Future Shock, page 33
“Captain,” Abad said. “The enemy starships are reacting to our presence.”
We could hit them now if we launched FTL missiles, Ethan thought, numbly. Two missiles. That’s all it’d take to win the engagement. They wouldn’t even get off a single shot.
“Helm, keep us heading towards the enemy,” he ordered, putting his thoughts aside. “Comms, transmit a demand for surrender.”
“Aye, sir.”
Sadie looked up. “Sir, we could close the range sharply ...”
“Maintain current speed,” Ethan said. John Birmingham could close the range very quickly – she was the fastest thing in realspace right now, at least within forty-odd light-years – but that would mean leaving the rest of the squadron behind. He’d considered microjumping into orbit, to get the engagement over as quickly as possible, yet ... no, it would have been too risky. “Give them plenty of time to hear our demand for surrender.”
He glanced at the starchart, working out the vectors in his head rather than relying on the datanet or the tactical staff. Xian Tian was quite some distance from Diyang-14, and the Chinese hadn’t set up a cloudscoop or anything else the Diyang could repurpose for their own use, suggesting the colony was unlikely to have been informed about the recent engagement. The invaders certainly didn’t have any reason to want to keep the colony, not as long as they had more important priorities elsewhere. In the long term, Xian Tian would be very useful; in the next few weeks, the planet would be nothing more than a resource sink. He was mildly surprised the enemy starships hadn’t jumped out the moment they’d detected his arrival. They would be destroyed if they stood and fought, for nothing. If he was in their shoes, he would have retreated without shame.
Although their culture may not see it the same way, he reflected. There are local humans who would prefer to fight to the death, rather than surrender or retreat.
“No answer, sir,” Lieutenant Jonathan Yu said. “They certainly should have understood the signal.”
Ethan nodded, impatiently. The universal translator was extremely good, yet translating a completely unknown alien tongue was difficult ... and the translator was just good enough to make it difficult to spot any errors before they caused massive offense or raised the spectre of accidentally starting a war. It wasn’t a problem here. The Diyang languages had been cracked long ago, and his specialists had checked by communicating with the POWs, who had been universally shocked at how well the humans spoke their language. He doubted the aliens had expected their language to remain secret forever, but if they had a realistic idea of just how difficult it was to crack an alien language ...
“Repeat the signal,” he ordered. The alien ships were coming about, preparing to engage. “Helm, if they jump, jump us too. Don’t wait for orders.”
“Aye, sir,” Sadie said. They’d discussed the possibility of another alien microjump when they’d been planning the operation, reasoning that it was the only real hope the Diyang had of scoring a hit on the futuristic ships. That trick wouldn’t work twice. “Drives powered up, ready to jump. Coordinates locked.”
The rest of the squadron will jump right out of the combat zone, Ethan thought. The captains and crews would be embarrassed, but at least they’d be alive. Their drives couldn’t jump anything like so accurately, nor could they recycle and jump again in time to save themselves if something went wrong. They’ll rejoin us after we finish the mission.
He leaned forward, gritting his teeth as the alien starships left orbit. What were they doing? They should be running – he couldn’t stop them now, not without FTL missiles – and as far as they knew, they’d be perfectly safe if they did flee. He certainly had no intention of chasing them across the light-years, not when his intention was saving the planet. Their acceleration curve was surprisingly low too ... they should be boosting their drives, if they wished to close the range still further. Why ...
A thought struck him. “Tactical, deploy a drone to get visual images of those ships.”
“Aye, sir,” Abad said. There was a hint of doubt in his tone. “Deploying drone ... now.”
Ethan ignored the younger man’s doubt. The Diyang weren’t stupid – and they were desperate. They had to be. He didn’t know how much the enemy ships knew about Diyang-14, but they had to know about the Battle of Earth ... in their place, he’d be willing to do just about anything to give him an edge over an enemy with seemingly supernatural abilities. Their microjump trick had come very close to giving them a victory, or at least taking out one of the future starships, and if they had something else up their sleeve ...
Abad sucked in his breath. “Sir, they’re towing missile pods!”
“Clever,” Ethan said. He was almost relieved. The enemy had come up with a trick that wouldn’t really threaten his ship, instead of something that might be harder to handle. They wouldn’t risk a microjump either, not unless they’d somehow found a way to extend the jump field to cover the missile pods. “Prepare to engage.”
The range closed, achingly slowly. The Diyang couldn’t accelerate past a certain point without breaking the tow cable, according to his calculations, which limited their ability to manoeuvre. It wouldn’t be that much of a downside if they were merely facing a contemporary fleet, but against his ships it was suicide. He was almost tempted to close the range himself, just to get it over with. The enemy ships seemed desperate to prolong the engagement.
Or are they trying to buy time? Ethan scowled. Time to get their occupation force off the surface, if they have the logistics to handle it, or time to complete the genocide?
“Captain,” Abad said. “They will be within effective firing range in two minutes.”
Ethan nodded. The enemy missiles would normally burn out before they reached the squadron, but the squadron was closing the range, literally impaling itself on the enemy weapons. He could bring his ships to a full stop the moment the enemy fired ... no, he couldn’t. The contemporary starships couldn’t stop in a hurry ... did the enemy know it? Probably. Had they planned the engagement to take advantage of their technical limitations? Or was he overthinking it? Missile pods had been retired years ago, because more advanced energy weapons had been developed ...
“Stand by point defence,” he ordered. “Prepare to engage.”
“Aye, sir.”
The display sparkled with red light, the missiles blasting free of their pods and launching themselves towards their targets. They were crude and yet faster than he’d expected ... were they overloading their drives in a desperate attempt to hit a target before it was too late, or had the history files missed something? It was something to worry about later ... he felt a sudden surge of anger at the enemy commander, fighting to the death when he could have easily withdrawn or surrendered. There were nearly two hundred aliens on each of the starships, and they’d be dead the moment his energy weapons started tearing them apart ...
“The enemy has opened fire,” Abad reported. “Nine hundred missiles, closing at speed.”
“Engage at will,” Ethan ordered. The swarm would have posed a serious threat to Anderson’s original squadron. Their point defence wouldn’t be able to kill more than a relative handful of missiles before it was too late. Their sensors would have trouble locking onto the missiles – they were flying so close together that their drive emissions would blur into a single haze mess – and by the time the range narrowed to the point they could, the missiles would be well within engagement range themselves. “And then target the alien vessels.”
“Aye, sir.”
Ethan leaned forward as John Birmingham opened fire. The enemy missile formation started to come apart at the seams, the fission beams triggering explosions that damaged or destroyed the missiles flying close to the target. The enemy hadn’t anticipated that, he noted coldly ... proof, perhaps, that they didn’t have accurate data on just what had happened at Diyang-14. Or they thought they’d only be facing contemporary starships ... not that it would have made any difference, he reflected grimly. If they’d spread out the missiles, they’d only have made them easier targets. Not a single one made it through the point defence web to reach a starship.
“Captain, I have weapons lock on their bridges,” Abad reported. “Permission to open fire ...”
He paused. “Sir, they’re preparing to jump!”
“Helm, jump us to the RV point,” Ethan snapped. The enemy might not be capable of precise microjumping, but after Diyang-14, he wasn’t going to take chances. Better to relocate the squadron than risk a kamikaze strike. His shields were tough, but the engineers hadn’t been certain if they’d be able to handle a ramming attack. “Comms, order the squadron to jump as planned!”
“Aye, sir.”
The display blanked, just for a second, as John Birmingham jumped. Ethan leaned forward, bracing himself, as the ship returned to realspace. The display filled rapidly ... there was no sign of the alien ships. Ethan would have been more alarmed if he hadn’t been sure his FTL sensors would have noted them if they’d been anywhere near the planet, no matter how hard they tried to hide. They simply wouldn’t have time to engage a masking field before they were tracked down. And if they didn’t know it ...
“Sir,” Abad said. “Tactical analysis suggests they jumped right out of the system, probably at least a light-year.”
“They retreated.” Ethan was almost relieved, even though he knew they’d see the ships again in a later engagement. They wouldn’t have to kill nearly four hundred aliens who couldn’t possibly stand against his ship, let alone the rest of the future squadron. “Inform the squadron, order them to meet us at the planet.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Helm, take us in,” Ethan added. “Tactical, continue scanning for threats.”
“Aye, sir,” Abad said.
Ethan watched as the planet swelled in the main display. The orbital weapons platforms were easy targets ... perversely, he reflected, they’d be even easier targets for the contemporary starships. John Birmingham’s designers had never thought to install rail guns or mass drivers, nothing that might give him the ability to launch ballistic projectiles at a target following a very predictable path. It had made sense at the time, he reflected, but now ... he made a mental note to have them fitted to his ship when possible, if only to give him the opportunity to hit targets from well beyond their own range. His lips twisted in dark amusement. There was something to be said for primitive weapons that had a practically limitless supply of ammunition, after all.
“They’ve deployed free-floating missiles too,” Abad reported. “No active seeker heads, as far as I can tell; I suspect they’re geared to receive targeting data from the weapons platforms.”
Ethan nodded. It wasn’t a bad idea, again, but against his ships the trick was largely futile. He felt a twinge of sympathy for the alien commanders, mingled with irritation at himself. He should be glad of such easy targets, should be glad that no matter how hard the enemy worked they would never catch up in time ... hell, he should be glad the enemy defences were now completely automated. He wouldn’t be killing anyone, not even semi-sentient machines. He should be relieved.
And you’re not, because you consider this operation a waste of time, he reminded himself, sharply. Be grateful for what you have. You could be facing the Killers once again.
“Engage at will,” he ordered, quietly. “Sweep the high orbitals before we enter orbit.”
“Aye, sir,” Abad said. “Engaging ... now.”
Ethan watched as, one by one, the enemy platforms started to die. They didn’t have a proper AI commanding the defences, still less a living mind. The platforms flailed around, trying to engage a target far beyond their own range, while the missiles launched themselves towards John Birmingham in a desperate and futile attempt to damage his ship before it was too late. They were wiped out one by one, vaporised before they could pose any threat to anyone ... Ethan had to admire the determination, even though it was pointless. The Diyang had no intention of going quietly ...
We’re not going to exterminate them, he thought, savagely. There was no need to commit genocide. Why couldn’t they see it? They won’t lose everything if they give up now!
“Sir,” Abad said. “Local space is clear. The rest of the squadron will enter orbit shortly.”
He paused. “I am unable to detect any alien presence on the surface.”
Ethan felt a sudden prickle of ice running down his spine. It wasn’t a bad thing and yet ... it worried him. “Comms, try to raise the human settlements.”
“Aye, sir,” Yu said. He paused. “No response.”
Ethan felt the ice congealing around his heart. Historically – in the original timeline – Xian Tian had remained occupied for most of the war ... for a certain value of the word. The Diyang had held the high orbitals and blew up the spaceport – such as it was, on such a newly-settled world – but otherwise left the human colonists alone. In this timeline ... it was impossible to say. They hadn’t recovered any prisoners from Xian Tian at Diyang-14, but that was meaningless. There was no way to know how many prisoners had been interrogated, killed, and buried in unmarked graves.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” Abad said, quietly. The concern in his voice was all too obvious. “They could have shut their radios down.”
“Maybe,” Ethan said. He hadn’t thought to check if the colonists had monitored the airwaves for incoming signals. Actually transmitting would get them killed, if the signals were picked up, and it was unlikely they’d be missed by any reasonably capable opponent, but passively listening for radio signals shouldn’t set off any alarms. “Signal the squadron. Prepare to land troops.”
“Aye, sir.”
“And deploy a third drone,” Ethan added. “I want a good look at the colony before the troops land.”
“Aye, sir.”
Chapter Thirty-Five: Xian Tian, 2308
The colony was gone.
Colonel Tao Renshu resisted the urge to curse under his breath, or spit on the blackened ground, as he looked around the remains of what had once been a thriving colony. He’d seen the images of an orderly planned colony slowly giving way to a much less ordered and completely unplanned settlement that, in happier times, would have incurred the wrath of the planners and bureaucrats who couldn’t stand the idea of anyone demonstrating such independence of mind, but both the colony and the settlement were now gone. The prefabricated buildings that had made up the core of the settlement were scorched and twisted metal, the wooden and stone housing surrounding them little more than piles of ash. There were no visible bodies, something that bothered him even though he knew the local ecosystem might have consumed the dead and dying a long time ago. Perhaps the Diyang had crammed the bodies into a mass grave. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
He felt sick as he directed his men to search what little remained of the settlement, more in hope than in any expectation of finding someone – or something. He was no stranger to eliminating enemies of the state, and he had few qualms about dealing with such enemies in a manner both efficient and lethal, but the colonists had had perfect social credit scores as well as ties to high-ranking party members and administrators. They’d been the best of the best, even if they had started to show a disturbing independence of mind once they’d realised they were a very long way from home. He could imagine handsome men, beautiful women and cute little children being gunned down mercilessly, or rounded up and locked in their homes before the buildings were set on fire. Or ... perhaps they’d been taken off-world. If the Diyang wanted human slaves ...
Or simply people to interrogate, he thought, although he knew it would be pointless. The colonists hadn’t been very well informed about matters on Earth before the war, let alone the arrival of the future starships. There was nothing to be gained by interrogating them and yet ... how could aliens be expected to know it? They could have taken their captives a very long way away.
He clung to the thought as the rest of the shuttles came in to land, disgorging troops and forensic specialists with orders to track down what remained of the colonists and try to close their files in the databases back home. China knew the importance of making sure enemies of the state were actually dead, and while the colonists weren’t actual enemies – not yet – it was important to find out what had happened to them, even if they were nothing more than ash on the ground. It was unlikely they’d find everyone, but they had to try. Who knew what would happen if someone presumed dead turned out to be alive, a few years down the line?
His heart clenched, bitterly. He’d been given some very specific orders for what he was to do, when he landed and took control of the colony, but those orders could no longer be carried out. There was no point in assuming military control when there was no one to control, no point in quietly arresting future dissidents if they were already dead. He’d have to slant his report carefully, hinting the colony was under control even though ... he suspected no one would pay close attention to the exact details. The Party would probably be quietly relieved the colonists had been wiped out. They could declare them martyrs without even having to wrestle with the question of how to handle the pre-criminals. He could see their logic – part of the reason he’d gotten the command was that he wasn’t mentioned in the future files – but still ...
If you arrest a man for something he hasn’t done yet, he mused, there’ll be panic amongst those who think they might have done something in the future ... something they haven’t even considered yet.
The thought mocked him as he set up his command post and listened to reports from the military patrols. It was one thing to arrest someone for a crime they committed, quite another to arrest them for something they hadn’t done yet ... might never have done, if things had been different. Just thinking about it gave him a headache. How could they be sure the future files were accurate? How could they be sure someone hadn’t added a few names to get rid of their rivals? How could they be sure ...
