Future Shock, page 25
“They must want something,” Cassidy protested.
“If they did, they never deigned to tell us,” Ethan said. The question was hardly a new one. “We never even saw a Killer, just their ships. Some of our researchers speculated the Killer ships were the Killers, that they were a space-dwelling form of life ... we simply don’t know. My best guess is that they’re xenophobes, wiping out all other life forms to ensure they’re the only ones left in the universe.”
“We may never know,” Rachel said.
“You can’t negotiate with someone who wants you dead,” Anderson agreed. He finished his plate and pushed it to one side. “There’s no room for compromise with someone who won’t take anything less.”
Ethan nodded in agreement, although it had been rare to meet someone uncompromising until the Killers had arrived. There had been so little to fight over. A post-scarcity society hardly needed to bicker when there was more than enough to go around. But the Killers ... perhaps they were just too alien to be easily understood, even by a society as advanced as the Terran Federation. There were life-forms that were practically incomprehensible, aliens the human race had never been able to understand ... it no longer mattered. The war was centuries in the future.
And when we encounter them again, he promised himself, we will be ready.
“We’ll be leaving in a week,” he said, changing the subject once again. “You’ll be coming with us?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Cassidy said. “My boss would murder me if I stayed behind.”
Ethan hoped that was a joke. Here, he wasn’t sure.
“You’re more than welcome,” he said. “Hopefully, we can end the war before the Diyang go on the offensive or something else happens to change history, once again.”
Cassidy cocked her head. “You have hundreds of years of technology on them,” she said. “Is there anything they can do to you?”
“I knew a man who got badly wounded by a thrown rock,” Anderson said. “Just because they’re primitive doesn’t mean they’re not dangerous.”
“I wish I knew,” Ethan said. “It depends on how much they know. Do they realise we can’t repeat our earlier feat? Do they know we have to hold the FTL missiles in reserve? Or do they know so little they don’t understand the danger? Or ... if they jump into this system a very long way from the sensor platforms and come in on ballistic trajectories, they might well be missed until they get very close. It depends ...”
He shook his head. “Advanced technology doesn’t guarantee a victory,” he added. “But it does ensure a loss if you assume your technology will make up for any flaws in your strategy.”
“You’re still human, aren’t you?” Cassidy sounded thoughtful. “I mean ... you have the same flaws as we do.”
“Of course,” Rachel said. She gave Cassidy an understanding smile. “And sometimes, those flaws let us be short-sighted. We have so many options that it’s hard to realise others don’t share them.”
“Nor do we, now,” Ethan said. He stood to fetch coffee. “That’s something else we’ll have to come to terms with, sooner or later. The Federation is gone, save for us. And it’ll take decades to even begin to rebuild what we’ve lost.”
“Things will be different, as your ideas and ours meld together,” Anderson agreed. “And what comes out afterwards will be the best of both worlds.”
Chapter Twenty-Six: Earth Orbit, 2308
“This link is secure?”
Y’Opohan allowed himself a light smile at the concern in the human’s voice. It had taken two weeks to set up the link, two weeks of quiet negotiation and discussion that could have been settled in a moment if they’d trusted each other and the communications network. The Chinese were paranoid about their communications security, with good reason. Their human rivals invested a great deal of time and resources trying to hack their datanets, and now they were facing a foe with technology literally hundreds of years in advance of their own. What should have been a relatively simple discussion, a negotiation carried out in the space of a day or two, had mushroomed into a long and tedious process, only slightly accelerated by the gift of a modern communications transmitter. It was supposed to be undetectable, even to the Terran Federation, and the encryption protocols were supposed to be unbreakable. Y’Opohan had no idea if that was actually true, although he hoped so. The Federation starships certainly had no reason to suspect the transmitter’s existence.
“Yes,” he said, knowing the translation software would strip all emotion from his voice. The Chinese were at a disadvantage in dealing with him, if only because they had no experience talking with aliens while he had years of experience dealing with humans. They had the slight advantage of being paranoid, with good reason, but it wouldn’t be enough to save them when the time came. “I trust you received our gifts?”
He hid his amusement with an effort. It had been tricky to get the shuttles down to the surface without being detected, and two of the flights had been classed as tourism rather than try to use their stealth systems to avoid attracting attention. The Federation’s sensors were alarmingly good, and if they realised he was sending shuttles without telling anyone ... he bared his teeth in a grimace that would alarm the human, if he could see it. There was nothing gained without a little risk, and the reward was high enough to justify almost any risk. If the Chinese played their role ...
“We did, for which we thank you,” Chairman Tsang said. “You will always have a place with us.”
“My crew and I will be grateful, when the time comes,” Y’Opohan assured him. “We look forward to a long and productive relationship.”
He allowed himself another hungry smile. The Chinese believed – or at least pretended to believe, it was hard to be sure when manipulating humans so different from the pampered brats of the Federation – that he was terrified of seeing his own people forced into permanent subordination by the human race. The Zargana wouldn’t be able to compete, he’d pointed out, with a human race boosted by technology from the far future, a motive the Chinese could not only understand but sympathise with. They’d agreed to help take steps to minimise the human advantage as much as possible, even work with the Zargana Empire to ensure no race had a decisive and unchallengeable advantage. Y’Opohan had no intention of keeping any more of the agreement they’d finally hammered out than strictly necessary, and when the time came he would desert the Chinese without a qualm, but for the moment the covert alliance suited both of them. The Chinese certainly knew they were getting their payment in advance.
Which does make one wonder, he mused. Are they mentally preparing to bury the knife in my back even as I prepare to do the same to them?
His lips twisted, his tongue licking his sharp teeth. The Chinese weren’t that different from the Zargana who’d built the Empire, in the glory days of old. They had a caste system dominated by absolute rulers, a warrior caste yearning for death or glory and a determination to stamp themselves on the rest of the universe by force. They had been trapped in a covert struggle with their peers for decades, trying desperately to get a decisive edge even as they feared their rivals would be the ones to gain an insurmountable advantage. In many ways, it was a microcosm of the relationship between the Federation and the Zargana, after the war. He’d made sure to tell the Chinese about the Intervention, about how the Federation had meddled in his people’s internal affairs. The more they believed their only hope lay in collaborating with him, the better.
And as long as they think we need them more than they need us, they won’t betray us, he told himself, calmly. The agreement included settlement rights for his crew, holding out the prospect of him putting his people in their power. He had no intention of keeping that part of the secret treaty, but as long as they thought they’d get everything they wanted if they remained patient ... he smiled, inwardly. Greed was an understandable motive. So was the desire to preserve one’s position, even at the expense of everyone else. Let them think we’ll be their loyal allies until the time comes to betray them.
“Then we will lay the groundwork now,” Chairman Tsang said. Was that an edge of nervousness in his voice? It was hard to tell. These humans practiced deceit in a manner his humans had never done. They could be setting him up for the kill even now. “And when the time comes, we will strike and strike hard.”
“Just make sure you don’t let either your rivals or mine get a good look at the equipment I sent you,” Y’Opohan cautioned. He’d been careful to point out just how exposed the local datanet was to future technology, without mentioning that the Federation regarded peeking as ungentlemanly. Their willingness to uphold absurd standards of behaviour was just another thing he found hard to stomach, knowing it was a reflection of their arrogance rather than anything real. “They’ll have no trouble tracing it back to us.”
“We are not unpractised in such matters,” the human assured him. “Nothing will leak out.”
Y’Opohan hoped he was right. The plan was in a very delicate stage. Sure, the local shipyards and corporations were buzzing as they tried to refit the human navies with modern technology, or at least a pastiche that would still give the locals a decisive advantage against the Diyang, but there was a difference between a ramshackle energy weapon and a piece of modern technology stripped from his ship. The Federation would know what he was doing, if they realised he’d given the Chinese such advanced technology, and all hell would break loose. He was surprised Boswell hadn’t tried to place Vendetta under his direct control. That would change the moment the human discovered Y’Opohan had plans of his own.
“Good,” he said. “Now, let us proceed.”
They exchanged brief polite goodbyes, then closed the connection. Y’Opohan allowed himself a dark smile as he stared at the terminal, then stood. The humans couldn’t be trusted – of course not – but they would serve his interests long enough, after which they would be abandoned to their fate. No doubt they had the same plan concerning him and his crew, threatening utter chaos if both parties tried to betray the other at roughly the same time. His lips twisted in disdain. He’d done everything in his power to discourage a Chinese betrayal, but what if he was wrong? Or if the Federation caught on anyway? It would be disastrous.
We have no choice, he told himself, sharply. The future of the empire – the real empire, not the milksop the humans had brought into being – was at stake. Anything was justified when it came to preserving his people and making sure they attained their rightful place in the universe, anything at all. It must be done.
He stood. It was time to prepare his ship for war.
***
Hamish felt oddly out of place as he studied the holographic tank, newly installed in Grant after the first set of exercises had been completed. The system was a combination of futuristic and contemporary technology, a datanet that held the promise of his starships combining together into a single entity ... if they managed to overcome both technological and political issues. The future folk didn’t seem to realise that local governments were reluctant to give anyone complete authority over their ships, no matter what sort of reputation they’d had in the shadowy alternate timeline. He had direct access to a live status feed from each and every ship, but no way to command them remotely. If they hadn’t installed an FTL communications network, it would be impossible to make the system work. Even so, it was going to be a pain when they took the system into battle. He’d have preferred more time exercising before the shit hit the fan. Three weeks hadn’t been anything like long enough.
Or we set off to throw shit into the fan, he mused, rather dryly. The political situation on Earth was a mess. It was hard to get any sort of solid agreement between governments, half of whom seemed to believe the war was already over. I suppose we’re lucky they agreed to go on the offensive at all.
His terminal pinged. “Anderson.”
“Admiral,” Lieutenant Steven Gammon said. “Admiral Garland is requesting to speak with you.”
Requesting, Hamish thought, dryly. Technically, it was a request; practically, it was an order in all but name. It would be a rare officer who refused to speak to an admiral, and if he didn’t have a very good excuse, his career would come to an end in short order. The USN had plenty of places it could send someone to sideline them permanently, without making it obvious. It isn’t as if I have a choice.
“Put him through,” he ordered.
His terminal bleeped. “Hamish.”
“Admiral,” Hamish said. “What can I do for you?”
“There’s been a change of plan,” Admiral Garland said. He’d spent most of the last few weeks closeted with admirals and politicians from all over the world, trying to protect Hamish and the rest of the combined navies from political interference. “It may not go down very well with our friends.”
Hamish felt a frisson of alarm. “Sir?”
“The original plan was to sweep through the enemy system, destroy their facilities and then withdraw,” Admiral Garland said. “The joint planning committee wants to take and hold the system instead.”
“I see.”
Hamish forced himself to think. The joint planning committee was both a very real committee and a mouthpiece for their political superiors. They had only as much freedom as the latter granted them, which was a major headache when there were dozens of nations involved ... not all in full agreement about how to prosecute the war. They all wanted to ensure advantages for their own nations and disadvantages for their rivals ... as if there wasn’t a war on. The idiots – he cut that line of thought off before he could let it slip – were already dividing the spoils. They thought the war was done and dusted. Hamish knew better. Just because one side had a major technological advantage didn’t mean their victory was certain. No battle plan ever survived contact with the enemy, and the enemy – that dirty dog – had plans of his own.
“It should be doable,” he said, finally. “However, it will be difficult to resupply the orbital facilities from Earth, and we’ll need to keep the alien population under control.”
“They can be left isolated on their planet,” Garland said. “However, we do want the system as a forward base.”
Hamish felt a flicker of relief. There were too many voices calling for the extermination of the Diyang, a crime that would make the Holocaust or Liberty Asteroid look minor. He’d privately decided he’d refuse orders to bombard alien population centres, although he had no idea if his refusal would accomplish anything beyond his immediate relief. The USN didn’t believe in loyalty officers, not to the degree of their Chinese or Russian counterparts, but it was quite possible there was a crewman on his ship with orders to keep an eye on him. So many officers and crew had been moved around in the last few weeks that he was unfamiliar with two-thirds of the men under his direct command. Who knew if they had agendas of their own?
“I’ll do what I can,” Hamish said. A thought crossed his mind. “Is this a covert test, sir?”
“A covert test?”
“Yes,” Hamish said, flatly. “A test to see if the future personnel will follow orders?”
There was a long, awkward pause. Hamish suspected he was right. Boswell had been dismissive of any plans to take and hold the system, pointing out the future ships didn’t need the forward bases of their contemporary counterparts. He was right, from his point of view. Hamish was mildly surprised he hadn’t suggested an immediate attack on the enemy homeworld, although neutralising any threat to Earth had to come first. But changing the plans now would be an interesting test of Boswell’s willingness to follow orders ...
He scowled, inwardly. Every book he’d read, every TV series he’d binge-watched, everything he’d glanced at that so much as touched on the concept of people, ships and even entire nations going back in time had suggested the future personnel would ally themselves with their contemporary nations. If they weren’t actual nations themselves ... But what would happen when the future nation simply didn’t exist? Not yet? Or if it might never exist because of the time travellers ... where would his loyalties lie, he asked himself, if he found himself in the Seven Years War? It was a question he hoped he’d never have to answer.
“Yes,” Garland said, finally. “We need to know.”
And what’ll you do if the answer is no? Hamish didn’t want to ask the question out loud. If Boswell refuses to follow orders, there’s not a damn thing we can do about it and you know it. Not yet.
“Yes, sir,” he said, instead. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Very good.” Garland sounded relieved. “Good luck with the mission, Hamish. I look forward to welcoming you home.”
Hamish nodded as Garland’s face vanished from the display. The mission was no secret, despite the best efforts of various governments to keep the plans as quiet as possible, but they’d agreed not to hold any formal departure ceremonies. Hamish suspected the governments were too busy trying to divide up the bounty from the future to actually make an effort for the military crews, although he’d already decided he wasn’t going to argue about it. An extensive ceremony would only have delayed departure, after the date had already been put back twice. The sooner they were on their way, the better. They could have the ceremony after they returned home.
He keyed his console. “Connect me to Captain Boswell.”
There was almost no delay before Boswell’s face materialised in the display. “Hamish,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“There’s been a change of plans.” Hamish explained, briefly. “Can we make it work?”
***
Ethan said nothing for a long moment, considering his options. The fleet was ready to depart, the contemporary vessels attached to his ships ... including Vendetta ... and they’d made all the preparations they could. The sudden change in plans was a hiccup, but hardly one that couldn’t be handled. They had enough space-capable marines to seize and hold the enemy orbital installations. There was no way the Diyang could be ready for them.
