A Faded Star (12 page)

 Admiral Drogue responded, “I see, commander. Thank you
for the enlightening answer. If I may, a follow-up question to what Captain
Hanlon asked: is it possible to sanction the use of offense by us? Perhaps as
commanders of an offensive force?”

 “This question is difficult for the alliance, admiral.
Perhaps if you had ships entirely crewed by humans, we would be able to supply
logistical support, but alliance members would not easily take part an action
like the one you propose.”

 “I understand. Miss Hanlon and I have been sifting
through your after action reports, and we both have independently come to the
conclusion you are in danger of being overrun by the crabs. Perhaps a change in
your moral stance would be appropriate in order to preserve your society?”

 Ktenu shook his head slowly and stared sightlessly at
the table while he weighted the question. “We simply cannot do as you ask,
Admiral. Our people would never support it. Even the most aggressive of our
military officers would have a very difficult time accepting orders along the
lines of thought you suggest.” Ktenu looked up from the table and pinned Drogue
with his black, unmoving eyes. “You have plan, don't you?”

 “Captain Hanlon and I have been working on one, yes.
The plan required an offensive force be assembled and put into action. We can
train your troops to think offensively and to use offensive action to deflect
attacks before they happen. Without this kind of thinking, we are concerned the
alliance will be completely annihilated.”

 Ktenu hung his head, again striking a surprisingly
human pose and said, “I see your point, Admiral. I cannot say I am comfortable
contemplating the kind of action you propose, but if it is in the interest of
our very survival, I believe I can make a convincing argument to our political
leadership that this an unavoidable step. You must realize there will be a very
high price to pay for both the military and political leaders who endorse and
advocate for your actions.”

 “Contrasted with the survival of the five species of
the alliance, it must be an acceptable price.”

 “I am forced to agree with you, Admiral. Let us
proceed and see what you are proposing, then.”

 Drogue nodded and gave Hanlon a sidelong look
accompanied by a wink. “Miss Hanlon, would you display the particulars?”

 “Of course, Admiral. We are proposing we begin by
assembling a small offensive force, crewed by the humans of the expeditionary
force. This force would be used to attack crab positions in these three
locations.” Hanlon brought up a display of the local star cluster. Alliance
held systems and fortifications were highlighted in green and crab forces in
yellow. Linis stood and pointed to the first of their proposed raids. This
system, designated L1131 by your stellar cartographers is a forward supply base
held by the crabs. At one point, it was a potential colony site for alliance
races, but the war has forced the alliance to put these plans on hold. A long
range scan of the system by alliance intelligence craft indicates the system is
sparsely defended. A force of three destroyer class ships and a single cruiser
supported by a dozen or so corvettes would be able to completely overwhelm the
crab picket. The attraction of this system is the concentration of raw and
salvaged materials located here. The system is near the current boundary
between alliance and crab held space. The force could be in and out before the
crabs can reinforce the position. Their nearest detached fleet is located
here.” Hanlon indicated a system about 20 light years from L1131. “We can be in
and out before the crabs can do anything about it.”

 Ktenu's eyes were wide, and his face pantomimed what
could only be interpreted as shock. “What you propose is nothing short of
murder, Captain! You propose we attack with a complete assuredness of victory,
effectively rendering the enemy forces in that system dead before the first
shot would be fired. That is... evil, captain. I can tell you now that there is
no possibility of us acting in this way.”

 Drogue said, “What if all of the ships were entirely
crewed by humans, Commander? Would that make a difference for the rest of the
alliance?”

 The other officers of the alliance, who had been
silent and nearly motionless up to this point in the meeting began to shuffle
quietly out. Hanlon wondered if she had missed some covert signal. “Why is
everyone else leaving, commander?” She asked.

 “They feel the meeting is over. No action you have
proposed can be taken by the alliance, captain. Ships crewed entirely by humans
might be acceptable, but the decision will still carry a very high price for
those who allow it, and none of them are willing to consider it. I will have to
consult with the political leadership before we can approve any such action.
What would be the point of killing all these people and destroying all their
ships, other than the extinguishment of every being currently living in L1131?”

 “Material supplies for building new ships, commander.
Your current strategy is to be strong everywhere which allows the crabs to
attack at their leisure and concentrate their forces in exactly the way we
propose against you. Each time this happens, the crabs take heavy losses. Your
ability to react and see their attacks coming is excellent, but the crab forces
are still winning. It is a very high rate of attrition for both sides,
commander. To ensure the survival of the alliance, you must either have an
overwhelmingly powerful defense everywhere you still have territory, or you'll
have to assemble a powerful and effective offensive force to begin carving the
crab forces up and defeating them. Without either of these actions, your way of
life will be destroyed. Either of these actions will need a massive influx of
additional materials to assemble new ships and defensive structures for your
remaining systems.

 “Additionally, Commander, an offensive action has the
effect of forcing the enemy to begin thinking of where you will attack rather than
where they will hit you next. They must begin dividing their efforts between
attacking and defending.” Drogue leaned forward in his chair for the first time
during the meeting. His pale blue eyes were intent on Ktenu's black ones. “I
understand you have a moral objection to killing any living being that is not
in the immediate process of attempting to kill you or one of your people, but
you simply can't win this war the way you are fighting it. Eventually, the
crabs will hit you in a weak spot, take out some vital part of your
infrastructure, and you will be gone. Your alliance has stood for five thousand
years. Isn't it worth some moral discomfort to stop that?”

 Commander Ktenu nodded slowly. “I believe you have
made a convincing point, Admiral, and Captain. I will take your proposal to our
political leadership.”

 “Do you think they will consider what we are
proposing?”

 “It is possible. I think there is a good chance I can
at least convince them to allow a human only force to begin making attacks on enemy
held territory. I'm not sure if alliance troops can be allowed to participate
or not. I will suggest it. You must realize, however, that most of the citizens
of the alliance would probably rather see it destroyed by an enemy than
destroyed by its own military and political leadership.” Ktenu stood, bowed his
head slightly to Drogue and walked out of the meeting room.

 “We didn't even get on to the second and third raid
proposals, sir,” Hanlon said, “I don't understand how they can be so fixated on
maintaining a moral high ground when their entire way of life is about to be
destroyed.”

 “Do we have enough officers and crew in the
expeditionary force to crew the proposed offensive fleet and complete the raids
with humans only?”

 “I believe so. We may have to rely on somewhat higher
levels of automation than we're usually comfortable with. There will also be
far less redundancy in the crews themselves, of course.”

 “We'll hold out for a human only force, at least. With
any luck, they'll come around to our way of thinking once they see how
effective it is. If they don't, I can't see how we can hold the crabs off long
enough to keep their society going.”

 “I know, sir. I agree completely.”

 Hanlon and Drogue worked well into the night, trying
to find a way of defeating the crabs without destroying the moral fiber of the
alliance.

 Rampart drifted slowly inward towards Buckman's star.
After five hours, the search effort was yielding very little. The origin signal
appeared to be coming from everywhere in the system at once.

 Commodore Stokes sat in his command chair, fighting
the urge to drum his fingers. “What's our progress, Miss Simmons?”

 “We've navigated about eleven percent of the system so
far, and current projection shows the scan taking another two and a half days
to complete, give or take, sir.”

 “Two and a half days?”

 “Sixty-one hours to be exact. I-” She paused when a
young enlisted man tapped on her shoulder. “One moment, sir.” She turned and
listened to the young man speaking quietly for a few seconds. She returned her
attention to the commodore and said, “Sir, specialist Jackson has found
something he thinks may be of note. Specialist, please brief the commodore.”

 Jackson gulped as he turned his eyes from Simmons to
Stokes. He took a deep breath, visibly calmed himself and looked Stokes
directly. “Sir, I was running a wave form analysis and then comparing it to an
infrared decay rate graph, just playing with the new sensor suite, really. It
has such a massive range and the spectrum analysis computer makes macro
analyses so easy I just figured I would cross reference a full spectrum scan
and see if there was any kind of vector analysis or energy waveform shift in a
specific band -urk!” He stopped and stared as Simmons, who had poked him in the
ribs to get his mind back on track. She stared intently at him for a fraction
before he nodded and turned back to the commodore. “Well, I mean, what I meant,
sir, is that the infrared and FTL signals have a high degree of interaction. So
I tried to track the origin of the signal based on that interaction. Well, here
are the results.” The young man tapped his console, and the main plot brought
up a vector analysis the man had been talking about. A series of lines all
pointed to a common point in space.

 Stokes gritted his teeth silently for a moment to
retain his composure before responding. Simmons continued to demonstrate
incredibly questionable judgment and lack of leadership ability putting that
young enlisted man on point like that – without even giving him a chance to
prepare. Once he knew his voice would come out steady, he said, “Well done,
Specialist Jackson. I can see you may have located the origin signal by... how
did you put it? Playing with the main sensor array?” Stokes hoped a bit of
humor would take the sting out of the situation for the young specialist.

 “Uh, sir... I only meant I was trying new ways of
running energy analyses.”

 “Don't worry, specialist. You've done well. Miss
Simmons, have you verified his findings?”

 “Just getting my independent data now, sir.” Simmons
turned back to her panel and tapped at it furiously for a moment. “Yes, sir. I
can validate the specialist's data. This point,” Simmons caused a ring to
highlight the convergence of the energy pattern on the plot. ”This seems to be
the point of origin.”

 “Mister Kri, what is our best ETA to this point?”

 “Six hours, fourteen minutes, sir. Provided we don't
have to break out the drones to clear the area once we get a bit closer. That point
is actually below the plane of the ecliptic. We'll probably have to maneuver
carefully to get there directly.”

 “Noted, Mister Kri. Make our course for the origin
point, best possible speed.”

 “Aye, sir. Helm make your heading one-two-one by
three-zero-nine, ahead full.”

 The helmsman repeated the order before dialing in the
new course and throttling up the engines to seventy-five percent of their rated
power, their maximum setting for extended flight. The rumble of the engines
flowed from the deck plates.

 The following five hours passed without incident until
Rampart had to begin maneuvering heavily to move away from the drifting
asteroids. Drones were launched and began clearing a wider path than the hard
mounted point defense system could manage on its own. As the smaller bodies
were cleared away, their objective finally came into view. Stokes rubbed gritty
eyes with his fingers, fighting the urge to doze off in the command chair. The
entire bridge crew had been at their stations for twelve hours, none of them
willing to miss the chance to be there for the moment when the origin of a
signal so important was found.

 Kri said, “Sir, that large asteroid ahead is the
origin point. I'm putting it on the main plot now.” The plot changed to display
a large disk-shaped asteroid.

 “That clearly isn't a natural formation. Miss Simmons,
what is your analysis?”

 “Nothing of note, sir. The surface of the asteroid
appears to be the standard mix of rocky iron you would expect, but the readings
just drop off a few feet down. It's almost like the entire asteroid was
shielded from our scans in some way. From a distance, it would certainly scan
like any other rock floating by here, but this close we have the resolution to
see the gap in the middle we can't scan.”

 “How large is this asteroid?” Stokes asked.

 Kri said, “Just over five kilometers across. It's
exactly circular. Roughly one kilometer thick, uniformly across the entire
thing.”

 Simmons said, “Sir, we are getting a low energy
reading now. It looks like some kind of short range active scan.” Simmons
paused, working her console for a moment and then said, “Energy output has
increased twenty-five hundred percent, sir. Definitely an active scanning
system. Sir! Look!” Simmons pointed at the plot.

 Stokes turned his attention from Simmons back to the
huge display along the forward wall of the bridge. Glowing lines began to cross
along the edge of the asteroid. The lines slowly grew until they merged,
causing the whole asteroid to glow a pale blue. The entire bridge crew watched
raptly until Stokes said, “Sensor analysis, Miss Simmons. What are we seeing
here?”

 Simmons gave herself a shake and began tapping at her
console again. “Not sure, sir. Energy reading is negligible, aside from some visible
and ultraviolet spectrum light, we aren't getting anything new from the
asteroid.”

 Kri shook his head. “That's no asteroid. Whatever it
is, I suggest we be ready to defend ourselves, sir.”

 “Agreed. Mister Patho, combat launch drones, standard
defensive package.”

 “Aye, sir. Launch in eighty seconds.”

 Silence once again dominated the bridge while the
launch counter spooled at the edge of the main plot.

 “Is the light getting brighter, Miss Simmons?” Stokes
asked.

 “Yes, sir. Light intensity increase is on a linear
slope. Graphing it to the secondary plot.” The crashing rumble of a full combat
launch of drones echoed through the bridge as she finished her sentence.

 “Drone launch normal, sir,” Patho said.

 “Very well, Mister Patho. Miss Simmons, put the other
energy output from their scanner up as well. See if there's any correlation.”

 “Aye, sir,” Simmons said.

 Stokes pondered the situation. Whatever this thing
was, it had responded to their presence. Whatever its intentions, he planned on
meeting it ready to defend the safety of his crew. The drones rumbled into
space just as the counter dropped to zero. Their signatures began to populate
the tactical plot to the right of the main plot.

 “Light intensity decreasing, sir. Scan intensity has
dropped as well, back to the originally detected level. I'm getting a visual
change as well. It looks like the glow is fading entirely now, sir.”

 Kri said, “Another set of lines are appearing. Black
this time.”

 “Those aren't lines. That's open space, sir,” Patho
said.

 The lines widened to gaps, ever widening until a
structure became visible behind the occluding rocky strata. Material that
looked like brilliantly burnished silver became visible and slowly resolved
into curves and points. The entire formation becoming visible as an enormous
silver ring with a series of seven elongated pointed pods arrayed roughly
equally along the outer edge.

 “What is it, sir?” Kri said.

 “That's what we're here to find out, Mister Kri. Helm
engage maneuvering engines. Let's close in. Mister Patho, keep the drones up in
a defensive screen between us and the artifact. Miss Simmons, I want you to try
to get an internal scan now that the rock is gone. Perhaps we will have better
luck.”

 The helm maneuvered the Rampart closer to the gleaming
ring. Simmons worked at her station for a few moments before turning and
saying, “Sir, the outer shell of the artifact refracts our scanner like a prism
refracts a ray of light. Not only do we not have a chance of seeing what's
inside, but we also can't even tell what it's made of. One moment, sir. I'm
getting a new signal. A series of pings on a light speed frequency. Running
mathematical analysis now, sir.”

 “Very well, Miss Simmons. Mister Kri, get our
scientists up here. This may be something they can help with.”

 “Aye, sir.” Kri turned to message the passengers to
come to the bridge.

 Simmons said, “It's a repeating pattern or nine
individual numbers, presuming a base ten numbering system. Each digit from one
to nine in four different progressions repeated over and over. The whole cycle
takes about twenty seconds to complete.”

 “Sir, how much closer do you want me to get?” The
helmsman asked.

 Kri said, “Hold at five hundred kilometers, helm.”

 “Aye, sir.”

 The Rampart began braking to a stop relative to the
artifact a few seconds before the bridge door opened to admit the two origin
tablet scientists. Stokes turned in his chair and said, “Welcome to the bridge,
gentlemen. The object you see displayed on the forward plot is the artifact
that has been transmitting the origin signal. As we approached, it began
sending a mathematical sequence to us. I believe it may be some kind of
recognition code or, perhaps, a security measure. Have either of you seen
anything like this in your studies of the origin tablet?”

 Cobb strolled forward and paused just behind and to
the left of Stokes' command chair. Stokes turned to see him standing in the
regulation specified location for any assigned mission observer while the other
scientist, Doctor Stapeley walked forward to the main plot and gazed with wide
eyes at the artifact. Stokes also noted that Cobb had virtually no expression
of surprise on his face. Curiosity, certainly, but his reaction was far more
muted than any of the bridge officers had been, much less what he would expect
from a civilian academic. Stokes filed the information away for later.

 Stapeley turned back and looked at Stokes. His face
was straight out of every child's imagination for the kindly elderly uncle. His
soft brown eyes were wide in amazement. “How big is it, Commodore,” He asked.

 Stokes turned his attention back forward. “Five point
zero three kilometers. And the main part of the ring is exactly one kilometer
long near as we can tell. Mean thickness is roughly three hundred fifty meters.

 Stapeley's eyes glazed over while he pondered the
information for a moment before he said, “That's something around three cubic
kilometers volume.”

 Stokes nodded. “That agrees with our calculation,
Doctor. Now, would you please look at the four sets of mathematical
progressions and see if they make any sense to you?”

 “Ah, yes, of course.” The man stood directly in front
of the sensor plot and rubbed the gray scruff on the bottom of his chin. He
turned and said, “I've never seen anything like it, commodore. What is it?”

 “It came in a transmission from the artifact. Radio
frequency, not any kind of faster than light transmission. Low power, too. It
was clearly not meant to be heard anywhere outside of this system.

 “Of course, any light speed signal would take a very
long time to make it to the nearest inhabited star system. Lashmere is the
closest, and it's thirteen light years away. By then, the signal is virtually
guaranteed to have attenuated to be indistinguishable from galactic background
noise.”

 Stokes nodded. “We already know this, doctor. Is there
anything you can tell us about the origin tablet that may have something to do
with this series of numbers?”

 “I'm afraid not. It doesn't correlate to the ratios of
the surfaces or sides of the tablet, and it also doesn't appear to relate to
the materials of the origin tablet itself. Doctor Cobb? Can you shed any light
on the situation?”

 Cobb looked the numbers over for a moment and decided
to hedge rather than tip his hand. His orders allowed him a great deal of
latitude, but he was supposed to keep classified information classified if at
all possible. “Have you run a semi prime analysis on the numbers? Perhaps in a
base eight or base sixteen numbering system? I think it's a series of base
eight semi primes, but I'm not sure. Mathematics was never my strong suit.”

 “Miss Simmons run base conversion and semi prime
analysis. See if we can find a decryption key for the signal.”

 “Aye, sir. The analysis is coming back now. It will
take a few minutes for the computer to run a brute force decryption routine on
such large numbers.”

 “Keep me advised of your progress, Miss Simmons.”
Stokes turned and regarded Cobb again, who returned his gaze with an
expressionless mask on his face. Stokes decided at that moment the man was
certainly not a scientist. His stance, his way of imparting information and his
clear familiarity with military ships all pointed to a far different
conclusion.

 Cobb noticed Stokes' scrutiny. “Is there another
question or piece of information I can try to work on for you, commodore?”

 “No, Doctor Cobb, I believe you have provided what we
need for the moment. We will wait to see what the computer resolves from a
decryption of the radio signal.