Janelle and I can just run, he decided, finally. We can go somewhere else and change our names. No one would know who we’d once been.
Chapter Sixteen
“War Hog has transited back, Captain,” Farley reported. “Local space seems clear. Long-range sensors reveal no sign of alien activity.”
James nodded, studying the report. There was little of value in the first alien-ruled system they’d invaded during Operation Nelson, save for a handful of asteroids and a tramline that led deeper into alien space. It would have been completely useless, he knew, if they hadn’t had the alien-designed drive. He didn’t find it a reassuring thought.
“Take us through the tramline,” he ordered. “Full tactical alert.”
He looked at the status display and shuddered. His starfighter crews were in their craft, ready to launch at a moment’s notice. Gunnery crews and damage repair teams were on the alert, braced for anything from an alien attack to total drive failure. Everything looked perfect… and yet he knew it was nothing of the sort. The only crews at full capacity were the damage control teams. They’d had a lot of practice.
They vanished from the Terra Nova system as they crossed the tramline and reappeared in an alien system no one, not even the aliens, had bothered to name. He watched the display as passive sensors listened, watching for signs of alien activity, but picked up nothing. The system was as dark and cold as the grave. But that didn’t prove the aliens weren’t there, he reminded himself, sharply. They could easily have their drives and weapons deactivated, leaving them pretending to be holes in space.
“Local space seems clear,” Farley said, again. “No alien contacts, sir. Not even a stray signal.”
“Take us on our assigned course,” James ordered. At least there was no need to play games with drones right now, thankfully. The aliens had either lost them completely or had a solid lock on their position a multitude of drones wouldn’t be able to shake. “And continue to monitor for signs of alien activity.”
The silence was baffling — and worrying. He’d known the aliens had never had much of anything in the system prior to the war, but he would have expected a picket ship at the very least. Unless there was one and they’d simply missed it… there was just too much space for a single enemy ship to hide in, given time. All he could do was make his way to the next tramline and pray they remained undiscovered. Target One was still ten days away on their course.
And if we take the least-time course we risk being detected for sure, he thought. They might have wrecked most of the Target One system, but the aliens would probably still picket it, knowing that its tramlines led deeper into alien space. No, we have to remain stealthy and pray the cloaking device works as advertised.
His console bleeped. “Captain, the drive fluctuations actually reduced this time,” Anderson reported. “Everything was largely nominal.”
“Thank God,” James said. The frigates and escort carriers would be able to escape, he was sure, but not the giant carrier. Stranding her in a useless star system would suit the aliens very well. “Continue to monitor the situation.”
“Aye, Captain,” Anderson said.
And hope we don’t have any more soap opera business, James thought, as he closed the connection. There were times when he didn’t know how Captain Smith — Admiral Smith — had survived remaining on Ark Royal while she’d been stuck in the naval reserve. Some of his crew had been dedicated, others had been disciplinary problems who’d needed to be discharged as soon as possible. Most of the problems had faded away when the aliens attacked Vera Cruz, but a handful had remained festering. And now there was a spy on the ship.
He leaned back into his chair, thinking hard. Ten days to Target One. Ten days before they encountered the aliens… if they didn’t encounter them beforehand. And then… who knew what would happen when they tried to communicate?
“This,” Doctor Russell explained, “is an all-spectrum disease carrier.”
Ted eyed the sealed test tube with a jaundiced eye. It didn’t look very safe to him.
“I was under the impression,” he said, “that all such research was banned.”
“That’s true,” Doctor Russell agreed, as he put the test tube down on the desk. “However, we are allowed to conduct research into cures for genetically-modified diseases — and the only way to do that is to study techniques for modifying the diseases ourselves. Normally, such research takes place in sealed facilities without any chance of the disease escaping into the general population.”
Ted scowled. He hated to admit it, but Doctor Russell had a point. It was easy to find sophisticated medical equipment these days and, despite international treaties, terrorists would be very tempted to create viruses that would slaughter everyone who hadn’t been immunised ahead of time. There were no shortages of rumours about terrorist groups — and nations — that had tried to do just that, despite the risks. No matter how much care the experts took, diseases could mutate at a terrifying speed.
“In this case,” Doctor Russell continued, “the alien biology is so different from our own that there is literally no danger of the disease spreading to humanity. That allows us to widen the scope of the disease considerably, to the point where it can infect creatures from the same genetic heritage as the aliens themselves. This will serve as an infection vector that will slash straight through the alien civilisation.”
“You’ve invented a form of Bird Flu that infects everything,” he said. He honestly couldn’t understand why the Doctor was so pleased with his accomplishments. “All we’d have to do is bio-bomb an alien planet and wait for them all to die.”
“Precisely,” Doctor Russell said. “And the standard treaties have been set aside, owing to the war.”
Ted made a face. If it had been just Britain researching the concept, it might have been possible to keep a lid on it. But the Government had insisted on sharing the research project — and the guilt — with the rest of the spacefaring powers. Now, it almost seemed as though they were competing to build the most horrendous biological weapon possible. The aliens would be in deep shit if the weapon was introduced to any world they occupied.
He shook his head in dismay. Delivering the weapon would be easy enough, with a little work. A missile warhead could be reconfigured to serve as a bioweapon delivery system, plunging through a planet’s atmosphere and releasing its cargo before it hit the ground. Or a stealth missile could be used to sneak through planetary defences, posing as nothing more than a tiny meteor. The aliens wouldn’t stand a chance.
But it won’t get them all, he thought. Those left behind will want a little revenge.
“This might work if the aliens were intent on genocide,” he said, “but so far we don’t have any evidence the aliens are interested in outright extermination of humanity.”
“They might be saving the extermination until after they’ve won the war,” Doctor Russell pointed out. “If Hitler had saved the Holocaust until after his victory, I suspect a great many people would view him more favourably, even though he would still be the same complete manic he always was.”