“I’d be prepared to take a bet on it. I just hope they don’t come unstuck before we can get everyone out of there.”
Chapter 25 — The Hunters and the Hunted
The guerrilla raids meant the Consortium garrison could not operate with impunity. Coupled with this, the Hellions’ ability to appear unexpectedly just about anywhere on the surface then vanish again without a trace frustrated all attempts to find their base.
Harry and Ferghal surveyed the Consortium soldiers they’d conscripted into service. “We need more leaders,” said Harry. “There are now more than a hundred of us, and we cannot oversee everything.”
“There are a number of Warrants and Senior Rates among them,” said Ferghal. “We’ve Colour Sergeant Arbinder and thirty Marines. Let him take charge of the infantry. I could train the Warrants to command the rocket battery or the cannon.”
Harry nodded. “Sounds like a good plan. Their Base AI is now so confused that it aids us.” He laughed. “It even tells us where the Consortium troops will search next.”
“True,” Ferghal responded, noting Harry’s smile. “And our Canid friends have become proficient at laying traps and misleading their aerial craft. Some of their raids rival even your attacks for boldness.”
“Aye, they do,” Harry acknowledged. “But we are still unable to make use of the off-world communications directly.”
“Then we must find a way to get past their screens.” Ferghal collected the device he was working on. “If you allow, there are several among the Rates I may trust to manufacture the engines for these new rockets.”
Harry smiled. “Inform Mr. Winstanley, my friend. We need all the rockets you can manufacture.” He adjusted his jacket. “Now I must see Grakuna and the other pack leaders. We need to know the movements of our enemy, and the Canids are better able to undertake this than we are.”
Brigadier Newton now had twice the number of troops the Base had started out housing, but the increased force seemed to have little impact on the raids. The accommodation was cramped, and the AI had caused another problem.
“Have you made any progress figuring out how the AI is being accessed and what is happening to the files that have been tampered with? How about the risk of a security leak?”
Major Willis shook her head. “It’s developed a sort of paranoia. These advanced AIs are a damned sight more aware than most people realise.” She rubbed her temples in a fruitless effort to ease the headache that had plagued her for at least a day now. “When they blew the science team’s AI, there must have been some connection between the two. There wasn’t supposed to be, so I’m not sure what it was, but the Base AI suffered the equivalent of traumatic shock. Now we fix one problem, and it produces another. These ghost visits could be symptoms of it.” She paused. “At least we found most of the files and restored them, so that’s something.”
The Brigadier wasn’t impressed. “So in the meantime, we have a demented AI running the Base systems.”
“Not demented — more like a frightened child.”
“Well, these damned ghost visits are not funny. If it’s the AI playing silly games, I want it stopped. Morale is plummeting, and we’re all getting edgy.” Signalling the interview was over, she added, “It’s bad enough that the doors and lights function on a whim, or so it seems, but why must I endure these ridiculous concerts that go on for bloody hours? And why always classical music or this damned Celtic music? I can’t stand the classical stuff! The Celtic is fine in small doses, but three hours of it?”
The Major hid her smile. “I’ve got someone working on it. I’ll chase him, and take him off the routine shifts. If anyone can figure it out, Khodro is the man.”
Cam Khodro sucked his teeth. Going over the signal log for the hypercoms wasn’t his favourite occupation. Doing it after Lieutenant Barclay had already supposedly done so was more than a pain. He ran his private checking program, and stiffened when a ping announced an anomaly.
“Damn.” He stared at the display then reached for his comlink. “Major, we have a problem — a big one.”
“I’m on my way. What is it?”
“Another gap in the signal log. All of three minutes.”
Brigadier Newton looked up as her Adjutant joined her. “Sit down, Barry, what news?” she said, wasting no time on pleasantries. “Have our patrols had another run-in with the Canids?”
“Not today. Major Willis has found a problem with the hypercom logs. There was a three-minute gap in transmissions, but when she ran more checks, it appears to be part of the problem with the AI. Her people can’t find any evidence of a signal going out or coming in during those three minutes. She’s working on it though.”
“Good.” The Brigadier frowned. “I don’t like this at all. What about the ground situation? You’ve suspended airborne strikes?”
“The Canids are all over the cities and won’t let our people near them. The missiles they’re using to defend against airstrikes are getting bigger and a lot more lethal, so I’ve had to curtail aerial strikes. We haven’t got the resources to take on a straight fight with them, especially now their weapons are getting better. Their vanishing trick makes it damned difficult to target them, though we have found out how it’s done. It’s some sort of screen, but we haven’t been able to unravel how it works yet.”
“How did we discover that?”
“Luck. Our platoon commander managed to grab a Canid his men had killed, and he brought it back for research. It’s a sort of cloak, but the material is the key to its invisibility.” He smirked. “The researchers are delighted — compensation for losing their star exhibits, Heron and O’Connor, and their research records.”
The Brigadier nodded. “The Chairman thinks the WTO is almost ready to negotiate. I hope they do. If they don’t, we have a problem. The allied Fleet is increasing in strength, and several of the colony worlds we control are getting rebellious as well.”
The Major grimaced. “Yes, things could get ugly if we don’t get a settlement soon. My sister is one of the Chairman’s aides. The Board wants a ceasefire and control of all the worlds we have at present. They believe this will buy time to consolidate, build up our forces and undertake a propaganda campaign to get the rest of their objectives through the back door.”
“That’s for the political types to sort out,” said the Brigadier. “Our job is to eliminate these Fleet radicals, subdue the Rotties, find the tech they’re hiding and secure our position. The weapons they’re using are crude, but our systems don’t recognise them, so don’t respond. What suggestions have the patrol commanders come up with?”
“Not much. So far, the only real defence is to make sure they keep their hatches closed while moving, but that means our people are driving blind, to a certain extent. Those savages have found a way to cripple and disable our vehicles by detonating devices underneath them. We’re working on solving that problem by mounting an imager to monitor the view behind.”
“Good, at least they haven’t tried another major assault, but these tip and run raids are tying down patrols and straining our resources.”
“Those aerial projectiles are a major headache for the strike flyers. The last flight team to encounter them were lucky to get back to Base — the shrapnel is lethal. Around a third of our strike force is out of action with perforation of the airframes, systemic damage to equipment and propulsion systems, and three pilots with wounds.”
The Brigadier frowned. “How the hell are they getting their hands on these weapons? They can’t have a limitless supply!”
“There’s another development. The med-units are full of troopers who tried to chase a bunch of Rotties and ran straight into some sort of artillery barrage — short range, unguided, but it showers a large area with projectiles, mostly small stones. The wounds would be far worse if our troops weren’t equipped with armour, but even that doesn’t offer complete protection.”
ComTech Cam Khodro struggled to make sense of t
he access log. “Ma’am,” he called to Major Willis. “According to the log, no one on the Base has had access to the databases or the operating controls for the last twenty-four hours.”
“Impossible.” The Major peered at the screen. “I’m logged into the Defence System right now — check that.”
“There it is, ma’am. Nothing. According to this, you’re not in the system at all.”
“Here, let me try something.” The Major took over the interface and entered a string of commands.
After a brief pause, the display revealed a completely different version of the log. The Major frowned. “This is ridiculous. It’s as if the system is rewriting the logs to match the query.” She straightened up. “That proves it. We’ve got a serious problem with the AI. Do a full sweep of the system and ask it to show you who has accessed what, when and how.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And do it now. I’ve got a feeling this is not just the AI suffering a breakdown. This is something else.”
Chapter 26 — The End of the Beginning
Rear Admiral Heron looked up as his Flag Captain, Richard Grenville, entered. “Good evening, Richard, take a seat.” When the Captain was seated, he continued. “It looks as if we have a major task on our hands. I want a conference of all Captains at fourteen hundred so we can work out the strategy and tactics and get to know one another. We’ll have the Karl der Größe and her escorts and a US squadron alongside our own, and there are several independents to integrate as well.”
“Good.” Richard nodded. “I was going over the Fleet list and figured we’d need to make sure our communications and manoeuvring procedures are standardised, or we could have a problem.”
“I agree. I plan to run the simulators with the Commanders to get everyone used to the way we operate. I’ve had Flags prepare packs with our coms procedures and manoeuvring standards. Commodore Dewey of the Constellation has been exercising with the main Fleet already, so his people should be ready.”
The Admiral looked up when the door opened and the Flag Captain entered. “You look worried, Flags,” said the Admiral. “What’s happened?”
“Intel briefing just in, sir. The Consortium has a larger force than we believed, and they’re on the move to Planet Lycania. Intelligence Services haven’t been able to discover why.”
Once more exploring the Consortium network, Harry monitored the signals flashing back and forth between the various units of the ground forces, a daily task for him. This allowed him to monitor the movements of patrols and to circumvent the traps they attempted to lay for him. It was an essential routine while monitoring the drone surveillance, though this had limited success.
He was feeling very tired and sluggish, bored with the routine, when a priority signal from off world streamed in, decoding as it arrived. He sat up fully alert. The message electrified him. A Consortium Force was on its way to the planet to intercept an invasion force by the Fleet. Worse, a decoy was being set up to disguise the movement and lead the Fleet into believing the planet was only lightly defended. Somehow, he had to convey this to the Fleet.
He addressed the Provider. “I have urgent need of your assistance.”
“In what matter?”
“I need to use the emitters, but our enemy must not suspect it or find evidence I have done so. Can you create a distraction? Perhaps misdirect the attention of the man who searches for us daily.”
“It shall be done. Have you your message ready?”
“Give me a few minutes. Perhaps you can start misleading him while I do it.”
It needed less time than Harry anticipated. He quickly considered how to word his message so that he remained anonymous to the enemy but recognisable to the Commander-in-Chief, and chose the name The Ancient Mariner to signify himself as the sender. It took ninety seconds for the hypercom emitter to transmit the message, which made him glad he’d added his guardian’s signal address as well.
“It is done, Provider.”
“This human is amusing. He is intelligent and suspects I am deceiving him, but he does not know that I am not merely another human using his network. I shall observe him in future.”
“Just don’t let him discover the discrepancy in the transmission log.”
Harry shared his discovery with Ferghal, and insisted they monitor every off-world signal to and from the Consortium Base from now on.
“But what will we do with this information?” Ferghal protested. “It is all very well us knowing it, but that will not help our friends.”
“We will find a way,” Harry insisted. “The Provider can distract their ComTech who seeks us in the AI. We may then have little time to convey our knowledge to the Fleet.”
“Very well,” Ferghal agreed. “Better they have some information that assists them — even if it is at the last minute.”
Harry gathered his senior people for a meeting. He had already consulted the Canid leaders, and they awaited his proposals for a campaign.
“A Consortium fleet is on its way here,” he began. “They’ve been ordered to engage or trap us any way they can. Mr. O’Connor and I have been monitoring their communication, and we have warned our people. I propose that we prevent them from using their landing facilities either to land their people or to send aloft their strike craft. It will not be easy, and carries with it great danger for us all.”
He paused to look at the group before him. “We will have to reconnoitre the perimeter, but I intend to make use of our mines, mortars and everything else we have in our arsenal.”
“What about the officers they’re holding there, sir?”
“We know where they have them in the main camp and will take care not to target that area. They also have fuel cells somewhere on the base, and those may be of use to us eventually. Our task now is to gather our ideas and consider how we may best achieve this. I welcome your thoughts.”
“Tell us how you want to do this, sir,” said the Coxswain. “Maybe we can come up with some ideas if we know what you think can be done to disrupt their plans. If it’s just to scare ‘em, this lot standing on a hill nearby ought to do it.” There was a laugh from the others as he pointed his thumb in the direction of a Warrant Officer’s scraggly mane of hair.
“I think a full assault is out of the question,” Harry said. “But I hope we can do enough to prevent them operating from their landing and launching area — perhaps prevent them deploying until our people can land, as I feel sure they will attempt.” He glanced around the group. “It is a big task — a hundred of us against the thousand or so they have — and not all our people are really suited to this kind of fighting.”
Many of those they had liberated were technicians or had served in administrative roles, and had not the strength or stamina for the arduous operations they were engaged in.
Harry saw the nods as his point went home.
A Warrant Officer at the back of the group asked, “Couldn’t we try to get inside their perimeter and mine the landing bays and launch pads, sir? Seems to me that we would only need to wreck a launch or something to make them unusable.”
“Good idea,” Harry acknowledged. “How would we get inside? They now have a triple screen, and even Grakuna’s people can’t get through it.” He made a note. One of the pack members, the young Regidur, had succeeded in getting a note to Commander Nielsen. Perhaps there was a way inside.
“We’ve still got a couple of their transports, sir,” another Warrant spoke up. “Couldn’t we modify one to carry a big bomb and then send it through the perimeter? The lads say you and Mr. O’Connor can control these things with your heads, sir.”
“That is feasible,” Harry replied. “A sort of fire ship on land.” He nodded. “Yes, I like that idea. How many of their vehicles do we have now, Swain?”
“Six, sir,” Abram Winstanley replied. “Though at least one is only just usable, and they’re pretty much scattered. We’d have to get them all back here and then over
to the Base if we do this.”
“Then let’s do it,” Harry said. He looked at the Warrant Officer who had suggested it. “Mr. Heuer, is it not? Please see Mr. Winstanley about arranging to bring them all here so we can put your idea into practice.” He acknowledged another member of the group. “You have an idea, Mr. Van Duren?”
“Yes, sir,” the man responded. “I reckon we could set up batteries on three sides overlooking their launch and landing bays, and lay down a barrage that would discourage them from moving while a path was cleared to get into the perimeter. If we combine that with some of Mr. O’Connor’s surface-to-surface rockets, we could pin them down long enough for our people to land and join in — if we can time it right.”
“Yes, that accords with my own thoughts,” Harry acknowledged. “But, as you know, they will deploy field pieces against us unless we can find positions they cannot target, yet within our range.” He nodded to the Coxswain. “Your thoughts, Mr. Winstanley?”
Watching his friend, Ferghal marvelled at the manner in which Harry was engaging the Warrant Officers, many of whom had never been asked to contribute to strategic planning before. It was obvious they were finding it a novel experience, and the discussion got lively as ideas were tried, dissected and some discarded while others were developed.
By the time the meeting broke up, everyone had a task to prepare some part of the overall plan. “Gentlemen, keep in mind that whatever you are tasked with must not conflict with any other part of the operation. You must consult one another at every step!” Harry ordered.
Ferghal clapped him on the back as the door shut. “Masterful, Captain. You inspire them with your confidence in them. Heaven help our enemy with such men in opposition.”
“But we are the few against many, my friend. It will be like the wasp against the elephant. We can only hope to discomfort them and distract them. If the Fleet doesn’t succeed in breaking through and landing, I fear it will be the end for us.” He hesitated. “And the cost in lives is likely to be heavy. No easy thing to accept, for it rests on my head alone.”
Harry Heron Savage Fugitive Page 25
