installation responded with a standard acknowledgement. There are several similarly mundane communications, until we reach a period covering the few minutes since our arrival was detected on the perimeter of this base.”
“Here’s where it gets important,” said Duggan. “What did they say to each other?”
“The installation controller attempted to advise the captain of the Valpian about our attack. The spaceship did not respond immediately.”
Duggan spoke without daring to hope. “It must have been out of comms sight.”
“The controller made several more attempts to send an urgent message to the Valpian, with a similar lack of response.”
“Why didn’t they speak to central command and control?” Duggan wondered aloud.
Red-Gulos uttered a barking, guttural laugh. “They tried, Captain Duggan. They initiated a transmission a few minutes before our tanks broke through their outer wall. The transmission wasn’t completed.”
“The building must have depressurized at exactly the moment they tried to send their emergency broadcast!”
“That would be my conclusion,” said Red-Gulos. “This installation hasn’t received any further inbound communications since that moment.”
“The Valpian doesn’t even know we’re here.”
“I believe it does not,” replied Red-Gulos.
Duggan could have shouted out with happiness. His plan had so many uncontrollable variables that he’d not even dared to think it might succeed. He wanted to capture this base and then use its comms systems to fool the captain of the enemy spaceship into thinking the Crimson was elsewhere. In the end, the Dreamers had already done the work for him. If the Valpian was far away, it bought Duggan and his troops time to search for the processing units which interpreted the sensor data gathered by the lens on the roof. Lieutenant Breeze had dismissed the chance that they’d be able to put a captured core to good use, but for Duggan this was a case of taking one step at a time, with each one a colossal victory in its own right. Even if the stolen core idea was a failure, they could still earn a chance for the Crimson’s backup mainframe to squeeze some life out of its damaged gravity drives. If they could take off, it would open a whole new raft of opportunities.
Duggan’s good mood was soon to be swept away.
“Sir, I think I’m beginning to get to grips with this stuff,” said McLeod. “Once you get past the differing arrangement, these consoles do much the same thing as ours.” He pointed to a large screen in front of him. “I’ve managed to turn this on. It’s a live feed of whatever is coming in through the lens. I think these symbols here relate to distance and if I turn this dial I can look further away or closer in.”
Duggan peered at it. “That’s as far out as it goes?”
“Yes, sir. The lens will only focus on a tiny area of the sky at maximum zoom out. It can’t see much further than our own monitoring stations, but there’s a big difference when it comes to the interpretation. This station makes sense of what it sees in only a few seconds and then it can look at a different area.”
“They’ve go
t a big edge on us when it comes to processing grunt,” said Duggan.
“We can see the effect right here, sir. Anyway, they have a series of satellites in orbit above, which gives them a way to see a target even when the planet’s rotation would prevent a line-of-sight examination. The satellites aren’t anything like as sophisticated as the main lens.”
“Have they been watching anything in particular?” Duggan asked, already knowing the answer.
“The Helius Blackstar – that’s what they’ve been looking at.”
“How come they haven’t been able to pinpoint the Crimson?”
“The satellites can only look in one direction, sir and that’s at the wormhole. They’d have been better off with a custom-built spaceship to do their watching. It cuts out most of these limitations.”
“What’s that?” asked Duggan sharply. A blue circle appeared at the left-hand edge of the monitoring screen. It moved gradually to the right.
“Crap,” said McLeod. “That’s one of their spacecraft.”
“The Valpian,” said Duggan. “Keep your fingers crossed they’re just passing through.”
“I’ve got activity on this panel here, sir,” said Byers. “It’s one of the comms sections.”
Duggan sighed wearily. “Is it what I think it is?”
“It’s a message from the spaceship, sir. I think they’re expecting an answer.”
For just a brief moment, Duggan had been able to enjoy the feeling things were going right and that they’d avoided the need to speak to the Valpian. It wasn’t to be. With trepidation, he indicated Red-Gulos should take his place at the console.
“Do your best,” he said.
The Ghast gave another rumbling laugh. “Or we’re all screwed,” he said.
Duggan had no time to wonder whether the alien had learned the profanity from one of the human soldiers or if it was the language modules making a best guess. The Ghast sat and signalled for Byers to open a channel.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I’M CONNECTING YOU,” said Byers. “It’ll be text only, no verbal. Let’s hope they don’t think it strange.”
Duggan watched as Red-Gulos moved his fingers onto two areas of the screen and held them in place.
“This should provide a standard greeting,” said Red-Gulos. “Assuming I’ve understood the writing correctly.”
An adjacent screen lit up and displayed a series of characters in response. Something told Duggan it wasn’t good news.
“They’ve asked if I’m shy,” said Red-Gulos. He pressed another section of the first screen and then he spoke once more. “They are not happy. I will need to speak directly with them.”
“Will your suit interface with their comms panel?” asked Duggan. His own suit had already identified a series of unrecognized open receptors in the vicinity, though that was no guarantee his computer would be able to pair with them.
“We are trouble if it will not.”
“Do it,” Duggan ordered. “I’m connected to your suit through our comms channels. I’ll listen in.”
The connection was made. There was an exchange of words between Red-Gulos and whoever it was on the Valpian. The tone sounded hard and aggressive even to Duggan’s untrained ear, and his language modules provided a patchy translation that didn’t give away much. The conversation continued for a few sentences and then it ended abruptly.
“I think they are reassured,” said the Ghast. “The man on the Valpian was curious about my origins and my unusual pronunciation. I told him I hailed from a place called Vempor.”
“What?” asked Duggan in confusion.
“It is difficult for me to lie, so I gave the true name of the planet I originated from and let his mind perform the task of believing it was sufficient explanation for my peculiar speech.”
“Is there a planet called Vempor in Estral Space?” said Duggan, his mind slower on the uptake than normal.
“I have no idea,” said Red-Gulos. “I assumed there was no reason for a comms man to have a thorough knowledge of each planet that his species populates, especially since there are likely to be thousands of such planets.”
“I see,” said Duggan. He looked at the blue dot on the console which represented the spaceship. “The Valpian hasn’t moved away.”
“They are going to send down a shuttle.”
Duggan was temporarily speechless. “I thought you said they were reassured?”
“They are reassured that we are not an invading squad of enemy soldiers, Captain John Duggan. However, in light of the recent events in the vicinity of the Helius Blackstar, they are dispatching a team of personnel to examine the data this monitoring station gathered in the last few days. They are convinced there is information to be unearthed on the ESS Crimson somewhere in our logs.”
Duggan laughed bitterly. “They don’t trust the people stationed here to do a good enough job.”
“I think that sums it up.”
Duggan knew he shouldn’t be surprised – the same thing happened wherever you went. Not just in the Space Corps, but in every organisation. There’d be a person unable to trust the work of someone else and they’d need to stick their nose in. It was foolish to think other species didn’t act in a similar manner.
“This could spoil everything we’ve achieved so far,” he said.
He couldn’t pretend it was anything other than an awful result. The raid on the Dreamer base had been conducted with minimal damage to the buildings, in order to make the signs of combat harder to detect. A transport shuttle was unlikely to be equipped with warship-grade sensors, but it couldn’t fail to notice the activity on the ground when it got closer. Even if the shuttle’s pilot was only a tiny bit suspicious, he might ask the Valpian to take a closer look. It wouldn’t take a warship too long to realise the installation had been attacked.
His plan had been limited in scope – buy them some time and see what came from it. With the shuttle approaching, he was forced into taking a much bigger gamble.
“How big is the shuttle?” he asked.
“Twenty metres by forty,” said Red-Gulos. “Perhaps a little larger. The parent ship is more than two thousand five hundred metres in length.”
“Contact the Valpian,” Duggan said. “Tell them our perimeter alarms have just sounded and we’ve detected hostiles in position for an attack on this central building. Make them believe this is a surprise to us.”
“What will that achieve?” asked Red-Gulos. “It is difficult for me to speak mistruths.”
“Then speak in riddles!” snapped Duggan. “Let me know what their response is.”
“Very well. I’m opening a channel to the Valpian.”
There was a further barked exchange of words between Red-Gulos and the Dreamer warship. The anger was clear on both sides. After a few moments, the Ghast muted the connection in order to speak to Duggan.
“They are not happy about this sudden change of circumstance and have pressed me to provide specifics on the raiding forces.”
“Keep them uncertain. Advise that the only reason for a ground attack on this particular building would be the theft of vital monitoring data. Make them believe this is an unfolding situation which we are struggling to adapt to.”
There were more words, no less angry than those spoken earlier between Red-Gulos and the warship. “The captain of the Valpian wishes to speak to my superior officer.”
“Tell them he’s missing, or dead. Whatever is easiest for you. Request backup.”
“There are insufficient armed troops on the incoming shuttle to repel a substantial attack on the base. They would like an estimation of the numbers we’re facing. Their sensor scan of the installation suggests the attack is limited in nature and they can only detect their own soldiers outside.”
“You’re going to have to convince them,” said Duggan. “I don’t care how difficult it is, you’ll need to lie through your teeth.”
“Tell me what you hope to achieve. It will help me.”
&nbs
p; Before Duggan could respond, his eyes noticed the tiny circle which represented the inbound transport shuttle. The tiny vessel slowed and then came to a complete stop. It hovered in the middle of the display screen, as if it waited for more information before proceeding.
“Damnit, we need them to come here!” he said. “Advise of a breach in our external walls and that we’re facing hostile forces who are attempting to gain entry to our central data room. Let the captain of the Valpian know that we’ve extracted the main AI core and the most recent data arrays. Request immediate evacuation from the roof. Make it clear we are facing superior numbers and we cannot hold out for long before the enemy captures or destroys this data.”
Red-Gulos grunted in acknowledgement and began the task of convincing the Estral on the warship, high above the surface of Nistrun. The talking continued for a long time and Duggan’s worries mounted. Then, he saw the transport vessel start moving again and it resumed its course towards the installation.
“It is done,” said the Ghast.
“Yes!” Duggan growled. “Good work, soldier. Let’s see what we can do from here.” He spoke to Lieutenant Ortiz. “We have an inbound enemy shuttle which will attempt to land on the roof of this building. We need to capture it intact and before they alert their parent ship Valpian.”
The briefing was only a few words, yet contained within those words were a thousand opportunities to fail, and difficulties beyond measure.
“Yes, sir,” said Ortiz, as if he’d ordered her to do no more than run a hundred metres. “I’ve had a couple of the guys out scouting and we’ve already found a way to the roof.”
“How much pressure are you under?”
“Some. I thought they’d have got their act together by now, but they’re not well-organised.”
Duggan had another idea - they were coming thick and fast. “I want our Ghast friends looking as much like Dreamers as possible.”
Ortiz didn’t reach her station because she was slow on the uptake. “There’s a locker of enemy spacesuits here, sir. We can scavenge what we need. They won’t be able to do a complete change of clothing without having air to breathe.”
Guns of the Valpian (Survival Wars Book 6) Page 5
