Fear God and Dread Naught (38 page)

“Aye, Captain,” Parkinson said.

Susan braced herself.  The aliens were activating more and more sensors, despite the hundreds of blisters the starfighters had blown off their hulls, but they didn't seem to be taking the threat entirely seriously.  And why not?  They
knew
where the task force’s ships were.  The hail of electromagnetic distortion was nowhere near powerful enough to hide the ships, certainly not at such close range ...

“Helm, reduce speed,” she ordered.

Vanguard
seemed to shiver as she slowed, allowing the aliens to catch up.  They weren't entirely faking either, Susan noted; two of her drive rooms had gone offline, with a third hovering on the brink. 
Indianapolis
reduced speed too, swinging her weapons around to flail desperately at the aliens.  And the aliens, scenting victory, roared forward.  She could just imagine their slavering expressions as they saw their prey, helpless before them.

They evolved from hunting animals
, she thought. 
They’re predators, just like us
.

“Trigger the missiles,” she ordered.

The aliens had no time to react before they impaled themselves on the bomb-pumped lasers, the deadly beams stabbing straight into their hulls at point-blank range.  One of the battleships rolled over and exploded - she guessed that one of the beams must have struck something vital - while the other staggered to one side, spewing plasma and atmosphere from a dozen wounds.  She barely managed to launch a salvo of missiles of her own before her main power failed completely.

“Order the starfighters to go after the other ships,” Susan ordered, sharply.  The alien escorts had been smart enough to stay out of weapons range, although there was no way they could outrun or fend off the starfighters.  “Tactical, scan the remaining battleship.”

“Aye, Captain,” Granger said.  “There's no obvious power sources left intact.  It’s possible that their hull depressurised completely.”

Susan exchanged a long glance with Mason.  The chance to take an alien ship intact ... it was a dream come true.  And yet, she doubted
all
of the ship’s crew were dead.  The Royal Navy’s shipsuits provided
some
protection against the vacuum of space, if the worst happened and a ship lost atmospheric integrity.  None of the survivors would be very
happy
, but they'd be alive.

And if there are survivors, and they trigger the self-destruct
, she thought,
they’d take out a boarding party ... if they wait
.

She keyed her console.  “Major Andres, prepare a mission - volunteers only - to take possession of the alien ship,” she ordered.  “Ideally, any surviving crewmen are to be captured and transported back here, but bear in mind that one of them might be able to trigger the self-destruct.”

“Aye, Captain,” Major Andres said.  There was a long pause.  “My entire unit has volunteered.”

Or been volunteered
, Susan thought. 
But they know the risks
.

“Deploy as soon as possible,” she ordered.  The remaining alien ships had been destroyed, the victorious starfighters returning to their motherships.  “I’ll assign
Pinafore
to remain alongside and provide assistance, if necessary.”

“Aye, Captain,” Major Andres said.

Susan closed the channel.  It was a hell of a risk, but one she had to take.  Only one non-human starship had been captured in all of humanity’s history, yet that starship had provided the clues that had led humanity to victory in the First Interstellar War.  Capturing a second ship, even one that had been badly damaged ... it had to be attempted.  She closed her eyes for a long moment, saying a silent prayer for Major Andres and his men, then watched as their shuttles were launched, heading straight towards the alien ship.

Godspeed
, she thought.

“Helm, take us back to the planet,” she ordered.  “Communications, attempt to raise the forces on the ground.”

“Aye, Captain,” Reed said. 

Susan waited, grimly, until a response finally arrived.  “Captain, General Kershaw reports that the aliens have surrendered,” Parkinson said.  “They just threw down their arms.”

“Tell him to secure the prisoners and await relief,” Susan ordered, after a moment.  She doubted she had many groundpounders left - all of the soldiers
Vanguard
had shipped to Unity had been dropped on the planet - but there were crewmen with weapons training if necessary.  “Once we’re in orbit, we’ll provide whatever support he requires.”

“Aye, Captain,” Parkinson said.

Mason smiled.  “We won,” Captain,” he said.

“Barely,” Susan said.  “
New York
is gone;
Vanguard
and
Indianapolis
are both heavily damaged ... it could have been a great deal better.”

“Yes, Captain,” Mason said.  “But no battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy.”

“True,” Susan agreed.  She raised her voice.  “Stand down from condition one, but continue to maintain a full sensor watch.  We don’t know how many other alien ships are racing to the system.”

She leaned back in her command chair as
Vanguard
picked up speed, inching towards the planet.  No, they
didn’t
know how many more alien ships were on the way - if indeed there
were
any more alien ships on the way.  She’d seen nothing to disprove her first theory, after all.  Unity
was
rather far from the war front.  And while the aliens might have been prepared to commit forces to secure a pathway into Tadpole space, were they actually ready to throw good money after bad?

I guess we’re about to find out
, she mused. 
But until then, we should savour the victory
.

***

George sat in the makeshift camp and waited while the aliens argued, barking and hissing at one another like dogs that were on the verge of going for each other’s throat.  Even the arrival of a couple of Cows hadn't changed the situation, although it was quite interesting to watch how the two races reacted to one another.  The Foxes seemed inclined to fight each other to settle the matter; the Cows seemed inclined to wait and see who came out on top.  She wondered if they were deliberately pushing the Foxes into conflict, but there was no way to tell.  Their language was completely beyond her understanding.

She glanced up, sharply, as one of the aliens strode towards her, holding a gun.  A
human
gun, she realised in surprise: a weapon she didn't recognise.  She braced herself, half-expecting to be shot, then recoiled in shock as the alien held the weapon out to her.  Her mind raced - maybe it was a trap, yet she couldn't think of any reason why they would bother - as she took the weapon and held it.  And then the alien -
all
of the aliens - prostrated themselves in front of her.

George felt her mouth drop open.  “What?”

“I think they’ve surrendered,” one of the captured fighters said.  “The spacers must have won.”

“So it seems,” George said.  She couldn't think of any other explanation.  There was no logical reason for the aliens to surrender, unless they already knew they’d lost the battle high overhead.  “What do I do now?”

“Take them back to the garrison,” the fighter suggested.  “What
else
can we do with them?”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“What a fucking mess,” Henry said.

The shuttle circled Unity City - or what had been Unity City - long enough to let him get a good look.  A number of buildings had been smashed flat, while others had been converted into alien barracks or outposts.  The streets had been torn up by armoured vehicles, leaving them looking like muddy pathways on the verge of sinking completely.  And there were no civilians in sight.  The remainder of the population had fled to the countryside.

“It can't be real,” Doctor Song said.  “Why ... why would they
do
this?”

Henry shrugged.  “They wanted security - and control,” he guessed.  Smashing Unity City was largely pointless, from a tactical point of view, but it
had
made it clear that the Foxes and the Cows were here to stay.  “And besides, I assume they wanted the planet too.”

He turned his gaze away from the porthole as the shuttle dropped towards the spaceport and landed neatly in front of the alien buildings.  No aliens were in sight, he noted, as they stepped out of the hatch, merely dozens of soldiers from five different nations.  The alien technology was being made ready for transhipment to orbit, but Henry rather doubted the analysts would learn anything new from it.  Like humanity, the Foxes seemed to prefer to rely on simple technology as much as possible.  If nothing else, it was much easier to repair.

“Your Highness,” General Kershaw said, as they were shown into the nearest building.  “It’s good to see you again.”

“And you, General,” Henry said.  General Kershaw looked tired, but happy.  “What have you done with the prisoners?”

“We captured over four
thousand
aliens, mostly Foxes,” General Kershaw said.  “A number of Cows chose to commit suicide rather than be taken alive, but the remainder surrendered as well.  So far, we don’t have any idea why some surrendered and others didn’t - they may just have different ideas on the subject.”

He shrugged.  “For the moment, we have them all under armed guard,” he added.  “There were ... incidents ... when the resistance fighters set out to capture surrendering aliens, so I’ve had my people take sole responsibility for guarding the camp.”

Doctor Song leaned forward.  “Incidents?”

“A number of prisoners were shot out of hand,” General Kershaw said, bluntly.  “The resistance fighters have no reason to love them, doctor.”

“Keep the rest of them safe, for the moment,” Henry said.  “And don’t let the resistance get close to them.”

He rubbed his eyes, tiredly.  In hindsight, he should have anticipated the problem.  Unity would never be the same again, even if the war ended tomorrow and the planet
finally
received the investment it deserved.  The colonists could hardly be blamed for wanting a little revenge.  But it would make it harder to convince the aliens to surrender in the future.

“We won’t, Your Highness,” General Kershaw assured him.  “But I’d suggest taking them off-world as soon as possible.”

“That might not be easy,” Henry said.  The task force had assumed it would be taking custody of a handful of alien prisoners, not thousands.  “We might have to move them somewhere else.”

“Plenty of small islands on the planet,” General Kershaw said.

He sighed.  “I wish you and your team the very best of luck in untangling their language,” he added.  “So far, none of them have given us any trouble, but they speak very little English.”

“It’s a start,” Doctor Song said.  “Proper computer assistance and suchlike will help us to decipher their speech.”

Henry nodded.  He had a private suspicion that the aliens who had committed suicide were all senior officers - and that the survivors would know little of tactical value - but interrogating the POWs would still teach Doctor Song and her team a great deal about the aliens.  There were dozens of unanswered questions that could be
finally
answered, once the language barrier was broken.  He couldn't wait to see how many of their preliminary conclusions were actually accurate.

“I’ll escort you to the camps,” General Kershaw said.  He held up a hand.  “I should warn you that we're operating under strict rules.  If they take you hostage - or anything along those lines - we won’t make any concessions.”

And you’ll shoot through us, if necessary, to stop them
, Henry thought. 
A prisoner riot would be disastrous
.

He shook his head as General Kershaw led him through the complex.  Even if they did break out, the aliens had nowhere to go.  Unity was
very
hostile territory for them, particularly after the groundpounders had captured or destroyed their weapons.  He doubted a single alien would survive long enough outside the wire to be rescued, if the task force lost control of the high orbitals for a second time.

“Interesting design,” he mused, as they passed through a pair of heavy doors.  “It's clearly designed for more than one race.”

“Yep,” General Kershaw said.  “We think both races would have found this comfortable.”

Henry nodded as they walked through a final set of doors and out into the open air.  He grimaced at the smell - a mixture of piss and shit and alien musk - as he gazed towards the wire.  The POW camp was really nothing more than a large patch of ground, surrounded by two rows of barbed wire and patrolled by armed guards.  Inside, hundreds of aliens sat on the muddy ground, looking around listlessly.  He couldn’t help thinking that they looked a very sorry lot.

“Shit,” Doctor Song said, quietly.

“Quite,” General Kershaw agreed.

Henry looked at him.  “They gave you no trouble?”

“None,” General Kershaw said.  “And they didn't even give each
other
trouble, either.”

Henry frowned, wondering what
that
meant.  Well-trained human soldiers could remain calm and disciplined even in captivity, but poorly-trained and led soldiers could turn on their former officers.  He’d read case studies from the Age of Unrest where officers had to be separated from their men - if the officers hadn't fled to avoid capture - just to keep them from being lynched.  And yet, the aliens didn't seem to have turned on their own leaders ...

“We’ll figure it out,” he said.  Perhaps
no
officers had survived.  “We’ll figure everything out.”

“Good luck, Your Highness,” General Kershaw said.

***

“You’re taking
Vanguard
home?”

“I’m afraid so,” Susan said.  She’d invited Captain Trodden and Captain Yegorovich - as the senior captains after her - to a private dinner, two days after Unity had been liberated.  “She’s simply too battered to endure another engagement.”

“I wish I could disagree with you,” Trodden said.  “But she definitely needs a shipyard.”

“You’ll be taking the wounded home with you,” Yegorovich mused.  “Did
Edinburgh
make it back?”

“Not as yet,” Susan said.  She scowled at the thought.  Maybe
Edinburgh
would make it back to Unity ... or maybe she’d already been destroyed in transit.  Or suffered a catastrophic drive failure somewhere in the depths of deep space.  “I hope you’ll see her here.”

She looked up at the starchart, cursing under her breath.  There had been no sign of a renewed enemy offensive, but she had no illusions about the task force’s ability to continue the fight if a
third
enemy force showed up.  The carriers could harry the enemy from a safe distance, yet the battleships couldn't hope to win an engagement against superior force.

“You’ll have command,” she said, addressing Yegorovich.  “If the enemy shows up in force, beat a swift retreat.  No heroics.”

“The colonists will love that,” Yegorovich said, darkly.

Susan shrugged.  Most of the colonists had faded into the countryside, abandoning Unity City until the war was finally over.  The remainder had requested passage on the task force back to Earth.  Susan knew, all too well, that
Vanguard
couldn't accommodate them all, but she’d try to take as many as possible.  The aliens might return to Unity at any moment.

“We need reinforcements,” she said.  “After that - we can think about heroics.”

“True, Captain,” Trodden agreed.  He didn't show any resentment at being passed over for command, although he was technically junior to Yegorovich.  But then, the next engagement would be a carrier battle.  “You’d better make sure they send us reinforcements ASAP.”

“I’ll do my best,” Susan said.  A full task force - battleships and carriers - would be enough to stab back up the network of tramlines towards UXS-469 - and then into the alien star system that had been discovered by HMS
Magellan
and HMS
Livingston
.  Hitting the aliens where they lived would force them to pull forces back from the front, giving the Tadpoles a breather.  “But you know how reluctant some senior officers can be to take risks.”

“Don’t want their ships scratched,” Trodden agreed.

“Ships are always scratched - or lost,” Yegorovich said, disdainfully.  He sniffed.  “It’s what they’re lost
for
that counts.”

Susan shrugged.  She could see his point, but she also knew just how time-consuming it
was
to produce a battleship, even if the Admiralty could convince the Treasury to sign a blank check.  Losing
Vanguard
would put a crimp in future operations, at least until more battleships were commissioned.  And that would take far too long.

“It doesn't matter,” she said, firmly.  “All that matters is doing our duty.”

“Of course, Captain,” Trodden said.

“I’ll be leaving two of the xenospecialists with you,” Susan added.  Prince Henry had requested permission to stay on Unity, but Susan had vetoed it.  “They’ll continue to study the alien POWs.  I hear they’re making progress in cracking their language already.”

Yegorovich barked a harsh laugh.  “The bastards have every reason to cooperate,” he commented, nastily.  “They have to tell us what they actually
need
to live.”

Susan nodded.  The xenospecialists
thought
they knew what the aliens needed - and the aliens certainly seemed to be having no problems eating human rations - but there was no way to be entirely sure.  And besides, having the ability to ask for better conditions would give the interrogators a chance to make connections with individual aliens.  They might be shocked by their defeat, they might be submissive ... but there was no reason to think that would last forever.  Having a rapport between humans and aliens might make the difference between putting together a peace that both sides could endure and continuing the war to the bitter end.

“Of course,” she said.  “We’ll be taking a number of aliens back home with us.”

“The soldiers will love
that
,” Trodden muttered, darkly.

“We have to learn to understand them,” Susan said.  “If nothing else, we have to know how to make them quit.”

“Hit them hard,” Yegorovich said.  “They’re a lot like Russians, you know.”

Susan lifted her eyebrows.  “How so?”

“My people are either masters or slaves,” Yegorovich said.  “And if you can convince one of us that you’re the master, he’ll think he’s the slave.”

“That says a lot about you,” Trodden said.  “And to think there was a time when your country was once called the freest in the world.”

“A mistake,” Yegorovich said.  “A
foolish
mistake.”

Susan sighed.  “Be that as it may, we have other concerns,” she said.  “We’ll be departing in two days.  And then you’ll be on your own.”