Starforge unsec space bo.., p.78
Starforge (UNSEC Space Book 3), page 78
It only took two. “Making their fleets look larger,” West said. “But for our benefit? Or for theirs? Or both?”
She smiled. Eight seconds. “I would expect both,” she agreed. “Certainly it would serve their purposes in both accounts, to a degree that it would clearly be beneficial enough to their cause that choosing to do such would almost not be a choice at all. However, Madero and I both suggested—and Argus confirmed—that such a suspicion would be obvious, and therefore some of the UNSEC ships may in fact, be real, and simply unlisted publically, much like you had your own ‘hidden’ fleets at one time.”
“Agreed. Any idea which ships those might be?” West asked.
Several of the icons in her hands changed color. “I would give our estimations only a thirty-three percent chance of being accurate.”
“Only thirty-three?”
“It’s easier for UNSEC to fabricate the appearance of their own ships than it is All vessels.”
West nodded. “I understand. So realistically, not all the ships UNSEC claims were present exist, but some of them likely do, and we can’t say which ones. What about the shipyard scrubbing? Argus said you had a horrifying theory in that regard.”
“Ah.” She shifted the images in her hands, bringing up selected images from the battle that happened to show Hades orbital foundries and shipyards floating in the background. “I examined what little imagery we had to see if I could identify anything about their production.”
“But the image has been scrubbed.”
She nodded. “Yes. But I found something strange about it at the same time.” She flexed her fingers, the image of a shipyard expanding until it was almost large enough to reach the limits of the emitters she was using. “The smudging of whatever is being worked on is expected, yes, but in attempting to find any information I could, I also found this.”
A series of small colored highlights began to fill the image, tiny, but standing out in vibrant contrast to their surroundings. West leaned forward, his eyes darting between the tiny dots. “What am I looking at?”
“Static,” Didem said. “Save that we don’t have that problem. Which means it was put in there on purpose, to conceal something.”
“What exactly?”
“People, I think. Bodies.”
“From the attack?”
She shook her head. “No. From before. You know Hades’ reputation. Whatever they’re doing here, they’re sacrificing people in numbers to do it. When I checked some of the propaganda images from Earth that showed their shipyards it was similar. Smudging and static both. UNSEC isn’t tooled up for automated manufacturing the way we are. A century of pro-human employment and anti-automation initiatives mean that they can’t simply switch their production speed over to match ours.”
West scowled. “So they’re sacrificing their workers and pushing them hard enough that accidents are commonplace.”
She nodded. “Yes. For what, we’re still not certain. Argus thinks it may not be manufacturing. At least, not of new ships. Refits, perhaps. I’m uncertain myself, though his evidence is compelling.”
West nodded. “I’ll ask him to share it later. So we’re confident UNSEC is sacrificing people to tune their fleet up in one way or another. What about the other half of what you mentioned? The timing?”
“Simple,” Didem said, dispelling the shipyards and switching back to a still from the battle. “UNSEC propaganda isn’t always clean. In this case, we have the same ship appearing in two places at once.” A highlight appeared around one of the ships at the battle, a light destroyer with a recognizable decal on one of its spars. She held out her other hand, and an image of the same destroyer appeared in one of the segments of the fleet being prepared to protect Earth. “It bears fresh scarring in the picture taken in Sol, and since it engages an All ship that was real in the footage from Hades, it makes the likelihood of it being a fake low.”
She snapped her hands together in a clap, dispelling both pictures. “The conclusion I reach then is that UNSEC delayed the release of the battle at Hades both to build their narrative and to release it as positive propaganda in response to a major loss.”
“Such as Arcadia.”
“Yes. Such as that.”
West scowled and went silent. She knew almost exactly what was running through his mind at the moment. He doesn’t want to believe it.
But then again, who would? She took advantage of the lull to check a few systems and peruse a few updates, making sure that everything was functioning as optimally as possible. Arcadia was one of the most desirable planets mankind has colonized. Everyone wants to end up there. Their advertising calls it the “Jewel of Mankind.” Over thirty-million people lived there. UNSEC abandoning it …
They’d abandoned a number of the small colonies, left them to die as All ships descended out of the void to kill and convert the ecosystem. Strategically the decisions had made sense. We haven’t helped much either, aside from shouting words of warning. Pisces simply didn’t have the fleet projection or power to fight off the All across all of human space and still protect itself. And as with any guardian force, there is an ultimate responsibility to consider. Pisces’ is to the fifty-one million people who call it home.
Earth had far many more fleets with which to project its power. But rather than use it, they’ve decided to withhold it. As a means of “punishing” those who questioned their rule.
“How certain are you Arcadia is gone?” West asked at last, his attention focusing on her avatar once more.
“Very. Contact was lost seventy-eight hours ago. Approximately five hours later, UNSEC released their account of the battle at Hades. I’ve contacted other colonies that have opened communications with us, and they’ve also been unable to reach Arcadia.”
“Has UNSEC said anything?”
“Nothing. As in,” she said, spreading her hands and sitting up in her chair a little, “absolutely nothing. Not a single mention in any way, shape, or form, of the system. As if it doesn’t even exist.”
West nodded, his expression stern. “That doesn’t fill me with hope.”
“Nor me,” Didem agreed. “It will take several more days before nearby systems could begin receiving refugees. Then we’ll know for certain.”
“If any made it out.”
“We can hope. Arcadia was a popular destination. There were doubtless a number of ships in orbit.”
“Commercial ships,” West countered. “And that’s assuming Arcadia’s wealthy didn’t flee to Earth and leave the colony with nothing.”
“I doubt many of them would find the welcome they expected upon arrival,” Didem noted. “Unless UNSEC has managed to work up a good cover story.”
“They’re certainly getting all they can out of blaming Pisces for most of these attacks.” There was an art to scowling among military officers, and West had perfected it. “Most of Earth probably believes them too.”
“They won the war there, so yes,” Didem agreed. “Many people have the unfortunate tendency to believe what’s set in front of them, especially if it already seems appealing, and the United Nations and the megacorps both have perfected that science. Dissenting voices will be easily manipulated. And those that do dissent would be well advised to keep their heads down given the power that UNSEC currently wields.”
“And any dissenting voice would be a locked target for a public terrified and unified by the greater threat of a very real ‘alien invasion.’ We used to do something similar here with piracy.” His scowl softened, taking on a different look that seemed to be a melding of several different complex emotions at once. “I’m not so certain I wouldn’t do the same thing now, in their position.”
“We are in the same position,” Didem pointed out. “We’re just on the other side. We haven’t released to the public any information about the Overseer or any details of the Starforge mission, for example.”
West winced. “I get your point, but I’ve had enough moral quandaries for one day without discussing where the line is on our own actions. I ran out of scotch three months ago. Exactly how many days do you think we might have before refugees from Arcadia start to appear?”
She shifted her position slightly, facing the admiral with a more direct look. “Factoring in commercial transit time, fifteen or more, depending on when they left, how hard they’re willing to push their drives, and whether or not they choose to come here. Many might head for other colony worlds.”
“Good luck to them there,” West growled. “They’ll find the UN considers them as disposable as Arcadia.”
“Unless they go to Hades.”
“And then they’ll just end up one more body floating around those shipyards doing whatever it is UNSEC is doing. Fine.” West shook his head and leaned forward. “This is more Rodriguez’s angle, but I have a meeting scheduled with him anyway. What if they come here? Can we compensate for another few thousand refugees?”
“Would you turn them away?”
“No. Would you?”
Didem let a small smile slip. “No. I wouldn’t. The question therefore, isn’t ‘can we’ but rather, ‘how could we?’”
West gave her another example of prime military scowling. He really did make it an art. “Fine then, how could we compensate for another few thousand refugees?”
“I don’t know.” She didn’t miss the sudden flash of anger in West’s expression, which had been expected, but in fairness it had been a poor question. “I’m in charge of Pisces orbits, admiral. If you’re asking me whether I have space to give to a few thousand refugees, the answer is no. I do have transport, and can convey them to Madero or the southern landing, or to Typhon if that is what some of them desire, but I can’t provide for them on my own. And efforts to coordinate things planet-side are the domain of Argus and Madero. Insofar as resource production that I am responsible for, while I could relocate a fuel barge to compensate for part of the cost of any refugees that arrive, simply producing further resources beyond the scope and speed with which such is already happening is not possible without doing damage to that supply line further on.” The momentary anger had already left West’s face, not that she blamed him for it.
We’re all under a titanic amount of stress. Both he and Rodriguez look a decade older than they did a year ago.
The burden of leadership.
“As far as food production and housing,” she continued. “Those would be placed on even tighter restrictions by the arrival of new refugees. However, I don’t believe we should turn any of them away. They may strain our already thin resources, but they can also contribute.”
“Fair enough. I’ll ask Argus what three-thousand new arrivals could mean.”
“In my personal opinion, admiral, even if Argus believes the strain would be too much, we would set a dangerous precedent by turning them away. Pisces’ future—”
“I know,” West said, raising a hand to stave her comments off. “Sometimes I wonder if Rodriguez did reprogram you.”
She smiled. “Even if he did, I like being a version of myself that’s more egalitarian. Of course, if he tried to now I’d take issue with it. Before, I couldn’t.”
“Again,” West said. “No scotch. I’ll talk to Argus and see what we can do if refugees do arrive.” He shifted slightly. “Now, two more things to discuss. You’ve specifically requested carrier crew and pilots.”
“That’s correct, yes.” She brought up a hand, loading a live feed from the shipyards. Her focus this time wasn’t the nearly-complete cruiser, but one of the larger, more skeletal shapes in the very center of the yard. A framework, yet taking shape hour by hour. “There have been a few wrinkles in the construction, but now that they’ve been accounted for, I believe if we begin transitioning crew now, they’ll be ready to staff our flagship the moment it is completed.”
“No further expectation of delays?”
“There is, as always, a chance,” she stated. “But at this point I’m confident that such delays would be minor.”
“Don’t mistake,” West said. “I’m glad to hear it. I just don’t relish the reality of giving up some of my best.” The barest hint of a smile crossed his face. “Of course, I never do.”
Curious. She went for a probe. “Any thoughts of taking command of the vessel yourself, admiral?”
This time there was a smile—and a genuine one, if borne of amusement. “I’ll admit that the thought crossed my mind. And it does sound appealing, but …” He shook his head. “We both know that once an official government is established, my role as admiral is done. I may be retained as a consultant, but as a leader?” Another shake. “Besides, I’ve done my commanding from a bridge, and for most of my life it was on a sub. It’s tempting, but I’ll settle for spending my remaining time on the Scylla, doing just that. There are younger, bolder, more flexible commanders better suited for this.”
Didem smiled. “I take it you have someone in mind?”
“A few someones actually,” West replied. “As for pilots and crew, just send Argus the complement. We’ll compensate by recruiting—no shortage of people looking for a berth and a meal these days.”
“Only for another month, admiral. We’re nearing the tipping point.”
“Good. I hate being on short rations. Now, that clears up my questions about the Ceres. Which leaves one last question, one I already know the answer to, but I still have to ask.” His eyes narrowed, fixed on hers. “Has there been any word from the expedition team?”
“No.” She shook her head, her armored dreadlocks rattling slightly as she did so. “Nothing.”
“Nothing from the Overseer?”
She gave another shake. “No.”
West nodded and sat back, his eyes traversing down to stare at his desk. For a few seconds he was silent. “You know if they don’t pull this off, none of what we’re doing will matter.”
“I know.”
West looked back up. “And yet you seem so sure.”
She smiled. “That’s because I’ve met those three, admiral. As have you. Maybe the Sha’o were on to something with their thoughts on a ‘triumvirate,’ maybe not. Maybe sometimes some people are just lucky, or blessed by a higher being, or affect the universe around themselves in ways we cannot predict.”
She leaned forward, giving him a full smile, her sharpened canines on display. “But do I believe that those three, somehow, will make it back? I do. I can’t tell you how, or why, because I’m not sure myself. Maybe I’ve discovered what it means to have faith in something. Maybe I’m just a crazy AI.”
She sat back. “But I do think we’ll see those three again?” Her smile still hadn’t left her face. “Yes. I do.”
West stayed silent for a few seconds more, then shook his head and laughed. “Well hell, now I really wish I had some scotch. Maybe you are crazy. But then again,” he said, looking right at her. “Maybe I am too. We both know Rodriguez is.”
He shrugged. “But maybe you’re right. Somehow, some way, those three will probably make it back. They certainly did a number on this planet.”
Didem smiled once more and let her eyes flash ever so slightly. “Ah, but admiral, this time it’s different.”
“How so?”
“This time, they’re on our side. If they’re causing chaos out there, it’s probably to our benefit.”
“And again with the scotch,” West said, letting out a snort. “Because that deserves a drink.”
Back on the orbital, the cadets let out a crisp array of salutes, their class dismissed.
PART THREE
Chapter 22
Jake looked out over the endless ocean as it sped past, the faint whitecaps beneath them little more than a blur at their current speed. A flash of pain moved across his side, and he flinched, the motion larger than it would have been without his enhanced physiology, but still not as overpowering as it would have been a month earlier.
Sobat still let out a sharp hiss of disapproval. “Relax, Tames. I warned you.”
“Sorry.” There was another flash of pain across his right side, and this time he settled for clenching his opposite hand to compensate. She’s just doing her job. That’s it. Just doing—
“Head forward.”
His gaze had wandered. He snapped it back up. “I thought the nanites were supposed to prevent this from being a problem.”
“They did,” Sobat replied as the flash dulled to a gentle burn. “You just got extremely unlucky. Or extremely lucky, depending on how you want to play things.” There was a faint tugging sensation at his side as she pulled the injector away. “Concentrated dose scraping a rib.”
He nodded. She’d explained it before.
“The nanites blocked it as best they could, but they could only do so much. Without them, you’d have been dead.”
The burn had settled now, like a gentle warmth mixed with occasional pinpricks. “Just hope your luck holds, Tames. You took a good hit.”
He nodded, his eyes slipping to where his armor was sitting nearby on the transport deck. He could see the discolored splotches in the blue where the nano-patches had done their best to repair the damage. His skinsuit bore a few similar marks. First the ones on my arm, and now these.
The wounds on his arm hadn’t even fully healed yet. In fairness they were almost there thanks to medical nanites and his augmented physiology. But those wounds paled in comparison to the hole that had been punched in his side the day before during their escape from the city.
I wasn’t the only one the All got a good hit on, either, he thought as Sobat began scanning once again with one of her tools, checking for anything she might have missed. Or maybe she was broadcasting instructions to the nanites. He didn’t really know.
Most of the team had taken a hit of some kind before they’d made it out of the Sha’o city. Some had been minor hits, their armor absorbing the worst of it at the cost of the damage, but other hits …
We lost Sheik, Jake noted. The marine had been buried at sea earlier that day, dropped over the side of the transport in an empty weapon locker that someone had punched holes through. Voi. Haddar. Alvarez. The latter had died during the EEV’s push to the depot. Apparently one of the explosive hoppers had made it too close and detonated, one of the bone “fragments” propelled out by the explosion punching through the underside of the marine’s jaw and slicing open his throat. He’d bled out in moments, though the fragment that had scrambled his brains had made it a moot issue.
