Angry Ghosts (6 page)

“No!” she shouts and pushes off hard. Despite her strength she cannot break his grip.

He draws her in close, and Argo encircles them both.

Maiella struggles to free herself, then gives up. Helpless in their strong arms, she bursts, letting it all go. The three stand in the hallway, unmoving, heads together, while Maiella sobs longingly for those she will never see again.

Thompson takes a seat at the flat side of a large semicircular table. Filling out the rounded side is the Leadership Council. All the same faces are present, but the joviality is gone, replaced by grave determination. General Dryden opens the meeting.

“Major Thompson, thank you for joining us. The purpose of this meeting is to analyze the new threat to our operator crews and devise a strategy to counter that threat. Before we begin, have your teams been informed of our loss?”

“Yes, sir,” Thompson answers.

“How did they take it?”

“Hard, General, but they are strong.”

Dryden looks deeper. “Any decrease in productivity?”

“Initially, yes,” Thompson begins, “but all understand it cannot be changed and are prepared for accelerated rotation.”

“So soon?”

“They are strong, sir.”

Dryden nods approvingly. “Good. We need them to be.” He looks to his right. “Colonel Enyo?”

Enyo, her longer silver hair tied back from her angular face, leans forward in her seat and taps the console set into the table. A three-dimensional hologram projects up from the table’s center, displaying some very hazily resolved ships in space. “Here is the reconnaissance from the event…”

With another tap, she sets the image into motion, playing the same video Thompson watched hours earlier. The distinct patterns of interference appear from the
intercepting operator teams followed quickly by the appearance of three hazy oblong figures. Enyo freezes the image.

“This is our best resolution of these new vessels. They are roughly fifty percent larger than the vessel Major Thompson and his teams recently collected. After analyzing their energy outputs, configuration, and offensive posture, we have determined them to be warships. Major Thompson, have you ever encountered a vessel that could conceal itself in such a way?”

“No, ma’am, I have not,” he replies.

Major Grissom looks over from the left edge of the table. “Is this a new technology, or could it be another species entirely?”

“Evidence points to your first suggestion, Major, that it is a new technology. The energy signatures and the basic form are very similar to vessels we have regularly monitored. Thus, we are convinced this is a new tactic to counter our assaults. Unless we can overcome it, we will need to find a new source to gather from.”

“But the only other traffic we have seen is what we
think
was a ship over three hundred times farther away,
in another direction
!” Grissom says.

“And there is no evidence of another species to gather from out there,” adds Thorskild. “With our reduced operator corps, not only would we be stretching out our collection rotations too much just going out and returning, they might not find anything when they get there.”

The council breaks into murmuring among itself.

“What if we were able to capture such a ship?”

The leaders halt their buzzing, riveting their eyes upon Thompson. General Dryden looks sternly at the new major, intrigued. Colonel Thorskild speaks first however.

“Major Thompson, we admire your ferocity; but as you saw, this ambush destroyed
half
of our operator teams in one stroke. We
cannot
allow the loss of any others. The most vital resources on this rock were depleted centuries ago—we
must
protect our gathering ability!”

The council members all nod in
agreement, except the general who puts a hand to his chin.

Thompson considers
Thorskild’s words carefully.

“There's no question
you're correct, Colonel. Our teams must endure and be rebuilt if we are to survive.” Gesturing to the video, he continues, “The reason our teams were lost is because they were ambushed. They could not have anticipated this threat. We can, and we understand its potential.”

General Dryden rubs his chin as he listens. “What’s on your mind, Thompson
?”

The Gun
breathes in and out purposefully. “What if…
we
set an ambush?”

The murmuring begins again, but more thoughtfully this time. Dryden silences them by leaning forward and asking, “You have a plan?”

“Do we have a ship of little use, say, one of the earliest freighters we collected? We could attach our virus ships to its hull and deploy to deep space. Once sufficiently distant from our home, we could activate its transponder beacon. The virus ships would detach and wait nearby.”

“What we’ve see
n of the blueskins proves they're highly intelligent,” argues Grissom. “No doubt, they’d be suspicious of one of their missing ships appearing out of nowhere after hundreds of years. They’d assume a trap.”

“I agree,
Major,” states Thompson, “and that’s what I am counting on. First, I don’t believe they could resist the opportunity to investigate a ship they believed was lost or destroyed so long ago. Second, assuming a trap, they are likely to send their best weapons to be ready.” Thompson scans the faces in front of him. “Until recently, our methods have been sufficient to capture nonmilitary vessels. Now these vessels are being escorted, and we should risk capturing more military targets if we are going to continue collecting successfully.”

From the far right edge of the table, Major Eris chimes in, “I see where you’re going with this. It’s an opportunity to counter this new threat to our operator teams and gain a heavier punch when we encounter s
omething unexpected. The enemy's getting seasoned by our attacks, and if we don’t adapt, it won’t matter how many operators we have. They won’t be coming home again.”

“I see your point,
Eris,” concedes Grissom, “and I think you and Thompson may be right. But if they're invisible, how would we detect them to attack?”

“The video shows the ships demasking before engaging our operator
teams,” explains Enyo. “It's likely, therefore, that any such vessel would demask before interacting with our bait ship...”

Grissom finishes the statement for her, “At which point, our teams could engage and capture.” The murmuring resumes.

General Dryden tents his hands. “That’s very creative, Thompson, but suppose they use the same tactic as before—suppose they send in nonmilitary vessels to process the bait freighter while the stealth ships remain masked. If your teams attacked the nonmilitary vessels, the stealth ships could ambush just as before. If no attack is made, we lose the freighter and have wasted precious gathering time.”

The heightened energy in the room ebbs, and Thompson looks down in thought; then his head springs up suddenly. “We’ll use a double decoy!”

The council members look at each other with skepticism as Thompson explains.

“We’ll need a decoy virus ship as well. We can program it to attach to any vessel that approaches within a certain distance. If a masked ship is present, it should reveal itself to combat the dummy attack. Then our teams can move in and capture.”

General Dryden smiles. “So how many operators will you need, Major?”

“For best chance of success? All of us.”

Council members launch into heated “no’s!” and “out of the question’s!” rejecting the thought outright, save Dryden, who silently considers it. Thompson watches him, shifting his view occasionally to the others still arguing among themselves but focusing on the general, waiting to see what his decision will be. Before long, the arguments at the table end; and like Thompson, the council members look to Dryden, curious what he will decide. Once all is quiet, the general looks up from his contemplation.

“We have set a dangerous precedent: the attacks on our ancient enemy escalate in cost for both sides. Our only advantage lies in our anonymity—they must continue to believe they were successful in their genocide nine hundred years ago. If they were to discover that humans still live, and how few we number, we could not last long.

“I knew our successful collection rotations would not go on forever without setback. The enemy has adapted, and unless we learn about their new capability, every operator we send out faces unacceptable odds. We must act quickly to counter their new advantage. Thompson’s plan is bold and shrewd, but if the enemy arrives in force, we do not have enough teams to engage more than three such vessels. To try would be a level of risk I will not accept. The choice I make now is unsettling, but we are in a corner, and waiting can only harm us. We will proceed with Major Thompson’s plan.”

Dryden scans his peers, taking in the damage his words have caused. Dismay is emblazoned on several faces. To their credit, none of them argue, and they set their resolve to implement his decision. When he is sure he has their complete attention again, he continues.

“A contingency will be added to this plan, however, should more than three stealth ships appear. We will make the bait ship a bomb. If there are too many enemy ships to engage, we can detonate, disabling or destroying as many of the enemy ships as possible. The confusion will allow us the initiative, and resistance will be uncoordinated. Worst case, if there are still too many active ships to engage, the teams will be ordered to slip away quietly and return to base. Because they will ride out on the bait ship, they will be fully fueled and can make the return voyage.

“Now I agree that the best chance comes with the most teams attending, so all teams will go
except yours
, Thompson. Under
no
circumstance will I risk
all
of our gathering capability, and I choose to retain the best for future training of initiates.
That is not negotiable, Major, so drop that look of protest you’re putting on
. You, Brick Argo, and Geek Maiella will resume rotations in a new sector away from the blueskins. In the absence of traffic, you will prospect for ores and organic materials. With any luck, you’ll find something we can use.”

Turning to his right, Dryden asks, “Enyo, how long would you need to produce a decoy virus ship?”

Enyo shrugs. “Wouldn’t be hard to strip out the major components and rig it with a simple program. Four continuous four-man shifts... 320 man-hours... four days roughly.”

Turning to his left, the general asks, “Colonel Thorskild, how long would you need to prep that old ore hauler we mothballed and rig it for large-scale detonation?”

Thorskild raises his eyebrows. “She’s pretty far from space worthy, General. The only system I know is still functional is the main reactor, and that’s supplementing power to genetics and incubation.”

Dryden nods in understanding. “The only other systems we’ll need will be propulsion and navigation.”

“And for the loss in power to genetics and incubation?” wonders Grissom.

The general cranes his head to face the major at the end of the table. “We’ll have to skim from ore processing. If Thompson is right, the freighter his teams captured is loaded with ore to th
e hilt. So shorting ore processing won’t impact us too severely over the long run.” Turning back to face Colonel Thorskild, Dryden continues, “Now then, we patch up the old freighter’s engines and navigation. What would we need to build a blast radius big enough for Thompson’s plan to work?”

Thorskild looks at Enyo for confirmation. “I’d say, roughly, a nine-gigaton yield to provide an adequate assurance of success.” Enyo nods in accordance.

“Whew,” Eris whistles. “We’d have to yank cores from just about every ship we’ve collected and fuse them together!”

The whole council looks at Eris, silently endorsing her idea. The look of astonishment on her face fades as she realizes her argument
against
the idea is now on the table as a likely plan of action. “Wait, wait. I wasn’t suggesting we do that! The reactor cores on some of those ships have chewed through their shielding, and it’s only the radioactive corrosion that’s holding them together. Just
looking
at them could make them unstable!”

Thompson brings a hand to his chin, considering the dilemma. “The oldest ships are the smallest ones,” he reasons, “because that’s all we could eff
ectively capture in the early days. So what if we park them inside the freighter? With careful piloting, we wouldn’t disturb the reactor cores.”

Thorskild smiles at the idea. “Yes,” he ruminates. “Those ships aren’t much good to us anyway because of their contamination, and the freighter is spacious—they should fit easily enough.”

“It’s going to leave us with serious power shortages, however,” adds Enyo. “Most of those ships are linked to the cadre grid. Take them away, and we lose a quarter of our energy.”

“Understood,” acknowledges Dryden. “I will determine which facilities require priority and delegate to each accordingly. Colonel Enyo, begin outfitting Major Thompson’s virus ship for an extended long-range flight. It will require some unique power storage solutions, and the cryogenic systems will need some enhancement. Select
whoever you need from the technical caste to work on this project, and I will authorize their transfer of duties.

“Colonel Thorskild, Major Grissom, and Major Eris, begin restoration of the old freighter for flight, and coordinate the piloting of the old ships plus core removal and transfer from the other vessels. Do you have an estimate on time required?”