Fear God and Dread Naught (33 page)

At least they’re not going to die
, she thought. 
They will live ...

She shook her head, bitterly.  Modern medicine was a wonderful thing.  She’d broken her arm as a child and the doctors had fixed it within a day.  There were vaccines against tooth decay, treatments that could freeze her reproductive cycle and delay menopause indefinitely ... even medical procedures that could permanently change the colour of her skin!  But it had its limits.  If her crewmen couldn't be treated in time, they’d be doomed to spend the rest of their lives as cripples.  And no matter how kindly they were treated, they’d never be independent again.

And some of dad’s friends had real problems
, Susan reminded herself. 
And so did some of the people I knew after the flooding.

“Try and do everything you can for them,” she said.  “Is there
anything
we can do?”

“I'm considering freezing them,” Chung said, flatly.  “But that procedure carries its own risks.”

Susan nodded.  A couple of primitive starships - starships only by courtesy, really - had been launched on interstellar colonisation missions before the first tramline had been discovered, their crews frozen in cryogenic suspension.  They’d been recovered later - much later - when they’d reached their destination, but the procedure had killed nearly two-thirds of the would-be colonists.  And many of the survivors had mental problems that had plagued them for the rest of their lives.

They claim to have improved the process since
, she thought. 
But it’s very much a last resort
.

“Make sure you explain the risks to them,” she ordered.  “And if they are reluctant to undergo the procedure, don’t force it on them.”

“Of course, Captain,” Chung said.  He sounded a little offended at the implication he would have forced the procedure on anyone.  “They will know the risks before we put them on ice.”

“Good,” Susan said.  She rubbed her forehead, feeling a nasty headache building behind her eyes.  “And I’m sorry.”

“Don't worry about it,” Chung said.  “We all have problems.”

He pointed a finger at her.  “And I would suggest you slept,” he added.  “If you stay awake, you’re not going to be any good to anyone.”

“I keep being told that,” Susan said.  She rose.  “Keep me informed, please.”

She walked out of the office and moved from bed to bed, exchanging a handful of words with the crewmen who’d been wounded.  A number had been sedated; others looked to be in good cheer, even as they contemplated the prospect of life as a cripple.  Susan couldn't help being reminded of some of her father’s friends, the men who’d fought and bled for a country that hadn’t been sure if it wanted to accept them.  They’d had the same hearty air of cheerfulness even as the world turned against them. 

And they were all good people
, she thought, as she glanced down at one of the sedated crewmen.  Something had taken his legs, leaving his lower body a broken mess.  He’d been incredibly lucky to survive long enough to reach sickbay - and now he would have to remain sedated until a new pair of legs could be grown for him. 
They didn't deserve to suffer
.

She pushed the maudlin thought out of her mind as she left sickbay and returned to her Ready Room.  One of the harsh truths of life in the military - one civilians should have learned too, after the Bombardment - was that life
wasn't
fair.  War chewed people up and spat them out, civilians as well as soldiers.  Part of the reason she’d gone into the navy, if she were forced to be honest with herself, was that there was less collateral damage in space.  But in a universe where aliens might decide to solve the human problem with planet-wide bombardment, she wasn't sure if that really held true. 

Her sofa looked tempting as she entered the compartment, but she checked the tactical display before lying down for a brief nap.  There hadn't been any major change, save for the disappearance of the alien arsenal ships.  The alien CO had probably sent them to be reloaded, knowing they were useless without their missiles.  Susan cursed under her breath, then walked over to the sofa and lay down.  If she was lucky, she’d be able to get a few hours of sleep before she had to go back to the bridge.

Sure
, her conscience reminded her. 
And what about all the wounded crewmen?  And the ones who died under your command?

Susan gritted her teeth, her body feeling almost too tired to sleep.  She
cared
about her crew, cared about them in a way Captain Blake had never cared.  But then, he'd been too busy trying to hide his own loss of nerve to show any empathy to the men and women under his command.  It was hard to feel
any
sympathy for him.  He'd known he wasn’t suited to remain in the command chair, yet he’d stayed ...

And nearly got the entire fleet destroyed
, Susan thought.

She pushed the thought away, angrily.  There was nothing she could do for the dead, let alone the wounded.  They couldn't even hold a formal ceremony to remember the dead until after they completed the operation!  And the wounded would have to cope ... she knew, deep inside, that many of them would be carrying their scars, physical and mental, for the rest of their lives.  Maybe some of them would be able to live a normal life ...

They knew the job was dangerous when they took it
, she told herself, savagely.

It didn't help.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Susan didn't feel any better, six hours later, when she stepped back onto the bridge to discover that the situation hadn't changed.  The task force was nearing the gas giant, the enemy fleet was still maintaining its distance and there was no sign of any other enemy starships in the system.  She glanced at the reports from the long-range probes and frowned, not particularly reassured, when they continued to insist that the fleet was closing in on a cloudscoop and asteroid mining facility of indeterminate purpose.

There must be something else here
, she thought. 
But what?

A series of messages from Admiral Harper popped up in front of her when she sat on the command chair.  She flicked her way through them, silently cataloguing the ones of immediate use and filing the others away for later examination.  Harper planned to execute a breakaway operation after inspecting and destroying the alien facility, then head directly for Tramline Two and onwards to Unity.  The aliens would still have a chance to get there first - there was nothing they could do about that - but at least the task force would have an opportunity to make repairs.

She forced herself to wait as Mason and Granger returned to the bridge, looking disgustingly fresh after two or three hours of sleep.  Susan reminded herself to keep an eye on the tactical officer - she’d had even less sleep than Susan herself - then motioned for Mason to take his console as the task force closed in on its target.  She wondered, despite herself, just what the aliens were thinking.  Logically, they
had
to know that their facility was doomed.

“Captain,” Charlotte said.  “I’m picking up multiple shuttles heading away from the cloudscoop.”

Susan frowned.  “An evacuation?”

“It looks like it,” Charlotte said.  “The shuttles are heading on a wide course that will keep them well away from us.”

“Trained workers,” Mason noted.  “They have to be.”

“Yes,” Susan said.

She wondered, as the shuttles fled the alien facilities, if Yegorovich would demand the right to give chase.  From a coldly logical point of view, slaughtering trained workers - workers the aliens would need years to replace - made perfect sense.  It would deal a minor blow to the alien industrial base, at least until the aliens trained new manpower.  But from an emotional point of view, slaughtering fleeing aliens - who might well be civilians - was a horrific act, one that might make it harder to convince the aliens to talk peace.  She knew, all too well, that
humans
would not react kindly to such an act.

But we don't know if that’s true of them
, she thought. 
And we don’t know what they’re really doing in this system
.

“Signal from the flag,” Parkinson said.  “
New York
intends to engage the alien facilities with mass drivers.  The remainder of the task force is to stand ready to offer support.”

Susan nodded.  “Keep us on course,” she ordered.  If the shadowing aliens had ever intended to save their facilities, they’d had their chance.  “And be ready for anything.”

She watched, grimly, as
New York
opened fire, spewing out a stream of projectiles towards the alien facilities.  A warship would have seen them coming and evaded, but the facilities probably had nothing more than station-keeping thrusters.  She frowned as a handful of point defence units sprang to life, picking off a dozen projectiles, only to be smashed out of existence by the remainder.  Moments later, there was nothing left of either facility, save for a handful of pieces of debris falling into the gas giant’s atmosphere. 

“Targets destroyed,” Granger said.  “I say again, targets destroyed.”

Susan looked at the main display.  “Any sign of new alien activity?”

“None,” Granger said.  “The system appears to be quiet.”

Susan exchanged a glance with Mason, then shrugged.  If there
was
something hidden in the system, they weren't going to find it.  Ideally, a couple of stealthed pickets could remain and keep an eye out for alien activity, but the task force didn't have any ships to spare.  She eyed the shuttles, still fleeing as fast as they could, then dismissed them.  The alien shadows could pick them up, after the breakaway.

“Signal from the flag,” Parkinson said.  “All ships are to proceed to Point Break, then prepare for evasive manoeuvres.”

“Acknowledge,” Susan ordered.  “Helm, do you have the updated course heading?”

“Aye, Captain,” Reed said.  “It isn't
very
challenging.”

“As long as you don’t leak,” Mason pointed out.  “One sniff of our presence and the entire exercise will be worse than useless.”

“It wouldn't be
that
bad,” Susan said.  “Merely ... annoying.”
 

She waited, patiently, as the task force picked up speed, rushing away from the gas giant at a speed that would have been unimaginable, only a century ago.  The aliens would have their chance to get to Unity first - there was no escaping that, unless they found a way to destroy the shadowing force before heading for Unity themselves.  All they could do - all they could hope to do - was buy some extra time. 

And it may be for nothing, anyway
, she thought. 
What if they did send additional forces to Unity
?

“Signal from the flag,” Parkinson said.  “The task force is to begin diversionary operations on their mark.”

“See to it,” Susan ordered.  The enemy fleet still had a solid lock on their hulls, but that was about to be shaken.  And yet, would it be shaken
enough
?  “Are the drones deployed?”

“Aye, Captain,” Granger said.  “The drones are in place.”

They’ll tumble to this, sooner or later
, Susan told herself.  Human ECM seemed better than alien ECM, although there was no way to be
entirely
sure. 
And they’ll certainly try to duplicate our systems for themselves.

“Signal from the flag,” Parkinson said.  “Diversionary operations are to begin in ten seconds.”

“Do it,” Susan said.  She leant forward, bracing herself.  “And stand ready to cloak.”

“Running diversionary operations now,” Granger said.  “The drones are active; I say again, the drones are active.”

“Take us into cloak,” Susan ordered.  She glanced at the fleet display to make sure that the laser communications links were in place.  “Now.”

The lights dimmed, briefly.  “Cloak engaged, Captain,” Granger said.  “The drones have taken our place.”

Susan nodded, slowly.  If the alien sensors were no better than
humanity’s
sensors, they wouldn't have seen anything beyond a burst of distortion.  They should have missed the drones going active at the same time the task force cloaked ... if everything went according to plan, the aliens would continue to chase the drones, unaware that their
real
targets had slipped away. 

We could use this to surprise them
, she thought.  She’d had a few ideas along those lines, during the tactical brainstorming session. 
But they might be watching for us
.

“Signal from the flag, Captain,” Parkinson said.  “The task force is to breakaway and head directly for Tramline Two.”

“Helm, take us out,” Susan ordered.  “And be
very
careful.”

She kept a wary eye on the display as the task force and the drones diverged.  The aliens should -
should
- see the task force circling around, as if it intended to plunge back into Tramline One and return to the previous system.  If they were fooled, everything should go according to plan ...

And if they’re not fooled,
she thought,
they’ll have an excellent chance to catch us with our pants around our ankles
.

The seconds ticked away, each second feeling like an hour.  It wasn't a good position to hold, not when there was an alien fleet breathing down their necks.  Laser communicators or not, the task force was too spread out to coordinate a proper defence if the aliens
weren’t
fooled.  If
she
had been in command of the alien fleet, Susan knew, she would have lunged forward, soaking up whatever losses she had to take to catch the battleships on the hop.  It would have been far from ideal for both sides, but it would have given the aliens a chance to inflict terrible damage at a very minimal cost.

“The aliens appear to be shadowing the drones,” Charlotte reported, finally.  “As long as they keep their distance, they shouldn't realise that they
are
drones.”

“Very good,” Susan said.  The longer the deception lasted, the greater the chance that they’d get away with it.  “Helm, what’s our ETA at Tramline Two?”

“Five hours,” Reed reported.

We could move faster
, Susan thought. 
But that would be far too revealing
.

She forced herself to wait, grimly, as the seconds became minutes and the minutes became hours.  The aliens seemed to be fooled, all right; they were shadowing the drones, as if they hadn't noticed any substitution at all.  And yet, she had the odd sense that someone was being conned.  The aliens might
just
have put a fleet in TPS-271.  But then, that would have required either a vast number of starships - in which case the war was already within shouting distance of being lost - or precognition.  And precognition would probably be enough to win the war, too.

Despite herself, the thought made her smile. 
They’re telepathic
and
they can see the future?

Mason looked at her.  “Captain?”

“Continue on our current course,” Susan ordered.  They’d have a chance to slow down and make repairs in TPS-271, unless the aliens
had
outguessed them.  “And keep a sharp eye on the drones.”

The hours passed steadily, with no sign that the aliens had seen through the trick.  Susan just hoped that that was accurate, knowing - all too well - that the aliens wouldn’t have any trouble guessing where the fleet was going.  If they hadn't known about the alien-grade tramlines before the Battle of UXS-469, they sure as hell did now.

We knew they existed
, Susan reminded herself. 
But we needed help to access them
.

“Signal from the flag,” Parkinson said.  “We’re to proceed through the tramline as planned.”

Susan bit her lip, tasting blood.  Harper was right to want to get through the tramline as quickly as possible - the longer they remained in the system, the greater the chance of something accidentally giving the trick away - but she couldn’t help feeling that the aliens would have a surprise up their sleeves.  TPS-271 was an obvious destination, after all.  It would give the task force its best chance at making repairs before it had to go back to the war.

But they can't be everywhere
, she thought. 
Everything we’ve seen suggests that they are scrambling desperately to scrape up reinforcements for this sector
.

Her own thoughts mocked her. 
Or is that just what you want to believe?

“Stand by all weapons,” she ordered, as the task force approached the tramline.  She’d hoped that Harper would send a smaller ship through first, but the Admiral had decided that the entire fleet should make transit as soon as possible.  “And prepare to repel attack.”

She took one last look at the live feed from the drones - now outdated by several hours - and braced herself for the jump.  The displays went blank ... just for a second, she thought something had gone horrifically wrong ... and then cleared, displaying a bright G2 star.  The system had been earmarked for development, she recalled from the files, but the Tadpoles hadn't gotten around to settling it before the new war began.  If it hadn't been so far from Earth, she had a feeling that a few human consortiums would have bid for settlement rights too.