“You ask, I provide. We’ve both got Ultra clearance, I just have more time to rummage around in the files than you do.” She paused, then said, “You realize this was too damn easy.”
“I was thinking that myself,” he said. “With the utmost respect for your talents.”
“Two possibilities,” Harper replied. “She’d have expected that someone would pick up this message. Her government wouldn’t necessarily approve of it being passed on, but she would know that you need to know if you had reinforcements coming.”
“Maybe. Or there’s a second level to the message that you can’t detect.”
With a shrug, she said, “I’m not a magician. I’ll keep looking at the data, but unless you want me to have full computer access…”
“Which would make it clear that we were on to her,” Marshall interrupted.
“Then I don’t see any real prospect of success. Of course, both possibilities could be true. And don’t necessarily assume that her own government is telling her everything.”
“The big question is whether you can make sure that it doesn’t happen again.”
“By the time we come out of hendecaspace I should have her route traced so she can’t signal out of the ship without us knowing about it.” She frowned, then said, “This is a big deal, you know.”
“Why?”
“She’s just given us a big sample of their latest encryption coding. If there is a second layer to it, well, we might not work it out in time for it to do us any good here, but as soon as we get home, we’ll have it cracked. Which gives away one of their newest codes.”
“They’ll make more.”
“Of course they will, and are right now, but it’s what I was saying before. You don’t throw an advantage away until you actually need it. If there is more to this than we know, then they’ve already raised the stakes pretty high.” She smiled, and said, “And no, there is nothing not germane to the mission that I haven’t told you. I’ll pass on word about the agent on Houston when we get back, though probably whoever it was will be long gone by then.”
“I’ll leave the details to you. Keep an eye on her.”
“I have been,” she replied. “Though obviously she’s got some tricks I don’t know about.” Frowning, she said, “Of course, we’re both making a huge assumption here.”
“Oh?”
“That she’s the one who sent it.”
With a frown, Marshall dropped down the shaft, hand over hand down the ladder, musing on Harper’s last words. Everything pointed to Meirong as the one who transmitted the message, certainly, but it was such an obvious idea that it might be a double-bluff. Opening a hatch, he swung out onto the deck, looking around to see if anyone had seen him, then walked towards the elevator, pulling out his datapad and scanning the message for himself.
It was exactly as Harper had said. A good outline of Alamo’s plan to attack the outpost, as well as details of the attempt made to use the shuttles as manned kinetic missiles. Had she asked, had Meirong offered the help, he’d have granted it without question. Even passing on details of the modifications to the shuttles would have seemed a reasonable request given the circumstances. None of this hurt Triplanetary interests in any way, which made the whole matter even more mystifying.
“Captain?” a voice called out to him. He looked up to see Grant walking down the corridor.
“What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”
“Why is Salazar flying my fighters?”
Taking a deep breath, Marshall replied, “Those are my fighters, Lieutenant, not yours, and I will assign them to anyone I please. His performance in the simulators has been excellent, in excess of everyone else who has tried them out. Yourself included.”
“Simulator experience isn’t everything.”
“Grant, if you tell me where you’ve flown drone fighters before, I’ll listen to your arguments.”
“That isn’t germane,” he said. “I have more flight experience, practical experience against real enemies.”
“And you don’t trust Salazar.”
“My experience has been that his judgment has been sorely lacking whenever it was tested. People have died.”
“He saved this ship at Yeager.”
Shaking his head, he said, “By taking a risk that would have got him court-martialled had it not succeeded. And leaving the station he was meant to be commanding at risk of attack. Damn it, he decoyed them to attack!”
“Grant, I’m going to say this once more, so I suggest you listen extremely carefully. Sub-Lieutenant Salazar is my choice to fly this mission. I understand that you don’t want to work with him while you are temporarily in command of the Operations division, and this seems like an excellent solution to that problem. And incidentally, if you are planning to conduct any security investigations, you will inform me first in future, or at the very least go through Lieutenant Nelyubov.”
Grant's face reddened, and he replied, “I was checking up on the possibilities that an officer under my command had mentioned. As I expected, I found nothing.”
“You were interfering in an investigation, the results of which are classified above your clearance level, and will refrain from such activities in future. Do I make myself clear?”
“May I speak freely, sir?”
Marshall looked behind him, making sure no-one else was around, and replied, “By all means, Lieutenant.”
“He’s going to be another one of your pets, isn’t he, sir. Oh, they talk about it all the time at headquarters. Orlova, Harper, Quinn, Carpenter, Cooper. Now another member of your menagerie. This isn’t the real fleet, Captain. Back there we make decisions based on service history, based on long-term competence. You’ve managed to stick yourself in a nice little bubble out here on the frontier, using a series of lucky chances to gain a reputation that you don’t deserve, and one day it is going to come back and hit you where it hurts.” He paused, and concluded, “In my opinion, sir.”
“Well in my opinion, Lieutenant, I’d take competence over seniority every time. You are talking about officers with countless citations for gallantry and conduct, many of which were awarded by officers over than myself. You might not like the way we do things on this ship, but if that is the case, I suggest that you apply for a transfer. I can be very efficient about arranging for such things.”
Shaking his head, he said, “That’s the solution, then, is it? Push me out of the way? I’d advise you to listen, sir, and listen carefully. You’re giving people responsibility that they just aren’t ready for, and it’s going to get people killed.”
“Grant, at this point I think the ship would be a damn sight safer in Salazar’s hands than it would be in yours. Or Harper’s for that matter. I think her notions of responsibility and duty are a damn sight more focused than yours. Dismissed.”
“Sir,” he replied, saluting, and walking away.
“And that was all off the record, Grant. A fact for which you should be most fortunate.”
Grant paused, turned, and said, “When all this goes wrong, Captain, I think you’ll be the one who counts yourself fortunate that I didn’t put this on the record.”
Chapter 13
Harper looked up from the watch officer’s station, a smile beaming across her face as she looked back at Marshall.
“Ready, sir. As far as anyone knows, this is Caledonia coming into the system. Our signatures and transponders will match.”
Grant, loitering near the rear of the bridge, said, “That won’t work if anyone takes too close a look. A visual inspection, or even some detailed scanning, will tell them exactly who we are in a matter of seconds.”
“Seconds,” Harper said. “I don’t intend to give them that much time. Half a second after we arrive, I’ll own their relay satellites.”
Shaking his head, Grant replied, “I’ll believe that when and if I see
it. We should be at battle stations.”
“If Harper says she can do something, I’m willing to accept her word that it will be so,” Marshall said. “As for battle stations, if we leapt into the system with radiators deploying and laser cannon charging, that would only give the game away.”
“We’re at standby alert anyway,” Caine said. “We can be at battle stations in three minutes if we need. Relax, Grant. It’ll work.”
“I just wish I was so sure.”
“Thirty seconds to hendecaspace emergence,” Foster said.
“Fine, Midshipman, you have the call,” Marshall replied.
“Aye, sir, I have the call.”
Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen. If all went well, Alamo would slide back into normal space hiding behind their target world, on the far side from the Q-Carrier in synchronous orbit over their ground base. It would all be over in a few seconds. Either they would have successfully camouflaged their entry into this system, or they’d be facing a fight for their lives, days before they were ready.
Or, of course, they could just run for it, heading for another hendecaspace point and fleeing the system. And their new enemies could then use their Q-Carrier to start a war, and there would be nothing they could do to stop them. By the time that Alamo could make it back to friendly space, it would likely all be over.
“Five seconds,” Foster said, and Harper poised her hands over her controls. Everything was set up, Alamo’s systems ready to reach out and envelop the monitoring satellites in their electronic tentacles, but if something went wrong, one of a million possible problems, it would take Harper’s quick reactions to fix it.
The familiar blinding blue flash heralded Alamo’s return to normal space, and a deep velvet world appeared on the screen, deep blood-red seas surrounding verdant continents. Normally that would have been the focus of all attention, but not this time. This time everyone was watching Harper, her eyes locked onto the display.
“We’re in,” she said, and Marshall finally opted to breathe again. “Their systems are telling them that the Caledonia just jumped into the system. We were visible for less than three-hundredths of a second, better than I thought.”
“And if someone checks?” Grant pressed.
“Then we’re dead, but they’d have to go frame-by-frame to get past the dimensional distortion. If they’ve got someone that quick over there, we’ve got bigger problems than a minor window of opportunity. I’ve set up for the next step, as well.”
“Aye, sir,” Weitzman said, stepping over to his console, putting small black pads on Marshall’s face in key locations, tapping each one lightly to activate it. “We’ve got enough images of the not-men that you should be able to mimic one without any trouble. Do you remember the script?”
Shaking his head, Marshall replied, “Yes, mother. Are you sure we can’t get the computers to do this?”
Harper shook his head, and said, “Not until we get one of them to pass a true Turing test. Even then I’d be more worried about it going off-script than you. Sir. Just keep it short. I’ll start working on getting a proper map of the system.”
“We’re being hailed, sir,” Weitzman said. “A Colonel Robinson.”
A brief flash of doubt crossed Marshall’s mind, wondering if they had come all of this way on a wild-goose chase. So far, the humans who had been working for the not-men had all been bribed, huge sums of money used to buy their loyalty, but for all he despised UN Security, he did not imagine that their men would be easily turned.
One look at Robinson’s face told him the truth of the matter. On the surface, he looked normal, but when he saw Marshall on his screen, his image doctored to make him look like one of the not-men, fear crept into his eyes, and sweat began to bead up. Somehow, he had been broken, his spirit crushed.
“This is the Caledonia. We have sustained damage to our engines, navigation systems and communications, and are experiencing escalating cascade failure. Dispatch engineering teams to assist us; we cannot maneuver in normal space. And see that it is done quickly.”
“Yes, my lord,” Robinson cringed. “It will be done.”
The screen winked out, and Marshall shook his head, “Too easy. Too damned easy.”
“It’s a test,” Caine said. “They’ll send engineering teams, but they’ll fill those shuttles with troops, have snoopers working all the way. That way they’re covered. If we’re who we say we are, no damage has been done. If we’re an enemy, they can work out what they are dealing with and make preparations to launch a strike.”
Harper whistled, then said, “And they’ve got the teeth for it. I’ve got the first images of the enemy strike force in the system.” She tapped a control, and a display appeared on the viewscreen. “They’ve got the Q-Carrier, docked at what looks like a missile defense platform. That’s new, brand new.”
Nodding, Spinelli said, “I’ve got some high-resolution shots coming up now, sir. I’d question whether it is actually operational yet. The core’s intact, but there are people working on the hull, and not all of the solar arrays look to be in position.”
“Work on that, Spaceman,” Marshall said.
“They’ve got one of their ships in system, sir, like the one we faced at Yeager Station,” Harper reported. “Identical down to the millimeter, as best I can tell.”
“Consider that confirmed,” Spinelli said.
“That’s strange,” Grant replied. “Even in ships of the same class in Triplanetary service there are some changes between individual hulls. Equipment upgrades, special modifications. We don’t even try to make them absolutely identical.”
“Could it be some sort of deception?” Caine asked. “Are we sure that they are really there?”
Harper frowned, looked down at her readouts, and said, “Unless something has gone very badly wrong, they don’t have any idea that I’ve taken control of their relay satellites. They wouldn’t know that they needed to institute a deception. All indications are that it is really there.”
“At least we know what we are dealing with.”
“I’ve spotted the ground base,” Spinelli said. “Just as advertised. Getting down there is going to be tricky, sir. They can’t fail to spot us on their instruments.”
“That’s why we’re going to be moving to the second phase,” Marshall said.
With a smile, Harper said, “They’re launching shuttles, sir. Two of them. Slightly larger than our designs. They’ll be around the far side of the planet in nine minutes.”
“Recommended fighter launch in four minutes, three seconds for intercept,” Caine said. “We’re ready for immediate scramble down on the hangar deck, and our Espatier platoon is on stand-by alert.”
“Which means we have three minutes before committal,” Marshall said. “What about the rest of the system?”
Looking across at his display, Spinelli said, “There are a lot of blind spots, sir, but we’d have at least two days’ warning if anything came out of the nearest one. No signs of any other inhabited planets in the system, nothing to show any sign of activity. It all matches the data we received. As for the planet, again, all as advertised.”
“A hundred and fifty seconds before we need to commit,” Foster said.
“No change in aspect from the two ships?”
“They haven’t moved an inch since we arrived, aside from launching the shuttles. At a guess, I’d say they were setting up the orbital defense satellite and conducting some routine maintenance. I’m picking up a few people on the outer hulls of both craft,” Spinelli said.
“There’s a slight increase in communications traffic,” Weitzman said, “but nothing exceptional. Security is working on decoding the feeds now, but they won’t have them for at least fifteen minutes.”
Nodding, Harper said, “They’re using a new algorithm. I recognize most of it, jus
t a modification of one we know about. Two minutes, Captain. What are we waiting for?”
“We’ve got the time, we might as well use it. What about the surface base?”
Tapping a control, Spinelli brought a topographic display of the ground, wireframe contours of the features, a pair of low-slung domes at the end of a long ravine.
“That’s a hundred miles long, sir, and they’ve got sensors rigged on top of the cliffs on either side. Bare ground all around, but the ravine itself is heavily forested.”
“Why not use the open terrain?” Caine mused.
“Chemicals,” Harper said. “And biologics. There are a lot of interesting resources down there in that jungle, and nominally, that’s what the base is there to extract. It would look strange if they placed it down on the wrong side of the planet.”
“They’ll have all manner of detection down there, traps, ambushes,” Caine said. “I don’t think that Cooper can do it in five days. And if they try and go down the cliffs, we might as well drop the shuttles right on top of them.”
“We might have to amend the timeframe of our attack,” Marshall said.
“Speaking of which, ninety seconds,” Harper said.
“Every hour we linger in this system is another chance for us to be detected,” Grant said, stepping forward. “I recommend an abort. Withdrawing from the area will flag to them that we’re onto them, and there’s every chance that they’ll give up their plan.”
“Or simply proceed ahead of schedule, making sure to leave the system days before we can follow them,” Caine replied.
“We’ve come too far to quit now,” Marshall said, glancing back at Grant. “Harper, are you sure that you have the relay satellites under your control?”
She paused, then said, “There’s always a risk, sir. I suppose there is a chance that they might be faking it, trying to trick us, but as far as I can tell everything is proceeding according to plan.”
Nodding, Marshall said, “Then we are go for the second phase. Deadeye, issue the alert scramble, and make sure that Salazar is aware of the margin of error. If anyone sees his fighters, the game is up, and we’ve got to get both of those shuttles intact.”
Battlecruiser Alamo: Not In My Name Page 11
