Black Ops (Expeditionary Force Book 4)

by Craig Alanson

  “Thank you. When I’m not shooting at bullseyes, I practice against a holographic space lizard Skippy created for me. I promised my wife,” he hefted his rifle, “that I am not being eaten by space lizard.”

  “My brain hurts,” Sarah said four hours, eighteen minutes later.

  “Mine too,” Skippy agreed, with his avatar yawning and stretching. “Listening to you two come up with one moronic idea after another is killing me. After four hours, you still don’t have a workable plan?”

  “We have several workable plans, Skippy,” I objected, mostly on behalf of Dr. Rose. “We’re trying to create a plan that Chotek might actually approve.”

  “Ha! Good luck with that one.”

  “Mister Skippy, do you have any suggestions for us?” Sarah asked while she was looking at me.

  “Yes! Go to the gym. Or bake cookies, or take a nap. Do anything other than sitting in Joe’s office, lowering my opinion of human intelligence.”

  “Whoa!” I clutched my chest, feigning shock. “I thought it wasn’t possible for your opinion to get any lower?”

  “It’s close to rock bottom already, Joe; I wouldn’t push it, if I were you.”

  We took Skippy’s suggestion. Usually, stepping away from a problem helps me think. This time, it didn’t work. We ate a late lunch, separately because otherwise the two of us would continue to think about the problem if we were together. The whole point of stepping away was to not think about the problem, and let our subconscious minds work on it. Or something like that, I’m not a psychologist. Or it is a psychiatrist? I know it’s not a psychic; those are the women on late-night TV who will tell your future if you just give them your credit card. Which always made me wonder; wouldn’t a real psychic already know your credit card number?

  What was I saying? Oh, yeah, eating lunch didn’t help. Working out at the gym wasn’t useful either; I had gone to the gym that morning and didn’t need another weight-lifting session, and I had done a tough cardio workout the day before. So I jogged on the treadmill until an Indian paratrooper made me feel guilty about hogging the machine. Disappointed that my brain hadn’t magically dreamed up a solution, I thought about going to Cargo Bay Three, where our SEALS team was practicing hand to hand combat against the Chinese team. While hand to hand combat was probably mostly useless in space, it kept the teams’ skills sharp, and it was good for morale. After watching SEALS sparring against Night Tigers, I slunk out the door silently. Even the controlled moves they were using were beyond my skills and conditioning; I would have gotten my ass kicked and accomplished nothing other than taking training time away from the professionals.

  A nap didn’t help; I got a solid twenty minutes of shut-eye, which usually refreshes me. I woke feeling better physically; mentally I was irritated that my foggy brain hadn’t done the job for me. In the corridor outside my cabin, I ran into Hans Chotek. “Colonel Bishop, I hear you have been in your office with Dr. Rose most of the day. Would you care to tell me what you are working on?”

  Crap. No, I did not care to tell him anything at all. “Sir, I would rather not discuss what we’re working on, until we have thought it through, and it is ready to present for your consideration.”

  From Chotek’s expression, that was the wrong thing for me to say. Now he was on guard, prepared to shoot down any proposal I brought to him. “Colonel, I hope you appreciate that we have taken on enough risk already.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I replied with a touch of sleep-induced irritation.

  No sooner had I sat down in my office with a cup of coffee, when Sarah walked in. “Anything?” She asked hopefully as she sat down. If she had thought of an idea, she would have mentioned that first.

  “No,” I took a sip of coffee to jolt my brain into action.

  “You’re kidding me,” Skippy’s avatar said as it popped into existence on the desk. “Nothing? Between the two of you? I practically hand an alien warship to you on a silver platter, and you can’t figure out how to take it?”

  “Sorry, Skippy,” I gave Sarah a guilty look. She was helping, but it was my responsibility to think of, or at least review and approve, a plan.

  “What is the problem?” Skippy demanded. “I stopped listening to your conversation a while ago, to avoid contaminating my logic circuits.”

  “We have a plan, a good, workable plan, to take the Glory. We can deal with her crew, I think. The real problem is that we can’t be certain the Ruhar won’t learn that we are humans. We will use our tallest people for the boarding party, wearing Kristang armor suits, but Chotek is going to insist that the Ruhar don’t detect even one strand of human DNA. If the Ruhar crew discover they have been boarded by humans, then we will have to either kill them, or take them aboard the Dutchman as prisoners, forever. Kidnapping is almost as bad as killing them; Chotek would never approve that.”

  “Dammit, I wish you had told me this problem before,” Skippy replied with disgust. “The DNA issue is no problem, Joe. Yes, every surface aboard the Flying Dutchman has been contaminated by human DNA by now, including the exterior of the Kristang armored suits. Yuck, by the way. We can deal with that problem, easily. Once people are wearing their suits in the airlock of the dropship, I can use the airlock’s decontamination procedure before the outer door opens. Usually, the decon procedure is used when someone is coming into a dropship; it does work just as well when someone is leaving. The standard decon equipment of a Kristang dropship doesn’t work reliably; I can supplement it with Thuranin upgrades. So, there will not be an issue with human DNA on the outside of the boarding party’s armored suits.”

  “That’s great, Skippy; we still have the problem that if there is any fighting, there might be human blood in the air.”

  “All of the Ruhar crew are civilians, Joe, only two likely have weapons.”

  “I know that. I also know Chotek, he will not like any degree of risk. If capturing the Glory poses a risk of our DNA exposing the fact that humans are flying around the galaxy, then-”

  “No problem, Joe; that ship has sailed.”

  “What?” Sarah and I gasped at the same time. I didn’t trust Skippy to understand human expressions. “Skippy, the expression ‘that ship has sailed’ means-”

  “I know what it means, dumdum,” he scoffed. “The train has left the station. The bird has flown. The fat lady has sung. However you want to say it, I mean that you no longer need to be overly concerned about leaving your DNA behind. Other humans are flying around the galaxy now. Or, at least, they were, recently.”

  That blew my mind. Sarah must have been just as shocked, because she was also momentarily speechless. “Skippy,” I asked when I could speak again. “What the hell are you talking about? There is another Merry Band of Pirates out there?” That would completely shock me, because it implied that another group of humans had encountered another AI like Skippy.

  “Huh? Of course not! Monkeys can’t fly a starship without me, you know that,” he chuckled. “Monkeys flying a starship, hee hee, that’s a good one.”

  “Yeah, I, uh, thought you meant there was, uh, another Skippy out there. Another,” I hastened to add, “type of Elder AI,” because Skippy had said many times he was unique.

  “Ha! As if! No, Joe, perhaps I misspoke. Other humans are not technically flying around the galaxy, not even mindlessly pressing buttons like this troops of monkeys does,” he clueslessly insulted every hotshot pilot aboard the Flying Dutchman. “The humans I’m talking about are not even hitching a ride, they are more like prisoners. Or slaves, which is how the Kristang certainly think of them.”

  “Slaves? From where? Earth?”

  “From Paradise, Joe.” And he explained that nearly seven thousand ‘Keepers of the Faith’ had left Paradise with the Kristang, when Admiral Kekrando’s battlegroup departed. An initial group of eight hundred had gone with the first wave of Kristang ships, with the remainder scheduled to follow soon after. By now, those Keepers should be on their way to, wherever they were going. Even Skippy did not
yet know what the Kristang planned to do with the entire group of humans, but he did know the first eight hundred had been sold to other Kristang clans, and the remaining Keepers would likely share the same fate. The information available to Skippy was incomplete but disturbing. Some of the Keepers would be used for hunting, with humans as the prey. Some Keepers would be used as ‘sparring partners’ for young Kristang warriors; the humans would be forced to fight until they were inevitably killed. Skippy suspected most Keepers were intended to be used in suicide missions; desperate assaults normally carried out by Kristang who were disgraced or criminals. Clans would actually consider using human troops as a sick kind of status symbol. “What matters, Joe, is that now if human DNA is found someplace other than Earth or Paradise, it will not be completely unexplainable.”

  “Holy shit,” I said as Sarah and I had the same idea at the same time. “This totally changes the planning for future operations. We don’t need to be completely sterile to avoid leaving DNA behind?”

  “Duh, Joe, that’s why I mentioned it,” Skippy’s voice dripped with derision. “Does that solve your problem of taking the Glory?”

  “Forget the freakin’ Glory for now! When did you find out about the Keepers leaving Paradise?” I demanded.

  “Hmm, when we were at that Ruhar data node? For sure, that is. I picked up a rumor about it back when we were hooked up to the relay station.”

  “And you did not think this information was something important I needed to know?!”

  “Well, I know you’re busy, Joe. Your brain is already overloaded with stopping the Ruhar from going to Earth, and, you know, keeping your shoes tied and stuff like that.”

  “Arrgh!” I mimed putting my hands around the neck of his avatar and squeezing, but the holographic image popped out of existence and reappeared on the other side of the table.

  “Joe,” he asked innocently, “would it help if I fabricated a Skippy voodoo doll, that you could strangle when my awesomeness overwhelms you?”

  “Yes! Yes! That would be fantastic,” I shouted. “Could you also arrange to, I don’t know, how about you plunge to your death into a black hole? That would be super awesomely helpful to me right now.”

  “I’m sensing you are miffed about something, Joe. I would try to guess what, but that would require me to care, so-”

  Bonking my head on the table was my only response, even in front of our friendly neighborhood CIA officer.

  “Colonel?” Dr. Rose spoke. “If I could make a suggestion?”

  “Please. Anything,” I mumbled with my face in my hands.

  “There is nothing aboard the ship that can hurt Skippy, and we do have a firing range in Cargo Bay Six-”

  “Whoa! Hold your horses right there, missy,” Skippy’s avatar held its hands out in a halt gesture. “You want Joe to shoot at me, just to release his frustrations?”

  I pulled my head up. “Sarah, that is a great id-”

  “No, that is a terrible idea,” Skippy declared. “Uh oh, gosh, Joe, hmm, I just found a problem with the air supply in Cargo Bay Six. Slight air leak. Don’t worry, I sounded the alarm and the people in there are evacuating now.”

  “Not funn-”

  “Ha ha,” he chuckled with glee. “I disagree, Joe. Whoohoo! You should see those monkeys scurrying out of there. Run, monkeys, run!”

  “Skippy, if I drop the idea of people using you for target practice, will you please, please stop the air leak?”

  “Deal. Hmm, looks like that air leak was a false alarm. I hate it when that happens.”

  “I bet you do. Will you also promise to tell me important information as soon as you know about it?”

  “Joey, Joey, Joey. There is no way I can guess what information you might think is important. I can’t tell you every single thing I know, your little monkey brain is already dangerously close to capacity. If you have more thought like ‘I am hungry’ or ‘Mmmm beer’, you could lock up and then I’d have to reboot you.”

  “How about if I worry about that risk, Skippy? I will trust your judgment. If it involves humans, anywhere in the galaxy, I want to know about it.”

  “Uh huh, you say that now, but when I start flooding you with info-”

  “We will worry about that later, Ok? Right now Dr. Rose and I have work to do. While we are putting the finishing touches on our plan to capture the Glory, please inform Chotek, and Chang and the rest of the commanders about the Keepers.”

  “You don’t want to tell Chotek about the Keepers yourself, Joe? I thought you would appreciate the opportunity to bring important information to your boss.”

  “If I learned about it when you did, five days ago, yeah. Now, I prefer he yells at you, instead of me.”

  “Ugh. I have to endure another hour of Count Chocula berating me? Crap. Is the option of me falling into a black hole still open?”

  “Uh, that is a no. Take your punishment like a,” I was going to say ‘man’, “beer can.”

  “Shit. Well, hmm, I just discovered an air leak in Chotek’s office-”

  “Talk to you later, Skippy.”

  Chotek sat quietly while he considered the issue. He could do that; sit silently, without nervously feeling he needed to fill the awkward silence with chitchat. He also expected the rest of us would not interrupt his thinking by talking amongst ourselves. Hans Ernst Chotek was naturally used to being in authority; he had been all his life. He was born into a wealthy, accomplished family, and he went to only the best schools. After college, he moved easily into positions of authority in business, government and then worked his way up the UN bureaucracy. He was accustomed to people waiting quietly for him to speak.

  By contrast, I was a grunt who was lucky to have finished high school with a ‘B’ average, and only got promoted to colonel as a publicity stunt to please oppressive hateful alien MFers. Command came naturally to Chotek; I still felt like a fraud. I kept waiting to wake up in a tent in Nigeria and discover the whole thing; alien invasion, meeting Skippy, me being promoted, had all been a dream.

  Except, if this was a dream, I should be getting laid a lot more.

  And there should be more cheeseburgers.

  “Mister Skippy,” Chotek finally spoke. “You learned about the Glory, by picking up an encrypted Ruhar file?”

  “Uh huh, yeah, did I mumble? That’s what I said.”

  Chotek ignored Skippy’s insult. Along with developing a natural authority, he had a thick skin. “How can you be sure the message in the file is not a trap for the Kristang? The message states a captured Kristang ship will be alone in deep space; that would be a tempting target to the Kristang. They surely would not like the idea of the Ruhar military taking apart one of their ships and getting an intimate view of their technology. I am concerned this Glory frigate will be surrounded by stealthed Ruhar warships, waiting to ambush any Kristang ships who come to retake, or destroy, the Glory.”

  Crap. Hans Chotek was the most nit-picky, micromananging boss I ever had. He was also absolutely right to ask annoying questions. Damn it, I should have asked that question, when Skippy told me how he found out the Glory would be parked in deep space, all by itself. Now that I thought about it, the whole situation was way too convenient.

  I felt like a freakin’ idiot.

  Skippy, though, was not intimidated by Count Chocula. “Nuh uh, no way, dude,” he scoffed. “The encryption in the message can’t be broken by the Kristang, because the encryption was provided by the Jeraptha; it’s not something the Ruhar developed on their own. The message is from the Ruhar to the Jeraptha, notifying the Jeraptha that the Ruhar want a star carrier to pick up the Glory. This is an encryption scheme the Jeraptha allow the Ruhar to use only when they are communicating with the Jeraptha. The Kristang can’t break that encryption, and if the Kristang gave the file to the Thuranin to crack the encryption, the Thuranin would tell the lizards to go screw themselves. If the Ruhar were using that message as bait, they would have used one of their own encryption schemes, one that
they know the Kristang are capable of breaking. Duh.”

  Chotek’s face reddened slightly. Despite his diplomatically-trained thick skin, he hated it when Skippy belittled him. Maybe it was being insulted by a beer can that got him upset. To avoid a distracting argument between the two of them, I spoke before Chotek could open his mouth. “Skippy, if we jumped in before the Glory arrived at the rendezvous point, could we scan the area closely enough to be certain there aren’t any ships waiting to set up an ambush?”

  “Yes, we could do that,” Skippy said flippantly. “With my awesomeness, that is no problemo, Joe. In my opinion, doing that would be a waste of time, but what do I know? I am only a super smart being who manipulates spacetime as a hobby.”

  “Sir,” I addressed Chotek, “that was a good question, and I apologize; I should have considered that possibility. We can verify that Skippy is correct by arriving at the rendezvous site early and scanning the area. If there is any threat, we jump away immediately. That way, we can minimize the risk.”

  Chotek thought for a minute in his quiet, deliberative way. “I agree scanning the area could minimize that particular risk. There is another risk you have not mentioned. Colonel Bishop, your plan is to seize the Glory, without killing or injuring the four Ruhar aboard?”

  “Yes, Sir. You made it clear we are not to risk hostile action against a potential future ally.”

  “Your plan takes admirable care not to harm those four Ruhar. My question is; would the Kristang be so careful with their enemies?”

  “Sir?”

  “The plan relies on the Ruhar crew believing our boarding party is Kristang,” Chotek observed. “If our boarding party behaves like polite Boy Scouts, the Ruhar will not believe we are Kristang.”