Valkyrie (Expeditionary Force Book 9)

by Craig Alanson

  “And we will be waiting for them,” Smythe’s grin was more predatory than amused.

  “Do we have time to get there well ahead of time?” I asked the question that was the first of many concerns on my list. “Wait.” I looked at Smythe. “You have all this worked out, right? How about if I shut up, and you tell me about your plan?”

  He did.

  I liked it enough to order our ships to start jumping toward the target.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  “Uh oh, Joe. I just finished decrypting message traffic from the relay station. We might have, heh heh, a slight problem.”

  “Slight problem like, you locked the keys in your car, but a window is open? Or like, the iceberg was a slight problem for the Titanic?”

  “The second one.”

  “Shit. Someday, you are going to surprise me with a slight problem that is actually a slight freakin’ problem.”

  “Dude, the Merry Band of Pirates don’t have slight problems. Don’t blame me.”

  “What is it this time?”

  “Well, you have heard the term ‘relative humidity’? Like, sometimes you notice the humidity in the air, and sometimes you don’t?”

  I was pretty sure he was dumbing that way down for me, but whatever. “Sure.”

  “Ok, so, what I mean is, sometimes things can be relative, you know? Like, you think you have done a really good, super-duper job of concealing evidence, but then some nit-picky jerk who has literally nothing else to do comes along and-”

  “Crap. What did you do, Skippy?”

  “Ah, it’s kind of what I didn’t do. Or, what I didn’t do well enough, you know?”

  “What,” I counted down from five to control my temper. “Did you not do well enough?”

  “So far, heh heh, two things. First, I should give you some background. There is a Maxolhx starship captain named ‘Illiath’ who has been assigned to verify the bullshit story we cooked up, about the Bosphuraq developing advanced technologies and blowing up two kitty warships on their way to Earth. She could have seen the assignment as busywork, done the minimum effort to check the boxes, and moved on with her life, but nooooo, she has to take her job seriously, because she is so important and she-”

  “Ok, so what did this chick do?”

  “Commander Illiath is not a ‘chick’, Joe.”

  “My bad. You know what I mean. Go on.”

  “She looked deeper into our cover story about changes in the inner structure of the star, in the system where we took over the moonbase, and stole a Maxolhx dropship. That cover story was solid, absolutely solid, except for the nagging little detail that I couldn’t send the effect back in time.”

  “Uh, of course you couldn’t. Why would that- Holy shit! The kitties have a freakin’ time machine?”

  “No, you knucklehead. Well, they sort of do, I guess. Space combat, Joe.”

  “Oh.” Give me bonus points for knowing what he meant. “They jumped out to where light from the star was from before you screwed with it?”

  “Exactly.” He paused. “Very good, Joe. Sometimes, you are not as dumb as you look.”

  “Why didn’t you consider this before?”

  “Because, duh, there is nothing I could do about it. Plus, I never expected some obsessive-compulsive Sherlock Holmes wannabe would investigate in that level of detail. Actually, hmm, I have to admit I am impressed by their AI. It must have created a virtual model of the star and- Anyway, that sort of thing is nothing more than a hobby for me, but it is impressive that a Maxolhx AI did it.”

  “What’s the damage? They know we’re involved?”

  “No, nothing like that. All they know is, the timing of when the star was screwed with doesn’t line up with the story we planted in the confession message. This Illiath woman reported her findings to their Fleet Intelligence, and mostly it was dismissed. The Intel people figure that whoever wrote the confession didn’t have access to all the details, and got the timing wrong. By the time they received her data, we had started our ghost ship campaign, and their Fleet had more important things to worry about.”

  “Ok, that is a relief. So why is this a problem for us?”

  “Because Illiath is very persistent and very dedicated and very good at her job. Also, Fleet Intelligence is hedging their bets, so they allowed her to continue her mission, even after we launched the ghost ship attacks. Her next stop was where we attacked the two ships headed to Earth.”

  “The place where you cleaned up the crime scene? You used the ship’s masers to fry any tiny little pieces of debris that could point back to the Dutchman?”

  “Yup. I did fry the evidence. Mostly.”

  “Mostly? What does that mean?”

  “It means, I got all the pieces I could detect with the ship’s sensors. We were very thorough, just not thorough enough. Illiath sent out a cloud of nanoparticle sensors to scour a section of the battlespace. It was-”

  Waving a hand to stop him from relating nerdy details I wouldn’t understand, I asked “Bottom line this for me, Skippy. What do the kitties know?”

  “They found fragments of the Dutchman’s hull. The fragments were microscopic, but large enough for a full chemical analysis. Illiath was able to determine the fragments came from the hull of a Thuranin starship.”

  “Oh, shit. Ok, uh, she can’t identify the hull fragments to the Dutchman, can she?”

  “No. Well, not exactly. She does not know the fragments belong to a particular Thuranin ship, she can’t even determine the ship was a star carrier. Plus, since we captured the Dutchman, that ship has flown through a whole lot of radiation and micrometeorites that have altered the hull’s original composition.”

  “So, we’re good, then? She doesn’t have any useful info?”

  “Again, not exactly. Remember when we jumped through an Elder wormhole, and we broke it?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Yeah, well, the kitties were very interested in learning what the hell happened there. They scoured that area also, and, well, we left some pieces of the ship behind there, because the Dutchman was damaged by passing through the wormhole. Don’t worry! The kitties still can’t identify the ship that collapsed that wormhole. But, Illiath was able to determine the Thuranin hull fragments at the battle site, are from the same Thuranin ship that was involved in the wormhole collapse.”

  “Ohhhh. This is bad news, Skippy. It calls into question our whole story for framing the Bosphuraq.”

  “Um, maybe, and maybe not. The Dutchman contains not only Thuranin hardware, it also has bits and pieces of multiple ships we took from the junkyard in the Roach Motel. Illiath’s AI is flabbergasted. Their sensor sweep found particles from ships of eleven different species in the battlespace. They have no idea what to make of the data.”

  “Oh. So, this is neither bad news nor good news?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. Um, you know how when the STAR team conducts training outside the ship, they put on mech suits and go through an airlock?”

  “Ayuh. I’ve trained with them more than once.”

  “You also know how, when a dropship launches, the docking bay is depressurized before the doors open?”

  “I am getting a bad feeling about this.”

  “When people go outside in mech suits, or dropships launch, the outsides of those things are coated with a fine layer of human DNA. Moving around, or dropships using thrusters, or just the solar wind, knocks DNA particles off and deposits them on the hull.”

  “I have a very bad feeling about this.”

  “You should. Illiath found traces of human DNA at the battle site.”

  “Skippy, when I was learning the principles of space combat, the key was understanding that everything out here is so big. Now you’re telling me I also need to worry about stuff so tiny, it is microscopic?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “The kitties know humans were involved in destroying two of their ships?”

  “No. No, Joe, they don’t. Al
ong with human DNA, they found biological evidence of eight other species, including Thuranin, Kristang and Bosphuraq. Illiath’s report listed the finding of human DNA as a ‘curiosity’. She does not suspect humans were involved. She would probably dismiss that notion as ridiculous.”

  “This is telling me that our margin of error has suddenly gotten very small.”

  “I agree.”

  “Valkyrie’s hull is also coated with human DNA?”

  “Yes, it is unavoidable.”

  “So, the Maxolhx might find human DNA at the sites where the ghost ship attacked?”

  “Only at the sites of battles where Valkyrie’s hull was struck by enemy fire. In most of our battles, we were not touched by enemy weapons at all.”

  “Do you have any good news for me?”

  “Yes. Illiath absolutely confirmed that two Maxolhx ships were destroyed at the battle site, and she was able to identify the debris as the two ships that were going to Earth. That part of the evidence matches the story we planted to frame the birds. She also found the decoy debris we planted, and she does not know we left that debris to frame the Bosphuraq. So, the evidence is inconclusive. She is questioning how much of the story we planted is true, because clearly some evidence she found contradicts parts of the story.”

  “Should I be worried about this?”

  “That depends, Joe.”

  “Are you worried about this?”

  “Yes. This Illiath is very persistent. She will not stop until she has answers. While at the time, I thought the ghost ship attacks were a foolish risk you took because you couldn’t think of anything better to do, I now believe those attacks are our best protection. With their fleet tied up responding to us, they don’t have resources for looking deeper into evidence at the battle sites. In Illiath’s report, she speculated that the ghost ship is actually controlled by the Rindhalu, although she has no evidence to support her suspicion. Attacks by the ghost ship are leading the kitties away from the truth. That can only be good for us, right?”

  “Yeah, unless we get suckered into another trap. After our thirteenth battle, the kitties left two destroyers behind to search the area. Did they pick up any human DNA?”

  “No. Those destroyers were looking for where our ship jumped to, not investigating a crime scene. The nanoscale sensor gear used by Illiath is very specialized equipment, most warships don’t carry that kind of gear. For now, we don’t need to worry. The site of our thirteenth battle has been declared a No-Fly zone by the Maxolhx, their ships have been ordered to avoid the area.”

  “Ok. We dodged a bullet.”

  “Again. You can’t count on dodging many bullets in the future.”

  “Right. Whatever we do, we need to be super-super-duper careful. Is there anything we can do, different procedures we can apply, to avoid leaving evidence behind?”

  “Yes. I recommend we take Valkyrie in close to a star, with the shields deactivated, before we take the ship into combat again. A few seconds of close exposure to intense solar radiation will incinerate most of the DNA off the hull. Before dropships launch, we can flood the docking bay with ultraviolet radiation. Do the same to mech suits in airlocks, plus give the mech suits a good chemical scrubbing before they go outside. I know that is a time-consuming pain in the ass, and the crew will hate-”

  “Ha!” I laughed. That felt good. Part of the laugh was relief at having dodged another bullet. “The crew will understand. A lot of life in the military is a time-consuming pain in the ass. We get used to it.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. I’ll talk with Chang, Simms and Smythe about it. Is that it, or are you going to smack me with more bad news?”

  “Not today.”

  “Great.”

  “That I know of.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Can’t make any promises, you know?”

  “You are an unending source of comfort to me, Skippy.”

  The Maxolhx had a good plan. Our plan was better. Also, we didn’t need to destroy their two heavy cruisers. In fact, we didn’t want to blow up both of them. Ok, if we got a lucky shot and one of those warships became a brief flare of plasma, I would not lose any sleep over it. We just weren’t taking any additional risks to make that happen.

  My greatest concern about the action at Planet Voodoo was not getting into a fight against a pair of heavy cruisers. That was a known risk and we could manage it. My concern was what we did not know. Was it a trap? Was Skippy’s intel wrong? Were the Maxolhx sending more than two heavy cruisers, and were they planning another trap for us?

  I didn’t think so. The kitties had not initiated the action at Planet Voodoo or whatever its real name is. They are just responding to an operation the Bosphuraq had set in motion before our near-disaster thirteenth attack. If it was a trap intended for us, then the birdbrains must be part of the trap, and I didn’t see that happening. Ok, so we only had to worry that there might be more than two heavy cruisers involved. We could scan the area ahead of time and, if anything did not match Skippy’s intel, we would get the hell out of there.

  Really, the plan would work for us either way. If everything went as planned, we would give the kitties another bloody nose, and destroy their faith in their most secure communications technology. If we discovered the kitties had set another trap for us, we could taunt them with an infuriating ‘Nice try’ message and jump away. That would let the kitties know the ghost ship was still active, was not stupid enough to fall for a trap, and was a continuing threat. Then we could look for another opportunity to plant a set of pixies aboard a Bosphuraq ship. This time, I actually had a good feeling about the operation, rather than the sleepless, stomach-churning fear and doubt I usually experienced before battles.

  Which probably meant the Universe was about to stab me in the back.

  My life sucks.

  I gave the ‘Go’ order anyway.

  The kitties were supremely arrogant. They had developed and refined a set of tactics for dealing with the Rindhalu and clients of the spiders, plus the restless clients of the Maxolhx themselves. Those tactics had been tested and proved successful over thousands of years of real and simulated combat, and the Maxolhx rightfully trusted the advice of the sophisticated AIs that directed battle simulations.

  The Maxolhx were arrogant. Unfortunately for us, they weren’t stupid. Much as it pained them to admit they had not accounted for every possible conflict, and after being slow to acknowledge the reality that they were getting their supremely confident furry asses kicked by a single ghost ship while the entire galaxy watched gleefully and cheered, they did adjust their tactics. The problem for them was that their AIs had not yet completed analysis of our capabilities and intentions, so they had to guess. Even uninformed guesses could cause a lot of trouble for us, if we weren’t prepared.

  One of the heavy cruisers remained just over a lighthour away from the rendezvous point, while the other ship jumped in to conduct reconnaissance. Both ships had primary and backup shield generators set on full power. Missiles were hot in their launch tubes, ready to launch at a moment’s notice. Not knowing what threat they might encounter, the launch tubes had a full suite of ship-killers, decoys, enhanced-radiation and other weapons loaded. Packed in with the ship-killers were missiles with warheads designed to generate intense plasma flares that could temporarily blind an enemy’s sensors. In addition to missiles, both ships had a variety of directed-energy weapons fully charged. Railgun magnets were on standby, and the hellish energies of more exotic weapons were barely held in check. The ships were ready to defend themselves against any enemy they might encounter.

  Except us.

  The ship that had drawn the honor of conducting the recon mission immediately launched three missiles after it jumped precisely into the scheduled rendezvous point. Such precision, coming within nine hundred meters of the designated coordinates, was not necessary as it would make no difference in the outcome of the coming battle. The ship’s crew was proud of thei
r precision, for they knew the other ship would be watching and either criticizing or grudgingly praising the precision emergence through a rip in spacetime.

  The three missiles were not directed at targets, they were decoys. Each missile wrapped itself in a stealth field and projected only extremely faint emissions that duplicated the signature of their parent ship. One missile flew onward along the course of the ship, while the ship veered sharply away. Without very sophisticated sensors, no lurking enemy would be able to detect which object was the ship and which were decoys, before the stealth fields became so effective that it was impossible to see anything at all.

  The ship remained on high alert as it cruised in a preselected search pattern around the rendezvous coordinates, dropping off stealthed probes to create a bubble around the center. The grid of probes extended beyond the edge of the area where the Maxolhx disdainfully estimated the crude navigation systems of the Bosphuraq would dump their ships, in case the precision of their rebellious clients was even worse than expected.

  With the area covered by probes, the warship tested the network established by the linked probes, and waited for verification that the probes were feeding their data along an ultrathin beam in a single direction. Satisfied the sensor coverage was secure, and knowing that lingering in the area only tempted Fate, the ship jumped in the direction of the sensor signal.

  Left behind, the probes mindlessly gathered data about that empty area of interstellar space, sending the data onward by the undetectable beam. Silently encased in their own inky-black stealth fields, the probes waited for the signal to activate their damping fields, to prevent an enemy from escaping the wrath of their masters. The probes noted the ratio of hydrogen isotopes to other atoms in the near-perfect vacuum, along with random dust particles, x-rays and less harsh radiation, and other things that were really of no interest to anyone.