Gibraltar Stars Page 22

  Lisa paused to let the starkness of the statistic sink in before continuing. “We have made a good start at scouting the enemy, but it became apparent about a year-and-a-half ago that our reconnaissance capability is woefully inadequate. That is the reason Admiral Landon commissioned Project X.

  “Of necessity, our approach to spying on the enemy has been to monitor their comm traffic. Project X was the next step. We took what our Q-ships learned and tried to put our raw information into context. Essentially, we have been tracking the flow of Broan power so far as we can divine it.

  “To do this, we assume the larger the Broan population of a particular planet, the higher that world sits in the pecking order. Our ships have also observed unique traffic patterns, convoys and that sort of thing. We correlate these with whatever economic figures we can glean from the Pastol database.

  “Our identification of hierarchical relationships is necessarily tentative, but the supporting data is internally consistent. Using this approach, we believe we have identified systems that are one or two levels below the Broan home world in authority. We call these levels quadrant and sector headquarters.”

  A senior captain cleared his throat and said, “In other words, we have yet to discover the location of the Broan home world.”

  “Correct, sir,” Lisa replied.

  She clicked the holocube control again, and another diagram appeared. This was no topological diagram. This was a real star map. In addition to dim white stars sprinkled through the blackness, there were a number of green stars connected by yellow lines.

  “Highlighted are Broan sector and quadrant capitals. Admiral Landon will explain the significance of these stars to our mission.”

  Landon again moved forward, leaving Lisa to return to her seat.

  “I asked Lisa to give you the facts straight,” Landon said. “Once you understand just how few stars we’ve surveyed, you will understand the necessity of trying something new. We cannot begin offensive operations until we know where the head of this very long snake lies. Finding the home planet is our prime objective.”

  “Then redouble our scouting missions,” a voice called from the back of the room.

  “Not an option,” Landon replied. “Given unlimited resources and time, we could probably increase Q-Ship penetrations tenfold. Were we to follow such a course, we would likely learn the location of Planet X about the time we all drop dead of advanced senility.

  “But we don’t have unlimited resources and we are not expanding the pace of our explorations. We are curtailing them. Each mission increases the risk of discovery, yet yields less new data. The risk/reward ratio has been climbing steadily for two years.

  “There is also this recent change in the stargate operating protocols. We don’t know it has anything to do with us, but it may. That worries us.”

  Landon looked at his audience and broke into a lopsided grin. “And, to be truthful, there is a new constraint. It seems the opening of Grand Central Terminus has been a mixed blessing.

  “On the plus side, reducing travel time from a year to a month allowed us to move significant forces into Broan space. On the minus side, our independence of action has been significantly compromised.”

  “By whom?” the silver haired captain asked.

  “Our masters on Earth. Reduced travel time allows us to send our Project X data back to Sol monthly, but it also brings us new command directives monthly. H.Q. agrees with our analysis that spy missions are approaching the point of diminishing returns. They also advise that our time horizon for action is shorter than we thought.”

  “Why?” Susan Ahrendt asked.

  “A factor every bit as predictable as death and taxes,” Landon replied. “The World Coordinator reports steady erosion of public support for the war. She estimates we have a year… possibly two… in which to launch offensive operations or risk an administration that is hostile to our efforts out here.”

  “Is that possible?” Mark asked.

  “You know Mikhail Vasloff, Mark. What do you think?”

  Mark sighed. “It’s damned near certain!”

  Landon nodded. “Which brings us to the reason we are here. Dr. Smithers, your report, please.”

  #

  The small bald man to Mark’s right climbed to his feet and moved to the front. He still wore the expression of self-importance. Perhaps it was just the way his features were put together, Mark thought.

  “Thank you, Admiral. For those who do not know me, I am Dr. Gordon Smithers, late of the University of Toronto, now Team Leader, Project Trojan Horse.

  “We began seeding selected systems with our small starships nine months ago. We have managed to place one hundred Easter Eggs in systems where we hope the natives will be receptive. Of those, eighty-eight of our craft were intercepted and boarded. Twelve were not, at least, not in the time we budgeted for observation. Perhaps the locals chased them down later.”

  “A description of your typical mission, if you please,” Landon ordered.

  “Yes, Admiral,” the scientist responded. “We have the process down to a routine. A typical mission packet consists of a single dispersal ship and two naval vessels. The latter provide overwatch and data acquisition.

  “Our ships break out of superlight well beyond the limits of the target system. Since most systems have not been visited by Q-Ships, we spend up to a week surveying the vicinity. Once we have the plane of the inhabited planet plotted, we reposition our ships outboard of that world. This can take another week.

  “The dispersal ship then accelerates in-system while the others remain outside the critical limit. The dispersal ship places the egg in the proper orbit. This takes several days as we must be extremely exact in our release parameters. After a final check to ensure the egg is sterile of human and terrestrial DNA, we seed it with our macro alien bio-material and release it to space.

  “The egg is quiescent for another 24 hours while the dispersal ship returns to the critical limit. After that, it powers up automatically and sends distress squawks on all communications frequencies. Usually, it is intercepted shortly after it goes live.”

  “Are they buying it?” the vocal captain asked.

  Smithers shrugged. “Too early to tell, I’m afraid.”

  “What of the Broa?” another captain asked. “Have any of the eggs fallen into their hands?”

  “After eighty-eight successful intercepts, it is possible. It depends on how independent the slaves in that particular system are.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Smithson,” Landon said. “I’ll take over from here.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  Landon’s demeanor had changed. When the Admiral took his place, all hint of levity was gone. He brought up the image of a small elliptical starship in the cube. “This, Ladies and Gentlemen, is Easter Egg Number 101. Although outwardly identical to the others, this Trojan Horse is a thoroughbred. Earth has made several modifications and ordered us to try something special.

  “As Dr. Smithers noted, we do not know that any of our eggs have fallen into the hands of the Broa. Hopefully, at least one of them has. It is our objective to sow distrust and fear among the pseudo-simian ruling class. If they are ignorant of our efforts, we can’t very well make them paranoid.

  “However, we don’t know that they have been made aware of our efforts, so it behooves us to make sure. Earth has ordered us to release this special Easter Egg where they can’t help but notice it. So we are going to send it directly through the heart of one of their sector capitals.”

  A sudden murmuring filled the conference room. Landon held up a hand to silence them.

  “That isn’t all! If making sure the Broa know about Trojan Horse were our only goal, we could have done it at any time in the past six months. For this mission, the evil geniuses have something a bit more ambitious in mind…”

  #

  After the requisite pause, the Admiral continued. “On this mission, we are counting on the Broa reacting to having an Easter Egg
dumped in their laps the same way humans would.

  “Firstly, we expect them to intercept it. That’s a no brainer, of course. As Dr. Smithers and his people have proven over and over, curiosity makes an intercept almost an involuntary response for any intelligent species.

  “However, our studies of Broan psychology show they are much more like us than we care to admit. Karap-Vas is a regional power center, a provincial capital, as it were. We believe the locals will react similarly to a group of human bureaucrats when they realize they have a starship on their hands. They will pass the buck upstairs as quickly as they can arrange transport.

  “In addition to the special Trojan Horse, Earth has shipped out a new gadget for us to play with. It is an experimental sensor that detects the field from a stardrive even when the generators are powered at very low levels. As we speak, technicians are installing these sensors on each of your ships.

  “There are six stargates in the Sabator System, all of which lead to systems mapped by our Q-Ships. You captains will be assigned to one of these gateway systems. Your task is to hide out among the nascent comets at the edge of each system until one of you spots a Broan transport coming through the local stargate that causes your sensor alarm to go off. That will be the ship carrying our special Easter Egg to Planet X.

  “Once detected, you will track that ship to the next gate and then make an emergency run to whatever system it is bound for. If you are fast enough, you might get there in time to see it jump again. In this way, we hope to get a line on the location of the home world.”

  After ten minutes relating the overall plan, the Admiral fixed his gaze on Mark. “Commander Rykand! I want you to take command of the dispersal phase of this mission. You will go on Sasquatch to supervise.”

  “Uh, yes, sir.”

  Dan Landon’s serious expression cracked into what his subordinates had taken to calling his ‘evil grin.’

  “Do I see a ‘why me?’ lurking in there somewhere, Commander?”

  “Yes, sir. Why me?”

  “Because, unlike just about everyone else here, you have been in a Broan system before. You know how close we came to flubbing it at Klys’kra’t. Don’t let it get that close this time.

  “Also, the profile needed on this one is going to be more dangerous than we’ve used before. On previous drops, we’ve released the eggs well out and let them drift in-system before activating.

  “I’m afraid we can’t operate that way this time. Because of the need to have the stardrive partially powered, this egg will be live when it leaves the ship. That means the dispersal ship will have to dive much deeper into the system before release. If discovered, it will be a long run back to the critical limit where you can jump superlight. That could make for a harrowing ride, don’t you think?”

  “Definitely, Admiral.”

  “That’s why I want a man with experience in command, someone who can say ‘no go,’ if things don’t feel right.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What about me, sir?” Lisa asked. “Do I go on Sasquatch?”

  Landon shook his head. “No, that would be putting too many eggs in one basket. You go with Galahad, the detector ship. You will monitor all communications frequencies. If you so much as hear a peep you don’t like, notify Mark and all of you get the hell out of there.”

  And so it had been. Mark and Lisa joined Operation Easter Egg that afternoon. Two days later, six other task forces, consisting of three ships each, spaced for their assigned stations. A week later, Sasquatch, Galahad, and Yeovil moved out of Sutton orbit, climbed out to where gravitational curvature would no longer interfere with their stardrives, and jumped to superlight.

  #

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The cargo bay of TSNS Sasquatch was brightly lit with flood lamps as Mark Rykand and Susan Ahrendt hung like two spiders from a pair of extended hydraulic braces. Around them, the dull throb of the superlight generators could be more sensed than heard.

  They had been underway faster than light for twelve hours, en route to Sabator, the most powerful Broan system of which humanity was currently aware. The system consisted of a yellow-giant sun with twelve worlds. Karap-Vas, the fifth, was the sole inhabited planet, although there were extensive industrial facilities in an oversize asteroid belt and on the moons of three of four gas giants. These latter were primarily devoted to “Jupiter-diving,” the scooping up of complex organic molecules from deep within the giant planets’ atmospheres.

  The xenologists were relatively certain that the pseudo-simians were not native to Karap-Vas. They judged this by the warnings to travelers (Broan travelers, of course) they’d found in the Pastol database. Inhabitants of Karap-Vas, advisories warned, must remember to take their dietary supplements.

  However, the planet had been colonized by the Broa so long ago that evidence of the original inhabitants, if there had been any, had been lost. Not that there weren’t plenty of non-Broan residents on the planet now. They outnumbered the masters. However, these, too, were immigrants, brought in to serve the Broa.

  Xenologists on Earth studied Karap-Vas extensively after first discovering it in the Pastol data base. With its large mixed population of Broa and slaves, they suspected the world was a microcosm of Planet X, the Broan home world.

  It was not their destination that interested Mark and Susan at the moment. Rather, it was the object suspended from a dozen shock cables at the focus of the flood lamps, an iridescent egg wrapped in holiday party paper. Visible through the translucent wrapping was an angular gash in the smooth hull with scorching on each side.

  Around the egg, several large, spherical tanks had been anchored to various hard points. These were filled with a potent mixture of gases and anti-bacterial agents, all under high pressure. The tanks were to flush the cargo bay prior to the egg’s protective wrapping being peeled away. Nothing would give away the little starship’s true origin faster than the Broa finding a piece of dead human skin adhered to the little ship.

  “So this is what the excitement is about,” Mark commented, his words muffled by the surgical mask he was wearing.

  “This is it,” Susan confirmed.

  “It looks just like the ones you showed me in New Mexico.”

  “Outwardly identical, as is the interior. However, I’m told the engines have been extensively modified for this mission.”

  “I’ve read the specs. I didn’t understand a word.”

  Susan laughed in response. “Now you know how I’ve felt my whole time with Trojan Horse. You’ll have to ask Felicia.”

  Mark nodded. Felicia Godwin was your typical elderly lady with a Ph.D. in superlight engineering. She was the resident expert on all things stardrive.

  As Mark gazed down on the egg, he pondered, not for the first time, on how quickly his life could change. One moment he was comfortably in the groove; the next, the universe was upended around him.

  It had happened to him three times now. The first time was when he learned of Jani’s death; the second when he peeked into a viewport aboard PoleStar to find a naked woman and a yellow-eyed alien staring back. The third had come when Admiral Landon and his wife conspired to get him to that damned meeting!

  #

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Mark asked Felicia Godwin, noticing the twinkle her eye as the two of them sat in Sasquatch’s mess. They were strapped to a bench, with the full range of microgravity eating accoutrements magnetically attached to the table.

  “What’s not to enjoy?” Felicia Godwin responded. “In microgravity, my arthritis hardly bothers me at all, my lumbago is completely gone, and my heart is working at one-quarter its normal effort. Who knows, if the Broa don’t get me, I just may live forever.”

  “It’s nice to see someone happy in their work, unlike some people I might mention.”

  “Who, Gordon? Don’t let him bother you. He doesn’t resent you personally. Well, not much. It’s a primal instinct with scientists, you know.”

  “What
is?”

  “The tendency to resent the military. Haven’t you seen any of the ancient monster holos?”

  “Some.”

  “Then you know the plot. Scientist wants to study the monster, military wants to destroy it. Scientist usually doesn’t survive through Act II.”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “Gordon’s been on a dozen of these missions. He doesn’t see why we need a babysitter. The ship captains have always given us a free hand before.”

  “And Captain Vanda will give you a free hand on this one. His job is running Sasquatch. My job is to decide if it’s safe to release the egg.”

  “I know that. So does Gordon. The difference is that I don’t resent the necessity. He does. However, that isn’t why you asked me to lunch, is it?”

  “No, it’s not. Tell me about what we are going to be doing out here.”

  She shrugged. “What’s to tell? The big thinkers at home have pulled a rabbit out of a hat.”

  “A what?”

  Her giggle was girlish. “Sorry, ancient reference. It used to be a standard trick with magicians. I understand it worked a lot better with rabbits than with rattlesnakes.”

  “I’m having trouble figuring out how the allusion relates to what we are doing.”

  “What is it that is bothering you, Commander?”

  “I guess the thought that we are going to track the Easter Egg inside the hold of a Broan transport.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, because it’s basically impossible.”

  “It wouldn’t be impossible if we put a big radio transponder on the egg and then ran an antenna to the outside of the Broan ship, would it?”

  “No, but the Broa would notice.”

  “Exactly. So we arrange for them to notice and not think anything about it. It’s a bit of misdirection…essentially, a magic trick.”