up and strode from the room, the other clan leaders following.
Jukaga sighed with relief as the door closed behind them. How the feuds
had truly started was all too evident. The Emperor had manipulated the hrai
of Vak into feeling slighted at the court rituals by the other clans. He had
not intervened when blood started to spill as a result.
It was masterful on the Emperor's part, keeping the clans from uniting
and turning their aggressive energy against him. Jukaga closed his eyes to
clear his thoughts.
The Emperor by now must see the threat forming. The Emperor must
somehow sense that he was actually contemplating the unthinkable, the actual
elimination of the Imperial line. If the war was on, such an act would be
absolutely intolerable, in peace it might just be successful. The Emperor
therefore needed peace to finish the building of the fleet, but at the same
time needed war to secure his throne.
Jukaga reached over to a side table and poured himself a cup of wine
and quietly lapped it up. And yet there was far more. If he had learned
anything from his study of the humans, it was that there was more than one
way to win a war. Direct and brutal combat was the only thing the Kilrathi
knew and understood. Yet there were so many other ways. It was already
evident that the humans were weakening themselves in a foolish bid for
peace. A year from now, if all could be kept quiet they would cripple
themselves beyond all hope of recall.
If he could eliminate the Emperor and the Prince, and then personally
lead the new fleet into Terran space they would most likely capitulate in
despair. Thus the fleet would be preserved. For if the Mantu were coming,
the fleet, and far more beyond it, would be needed to stop them; a
subjugated race of humans, and the vast resources they controlled, would
help in that survival. The Emperor was too much a Kilrathi to see that.
Brutal all-out war was the only path the Kilrathi had ever understood. It
had, for so long, been the fundamental key to their success. Now, it might
very well be the path to their destruction, fighting themselves to
exhaustion only to then be conquered by others. He even half suspected that
this was part of the Mantu plan, for surely they must know what was going
on.
The Emperor would have to go, it was that simple, and he found that he
could indeed contemplate something that the humans so often practiced in
their political struggles but which was unknown to the Kilrathi, political
assassination of a superior without direct confrontation and challenge.
As he contemplated he smiled remembering his favorite readings of the
human English author and his play MacBeth. It was that reading which had
first planted the thought
Tolwyn. The English race of humans and their cousins the Americans were
an interesting study. So violent but also so imbued with a strange idealism.
Tolwyn fascinated him, a cultured man, and yet a complete warrior.
He knew that there was something hidden behind the downfall of Tolwyn's
career, and his reported move to the Landreich reinforced that. Tolwyn was
too honorable to break the old English code of warfare with its bizarre
notion of fair play and rules. He was following orders from someone above
him, to be removed so he could go to the Landreich. But for what?
Jukaga called up a holo map of the Landreich sector and its jump point
pathways into the Empire.
The realization finally came. Tolwyn was being sent out as a spy, to
try to find the fleet, and if discovered, his link to the government could
be denied
"Masterful," Jukaga said softly. The information matched into the
report he had obtained from one of his operatives inside Thrakhath's
military intelligence. Thrakhath must have surmised this concern as well,
and thus sent out a precious Stealth to investigate.
Tolwyn had to be blocked. If the humans found out the truth, the peace
would indeed be shattered, the timing of his own plans destroyed. Though he
hated to do it, he would have to send a message to Thrakhath outlining his
concerns for security and to recommend that it be doubled.
Tolwyn was a fascinating challenge, a worthy foe. Though he would not
openly admit it even to himself, he was finding in his heart that the humans
were a race he had almost come to like, and more importantly, a race he was
even willing to spare in his own quest for power.
"Well look what the birds dragged in," Jason laughed, trying to conceal
the fact that he had been sweating out the last twenty hours, increasingly
convinced that his old friend had bought a permanent piece of space.
K'Kai, ignoring Jason's teasing remark, led Ian up to the bar. Ian
looked around the room with a grin, though Jason could see that the rescued
pilot had most definitely had the wits scared out of him.
"Yeah, I know, the drinks are an on me, "Ian announced, and a cheer
went up from the pilots who swarmed up to the bar. Ian looked around a bit
glumly, realizing that the old fleet tradition could be rather expensive.
"I'll have this thing Ian talks so much about, a single malt scotch,"
K'Kai announced
The bartender looked at Ian.
"For that kind of sippin' liquor it's ten dollars for a shot."
"Give it to her," Ian sighed, "the bird was the one that rescued me.
The bartender seemed to relax a bit, especially when Jason reached into
his pocket and fished out a wad of bills, hard Confederation currency, and
tossed them on the counter.
"I don't think you've got much change on you at the moment, Jason said
looking over at Ian. "You can pay me back later."
Ian nodded his thanks and called for a Scotch as well, downing it in
one gulp. He looked over at Jason and smiled weakly.
"I was scared out of my wits," Ian said quietly. "Maybe I might have
been able to dodge that second missile, but it just kept boring in on me.
When I popped out of there my ship was already blowing."
Jason could easily see that by the scorching on Ian's flightsuit.
"By popping up at the last second I had enough forward velocity to go
into a low orbit around the moon. I looped over a mountain range not
clearing it by a thousand meters. Every time I circled the moon my orbit
kept degrading until finally the mountain range was straight ahead and I
knew I was going to slam in. If K'Kai had gotten there thirty seconds later
I'd have been splattered. Her tractor beam caught me just in time."
He raised his glass and Jason could see the trembling which Ian
struggled to control. Everyone who flew experienced it sooner or later,
especially with the life expectancy of pilots being what it was. There was a
point though when one too many close brushes simply drained the well dry. If
they were back with the Confed Fleet, Ian would have been in to the psych
officer and most likely stood down for a couple of weeks of R&R before being
sent back in. But there wasn't any time, and in this stripped down fleet a
psych officer was a luxury that Kruger would have considered pure idiocy.
"Captain Bondarevsky, Captain St. John?"
The two looked over their shoulders at a colonial officer.
"You got us."
"You're wanted by Kruger."
"On our way," Hunter said, forcing a smile.
Jason looked around at the bar, fished into his pocket and pulled out
what he had left and tossed it to the bartender.
"Keep it flowing on me till the money runs out"
The colonial pilots cheered a thanks, as Jason left. Hunter looked back
at K'Kai, and silently nodded a thanks as he went out the door.
The bar was conveniently across the street from the entry into the
command post. Following their guide they passed the security guards and went
back down into the basement command post.
Kruger and Tolwyn looked up as Ian and Jason came into the room.
"Glad you're alive," Geoff said.
"So am I."
"But you lost a Sabre," Kruger interjected, "a first line ship in
return for one Kilrathi Stealth, not a good trade in my book at all."
"Return with your shield or upon it, is that it?" Ian said dryly.
"Something like that," Kruger retorted. "You Confed boys might think
it's all right to blow a ship apart or prang one up on a bad landing, get
out, and then have another one handed to you, but out here it's different.
We're at the butt end of any supplies. With your asinine Confed signing that
article 23 of the armistice forbidding the resale of fighter aircraft, a
Sabre is precious."
"Sorry," Ian replied, "next time I'll make sure to blow up with my
ship."
"At least we know about their new missile," Tolwyn interjected, while
pouring himself a cup of tea and motioning for Ian to come over and join
him.
"You go too easy on your boys," Kruger said, looking over at Tolwyn.
Jason found it hard to suppress a low chuckle.
"Something I say amusing to you, mister?" Kruger asked, looking back at
Jason.
"As a matter of fact, yes, sir," Jason replied.
Kruger looked at him coldly and again Jason found himself wondering if
his honesty would get him into hot water. Whether Kruger could really
discipline him or not was problematic, he was after all a "volunteer" in the
Landreich's Free Corp, not even officially sworn in, but he did suspect the
gaunt one-eyed leader could make life difficult.
"We've got a little surprise for you two," Tolwyn said handing a cup of
tea to Ian and moving to get between Jason and Kruger. Glad for the excuse
to break eye contact Jason focused his attention on Tolwyn.
"What is it, sir?"
"The special equipment we were hoping to get made it out of the
Confederation and will arrive here tomorrow. It's the real reason I wanted
to get these carriers out here," and he looked over at a frowning Kruger and
smiled "besides helping out our allies in the Landreich.
"Therefore Tarawa and Normandy aren't going out on forward patrol with
the other three carriers."
"Why, sir?" and the disappointment in Jason's voice was evident.
"I couldn't let you in on it till now, but your ship has been selected
for the real mission. Let's head up there now, Paladin's moved over from
Normandy and he's already on board waiting for us."
"What is it, sir?" Jason asked, feeling like a child who was being held
back from looking under the Christmas tree.
"Let's just say we've decided to add to Tarawa a little something
special that just came in."
Hard docking completed, Jason followed Geoff Tolwyn to what usually
served as the entry bay for his fighters and was now blocked by the side of
the heavy transport which was almost as big as Tarawa.
The crew worked around him, extending the docking collar through the
magnetic field which separated the pressurized flight deck from the vacuum
of space. The collar snapped onto the side of the transport and the deck
officer turned to Jason nodding that an airtight seal had been secured. The
side of the transport popped open and a thin, nearly bald man, who Jason
judged to be in his early sixties, came through.
"So the Cats have been snooping around?" the man asked, coming up to
shake Tolwyn's hands.
"They know we're here."
"And they'll be back for a closer look. I think I managed to get here
without their knowing and I can tell you what's inside my hold is secure."
Tolwyn looked back at his companions.
"Admiral Vance Richards, I'd like to introduce you to Captain
Bondarevsky."
Jason came to attention and the Admiral motioned for him to stand at
ease.
"Everyone here's retired at the moment, Captain, so let's cut all the
saluting crap."
Jason took Richards' hand, surprised at the firmness of the grip.
Tolwyn went down the line introducing him in turn to Hunter, Doomsday,
Kevin, and finally Paladin.
"Ah, Vance, tis good to see ya again," Paladin said with a laugh, the
two slapping each other on the shoulders. "Did you bring me my new toy?"
"That I did," Richards said, "it's tucked into the forward cargo bay."
Paladin grinned with delight
Jason watched the familiar greeting with surprise. Admiral Richards,
until his retirement only days before the armistice, had been head of
military intelligence for the entire Confederation. He was, to the members
of the fleet, a shadowy figure, a name without a picture, an individual
never seen Ч though it was often rumored that he traveled into more than one
action, hidden away as a staff officer under an assumed name.
"Let's start unloading and get to work" Richards said with an almost
boylike enthusiasm, and he motioned for the group to follow him off the
deserted hangar bay.
The group started down the corridor back to the bridge and Jason looked
back to see a team of black cover-alled personnel emerging from the
transport ship, each of them saluting the lone Marine guard by the hatch and
requesting permission to come aboard.
"Who are those people?" Jason asked, motioning back towards the stream
of personnel filing off the transport.
"That's part of our surprise," Tolwyn said with a grin.
The new arrivals started to maneuver long black canisters from out of
the transport, moving them with small hand-held null gravity units. They had
a certain look to them, tech personnel he could almost guess out of hand,
but beyond that a cold professional look as well.
"Since I am captain of this ship, sir," Jason said, looking over at
Tolwyn, "can you finally let me in on what's going on? You've been looking
like a cat that just swallowed the canary."
"We're installing a D 3S 5 on board your ship, Jason," Richards said,
motioning for Jason to turn into the wardroom off the bridge and indicating
that Ian, Doomsday, Paladin, Geoff, and Kevin were invited to join as well.
"Just what the hell is a D 3S 5?" Ian asked.
"Deep Space Surveillance System Five," Richards said quietly, closing
the door behind them.
"Something then with signal intelligence, is that it?"
Richards smiled and sat down on the small table that filled most of the
room, motioning for the rest of group to sit down. It suddenly caught Jason
that Richards was awfully familiar with light escort design, having made it
straight from the hangar to the bridge wardroom without a single false turn.
"The sig intel department's been working on this new design for years,
in fact they were just getting set to deploy it when the armistice hit. This
system was a black project. The only ones who knew about it were the chiefs
of staff and several hundred design and research techs working on a base
buried inside one of Neptune's moons, and that was it. Security was so tight
that the techs were only allowed to bring their spouses and children with
them and then were listed as killed in a transport accident."
Jason noticed that Richards had neglected to say if anyone inside the
civilian government knew of the project. Chances were not even the president
fully understood it, nor perhaps did he want to.
"I should add it is strictly a military project," Richards said, as if
reading Jason's thoughts. I think it's fair to tell you that we've suspected
a mole in the inner circle of government for some time now. The money for
this project has therefore been buried, and no one else knows about it.
"So what's so important about all of this?" Ian asked.
"Since this war started, signal and photo intelligence has been
crucial. From the little bits of information that we've been able to
occasionally get, victory or defeat in some of the major battles of the war
has often been decided. Vukar started because of a recon survey and in a lot
of those missions good people died as a result.
"We ve even got picket ships specially designed for the work, and
they've been hiding on the edge of the frontier for years, quietly parked in
asteroid fields. Hell, some of them are camouflaged to look like asteroids.
Gods, it must be boring work, but to the sig intel crowd it's like a giant
game, figuring out one puzzle after another.
"The problem is that we're trying to listen in on everything from old
sub light ship-to-ship radio communication, through newscasts, right up to
fleet command high density translight burst signals. It comes down to
hundreds of billions of signals floating around, made even more complicated
by old radio waves, signals maybe five hundred years old, drifting by. The
Kilrathi of course, assume we're listening in, so throw in language and
coding and you see how complex it gets.
"D 3S 5 might be a partial answer. It's not only the detecting
equipment, it's also the analysis software which can sort through these
millions of signals, crack codes, figure out which ones have certain things
we're looking for and then give them as hard copy to intelligence. When they
started the design work twenty years ago, the antenna nets were twenty miles
across, it took five hundred personnel to run it, and it needed a ship
bigger than a carrier. The early models were, as result of these
limitations, well inside Confed space for security reasons, trying to squeak
out information from as much as five hundred or more light years and ten or
more jump points from the front. Now we've finally got it down to something
we can deploy inside the flight deck of a light escort carrier, with a fifty
meter antenna array mounted outside."
"So that's why the other ships got the fighters, leaving us just four,
and you wanted them moved to a corner of the hangar?" Jason asked, looking
over at Tolwyn.
The Admiral smile.
"Tarawa's got a different job, in fact the real reason behind our
moving out here to the Landreich. The Landreich needed the carriers, to be
sure, and some of us wanted to keep a light strike force ready and available
on the edge of the frontier. But it also served as a smoke screen for the
real mission, the mission you and your carrier have been chosen for. We re
going to take our new ears inside the Empire, and get the evidence we need
to pull the mask off what they're doing. When we have the proof of what
they're doing, believe me, things will hit the fan."
"Just one question then, sir," Ian asked.
"Sure, what is it?"
"How the hell did we get this equipment? It must be worth hundreds of
millions."
"Just roughly over eighty billion and some odd change." Richards
replied. "What's inside those boxes piling up on the flight deck cost more
than the entire Concordia."
"So how then?"
"Don't ever ask," Tolwyn replied quietly. "People have died for knowing
a hell of a lot less and I suspect there's more than one person who'd be
glad to kill all of us if they knew what we were up to."
"And my ship?" Paladin asked.
"Once we off load the equipment to Tarawa, we'll leave the Hell Hole
and head off to a quiet corner a couple of jump points up, and then off-load
your new toy."
"Off-load what?" Doomsday asked, unable to hide behind his usual mask
of disinterest and depression.
"A light smuggler craft with Stealth technology," Paladin said with a
grin.
"How the hell did we get that?" Kevin asked excitedly.
"Oh, let's just say a Kilrathi Stealth fighter they thought was killed
somehow wound up in our hands," Richards replied. We've yet to really figure
out how it works, but we did manage to take it apart and install it in one
of our ships and the damn thing actually works!"
"Paladin's going in as our point man on this operation, so we thought
we'd give him a little something extra this time around," Tolwyn
interjected.
"And its about time, considering what you folks pay me, Paladin replied
with a grin.
"Enter."
Bowing low, Vak, baron of the hrai of the Ragitagha slipped into the
darkened room, went down on both knees, head bowed to the floor and waited.
"You may arise, the voice whispered hoarsely and Vak came to his feet.
The bent figure motioned for him to approach and sit by his side, an
act of great honor, and Vak moved quickly to obey.
"You at least I still know are loyal."
"As always, my Emperor," Vak said softly, not daring to raise his voice
much above a whisper. Though the room was supposedly secured and swept, and
the walls were mounted with vibration dampeners, it was still possible that
something might have been overlooked.
The Emperor touched a control panel by his side and Vak felt the
electrostatic tingle of a force field clicking in. Nothing now could hear
them, unless a bug had been planted in the very chair in which the Emperor
sat.
"We can talk freely now," the Emperor said.
Vak tried to relax.
"I have read the report you sent to me regarding this meeting. They are
fools if they continue to follow Jukaga."
Vak nodded.
"I think you should know that you are not the only one to report to me
thus."
Vak felt a cold uneasiness. Was this a lie or not? If not, then it
meant that at least one other of the eight families had had second thoughts
about Jukaga. Could it be that all the others might very well be playing
both sides in this? Or was the Emperor truly alone and simply making him
nervous, to insure that he told the truth? He tried to analyze this bit of
information. He had no love for the Emperor, and that he had led them to the
brink of disaster was obvious. But he feared civil war as well, knowing that
if it came it would be his worlds that might very well be swallowed up if
the humans should attack in the wake of the chaos.
We need the Emperor to hold us together, yet in the needing of him we
are destroying ourselves as well, that is the paradox of it all, as Jukaga
would say.
"You're wondering who?" the Emperor said with a cold laugh.
"Of course I would wonder such a thing."
"And of course I will not tell you. In fact, you've already thought I
might be lying; I'll leave that for you to meditate on."
"Don't you trust me?" Vak asked, his voice and demeanor showing a
genuine concern.
"Don't be a fool, of course I don't trust you. Remember that, Vak,
anyone who wears the Imperial crown must learn that lesson first. I did not
trust even my own son and in the end I ordered his death. There are times I
am not even sure of my grandson, the heir."
He paused for a moment as if the memory did in fact still pain him in
spite of his apparent lack of remorse in the years since the execution.
He lowered his head again, growling softly.
"You know that when I go," the Emperor finally said, "if my grandson is
not supported, civil war will be the result. My hrai has ruled the Empire
for centuries, that must continue, for no family will support the rise of
another to rule over them."
Vak said nothing.
"But tell me," the Emperor chuckled, "why have you betrayed Jukaga's
intentions to me?"
"Because I am loyal sire."
The Emperor leaned back and barked out a laugh.
"Do not play the fool, the real reason. I know you hate my grandson and
me, blaming us for the death of your first born."
Vak was taken aback. His first answer had actually been the truth. If
loyalty to a sworn oath was viewed as nothing more than a political toy, to
be abandoned without thought, then they were indeed truly lost.
The Emperor looked at him closely and finally nodded.
"I believe you actually are loyal."
Vak, feeling insulted that such an issue had even been questioned,
remained silent.
The Emperor looked away from Vak. Jukaga, as head of intelligence, had
placed his spies not only beyond the borders but within even the palace
itself. There was nothing he did not know. Poisoning him would be the
easiest answer, but that might very well make the loyalty of Vak and the
other family heads waver. The tacit agreement between hrai leaders and
Emperors had stood for generations: both sides will support the other,
neither will attempt to kill the other.
He thought of Thrakhath. He was tempted to recall him from his
assignment with the new fleet but then thought better of it. The new fleet
was not only the tool for the final offensive against the Confederation, but
also a replacement for the home fleet lost in the last two years of
campaigns. Three carriers were ready, at the very least six more had to be
completed if the next campaign was to be a guaranteed success. He could not
afford one more lost opportunity, for it would shake whatever power they had
left to the very core and perhaps trigger open rebellion. Yet if they
waited, Jukaga in his slyness might very well gain even more power.
It was an amusing question to ponder and he knew if he pondered long
enough he would find the answer.
"You know just how munificent my reward might be if you provide me with
information valuable enough, including perhaps even the marriage to one of
my great nieces. It could very well mean that your family might even thus be
in line for the Imperial succession," the Emperor said softly. And Vak
smiled.
"Jump transition on automatic sequencing and counting at ten, nine,
eight . . ."
Jason settled back into his chair and waited. A cold rush of excitement
tingled down his spine. No matter how many times he had jumped he always
felt the same, especially when going into hostile space. One of the key
tactical points with jumping was the simple fact that you never knew what
was on the other side. Inside secured shipping lanes behind the lines there
were beacons placed at both points, monitoring traffic, sent up to avoid the
possibility of a ship materializing in the same point of space occupied by
someone else, an event that always had spectacular results. But beyond that
was the question of just who was waiting. Paladin, piloting his new ship
which he had named Bannockburn, with Ian aboard as his co-pilot, had already
gone ahead to scout. The fifteen minutes' wait had passed and now it was
time to follow through and the potential for an unpleasant surprise was
always there.
He felt Tarawa drop away, and there was a momentary queasiness then the
flash of rematerialization. He looked over at his navigation officer who was
peering intently at her holo display.
"Correct jump alignment confirmed," she announced. "Bannockburn
reporting in on laser lock."
Paladin's image appeared on the screen.
"This Stealth works like a charm. We found a remote sensor and took it
out, it never even put out a signal. Optical scan shows the entire system's
clear right up to the next jump point."
Jason looked over at Tolwyn and grinned.
"It looks like we got through. We've crossed from the frontier into the
heart of the Empire."
He looked up at his aft visual and less than a minute later his escort
CVE-6 Normandy came through.
"All ships through," communications announced, "all systems running
nominal, Bannockburn reports successful take-out of remote drone without
detect signal being activated."
Geoff Tolwyn, standing behind Jason, nodded, letting out an audible
sigh of relief. Jason found that alone to be surprising; he was used to his
old chief being absolutely unflappable.
They were now four jumps into the Kilrathi Empire, tracking down one of
the hundreds of transition points leading from neutral territory into the
Empire in the one direction and Confederation space on the other.
Surveillance drones of course monitored these points, but "accidents" like
the one Paladin had just arranged for the drone covering this jump point
were easy enough to set up. It could be days or even weeks before a picket
ship came out to replace the drone with a new one.
"Let's hit the flight deck and see what Richards is up to," Tolwyn
said, motioning for Jason to follow.
Excited, Jason came out of his seat. He had been waiting for days to
get a look at what Richards was doing.
Leaving the bridge they went down the main corridor to the forward part
of the ship. At the airlock door two guards came to attention at Tolwyn's
approach but did not step aside.
Internal ship security was nothing new to Jason but this was different.
The two men were not dressed in the usual Marine class B uniform, for after
all this was not a Confederation ship any longer. There was something
disquieting about the black khaki uniform the two guards were wearing
without a single insignia or marking on them. The easy way they held their
laser rifles told him that these two were highly trained professionals.
Only seven members of the Tarawa's operating crew were allowed on to
the hangar deck, Tolwyn and himself, along with Kevin, Doomsday and two
Landreich pilots cleared to fly one of the four craft still left in the very
forward part of the hangar, and finally Sparks as the one overworked
maintenance officer permitted to work on the fighters. Everyone else aboard
ship had already been told that the guards had standing orders to shoot
first and then ask questions. Jason could tell this was simply not rhetoric,
these two would do it without batting an eye.
Clearing the doorway, they stepped out into the hangar deck. Equipment
was spread out across almost all the floor space which once was occupied by
forty-four fighters. He realized that he was, in fact, looking at perhaps
the single largest concentration of computing power anywhere in the
Confederation except, perhaps, for the administrative centers of Earth and
the moon, and even then he wondered. Banks of storage systems were arrayed
along one wall, dozens of holo display fields were already up and running,
and he approached one of them, a field nearly half a dozen meters cubed. A
technician was standing inside the display field, which showed a three
dimensional model of what he recognized as the near space environment around
Kilrah. Bright hovering points of light represented the stars, their
planets, and transition jump points, with blocks of data appearing above
them, the information readable from any angle one looked at it. The
technician standing inside the holo display looked almost godlike as she
walked about inside it. He was totally mystified by what she was doing as
she pulled out what looked like a laser pointer, aimed it at the orange size
planet floating in the middle of the field and squeezed.
Another holo field popped into action next to the first, this one a
close up of the planet the first technician had pointed at. The entire field
was occupied by what looked like a solid ball, its continents covered with
hundreds of flashing lights
"That's Kilrah," Jason whispered.
"Using this, they can lock in on any one of millions of sources even
while continuing to scan all other traffic and look for new sources at the
same time," Tolwyn replied softly,
Several white overall clad techs gathered around the globe, pointing,
talking softly, arguing, and then aiming pointers at particular flashing
lights. Behind them, two dimensional flat screens flared into light, streams
of data flashing across some, others showing pictures, one of which caught
Jason's eye, of Kilrathi wearing heavy leather armor slashing at each other
with swords.
Vance came up to the two and nodded a greeting.
"Say, what the hell is that on the monitor?" Jason asked, pointing to
the screen.
"A Kilrathi drama from the Gakarg Period."
"What?"
"Their ancient history. They love holos about the ancient wars when the
various clans were feuding with each other before the unification. We
monitor every such station from Kilrah, their media links are translight
signalled throughout the Empire. It cost them a bundle but it helps keep
them unified. Watching their stations might give us clues as to internal
politics. We have a lot of software tied up with analysis of their popular
shows, since there might be some subtle clues as to what's going on based
upon the type of entertainment the government is broadcasting. In the last
three days we've noticed an increase of Gakarg Period dramas dealing with
Emperor Y'taa'gu.
"Who?"
Vance chuckled.
"I never heard of him either. Seems to be an evil emperor who was
insane and finally killed by a virtuous warrior in order to save his people.
It's worth watching. It's interesting that since the armistice we never see
a single drama about the war with us, or any of their previous ones, only
ancient history. Their news programs are the same, really tight on war news
and only one brief announcement of the armistice and then nothing. These
furballs are mighty security conscious on such things, but we still gleam
occasional facts; that's why it's worth monitoring."
Lance led them around the holo display of Kilrah raised a pointer and
aimed it at a flashing blue light
"Blue means commercial communication line," and he nodded back to a
screen which was filled with what looked like shipping orders, instantly
translated into standard English.
"This D-5 is monitoring everything that's reaching the antenna arrays
mounted outside this ship. If it's non-coded it immediately translates it.
We have the computers programmed to look for certain things on the
commercial channels. For instance, a shipping order for IFF missiles gets
tagged into a higher priority slot. We can even look for orders related to
just one component of an IFF missile. If certain patterns of shipping
develop or if something outside of the ordinary happens, the computer will
alert a human operator who then analyzes it and decides if there's something
important enough that it has to be kicked upstairs. That's the key job,
looking for the little nugget of gold inside the tons of gravel and mud.
"One of the first things that started to tip us off to the fact that
the Kilrathi might be building something was that certain commercial links
for the ordering of military parts suddenly went into a new code system,
which was changed every eight days. Significant orders for supplies, parts,
and shipping became highly classified.
"That started some real questions being asked. The problem was that
they shifted this classified work to the part of the Empire out beyond
Kilrah, as far from our listening posts as possible The question of why
really put the pressure on us to get this D-5 on line and also caused the
loss of a lot of good intel people behind the lines. The jump we just
completed is the deepest in we've ever been able to take equipment like
this. You can see already the streams of data pouring in.
Richards led them over to his command booth and offered a couple of
cups of coffee to his guests. Jason noticed that these people seemed to live
on caffeine, and a fair number of them were addicted to Ian's habit of
tobacco, a practice he found totally mystifying and somewhat disgusting.
"The D-5 can monitor any signal within its six hundred light year range
and pinpoint its origin. The hard part is programming it to figure out what
is worth looking at out of the billions of messages it picks up every day
and then passing it to a human analyst for evaluation.
"The analyst's job is the toughest. It takes someone with a sixth sense
to decipher what appear to be unrelated facts but actually are part of a
pattern.
"We do the same thing for the media channels, the public communication
lines, and of course the military and government lines," and he pointed to
the flashing red and yellow lights back on the holo display of Kilrah.
"Those are the tough buggers, a lot of it is burst signalled and highly
encoded."
"Damn, there's hundreds of them," Jason said. "Something must be up."
Vance laughed softly.
"Over ninety percent are dummy channels, broadcasting complete
gibberish, total nonsense words that actually tie up most of our decoding
equipment since we're not sure if its garbage or the real thing. Sometimes
you might have a burst signal with a million words in it, all encoded, and
the real message is twenty words in the middle, each word separated from the
next by say six thousand four hundred words.
"Why that number?"
"Remember they have eight fingers and we have ten, so their numerical
system is base eight. We tend to look a bit more intensely at base eight
numerical lines as a result. What gets frustrating is that they are using at
least a dozen different codes at any given time, with the highest level
material going on what we call Fleet Code A, which tends to change every
twenty-four to forty days. The real messages are hidden in a lot of garbage
and we have to wade through each message and might spend weeks tracking down
promising stuff only to discover its a decoy."
"Some of their people even have a sense of humor about it. One message,
when finally translated, was a simple СHey, stupid, we fooled you,' and
another was a long excerpt from what I guess was a Kilrathi dirty book.
Decoding and translating each of those things took up time and equipment. We
can't ignore a single message because we never know if we might hit paydirt
or not. So we wade through all of this, figure out the real signals from the
fake, then spend a hell of a lot of time cracking the code, and just when we
think we've got it, they go and change the code and we're back to square
one. Then to top it off they might have a station that's quiet for weeks or
months, and it pops off a lone burst signal then shuts down. Trying to even
figure out where it came from out of a billion cubic light years of space
was nuts until the D4 model, which could do a Doppler analysis and at least
do a probable trace."
"I'd go mad," Tolwyn said.
"Some of us do," Vance replied. "It takes a special kind of person to
do this. You fighter jockeys, your battle is one of skill and wits, but it
gets played out in seconds. Some of our battles last years.
Vance smiled.
"I've been in this game for twenty-nine years. I've dreamed all those
years of having something like this D-5. With the new antenna array we can
pick up bursts from up to six hundred light years out; only a couple of
generations back in the system we were lucky to get consistent reads from
ten light years away. We used to spend billions on recon drones which would
go in, store up data for a week, then send out a burst signal. Once it
signalled the Kilrathi would be onto it and take it out. Now this one system
can cover an area that would have required thousands of drones.
"The big problem now is that counter intel believes they knew of the
D-4 and maybe suspected our D-5. We've noticed a decrease in signal traffic
and suspect they're shifting more to courier. So far we've yet to figure out
how to read a dispatch pouch six hundred light years behind the lines."
As they continued to talk, Vance led them around the flight deck. Small
cubicles had been set up in the center of the room, and hunched over in each
was an operator, going through data that the computer felt was of sufficient
importance to bring to the attention of a human operator.
"I've got a hundred and three analysts with me on this mission, each of
them a specialist and the best in his field with eight or more years of
training behind him. There are another forty programmers who feed in the
requests and another twenty just to troubleshoot any glitches in the
machine."
Jason looked around the room, wondering just who indeed was paying for
all of this. He had his suspicions but knew it was best not to ask. What was
equally troubling was the matter-antimatter mine that was almost casually
brought aboard with the rest of the equipment. It was placed in the center
of the room and would be activated if it appeared as if Tarawa might be
captured. In this case there was definitely no surrender although,
technically, they were not even at war.
A technician came up to Vance's side, looked over at Jason and Tolwyn
and said nothing. Vance smiled and nodded.
"I think Jenkins here has something to tell me that he'd rather not say
in front of the two of you," Vance said quietly.
Tolwyn, smiling, nodded and turned and walked away.
"Hey, we're on the same team," Jason finally said as they went back
down the corridor to the bridge.
"Just remember, Jason, if there's no need to really know, then you
definitely better not know. Believe me, son, there's a hell of a lot I wish
I didn't know at this moment."
Tolwyn looked over at him and smiled.
"Come on, I think it's safe for us to have a short drink, help us
unwind. It's going to be a boring float out here until something comes up."
Jason was awakened by a gentle, but insistent shaking.
Damn, what was it now, and then he was instantly awake. The room was
dark, there was no klaxon, no attack. He suffered a moment of
disorientation, the old dream had come back, the explosions silently
bursting across the surface of the moon orbiting Kilrah. Svetlana . . .
"Jason, it's Tolwyn, something's up."
He stood up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and snapped on the light.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, but I want you in on this."
Jason reached into his closet, pulled on a fresh jumpsuit, slipped into
a pair of shoes and followed Tolwyn out the door.
It was the midnight to four watch, one officer and four enlisted
personnel manning the controls. Actually, the time was an artificial
creation, complete to the dimming of all lights aboard ship except in work
areas. He looked over at the chronometer, 0308 Confederation standard time
and it certainly felt like it. He realized it had to be important if Tolwyn
was pulling him out of the sack now. Well, at least it was some excitement
for a change. They'd been on station eight jump points inside the Empire for
twenty days, the three ships of their fleet rigged down for complete silent
running, tucked into an asteroid field in a small system that didn't even
rate a name on the charts, only a numbered designation.
Jason followed Tolwyn on to the flight deck and saw a small crowd
gathered around a monitor. They quietly approached. Vance looked up and
nodded a greeting.
"We've just had a break on cracking their latest A code and we've
caught a burst signal from Kilrah but again it was garbled, emanating from
the far side of the planet aimed towards Hari. They're only sending this
particular burst when this one station is facing towards the Hari system and
thus turned directly away from us. We get bounce reflections off of their
moon, but the signal is degraded to near gibberish as a result. It's a
pattern which seems to be adding up to something. We've also had a couple of
partial locks on a burst coming out of the Hari system but it's still beyond
our range to get a clear read and fix on it."
"So?" Jason asked, wondering why he had been pulled out of bed to hear
what was not any of his business to know anyhow.
"I want to take us closer in," Vance replied casually, as if asking to
do a little jaunt from Earth to the moon and back as a Sunday afternoon
pleasure ride.
Vance motioned for the two to go into an empty cubicle. He punched up a
holo display and then a two dimensional screen on one wall.
"This is why I wanted to get in closer," Vance said quietly, pointing
at the holo map which floated in the corner of the cubicle and then to the
flat screen where a long string of what appeared to be gibberish, marked by
occasional intelligible words scrolled by.
"It's definitely fleet code, their highest grade. We had a twenty-three
percent decipher on the last one, then this new code came on line but is
being used only by this one station aimed at Hari. It has all the markings
of a highest priority fleet code. We got really lucky when one of my people
saw a similarity to a code they used nearly eight years ago and pulled it
for comparison. We immediately broke a string of words and can do a six
percent translation and it's less than twelve hours old. In five or six days
I can bring that up to thirty percent and from there comparisons of word
groupings, even knowing the writing styles of certain operators and
officials, can help us break the rest.
"So why go deeper in now?"
"Because in five or six days I might have enough of the code broken so
that we can get some hard core information. When we do, I want to be in
position to scoop those signals from Hari and also the signals going out
from Kilrah."
"That means getting some place between Kilrah and Hari," Jason said
quietly.
Vance smiled again and nodded
"Do you know what you're asking? Only one ship's ever gone to Kilrah
and back and that's this baby. I don't know how many Confed spy or recon
Jukaga sighed with relief as the door closed behind them. How the feuds
had truly started was all too evident. The Emperor had manipulated the hrai
of Vak into feeling slighted at the court rituals by the other clans. He had
not intervened when blood started to spill as a result.
It was masterful on the Emperor's part, keeping the clans from uniting
and turning their aggressive energy against him. Jukaga closed his eyes to
clear his thoughts.
The Emperor by now must see the threat forming. The Emperor must
somehow sense that he was actually contemplating the unthinkable, the actual
elimination of the Imperial line. If the war was on, such an act would be
absolutely intolerable, in peace it might just be successful. The Emperor
therefore needed peace to finish the building of the fleet, but at the same
time needed war to secure his throne.
Jukaga reached over to a side table and poured himself a cup of wine
and quietly lapped it up. And yet there was far more. If he had learned
anything from his study of the humans, it was that there was more than one
way to win a war. Direct and brutal combat was the only thing the Kilrathi
knew and understood. Yet there were so many other ways. It was already
evident that the humans were weakening themselves in a foolish bid for
peace. A year from now, if all could be kept quiet they would cripple
themselves beyond all hope of recall.
If he could eliminate the Emperor and the Prince, and then personally
lead the new fleet into Terran space they would most likely capitulate in
despair. Thus the fleet would be preserved. For if the Mantu were coming,
the fleet, and far more beyond it, would be needed to stop them; a
subjugated race of humans, and the vast resources they controlled, would
help in that survival. The Emperor was too much a Kilrathi to see that.
Brutal all-out war was the only path the Kilrathi had ever understood. It
had, for so long, been the fundamental key to their success. Now, it might
very well be the path to their destruction, fighting themselves to
exhaustion only to then be conquered by others. He even half suspected that
this was part of the Mantu plan, for surely they must know what was going
on.
The Emperor would have to go, it was that simple, and he found that he
could indeed contemplate something that the humans so often practiced in
their political struggles but which was unknown to the Kilrathi, political
assassination of a superior without direct confrontation and challenge.
As he contemplated he smiled remembering his favorite readings of the
human English author and his play MacBeth. It was that reading which had
first planted the thought
Tolwyn. The English race of humans and their cousins the Americans were
an interesting study. So violent but also so imbued with a strange idealism.
Tolwyn fascinated him, a cultured man, and yet a complete warrior.
He knew that there was something hidden behind the downfall of Tolwyn's
career, and his reported move to the Landreich reinforced that. Tolwyn was
too honorable to break the old English code of warfare with its bizarre
notion of fair play and rules. He was following orders from someone above
him, to be removed so he could go to the Landreich. But for what?
Jukaga called up a holo map of the Landreich sector and its jump point
pathways into the Empire.
The realization finally came. Tolwyn was being sent out as a spy, to
try to find the fleet, and if discovered, his link to the government could
be denied
"Masterful," Jukaga said softly. The information matched into the
report he had obtained from one of his operatives inside Thrakhath's
military intelligence. Thrakhath must have surmised this concern as well,
and thus sent out a precious Stealth to investigate.
Tolwyn had to be blocked. If the humans found out the truth, the peace
would indeed be shattered, the timing of his own plans destroyed. Though he
hated to do it, he would have to send a message to Thrakhath outlining his
concerns for security and to recommend that it be doubled.
Tolwyn was a fascinating challenge, a worthy foe. Though he would not
openly admit it even to himself, he was finding in his heart that the humans
were a race he had almost come to like, and more importantly, a race he was
even willing to spare in his own quest for power.
"Well look what the birds dragged in," Jason laughed, trying to conceal
the fact that he had been sweating out the last twenty hours, increasingly
convinced that his old friend had bought a permanent piece of space.
K'Kai, ignoring Jason's teasing remark, led Ian up to the bar. Ian
looked around the room with a grin, though Jason could see that the rescued
pilot had most definitely had the wits scared out of him.
"Yeah, I know, the drinks are an on me, "Ian announced, and a cheer
went up from the pilots who swarmed up to the bar. Ian looked around a bit
glumly, realizing that the old fleet tradition could be rather expensive.
"I'll have this thing Ian talks so much about, a single malt scotch,"
K'Kai announced
The bartender looked at Ian.
"For that kind of sippin' liquor it's ten dollars for a shot."
"Give it to her," Ian sighed, "the bird was the one that rescued me.
The bartender seemed to relax a bit, especially when Jason reached into
his pocket and fished out a wad of bills, hard Confederation currency, and
tossed them on the counter.
"I don't think you've got much change on you at the moment, Jason said
looking over at Ian. "You can pay me back later."
Ian nodded his thanks and called for a Scotch as well, downing it in
one gulp. He looked over at Jason and smiled weakly.
"I was scared out of my wits," Ian said quietly. "Maybe I might have
been able to dodge that second missile, but it just kept boring in on me.
When I popped out of there my ship was already blowing."
Jason could easily see that by the scorching on Ian's flightsuit.
"By popping up at the last second I had enough forward velocity to go
into a low orbit around the moon. I looped over a mountain range not
clearing it by a thousand meters. Every time I circled the moon my orbit
kept degrading until finally the mountain range was straight ahead and I
knew I was going to slam in. If K'Kai had gotten there thirty seconds later
I'd have been splattered. Her tractor beam caught me just in time."
He raised his glass and Jason could see the trembling which Ian
struggled to control. Everyone who flew experienced it sooner or later,
especially with the life expectancy of pilots being what it was. There was a
point though when one too many close brushes simply drained the well dry. If
they were back with the Confed Fleet, Ian would have been in to the psych
officer and most likely stood down for a couple of weeks of R&R before being
sent back in. But there wasn't any time, and in this stripped down fleet a
psych officer was a luxury that Kruger would have considered pure idiocy.
"Captain Bondarevsky, Captain St. John?"
The two looked over their shoulders at a colonial officer.
"You got us."
"You're wanted by Kruger."
"On our way," Hunter said, forcing a smile.
Jason looked around at the bar, fished into his pocket and pulled out
what he had left and tossed it to the bartender.
"Keep it flowing on me till the money runs out"
The colonial pilots cheered a thanks, as Jason left. Hunter looked back
at K'Kai, and silently nodded a thanks as he went out the door.
The bar was conveniently across the street from the entry into the
command post. Following their guide they passed the security guards and went
back down into the basement command post.
Kruger and Tolwyn looked up as Ian and Jason came into the room.
"Glad you're alive," Geoff said.
"So am I."
"But you lost a Sabre," Kruger interjected, "a first line ship in
return for one Kilrathi Stealth, not a good trade in my book at all."
"Return with your shield or upon it, is that it?" Ian said dryly.
"Something like that," Kruger retorted. "You Confed boys might think
it's all right to blow a ship apart or prang one up on a bad landing, get
out, and then have another one handed to you, but out here it's different.
We're at the butt end of any supplies. With your asinine Confed signing that
article 23 of the armistice forbidding the resale of fighter aircraft, a
Sabre is precious."
"Sorry," Ian replied, "next time I'll make sure to blow up with my
ship."
"At least we know about their new missile," Tolwyn interjected, while
pouring himself a cup of tea and motioning for Ian to come over and join
him.
"You go too easy on your boys," Kruger said, looking over at Tolwyn.
Jason found it hard to suppress a low chuckle.
"Something I say amusing to you, mister?" Kruger asked, looking back at
Jason.
"As a matter of fact, yes, sir," Jason replied.
Kruger looked at him coldly and again Jason found himself wondering if
his honesty would get him into hot water. Whether Kruger could really
discipline him or not was problematic, he was after all a "volunteer" in the
Landreich's Free Corp, not even officially sworn in, but he did suspect the
gaunt one-eyed leader could make life difficult.
"We've got a little surprise for you two," Tolwyn said handing a cup of
tea to Ian and moving to get between Jason and Kruger. Glad for the excuse
to break eye contact Jason focused his attention on Tolwyn.
"What is it, sir?"
"The special equipment we were hoping to get made it out of the
Confederation and will arrive here tomorrow. It's the real reason I wanted
to get these carriers out here," and he looked over at a frowning Kruger and
smiled "besides helping out our allies in the Landreich.
"Therefore Tarawa and Normandy aren't going out on forward patrol with
the other three carriers."
"Why, sir?" and the disappointment in Jason's voice was evident.
"I couldn't let you in on it till now, but your ship has been selected
for the real mission. Let's head up there now, Paladin's moved over from
Normandy and he's already on board waiting for us."
"What is it, sir?" Jason asked, feeling like a child who was being held
back from looking under the Christmas tree.
"Let's just say we've decided to add to Tarawa a little something
special that just came in."
Hard docking completed, Jason followed Geoff Tolwyn to what usually
served as the entry bay for his fighters and was now blocked by the side of
the heavy transport which was almost as big as Tarawa.
The crew worked around him, extending the docking collar through the
magnetic field which separated the pressurized flight deck from the vacuum
of space. The collar snapped onto the side of the transport and the deck
officer turned to Jason nodding that an airtight seal had been secured. The
side of the transport popped open and a thin, nearly bald man, who Jason
judged to be in his early sixties, came through.
"So the Cats have been snooping around?" the man asked, coming up to
shake Tolwyn's hands.
"They know we're here."
"And they'll be back for a closer look. I think I managed to get here
without their knowing and I can tell you what's inside my hold is secure."
Tolwyn looked back at his companions.
"Admiral Vance Richards, I'd like to introduce you to Captain
Bondarevsky."
Jason came to attention and the Admiral motioned for him to stand at
ease.
"Everyone here's retired at the moment, Captain, so let's cut all the
saluting crap."
Jason took Richards' hand, surprised at the firmness of the grip.
Tolwyn went down the line introducing him in turn to Hunter, Doomsday,
Kevin, and finally Paladin.
"Ah, Vance, tis good to see ya again," Paladin said with a laugh, the
two slapping each other on the shoulders. "Did you bring me my new toy?"
"That I did," Richards said, "it's tucked into the forward cargo bay."
Paladin grinned with delight
Jason watched the familiar greeting with surprise. Admiral Richards,
until his retirement only days before the armistice, had been head of
military intelligence for the entire Confederation. He was, to the members
of the fleet, a shadowy figure, a name without a picture, an individual
never seen Ч though it was often rumored that he traveled into more than one
action, hidden away as a staff officer under an assumed name.
"Let's start unloading and get to work" Richards said with an almost
boylike enthusiasm, and he motioned for the group to follow him off the
deserted hangar bay.
The group started down the corridor back to the bridge and Jason looked
back to see a team of black cover-alled personnel emerging from the
transport ship, each of them saluting the lone Marine guard by the hatch and
requesting permission to come aboard.
"Who are those people?" Jason asked, motioning back towards the stream
of personnel filing off the transport.
"That's part of our surprise," Tolwyn said with a grin.
The new arrivals started to maneuver long black canisters from out of
the transport, moving them with small hand-held null gravity units. They had
a certain look to them, tech personnel he could almost guess out of hand,
but beyond that a cold professional look as well.
"Since I am captain of this ship, sir," Jason said, looking over at
Tolwyn, "can you finally let me in on what's going on? You've been looking
like a cat that just swallowed the canary."
"We're installing a D 3S 5 on board your ship, Jason," Richards said,
motioning for Jason to turn into the wardroom off the bridge and indicating
that Ian, Doomsday, Paladin, Geoff, and Kevin were invited to join as well.
"Just what the hell is a D 3S 5?" Ian asked.
"Deep Space Surveillance System Five," Richards said quietly, closing
the door behind them.
"Something then with signal intelligence, is that it?"
Richards smiled and sat down on the small table that filled most of the
room, motioning for the rest of group to sit down. It suddenly caught Jason
that Richards was awfully familiar with light escort design, having made it
straight from the hangar to the bridge wardroom without a single false turn.
"The sig intel department's been working on this new design for years,
in fact they were just getting set to deploy it when the armistice hit. This
system was a black project. The only ones who knew about it were the chiefs
of staff and several hundred design and research techs working on a base
buried inside one of Neptune's moons, and that was it. Security was so tight
that the techs were only allowed to bring their spouses and children with
them and then were listed as killed in a transport accident."
Jason noticed that Richards had neglected to say if anyone inside the
civilian government knew of the project. Chances were not even the president
fully understood it, nor perhaps did he want to.
"I should add it is strictly a military project," Richards said, as if
reading Jason's thoughts. I think it's fair to tell you that we've suspected
a mole in the inner circle of government for some time now. The money for
this project has therefore been buried, and no one else knows about it.
"So what's so important about all of this?" Ian asked.
"Since this war started, signal and photo intelligence has been
crucial. From the little bits of information that we've been able to
occasionally get, victory or defeat in some of the major battles of the war
has often been decided. Vukar started because of a recon survey and in a lot
of those missions good people died as a result.
"We ve even got picket ships specially designed for the work, and
they've been hiding on the edge of the frontier for years, quietly parked in
asteroid fields. Hell, some of them are camouflaged to look like asteroids.
Gods, it must be boring work, but to the sig intel crowd it's like a giant
game, figuring out one puzzle after another.
"The problem is that we're trying to listen in on everything from old
sub light ship-to-ship radio communication, through newscasts, right up to
fleet command high density translight burst signals. It comes down to
hundreds of billions of signals floating around, made even more complicated
by old radio waves, signals maybe five hundred years old, drifting by. The
Kilrathi of course, assume we're listening in, so throw in language and
coding and you see how complex it gets.
"D 3S 5 might be a partial answer. It's not only the detecting
equipment, it's also the analysis software which can sort through these
millions of signals, crack codes, figure out which ones have certain things
we're looking for and then give them as hard copy to intelligence. When they
started the design work twenty years ago, the antenna nets were twenty miles
across, it took five hundred personnel to run it, and it needed a ship
bigger than a carrier. The early models were, as result of these
limitations, well inside Confed space for security reasons, trying to squeak
out information from as much as five hundred or more light years and ten or
more jump points from the front. Now we've finally got it down to something
we can deploy inside the flight deck of a light escort carrier, with a fifty
meter antenna array mounted outside."
"So that's why the other ships got the fighters, leaving us just four,
and you wanted them moved to a corner of the hangar?" Jason asked, looking
over at Tolwyn.
The Admiral smile.
"Tarawa's got a different job, in fact the real reason behind our
moving out here to the Landreich. The Landreich needed the carriers, to be
sure, and some of us wanted to keep a light strike force ready and available
on the edge of the frontier. But it also served as a smoke screen for the
real mission, the mission you and your carrier have been chosen for. We re
going to take our new ears inside the Empire, and get the evidence we need
to pull the mask off what they're doing. When we have the proof of what
they're doing, believe me, things will hit the fan."
"Just one question then, sir," Ian asked.
"Sure, what is it?"
"How the hell did we get this equipment? It must be worth hundreds of
millions."
"Just roughly over eighty billion and some odd change." Richards
replied. "What's inside those boxes piling up on the flight deck cost more
than the entire Concordia."
"So how then?"
"Don't ever ask," Tolwyn replied quietly. "People have died for knowing
a hell of a lot less and I suspect there's more than one person who'd be
glad to kill all of us if they knew what we were up to."
"And my ship?" Paladin asked.
"Once we off load the equipment to Tarawa, we'll leave the Hell Hole
and head off to a quiet corner a couple of jump points up, and then off-load
your new toy."
"Off-load what?" Doomsday asked, unable to hide behind his usual mask
of disinterest and depression.
"A light smuggler craft with Stealth technology," Paladin said with a
grin.
"How the hell did we get that?" Kevin asked excitedly.
"Oh, let's just say a Kilrathi Stealth fighter they thought was killed
somehow wound up in our hands," Richards replied. We've yet to really figure
out how it works, but we did manage to take it apart and install it in one
of our ships and the damn thing actually works!"
"Paladin's going in as our point man on this operation, so we thought
we'd give him a little something extra this time around," Tolwyn
interjected.
"And its about time, considering what you folks pay me, Paladin replied
with a grin.
"Enter."
Bowing low, Vak, baron of the hrai of the Ragitagha slipped into the
darkened room, went down on both knees, head bowed to the floor and waited.
"You may arise, the voice whispered hoarsely and Vak came to his feet.
The bent figure motioned for him to approach and sit by his side, an
act of great honor, and Vak moved quickly to obey.
"You at least I still know are loyal."
"As always, my Emperor," Vak said softly, not daring to raise his voice
much above a whisper. Though the room was supposedly secured and swept, and
the walls were mounted with vibration dampeners, it was still possible that
something might have been overlooked.
The Emperor touched a control panel by his side and Vak felt the
electrostatic tingle of a force field clicking in. Nothing now could hear
them, unless a bug had been planted in the very chair in which the Emperor
sat.
"We can talk freely now," the Emperor said.
Vak tried to relax.
"I have read the report you sent to me regarding this meeting. They are
fools if they continue to follow Jukaga."
Vak nodded.
"I think you should know that you are not the only one to report to me
thus."
Vak felt a cold uneasiness. Was this a lie or not? If not, then it
meant that at least one other of the eight families had had second thoughts
about Jukaga. Could it be that all the others might very well be playing
both sides in this? Or was the Emperor truly alone and simply making him
nervous, to insure that he told the truth? He tried to analyze this bit of
information. He had no love for the Emperor, and that he had led them to the
brink of disaster was obvious. But he feared civil war as well, knowing that
if it came it would be his worlds that might very well be swallowed up if
the humans should attack in the wake of the chaos.
We need the Emperor to hold us together, yet in the needing of him we
are destroying ourselves as well, that is the paradox of it all, as Jukaga
would say.
"You're wondering who?" the Emperor said with a cold laugh.
"Of course I would wonder such a thing."
"And of course I will not tell you. In fact, you've already thought I
might be lying; I'll leave that for you to meditate on."
"Don't you trust me?" Vak asked, his voice and demeanor showing a
genuine concern.
"Don't be a fool, of course I don't trust you. Remember that, Vak,
anyone who wears the Imperial crown must learn that lesson first. I did not
trust even my own son and in the end I ordered his death. There are times I
am not even sure of my grandson, the heir."
He paused for a moment as if the memory did in fact still pain him in
spite of his apparent lack of remorse in the years since the execution.
He lowered his head again, growling softly.
"You know that when I go," the Emperor finally said, "if my grandson is
not supported, civil war will be the result. My hrai has ruled the Empire
for centuries, that must continue, for no family will support the rise of
another to rule over them."
Vak said nothing.
"But tell me," the Emperor chuckled, "why have you betrayed Jukaga's
intentions to me?"
"Because I am loyal sire."
The Emperor leaned back and barked out a laugh.
"Do not play the fool, the real reason. I know you hate my grandson and
me, blaming us for the death of your first born."
Vak was taken aback. His first answer had actually been the truth. If
loyalty to a sworn oath was viewed as nothing more than a political toy, to
be abandoned without thought, then they were indeed truly lost.
The Emperor looked at him closely and finally nodded.
"I believe you actually are loyal."
Vak, feeling insulted that such an issue had even been questioned,
remained silent.
The Emperor looked away from Vak. Jukaga, as head of intelligence, had
placed his spies not only beyond the borders but within even the palace
itself. There was nothing he did not know. Poisoning him would be the
easiest answer, but that might very well make the loyalty of Vak and the
other family heads waver. The tacit agreement between hrai leaders and
Emperors had stood for generations: both sides will support the other,
neither will attempt to kill the other.
He thought of Thrakhath. He was tempted to recall him from his
assignment with the new fleet but then thought better of it. The new fleet
was not only the tool for the final offensive against the Confederation, but
also a replacement for the home fleet lost in the last two years of
campaigns. Three carriers were ready, at the very least six more had to be
completed if the next campaign was to be a guaranteed success. He could not
afford one more lost opportunity, for it would shake whatever power they had
left to the very core and perhaps trigger open rebellion. Yet if they
waited, Jukaga in his slyness might very well gain even more power.
It was an amusing question to ponder and he knew if he pondered long
enough he would find the answer.
"You know just how munificent my reward might be if you provide me with
information valuable enough, including perhaps even the marriage to one of
my great nieces. It could very well mean that your family might even thus be
in line for the Imperial succession," the Emperor said softly. And Vak
smiled.
"Jump transition on automatic sequencing and counting at ten, nine,
eight . . ."
Jason settled back into his chair and waited. A cold rush of excitement
tingled down his spine. No matter how many times he had jumped he always
felt the same, especially when going into hostile space. One of the key
tactical points with jumping was the simple fact that you never knew what
was on the other side. Inside secured shipping lanes behind the lines there
were beacons placed at both points, monitoring traffic, sent up to avoid the
possibility of a ship materializing in the same point of space occupied by
someone else, an event that always had spectacular results. But beyond that
was the question of just who was waiting. Paladin, piloting his new ship
which he had named Bannockburn, with Ian aboard as his co-pilot, had already
gone ahead to scout. The fifteen minutes' wait had passed and now it was
time to follow through and the potential for an unpleasant surprise was
always there.
He felt Tarawa drop away, and there was a momentary queasiness then the
flash of rematerialization. He looked over at his navigation officer who was
peering intently at her holo display.
"Correct jump alignment confirmed," she announced. "Bannockburn
reporting in on laser lock."
Paladin's image appeared on the screen.
"This Stealth works like a charm. We found a remote sensor and took it
out, it never even put out a signal. Optical scan shows the entire system's
clear right up to the next jump point."
Jason looked over at Tolwyn and grinned.
"It looks like we got through. We've crossed from the frontier into the
heart of the Empire."
He looked up at his aft visual and less than a minute later his escort
CVE-6 Normandy came through.
"All ships through," communications announced, "all systems running
nominal, Bannockburn reports successful take-out of remote drone without
detect signal being activated."
Geoff Tolwyn, standing behind Jason, nodded, letting out an audible
sigh of relief. Jason found that alone to be surprising; he was used to his
old chief being absolutely unflappable.
They were now four jumps into the Kilrathi Empire, tracking down one of
the hundreds of transition points leading from neutral territory into the
Empire in the one direction and Confederation space on the other.
Surveillance drones of course monitored these points, but "accidents" like
the one Paladin had just arranged for the drone covering this jump point
were easy enough to set up. It could be days or even weeks before a picket
ship came out to replace the drone with a new one.
"Let's hit the flight deck and see what Richards is up to," Tolwyn
said, motioning for Jason to follow.
Excited, Jason came out of his seat. He had been waiting for days to
get a look at what Richards was doing.
Leaving the bridge they went down the main corridor to the forward part
of the ship. At the airlock door two guards came to attention at Tolwyn's
approach but did not step aside.
Internal ship security was nothing new to Jason but this was different.
The two men were not dressed in the usual Marine class B uniform, for after
all this was not a Confederation ship any longer. There was something
disquieting about the black khaki uniform the two guards were wearing
without a single insignia or marking on them. The easy way they held their
laser rifles told him that these two were highly trained professionals.
Only seven members of the Tarawa's operating crew were allowed on to
the hangar deck, Tolwyn and himself, along with Kevin, Doomsday and two
Landreich pilots cleared to fly one of the four craft still left in the very
forward part of the hangar, and finally Sparks as the one overworked
maintenance officer permitted to work on the fighters. Everyone else aboard
ship had already been told that the guards had standing orders to shoot
first and then ask questions. Jason could tell this was simply not rhetoric,
these two would do it without batting an eye.
Clearing the doorway, they stepped out into the hangar deck. Equipment
was spread out across almost all the floor space which once was occupied by
forty-four fighters. He realized that he was, in fact, looking at perhaps
the single largest concentration of computing power anywhere in the
Confederation except, perhaps, for the administrative centers of Earth and
the moon, and even then he wondered. Banks of storage systems were arrayed
along one wall, dozens of holo display fields were already up and running,
and he approached one of them, a field nearly half a dozen meters cubed. A
technician was standing inside the display field, which showed a three
dimensional model of what he recognized as the near space environment around
Kilrah. Bright hovering points of light represented the stars, their
planets, and transition jump points, with blocks of data appearing above
them, the information readable from any angle one looked at it. The
technician standing inside the holo display looked almost godlike as she
walked about inside it. He was totally mystified by what she was doing as
she pulled out what looked like a laser pointer, aimed it at the orange size
planet floating in the middle of the field and squeezed.
Another holo field popped into action next to the first, this one a
close up of the planet the first technician had pointed at. The entire field
was occupied by what looked like a solid ball, its continents covered with
hundreds of flashing lights
"That's Kilrah," Jason whispered.
"Using this, they can lock in on any one of millions of sources even
while continuing to scan all other traffic and look for new sources at the
same time," Tolwyn replied softly,
Several white overall clad techs gathered around the globe, pointing,
talking softly, arguing, and then aiming pointers at particular flashing
lights. Behind them, two dimensional flat screens flared into light, streams
of data flashing across some, others showing pictures, one of which caught
Jason's eye, of Kilrathi wearing heavy leather armor slashing at each other
with swords.
Vance came up to the two and nodded a greeting.
"Say, what the hell is that on the monitor?" Jason asked, pointing to
the screen.
"A Kilrathi drama from the Gakarg Period."
"What?"
"Their ancient history. They love holos about the ancient wars when the
various clans were feuding with each other before the unification. We
monitor every such station from Kilrah, their media links are translight
signalled throughout the Empire. It cost them a bundle but it helps keep
them unified. Watching their stations might give us clues as to internal
politics. We have a lot of software tied up with analysis of their popular
shows, since there might be some subtle clues as to what's going on based
upon the type of entertainment the government is broadcasting. In the last
three days we've noticed an increase of Gakarg Period dramas dealing with
Emperor Y'taa'gu.
"Who?"
Vance chuckled.
"I never heard of him either. Seems to be an evil emperor who was
insane and finally killed by a virtuous warrior in order to save his people.
It's worth watching. It's interesting that since the armistice we never see
a single drama about the war with us, or any of their previous ones, only
ancient history. Their news programs are the same, really tight on war news
and only one brief announcement of the armistice and then nothing. These
furballs are mighty security conscious on such things, but we still gleam
occasional facts; that's why it's worth monitoring."
Lance led them around the holo display of Kilrah raised a pointer and
aimed it at a flashing blue light
"Blue means commercial communication line," and he nodded back to a
screen which was filled with what looked like shipping orders, instantly
translated into standard English.
"This D-5 is monitoring everything that's reaching the antenna arrays
mounted outside this ship. If it's non-coded it immediately translates it.
We have the computers programmed to look for certain things on the
commercial channels. For instance, a shipping order for IFF missiles gets
tagged into a higher priority slot. We can even look for orders related to
just one component of an IFF missile. If certain patterns of shipping
develop or if something outside of the ordinary happens, the computer will
alert a human operator who then analyzes it and decides if there's something
important enough that it has to be kicked upstairs. That's the key job,
looking for the little nugget of gold inside the tons of gravel and mud.
"One of the first things that started to tip us off to the fact that
the Kilrathi might be building something was that certain commercial links
for the ordering of military parts suddenly went into a new code system,
which was changed every eight days. Significant orders for supplies, parts,
and shipping became highly classified.
"That started some real questions being asked. The problem was that
they shifted this classified work to the part of the Empire out beyond
Kilrah, as far from our listening posts as possible The question of why
really put the pressure on us to get this D-5 on line and also caused the
loss of a lot of good intel people behind the lines. The jump we just
completed is the deepest in we've ever been able to take equipment like
this. You can see already the streams of data pouring in.
Richards led them over to his command booth and offered a couple of
cups of coffee to his guests. Jason noticed that these people seemed to live
on caffeine, and a fair number of them were addicted to Ian's habit of
tobacco, a practice he found totally mystifying and somewhat disgusting.
"The D-5 can monitor any signal within its six hundred light year range
and pinpoint its origin. The hard part is programming it to figure out what
is worth looking at out of the billions of messages it picks up every day
and then passing it to a human analyst for evaluation.
"The analyst's job is the toughest. It takes someone with a sixth sense
to decipher what appear to be unrelated facts but actually are part of a
pattern.
"We do the same thing for the media channels, the public communication
lines, and of course the military and government lines," and he pointed to
the flashing red and yellow lights back on the holo display of Kilrah.
"Those are the tough buggers, a lot of it is burst signalled and highly
encoded."
"Damn, there's hundreds of them," Jason said. "Something must be up."
Vance laughed softly.
"Over ninety percent are dummy channels, broadcasting complete
gibberish, total nonsense words that actually tie up most of our decoding
equipment since we're not sure if its garbage or the real thing. Sometimes
you might have a burst signal with a million words in it, all encoded, and
the real message is twenty words in the middle, each word separated from the
next by say six thousand four hundred words.
"Why that number?"
"Remember they have eight fingers and we have ten, so their numerical
system is base eight. We tend to look a bit more intensely at base eight
numerical lines as a result. What gets frustrating is that they are using at
least a dozen different codes at any given time, with the highest level
material going on what we call Fleet Code A, which tends to change every
twenty-four to forty days. The real messages are hidden in a lot of garbage
and we have to wade through each message and might spend weeks tracking down
promising stuff only to discover its a decoy."
"Some of their people even have a sense of humor about it. One message,
when finally translated, was a simple СHey, stupid, we fooled you,' and
another was a long excerpt from what I guess was a Kilrathi dirty book.
Decoding and translating each of those things took up time and equipment. We
can't ignore a single message because we never know if we might hit paydirt
or not. So we wade through all of this, figure out the real signals from the
fake, then spend a hell of a lot of time cracking the code, and just when we
think we've got it, they go and change the code and we're back to square
one. Then to top it off they might have a station that's quiet for weeks or
months, and it pops off a lone burst signal then shuts down. Trying to even
figure out where it came from out of a billion cubic light years of space
was nuts until the D4 model, which could do a Doppler analysis and at least
do a probable trace."
"I'd go mad," Tolwyn said.
"Some of us do," Vance replied. "It takes a special kind of person to
do this. You fighter jockeys, your battle is one of skill and wits, but it
gets played out in seconds. Some of our battles last years.
Vance smiled.
"I've been in this game for twenty-nine years. I've dreamed all those
years of having something like this D-5. With the new antenna array we can
pick up bursts from up to six hundred light years out; only a couple of
generations back in the system we were lucky to get consistent reads from
ten light years away. We used to spend billions on recon drones which would
go in, store up data for a week, then send out a burst signal. Once it
signalled the Kilrathi would be onto it and take it out. Now this one system
can cover an area that would have required thousands of drones.
"The big problem now is that counter intel believes they knew of the
D-4 and maybe suspected our D-5. We've noticed a decrease in signal traffic
and suspect they're shifting more to courier. So far we've yet to figure out
how to read a dispatch pouch six hundred light years behind the lines."
As they continued to talk, Vance led them around the flight deck. Small
cubicles had been set up in the center of the room, and hunched over in each
was an operator, going through data that the computer felt was of sufficient
importance to bring to the attention of a human operator.
"I've got a hundred and three analysts with me on this mission, each of
them a specialist and the best in his field with eight or more years of
training behind him. There are another forty programmers who feed in the
requests and another twenty just to troubleshoot any glitches in the
machine."
Jason looked around the room, wondering just who indeed was paying for
all of this. He had his suspicions but knew it was best not to ask. What was
equally troubling was the matter-antimatter mine that was almost casually
brought aboard with the rest of the equipment. It was placed in the center
of the room and would be activated if it appeared as if Tarawa might be
captured. In this case there was definitely no surrender although,
technically, they were not even at war.
A technician came up to Vance's side, looked over at Jason and Tolwyn
and said nothing. Vance smiled and nodded.
"I think Jenkins here has something to tell me that he'd rather not say
in front of the two of you," Vance said quietly.
Tolwyn, smiling, nodded and turned and walked away.
"Hey, we're on the same team," Jason finally said as they went back
down the corridor to the bridge.
"Just remember, Jason, if there's no need to really know, then you
definitely better not know. Believe me, son, there's a hell of a lot I wish
I didn't know at this moment."
Tolwyn looked over at him and smiled.
"Come on, I think it's safe for us to have a short drink, help us
unwind. It's going to be a boring float out here until something comes up."
Jason was awakened by a gentle, but insistent shaking.
Damn, what was it now, and then he was instantly awake. The room was
dark, there was no klaxon, no attack. He suffered a moment of
disorientation, the old dream had come back, the explosions silently
bursting across the surface of the moon orbiting Kilrah. Svetlana . . .
"Jason, it's Tolwyn, something's up."
He stood up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and snapped on the light.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, but I want you in on this."
Jason reached into his closet, pulled on a fresh jumpsuit, slipped into
a pair of shoes and followed Tolwyn out the door.
It was the midnight to four watch, one officer and four enlisted
personnel manning the controls. Actually, the time was an artificial
creation, complete to the dimming of all lights aboard ship except in work
areas. He looked over at the chronometer, 0308 Confederation standard time
and it certainly felt like it. He realized it had to be important if Tolwyn
was pulling him out of the sack now. Well, at least it was some excitement
for a change. They'd been on station eight jump points inside the Empire for
twenty days, the three ships of their fleet rigged down for complete silent
running, tucked into an asteroid field in a small system that didn't even
rate a name on the charts, only a numbered designation.
Jason followed Tolwyn on to the flight deck and saw a small crowd
gathered around a monitor. They quietly approached. Vance looked up and
nodded a greeting.
"We've just had a break on cracking their latest A code and we've
caught a burst signal from Kilrah but again it was garbled, emanating from
the far side of the planet aimed towards Hari. They're only sending this
particular burst when this one station is facing towards the Hari system and
thus turned directly away from us. We get bounce reflections off of their
moon, but the signal is degraded to near gibberish as a result. It's a
pattern which seems to be adding up to something. We've also had a couple of
partial locks on a burst coming out of the Hari system but it's still beyond
our range to get a clear read and fix on it."
"So?" Jason asked, wondering why he had been pulled out of bed to hear
what was not any of his business to know anyhow.
"I want to take us closer in," Vance replied casually, as if asking to
do a little jaunt from Earth to the moon and back as a Sunday afternoon
pleasure ride.
Vance motioned for the two to go into an empty cubicle. He punched up a
holo display and then a two dimensional screen on one wall.
"This is why I wanted to get in closer," Vance said quietly, pointing
at the holo map which floated in the corner of the cubicle and then to the
flat screen where a long string of what appeared to be gibberish, marked by
occasional intelligible words scrolled by.
"It's definitely fleet code, their highest grade. We had a twenty-three
percent decipher on the last one, then this new code came on line but is
being used only by this one station aimed at Hari. It has all the markings
of a highest priority fleet code. We got really lucky when one of my people
saw a similarity to a code they used nearly eight years ago and pulled it
for comparison. We immediately broke a string of words and can do a six
percent translation and it's less than twelve hours old. In five or six days
I can bring that up to thirty percent and from there comparisons of word
groupings, even knowing the writing styles of certain operators and
officials, can help us break the rest.
"So why go deeper in now?"
"Because in five or six days I might have enough of the code broken so
that we can get some hard core information. When we do, I want to be in
position to scoop those signals from Hari and also the signals going out
from Kilrah."
"That means getting some place between Kilrah and Hari," Jason said
quietly.
Vance smiled again and nodded
"Do you know what you're asking? Only one ship's ever gone to Kilrah
and back and that's this baby. I don't know how many Confed spy or recon