Merchants in Freedom Page 2

  Commander Dixon looked around, then said, “Have you got anything to base that on, sir? The reports we’ve been getting from home…”

  “If you are asking me for concrete evidence, Luther, then I’m afraid the answer is no. However, I’ll cite the political situation before this war began, the fact that the commander of Earth’s largest war fleet was a Tyrant agent, and that there is significant evidence that our politico-military infrastructure has been well and truly infiltrated.”

  Nodding, Bianchi said, “Don’t think of this as millions of boots on the ground, Commander. Just a few hundred people would be sufficient to totally cripple Earth’s defenses, as long as they are in the right place at the right time, and they’ve had all the time they could possibly want to get themselves in position for this. I’d say the burden of proof is on Earth.”

  “Not least that they’ve made no less than thirty attempts to recall this fleet,” Winter added. “That makes no sense, unless you assume that it’s what the Tyrants want. I fervently hope that is the case. It means we have a chance to beat them.” Looking around the room, he continued, “I don’t want any of you to have any illusions about what’s going to come next. We’re going in, going in as one fleet, and the odds of any of us getting out in one piece are remote at best. Given the alternative, I have no objection to that outcome.”

  “Neither do I,” Galloway said. “I’m pretty sure that I speak for the rebellion on this. We can work out our differences once the war is over. Right now, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.” She paused, then added, “Are we ruling out receiving any help from home, sir?”

  “I think we’ve got to,” Winter replied. “They’ve locked all of us out of the strategic database, but as far as I can tell, our entire fleet is just sitting in a defensive formation, doubtless on the assumption that they’re waiting for the Tyrants to make their next move. We sent a full report of our recent battle back to the brass, but there’s been nothing on the news, no sign that anyone knows that we fought the Tyrants and won.”

  “Communications blackout,” Bianchi said. “That message probably only got to a few people before it was wiped from the records. Even if it wasn’t the Tyrants, the situation is embarrassing enough that the top political chiefs would want time to work out how to spin it to their advantage.”

  “Maybe that’s the answer, then,” Dixon suggested. “We head home. Not to Earth, maybe, but close to it, close enough that we could transmit a warning. If we linked all of our ships together, then we’d be able to send a signal powerful enough that every receiver on the planet would pick it up. There’d be no way to suppress it.”

  “And when the government collapsed, with nothing to replace it?” Winter asked. “There’s no way of controlling what would happen next, and if we were to attempt something like that, we’d only be playing into the hands of the Tyrants. As it stands right now, I suspect that our forces would at least put up a fight should an enemy fleet arrive, regardless of any orders to the contrary they might receive, but if they’re in the middle of a civil war, that might be a different story.”

  “That’s not an option,” Mendoza said. “Maybe later there will be a time for that, but not now. Not until the Tyrants have been defeated. Then we’ll have a chance to make good a lot of past sins.” Her lips curled into a smile, and she asked, “What is the plan, Commander?”

  “As some of you are aware, we made an attempt to revive Commander Duval half an hour ago. I’m sorry to report that it was a failure, and that she died during that attempt. However, before she died, she managed to tell me a single word. Xibalba.” He looked around the room, and said, “I see that doesn’t mean anything to any of you, and indeed, under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have understood it either, but Commander Duval certainly did.”

  “I don’t get it,” Moore said. “That’s from Aztec mythology, right?”

  “Mayan, Lieutenant, but I’m impressed that you are at least in the ballpark on this one. It’s a reference to the underworld, thought of in this context as an underground cave ruled over by the gods of death.”

  “Lovely,” Galloway said. “Remind me to check it out the next time I get shore leave. Assuming I ever do. What’s the connection?”

  “Ten years ago, when I was serving as Operations Officer on Pericles, we went on a rather unusual tour of explored space. A group of researchers were looking for connections between dead alien races, and they had theorized that there might have been contact among them, even some sort of formal governmental structure. It was thought interesting enough that a ship was commissioned to take them to some explored sites.” He paused, then added, “We visited eight of them, some of them just a few shards of broken alloy, and finally, we hit paydirt. There was a connection, though it didn’t seem to relate to the alien races as they had expected.”

  “What, then?” Mendoza asked.

  “Someone else had come looking.”

  “The Tyrants?” Galloway replied.

  Shaking his head, Winter said, “Thousands of years ago, Commander. The wink of an eye in cosmic time, which was why we were able to uncover it. Another race reached the stars recently enough that their artefacts should have been out there, somewhere. We only found evidence of their passing, but we were able to determine a probable location for their homeworld. The few artefacts we did find suggested that while generally, they had a lower technological level than our own, they were ahead in a few key areas. Computers, for example.”

  “Christ, you think the Tyrants found their homeworld,” Morgan said.

  “That’s my theory,” Winter replied.

  “Do we know where their homeworld is?” Moore asked.

  “We’ve got a rough idea, but that’s all we’ve got,” Winter said. “The follow-up expedition was never authorized. Theoretically for reasons of funding, though it was strongly hinted that some of the computer cartels put pressure on the Admiralty to block it. Concerned about the competition, from what I heard. There were rumors that some of them were planning a private expedition, but as far as I know, that never materialized either.”

  “If the Tyrants found that system…,” Bianchi said.

  Nodding, Winter interrupted, “Then they almost certainly used their own influence to prevent another one setting out from Earth. It’s unlikely that they realized what Pericles would have discovered, or it would never have left either. We know that the Tyrants had FTL capability. Hell, they dominated the Solar System for decades. Most of their ancestors pioneered space exploration, back in the twenty-first century. All it would have taken would be a few discoveries…”

  “You think this alien race discovered Earth?” Morgan asked.

  “Why not?” Dixon replied. “If they went to every inhabited system around, it would only make sense that they’d want to take a look at a living civilization, no matter how primitive. I guess some of those crazy ancient astronaut theories might have some basis in fact, after all.”

  Winter nodded, and said, “It’s a lead, and one we have full access to. The research team spent years crunching the data when they got back to Earth, and narrowed it down to three systems. One of them is just about within reach as long as we red-line the drives. It’s a risk, sure, but I think we’ve got to take it. I’m assuming that we shouldn’t have too much trouble getting to the others once we find our way there.”

  “What makes you think that?” Bianchi asked.

  “Because the Tyrants can,” Mendoza volunteered. “They’ve used our network on occasion, and they have the same basic take on faster-than-light travel that we do. Based on that, we’ve got to assume that if they can use ours, we can use theirs.” She frowned, then added, “Though we’re going to have to find their beacon first.”

  “That’s something we can work out once we’re on the move,” Winter said. He looked up at the clock on the wall, and added, “We’re breaking orbit in forty minutes, and will move out in formation as soon as possible. There’s no sense waiting any longer than we need to. Right
now, we’ve hurt the Tyrants twice. I don’t intend to give them any time to recover. I want all ships ready for action once we reach our target system. We’ve got to get this right.”

  “We’re all going?” Chandra asked. “Nothing left for defense?”

  “We don’t have enough ships to pull this off now, Commander,” Winter said. “I don’t like leaving our own territory undefended, but if we disperse our strength, we’re going to lose the war. This is the way it has to be. We move quickly, we move confidently, and we end this. One way or another.”

  Nodding, Galloway said, “There’s no choice.”

  “Indeed.” Winter frowned, then added, “I know you’ve all got a hell of a lot to do, so I’m going to let you all get on with it. Dismissed. Lieutenant Moore, Technical Officer Mendoza, if you would both please remain for a moment.” As the other officers left the room, he turned to Mendoza, and said, “I have special assignments for both of you. Mendoza, you get the risky one.”

  “Sounds about right,” she said.

  “I need you to put together a strike team. No more than four of you. There’s almost certainly going to be a need for an investigative team on this mission, and it will doubtless mean sending all of you well into harm’s way. Either ruined bases, enemy ships, the works. You’ve got the most experience with this sort of thing. Pick your team, and go through everything we have on the Xibalbans. I’m afraid it doesn’t amount to much.”

  “Any preferences, sir?”

  “Pick from this ship, and try not to take anyone too critical. If you can find anyone with any experience of xenoarchaeology, that would be fantastic, but I’ll leave you to put together a balanced strike force. Just make sure that everyone has a good level of combat training.” He paused, then said, “You know what to do, Mendoza, just as well as I. Feel free to consult with Major Morgan if you want some input.”

  “I think I’ve got some ideas, sir, but I’ll want to spend some time with the personnel database. Can I draw them out of their departments?”

  “They’re going to be transferring to your department, to the Science department. Odd to have that as a synonym for Marines, but we live in strange and uncertain times. Pick one of the shuttles and make any modifications you need. I want you to be ready to launch within sixty seconds of our arrival in the target system. We might need to move fast.”

  “We’ll be ready, sir.”

  Nodding, he said, “I’m counting on you, Ronnie. The future of all of humanity might be riding with you. No pressure, huh.”

  “No pressure,” she replied with a smile. “I’ll get it right, sir. Can I draw from the other ships?”

  “Just Xenophon,” he said, shaking his head. “The others are already short-handed beyond anything regulations recommend. I don’t want them to have to lose someone critical to this. We’ve got at least a little redundancy. They don’t.”

  “I understand, Commander, I’ll get my team assembled. How long do I have?”

  “Maybe thirty hours before we reach our destination,” Winter replied. “Draw on any resources you need to get yourselves and your shuttle ready. Lieutenant Moore, with one exception, this has absolute priority.”

  “One exception, sir?” Moore asked.

  With a sigh, Winter nodded, then said, “That has to do with the orders I’m about to give you, Lieutenant, and I need to do them in private. Keep me informed, Mendoza. I’m depending on you.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mendoza said, standing to attention before leaving the room. As the doors closed behind her, she glanced back at them, a frown on her face. Whatever Winter was ordering Moore to do, it was so secret that he wasn’t even trusting his closest friend with the information.

  A part of her wanted to trust him. A part of her was afraid to.

  It didn’t matter. She had more important things to do. And precisely no time in which to do it. She called up the crew list, then shook her head and smiled. She knew who she was going to choose, and so did Winter.

  “Ortiz, Volkov, Singh, report to the Science Lab on the double. Bring coffee.”

  Chapter 3

  Winter walked the decks, prowling the lower levels of the ship, trying to lose himself for at least a while amid the twisted corridors and passageways. Even when this ship was fully-crewed, these areas would be thinly populated. Under current conditions, they were deserted, the automated systems content to slowly work away, the occasional maintenance robot doing the rounds, taking care of anything that absolutely could not wait.

  “I thought you’d be down here,” Morgan said, turning around a corner.

  “Damn it, Joe, you scared the hell out of me,” Winter replied.

  With a grin, Morgan said, “Good. That’s what I was going for.” He paused, then said, “Just what are you doing hiding down here, anyway?”

  “That’s precisely it. It’s not as though I’ve got anything to do. I took a look at the paperwork, but what’s the point? The odds are that nobody is ever going to read it, anyway. I figured trying to get my mind off all of this would be a better investment of my time.”

  Nodding, Morgan said, “I think most of the crew agrees with you. It’s like a ghost town up there, and the senior non-coms are turning a blind eye to it. We’re ready for action, and I don’t see the point running any more battle drills. If we don’t know what we’re doing by now, we’re not going to. Not that we actually know what we’re doing, of course. We’re flying blind.”

  “It isn’t quite that bad,” Winter replied with a frown. “We’ve got good long-range probe analysis, so…”

  “So we know we’re heading to a brown dwarf binary with half a dozen rocky planets orbiting it. We also know that this can’t be the home system of those aliens of yours. I’d have a hard enough time picturing a sentient species managing to struggle out of the ooze on a world orbiting a red dwarf, but a brown dwarf is a completely different picture.”

  “We’ve found life in odder environments, Joe, and we’re talking about an alien race here. Besides, it makes a strange sort of sense. All of our efforts to find intelligent life have focused on stars like our own. There are brown dwarves six parsecs from Sol that we’ve never even touched. When all of this is over, we’re going to have to take care of that. Start a systematic exploration of this part of the galaxy.”

  “At least you’re working out what you’re going to do when all of this is over,” Morgan said with a thin smile. “That’s healthy enough. Better than most of the rest of us. They all think they’re going to die tomorrow.”

  “That’s entirely possible,” Winter said.

  “And a very defeatist attitude to adopt before a battle.”

  “I don’t think so. It’s almost liberating. If you know that you’re going to die, it calms you, somehow. Gives you that little bit of freedom that you’d otherwise be lacking. The freedom to do whatever it takes to pull off a victory, regardless of the cost. Besides, this is a smart crew. They know the odds. There’s no point lying to them, not at this stage.”

  “I suppose that’s true enough,” Morgan said. “We’re way, way off-script right now, that much is certain.” He paused, then asked, “What have you got Moore working on?” Before Winter could protest, Morgan continued, “I know the cover story. Upgrades to the maser cannons. I don’t buy it. I’ve already done everything I possibly can with our weapon systems, and they aren’t going to make a difference. The crew will buy that because anyone who knows better won’t talk, and most of them don’t care anyway, but I want to know, and I need to know.”

  “It’s actually pretty damned simple,” Winter said. “This ship can operate in the upper atmosphere of the planet. Lieutenant Moore is working on ways to strengthen the hull to make sure that we could get down to the surface of a world to a crash landing, one that would see us hammer through the atmosphere in something at least approximating one piece.”

  “We’d never be able to climb back up, though, and no matter what we did to the ship, I can’t see that we’d be able to physically
survive the sort of descent pattern you’re talking about. We’d be torn to pieces, even if bits of the ship made it down to the surface.”

  “That wouldn’t matter. Not at that stage. I’ve got something else in mind.” His eyes grew cold, and he added, “All of the experience we’ve had points to them having a centralized network. A complicated one. Given our best-guess projections of their background, their history, that means that they’ve got some sort of central headquarters, a hub for their distributed network. Kill it and you kill them.”

  “That’s going to be the best-defended place in their territory, and we’d have to land a marine strike force we just don’t have to position the charges.”

  “Not necessarily,” he replied, looking at Morgan, his eyes haunted. “Not if we can complete the same maneuver with this ship. We’re powered by an antimatter reactor. In theory, there’s no reason why that can’t be turned into an antimatter bomb. One that would have a yield measured in gigatons. Never mind an installation. We could take out a small continent. And if that’s the price of victory, that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

  “Christ,” Morgan said, looking Winter coldly in the eyes. “You really are serious about this, aren’t you?”

  “If we fail, the human race comes to a stop,” Winter replied. “The Tyrants will implant those damned chips into everyone, and the very concept of individuality itself will be a memory. Not even that, as they’d probably edit it out of the database. We can’t fail. It’s as simple as that.”