Fraser shrugged. “They’re not,” he said. “You should try the marine suite if you want realism. They’ve been letting crewmen run through their tactical simulations for a couple of pounds a head.”
George glanced at him. “Isn't that against regs?”
“Depends how you look at it,” Fraser said. “Major Andres appears to believe that it’s good for the spacers to see how the groundpounders do their work.”
He shrugged. “And it’s a very good simulation.”
“You’ve used it,” George stated.
“It’s fun,” Fraser said. He put his pistol down on the table, then started to flick through the range options. “But there are all sorts of little surprises. You know the crap people pull in VR games? You can't do that in real life.”
George smirked. “Really?”
“Oh, yes,” Fraser said. “Try to hide behind glass when someone is firing a machine gun at you? Certain death. Throw grenades around at random? You’d better hope your comrades are smart enough to take cover. And ammunition? You actually run out of ammunition if you fire your weapon like a maniac, if your sergeant doesn’t strangle you first.”
“I never would have known that,” George said, dryly.
“Good thing I told you,” Fraser said. He nodded towards the range. A new set of holographic images appeared, aliens intermixed with human prisoners. “Just in case you didn't guess, George, there is no excuse for shooting the humans.”
“I guessed that,” George said, irked. She reloaded her weapon, then took aim as Fraser moved to stand next to her. “When do we start?”
Fraser tapped a switch. “Now.”
George bit her lip as the aliens advanced, snapping and snarling. Whoever had designed the simulation was a right bastard. The alien captives were children - the oldest couldn't be more than twelve - begging and pleading to be saved. But the aliens were using them as human shields, lifting them up effortlessly to cover their bodies as they moved forward. She found it hard to choose her targets; she heard, time and time again, the dull raspberry that told her she’d hit a hostage. By the time the simulation came to an end, she felt tired, frustrated and quietly furious.
“You killed five hostages,” Fraser said. “And you missed several of the aliens.”
“Oh,” George said. Only five? She’d thought it had been more. But it hardly mattered. If the situation had been real, she would have been responsible for five deaths ... five human deaths. “How well did you do?”
“I killed one hostage,” Fraser said.
George sighed. “How accurate is this?”
Fraser looked at her. “It's hard to say,” he admitted. “Navy-issue pistols” - he nodded down at the one in his hand as he clicked on the safety, then removed the magazine - “are designed to pack a punch, but no one has any real data on alien strength or endurance. Hitting them with a single bullet might kill them or it might just piss them off.”
“I see,” George said. Fraser had made her research bullet wounds, back before they’d returned to Earth for the first time. Soldiers could take terrifying punishment in the field, but - thanks to modern medicine - make a full recovery and return to the front line. “But a bullet in the head will still work?”
“I hope so,” Fraser said. “That’s where they keep their brains.”
He turned and led her back out of the range, where they cleaned the weapons before handing them back to the officer. “We can get some coffee in the mess,” he added, firmly. “Are you coming?”
“Yes, sir,” George said.
“I hope the shuttlebay isn't boring you too much,” Fraser said, as they walked through the long corridor. “How are you coping with it?”
“It could be worse,” George said, reluctantly. She’d promised herself she wouldn't moan or whine over the cards fate had dealt her. Things could have been a great deal worse. “I actually enjoy flying the shuttles.”
“You’ll get your chance to do more than a little flying,” Fraser said. “Rumour has it that we’re going to be offloading the troops on Unity as quickly as possible.”
“Unless the enemy get there first, sir,” George said. “That’s the plan, isn't it?”
“Yeah,” Fraser said. “You’ll be helping to fly them down to the surface.”
He shrugged. “Shame there’s no hope of any leave on Unity.”
George was inclined to agree. “Is there anything there?”
“Not as far as I know,” Fraser said. “There might be some bars, if we’re lucky, but there won't be any big shore leave complexes.”
“I wouldn't get any leave anyway,” George said, dryly. “Maybe we should just dump Henderson and Felicity on Unity.”
“They wouldn't want Henderson,” Fraser said. “And while another breeder would be quite welcome, I am sure, I don’t think they’d be too keen on Wheeler either.”
George shrugged. She’d read everything she could find on Unity in the ship’s database, but there had been surprisingly little. Unity might be the first true joint colony, yet it was clear that the human and Tadpole settlers had very little to do with one another. But then, they didn’t really impinge. There was very little for them to fight over, not on the surface. Deep space was another matter.
“The captain made the call,” she said. She looked up at him. “Was she right?”
Fraser made a show of glancing up and down the corridor before he answered. “I imagine she believed that the matter was best passed up the chain to her superiors,” he said. “Sure, she could have executed both of them - and you - but she would be challenged for it afterwards. And there’s no pressing need to rush to judgment.”
He looked back at her, evenly. “But if she hadn't made the call she did,” he added, “where would you be?”
“In shit,” George said. “Thank you.”
Fraser smirked. “You’re welcome.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Signal from the flag, Captain,” Parkinson reported. “Pinafore and Jones are preparing to probe the tramline.”
Susan nodded, feeling the tension on the bridge rising sharply. There were no settlements - human or otherwise - in the Yamane System, ensuring that the new enemies had had plenty of time to set up an ambush without fear of discovery. If, of course, they knew the squadron was on the way. But the star system was completely empty, as far as their sensor officers could tell.
And that means nothing, she thought, grimly. An entire enemy fleet could be hiding a few million kilometres from us and we wouldn't have a clue.
“Acknowledged,” she said. “Helm, hold us here.”
“Aye, Captain,” Reed said.
Susan braced herself as the two green icons crawled towards the tramline and vanished. The task force had been in stealth for the last two weeks, altering course randomly to throw off any cloaked shadows, but there was no way to be entirely sure that they were alone. It was possible that Admiral Harper was being paranoid, as some of his detractors had alleged in the daily command meetings, yet the newcomers had managed to surprise a much larger joint fleet and kick its ass. If there was an alien starship watching them, that ship might just have managed to rustle up a welcoming committee on the far side of the tramline.
And that only happens in bad movies, she thought. A couple of minor course changes would make interception impossible.
Sure, her own thoughts answered her. But it only has to work once.
She pushed the thought aside as one of the green icons blinked back into existence, hanging on the tramline. Signals flickered between Jones and New York for a long moment, exchanging coded messages to ensure that the ship was intact and still under friendly command. Susan found it hard to imagine a force capable of boarding and subduing an alien crew - let alone flying the ship expertly - but she had to admit it was better to take precautions. Some of the really wild scenarios dreamed up over the last ten years had made nightmarish reading.
“Signal from the flag, Captain,” Parkinson said. “We are to proceed t
hrough the tramline, condition-two.”
“Good,” Susan said. Condition-two meant that they’d arrived first, against the odds; there was no sign of an enemy presence within the system. It was still possible that there was a watching fleet, cloaked or merely stealthed, but at least there was a chance of being able to take up a defensive position before the enemy arrived. “Tactical?”
“All weapons and defences online, Captain,” Jean Granger said. “We can move to condition-one within seconds.”
Susan nodded. “Helm, take us through the tramline.”
“Aye, Captain,” Reed said.
Vanguard seemed to quiver with anticipation as she slid forward, flanked by the American battleships. The tactical display blanked out as the starship jumped through the tramline, then came back to life as she downloaded a tactical update from HMS Pinafore. There were a couple of interplanetary freighters making their way between the planet and the asteroid belt, but no sign of any other major interplanetary activity. Susan was surprised there was even so much activity, given how little economic value there was in it. The planet might have been intended to be an economic hub, but without major investment - and a handful of other colonies along the chain - it wasn't going to be anything more than a relatively small colony.
“Local space is clear, Captain,” Charlotte reported. “The flag is deploying sensor drones to extend our reach.”
“Keep a close eye on them,” Susan ordered. She looked at Unity itself, hanging in the tactical display. The planetary government, such as it was, wouldn't have any idea the task force had arrived, not yet. Admiral Harper would have sent a message, as soon as New York moved through the tramline, but it would nearly seven hours before any reply could arrive. “Set course for Unity.”
“Aye, Captain,” Reed said. “Course laid in.”
Susan leaned back in her chair as the task force began to move away from the tramline, heading directly towards Unity. The main tactical display was constantly updating, but apart from a small cloudscoop orbiting the nearest gas giant there was very little else within the system. There didn't even seem to be a stream of radio chatter from Unity itself. Susan couldn’t help feeling, as she waited for something to happen, that even Terra Nova had more activity, although that proved nothing. Terra Nova had had truly staggering levels of investment since it had been discovered, despite all the political turmoil. Unity ... had not.
“Signal from the flag,” Parkinson said. “Admiral Harper intends to proceed with Unity-Five.”
“Send back our acknowledgements,” Susan ordered. She hadn't expected to have a chance to put Unity-Five into operation, but it looked as though they’d gotten lucky. Given a few days to set up the supplies they’d brought, they could turn Unity into more than just a speed-bump for the aliens. “And keep us on our current course.”
“Aye, Captain,” Reed said.
Susan exchanged a look with Mason. They’d expected to find the aliens dug into the system, perhaps even probing the systems further towards human space. But instead, Unity appeared to be completely untouched. It was possible, she supposed, that the aliens had decided that invading Unity wasn't worth the effort, but no military force worth its salt would have left any form of interplanetary communication intact. The freighters should have been blown out of space, along with the cloudscoop and the orbital satellite network. Leaving them intact made no sense.
Which is worrying, she thought. If they’re not attacking Unity, where are they going?
She pulled up a starchart and considered it, thinking hard. There was no way to know just how much the aliens actually knew about the tramline geography, but if they’d captured a database - and she’d always assumed they had - they would know how Unity would offer them the chance to attack Tadpole Prime from two separate directions. Hell, if they duplicated the advanced stardrive, they’d be able to attack from three. But it was just possible that the aliens had also reasoned that they’d picked off more than they could chew ...
But if that was the case, she asked herself, would they not at least try to talk to us?
She raised her voice. “Mr. Reed,” she said. “ETA at Unity?”
“Twelve hours, Captain,” Reed said.
Susan frowned, then rose. “Mr. Mason, you have the bridge,” she said. There was literally nothing she could do, but wait. “Inform me the moment anything changes.”
“Aye, Captain,” Mason said. “I have the bridge.”
***
Henry had expected enemy missiles to come slashing in out of nowhere, hammering the task force before it had a chance to either evade or return fire, but the long crawl between the tramline and Unity had been utterly uneventful. A handful of messages had arrived from the planetary governor - a man Henry recalled as being somewhat out of favour in his native France - yet none of them had been particularly significant. Henry would have wondered, in all honesty, if the man even knew there was a war on, if Governor Labara’s first message hadn't been a demand for immediate transport back to the Human Sphere. It didn't strike him as a good sign.
He forced himself to relax as the shuttle launched from the battleship and headed down towards the blue-green world below. Unity, like most Earth-like planets, was over seventy percent water, although it hadn't occurred to anyone - yet - that the Tadpoles had a claim to more of the planet’s surface than their human counterparts. There would probably be problems, Henry conceded, as the planet slowly developed its industry, but for the moment there was hardly any contact between the two races. Unity was a united planet in name only.
But I suppose that’s for the best, he thought, dryly. Terra Nova taught us that humans of different races and creeds can get along, as long as there are a few dozen light years between them.
He shook his head as the shuttle slipped smoothly into the planetary atmosphere and continued its descent, following the coastline towards Unity City. The settlement had clearly expanded over the last seven years - orbital imagery showed more buildings than he recalled - but calling it a city was stretching the point a little too far. Even assuming that every building held a family, he would have been surprised if more than a couple of thousand people lived in the city itself. Most of the population lived in tiny settlements, slowly turning the planet into a breadbasket to support future expansion.
Which probably means they won’t be too keen to see us, he reminded himself. And they may not know what’s going on.
He glanced at his orders - from JHQ and Admiral Harper - as the shuttle dropped towards the spaceport. The troops were to be landed to take up defensive positions, no matter what the settlers thought about it. Henry would have been surprised if Governor Labara had said a word against the plan, but the remainder of the planet’s population was a different story. It was easy to imagine them objecting or, worse, resorting to force. The last thing they needed was a civil war as well as everything else.
The shuttle came to a hover over the spaceport, then slowly lowered itself to the ground. It didn't look as though the spaceport had been expanded, in the years since Henry had last visited, but he wasn’t particularly surprised. There was just no pressing need to expand the facility when there was so little traffic. The shuttle landed with a dull thump; the hatch snapped open a second later, allowing him to smell the warm air. Like many other new colonies, it was a strange mixture of the familiar and the new. He couldn't help thinking that it smelled sweet.
“Your Excellency,” George Fitzwilliam said. “Should I remain here?”
“Please,” Henry said. “I don’t think we’ll run into any actual trouble.”
He stepped out of the shuttle and closed the hatch, idly wondering what had happened to the reception committee. He’d done his best to avoid formal ceremonies, particularly after he’d removed himself from the line of succession, but Governor Labara wasn't the type to avoid a chance to show off. Henry was surprised there wasn't a collection of ceremonial guards waiting for him, if indeed there were any guards. Unity was hardly populated enoug
h to raise and support a regiment of soldiers.
Most of their security comes from the militia, he thought, as he saw a car entering the spaceport. It isn't as if they need much.
He smiled at the thought, then sobered as the car drove towards him and parked next to the shuttle. The driver would have been sacked on Earth for careless driving - if he wasn't outright arrested - but the rules seemed to be different on Unity. There was so little traffic passing through the spaceport that he wouldn't be surprised to discover that local children played football on the landing pads, regardless of the rules. Hell, he wasn't sure there were rules. He straightened to attention as the driver opened the door and stepped out, then saluted smartly.
“Governor Labara is waiting for you, Your Highness,” the driver said. “Please will you come with me?”
Shoddy, Henry thought. Standards had definitely slipped. But then, he’d never been particularly impressed with Governor Labara. He cared more for the title than doing his damn job.
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