Future Shock, page 35
The sudden burst of chatter was surprisingly loud, as the officers stood and made their way to the hatches. Hamish had thought twice about organising an in-person meeting, even on the giant supercarrier, but the advantages of meeting his subordinates face to face outweighed the disadvantages. There wouldn’t be many other opportunities, not when they had to spend every last hour preparing for war. The planned formal dinners and ceremonies would have to wait until they returned home, victorious.
His lips twisted. Oh, what a pity.
Cassidy walked across the chamber to join him. “Do you think everyone will work together?”
“They should, if they care one jot about the war,” Hamish said. The original timeline had shown the human race working together, putting the interests of the entire world ahead of individual nations. This timeline was different. “We’ll keep them busy, ensuring they don’t have enough time to cause trouble.”
He sighed as he looked down at his terminal. There were hundreds of officers under his command, demanding posts be handed out by merit, seniority, nationality or some combination of the three. Several officers had been effectively demoted because someone senior had arrived, others had been promoted over the heads of more deserving – at least in their own minds – candidates, just to ensure some degree of command continuity. He didn’t need a military staff, he reflected; he needed a team of experienced diplomats. The snarl was going to take weeks to sort out, if he was lucky. The arguments would probably continue long after everyone involved was dead.
Cassidy smiled, rather tiredly. “You expect them to cause trouble?”
“During the Iranian War,” Hamish asked, “who was General Farnham’s second in command?”
“I could look it up,” Cassidy said, after a moment. “A Brit, right? Or an Israeli?”
“General Farnham is a household name, years after his death,” Hamish said. “His second is completely unknown. And everyone here feels the same way.”
He shook his head. “We’ll keep everyone pointed in the right direction. And then ...”
Cassidy smiled, again. “Should I leave that out of my report?”
“Please.” Hamish had no illusions. Everything the reporters sent home would be carefully scrutinised before it was allowed into the public domain. The censors would blow a fuse if she tried to report such matters, no matter that everyone knew disputes were inevitable when multinational formations were put together at terrifying speed. “Save it for the tell-all book.”
“I’ll try,” Cassidy said. She grinned, suddenly. “Do you have time to join me for dinner?”
“Only after I deal with the next set of messages,” Hamish said. “They’ll all be getting their complaints in first. And their suggestions about how the plan should be modified.”
“They don’t trust your planning?” Cassidy shook her head. “Don’t they know you won the war?”
“I didn’t, not here,” Hamish reminded her. “And they know it all too well.”
Cassidy cocked her head. “Does it bother you? That they’re questioning your planning?”
Hamish was tempted to point out he hadn’t planned anything, except in very broad strokes. The planning office had taken his rough idea – really, nothing more than bringing the fleet to Diyang Prime and opening fire – and turned it into a detailed plan of attack, laying out everything from crude fleet formations to planning logistics support, assigning dozens of freighters to serve as a makeshift fleet train to keep the fleet operational nearly a light-century from Earth. They’d solved a number of problems too, from booster stations to keep the freighters moving without support from the future starships to standardising everything to ensure a Chinese starship could use a Russian or American component or vice versa. It would make future settlement easier, he reflected, once the war was over. It had happened in the other timeline, after all.
They gave us a cheat sheet, he reflected. We just need to take advantage of it.
Cassidy cleared her throat. Hamish flushed.
“They say no battle plan survives contact with the enemy,” he said. “That’s partly because the planners don’t think of everything, so ... the more eyes on the plan the better. There might be something terribly wrong with it, something that’ll be embarrassing if it gets caught here but lethal if it gets missed until we take the fleet into battle. Better to be embarrassed than killed.”
“I know people who’d disagree,” Cassidy said.
“Me too.” Hamish grinned in dark amusement. “But I’d bet most weren’t in the military.”
He felt his mood darken again as he led the way to the hatch. The governments had put a great many starships under his command, showing an astonishing amount of faith in him. Even the Chinese and Russians had cooperated without pro forma arguments, something that struck him as odd. They were normally determined to make it clear their cooperation could never be taken for granted, extracting a price for each and every concession. Perhaps the wrecked colonies had been a wake-up call, or perhaps ... he shrugged. They all knew the war had to be brought to an end, before it was too late. The Diyang, naturally, had plans of their own.
And if we give them time, they’ll put them into action, he mused. We have to act fast.
***
“It is impressive, is it not?”
Ethan kept his thoughts to himself as Captain Rathdrum showed him to the shuttlebay. The giant supercarrier was impressive, the epitome of contemporary shipbuilding ... although the tactical expert in him dreaded what would happen if Nimitz went up against a modern ship. Her hull armour wasn’t anything like enough to deflect fission beams, while an FTL missile could materialise inside the ship and blow her to atoms before she even knew she was under attack. The rotating gravity felt odd, despite the enhancements in his genetic structure designed to compensate automatically for variable gravity fields. She was slow and lumbering and ...
Don’t be an ass, he told himself. They can’t even come close to producing a modern ship. Not yet.
“She’s a very impressive ship,” he said. Captain Rathdrum was supposed to be dead, killed in the Battle of Earth. Thankfully, he hadn’t fallen into shock – unlike others – when he’d heard the news. “I wish I had more time for a tour.”
“We can arrange one after the war, if you’re still interested,” Captain Rathdrum said. “I don’t think we need to hide anything from you, hah.”
He chuckled, rather dryly. Ethan nodded. Nimitz was crammed with highly-classified pieces of technology, technology that had been declassified two hundred years in the future. There were probably complete diagrams of the supercarrier in his datacores, plans that exposed everything she was carrying ... not, he supposed, that the plans were anything more than a curiosity. The introduction of artificial gravity would render the giant supercarrier obsolete in a few years ... perhaps less, depending on how quickly the contemporary tech base advanced. Nimitz was just too cumbersome to be redesigned ...she’d probably be scrapped, if she couldn’t be repurposed in a hurry. He felt a flicker of sympathy for the older man. Captain Rathdrum had reached the pinnacle of his career, supercarrier command, just in time to see his vessel become hopelessly out of date.
“There’s a great many things I wanted to ask you,” Captain Rathdrum added. “But tell me, did you do the right thing in contacting us?”
“I think we had no choice,” Ethan said. He would keep his own doubts to himself. “If we hadn’t made contact, you would be dead.”
“I know.” Captain Rathdrum smiled, but there was little humour in it. “Was I supposed to die on that date?”
“History isn’t fixed,” Ethan said. Their mere existence was proof time travel was possible, the fact they’d changed time was proof time could be changed. What did it matter if they’d created an alternate timeline, rather than altering the original? They had escaped certain death, and now the entire human race had a chance to survive. “There’s no point in worrying about it.”
“But I do,” Captain Rathdrum said. “Did we somehow cheat God?”
Ethan considered it for a long moment. “I think if God wanted you home, He’d take you,” he said. He wasn’t ready for a theological discussion. Religion had been largely a matter of academic interest in his time, save for a handful of worlds which clung to the old faiths, and he didn’t see the point in arguing about it. There was no way to cheat an omnipotent entity who saw and heard all, unless He chose to let you. “Why not make the most of your life?”
“My wife remarried,” Captain Rathdrum said. “Her stepson grew up to be a great man. Will that still happen?”
“I don’t know,” Ethan said. They paused at the shuttlebay. “But all we can do is play the hand we’re dealt.”
The thought bothered him as they exchanged handshakes and salutes, then he took his leave of the giant supercarrier. It was rare for a relationship to last forever back home, particularly as humans themselves could live forever ... at least in theory. He’d accepted long ago that his marriage would come to an end one day, not that he intended to do anything to bring that day any closer. But Captain Rathdrum was from a very different world ...
Just another little tragedy, Ethan thought. And another personal crisis we caused.
He sighed, again. And one we can’t do anything about either.
***
Captain Cao Zongying felt cold as he made his way back to his shuttle, despite the warm air.
He’d expected to die, when he’d reported home in the wake of the future historical records being released. He’d known his duty and yet ... he had been tempted to accept the offer of asylum rather than going home to be killed. Only the thought of his wife and family being executed in his place had given him the courage to go home and face his fate ... he’d been astonished when he’d been told he could return to his ship. The regime should have killed him. Why had it let him go?
The cold clenched at his heart, a grim reminder of the meeting he’d had with his superiors. He’d been given orders, orders so secret they hadn’t been written down ... orders that would likely get him killed even if he carried them out to the letter. They’d get his wife and children killed if he didn’t, he knew all too well; his entire family, and that of a handful of other officers, had been gathered together, just to make them easier to kill. He wanted to scream at the universe as he boarded his shuttle, the pilot saluting before disengaging from the American carrier and carrying Cao back to his command. Cao eyed the pilot’s back, wondering if he was a spy ... there were spies everywhere, the obvious watchers providing cover for the real observers. They’d know what he’d been ordered to do, he was sure, and if he failed ...
He forced himself to think, trying to come up with a plan. Nothing came to mind. He was being watched at all times by people who wouldn’t hesitate to remove him if he stepped out of line and then ... his heart twisted again. His son was a university student bound for a military career ... he’d be bound for a work camp, at best, if Cao failed. His daughter was young and beautiful, and his family were already discussing possible marriage arrangements ... he didn’t want to think about what would happen to her, if he failed. His wife would be killed, of course, and her family disgraced ... he couldn’t bear the thought of it. And yet, he knew what he had to do.
They’ve given me no choice, he thought. He should have killed himself, in hopes his family would be spared. Instead, he’d been put in a trap, one that forced him to follow orders or watch helplessly as his family was destroyed. If I don’t go through with it, they’ll know.
He took a long breath, then composed himself. If the watchers saw him now, it would almost be a relief. But it would cost his family everything ...
And success will be even worse, he predicted, grimly. The briefing officer had dismissed his concerns. This could turn into a complete disaster, and the entire country is at stake.
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Diyang Prime, 2308
“The scout ship has returned, sir,” Georges said. He’d transferred to Nimitz to ensure there was at least one familiar face in the CIC. “They’re uploading their sensors records now.”
Hamish nodded, curtly. The transit should have taken a few hours, according to the projections, but it had wound up taking nearly five days, as the future starships towed the fleet into attack position. The formation was a ragged mess that looked as if the ships had been scattered around at random, something that would probably outrage any civilian who saw it, yet – thankfully – nearly every ship had reached the RV point without problems. A handful had suffered drive failure and had been left behind to guard the fleet train, just in case the enemy realised they were lurking in interstellar space and launched a counterattack. They still didn’t know how the Diyang had realised Diyang-14 was about to be attacked.
He turned his attention to the display as the sensor records appeared in front of him. The Diyang appeared to be preparing to go to war, or perhaps to mount a last stand, judging by the sheer number of starships assembled around the homeworld. There were nearly five hundred warships and almost two thousand freighters that had presumably been armed, although it was unlikely they would pose much of a threat once they shot themselves dry. The scout hadn’t been able to determine how many fighters were buzzing around the enemy fleet, but it looked as if there were over two thousand ... not counting, he noted sourly, the hundreds of shuttles, cutters, worker bees and other spacecraft pressed into service for the final engagement. If they had faced the contemporary fleet alone, he noted, they might have had a chance. As it was ...
“Signal the fleet,” he ordered. “We’ll proceed with Alpha-5.”
“Aye, sir,” Georges said.
Hamish kept his eyes on the display. The Diyang could microjump again, if they wished, but it would mean leaving their fighters and smaller spacecraft behind. They’d be more likely to stay near the planet, ensuring the gravity well gave them some protection from human microjumps ... unless they knew the future starships could jump right into the atmosphere without hitting the planet itself. Did they? There was no way to be sure. He put the thought aside – he had no intention of trying such a risky tactic – and tapped the controls, bringing up the fleet formation display. The pattern hadn’t improved – it still looked ragged – but the command and control system was up and running. It was cumbersome compared to the future datanet, he admitted to himself, yet it was better than anything they’d had previously. And with the fleet grouped in smaller squadrons, they’d be able to keep fighting if something shattered the command net.
Georges looked up. “Sir, the fleet is ready to jump on your command.”
Hamish nodded, the sheer enormity of what he was about to do pressing down on him. The largest fleet humanity had ever assembled, at least in his era, was about to jump into its final engagement. He felt like a cheat, a fraud, someone who had gained by the efforts of another ... the fact the other person was an alternate version of himself didn’t make him feel any better. His shadowy counterpart had learnt his trade the hard way, while Hamish himself hadn’t had anything like the same experiences ...
He wanted to step down, to let someone else take command. But he knew his duty.
“Signal the fleet,” he ordered. “We’ll jump in one minute.”
“Aye, sir.”
It felt as if time itself was slowing down, as the fleet prepared to jump. The starships were nothing more than light codes on the display, but Hamish’s imagination showed him metal hulls surrounding men and women preparing themselves to fight. For some, it was their first taste of combat, and they relished the chance to test themselves; for others, older and wiser, it was going to be a bloody business, no matter who won. Some would die today, others would go on to wonder why they’d been spared ... perhaps knowing that, in the shadowy other world, they had died in combat. It was a riddle that could never be truly solved. Who deserved to live ... and to die?
Death in combat is often random, he scolded himself. There’s no real pattern to it.
“Ten seconds,” Georges said. “Nine ... eight ...”
The universe blurred. The display blanked, then rebooted. Hundreds of icons appeared in front of him, the enemy fleet suddenly all the more intimidating for being real rather than sensor images. They’d see him coming too ... probably. They had aimed to jump close enough to the planet to cut down on transit time, while ensuring there was plenty of room to assemble the fleet, but it was difficult to be certain. They just didn’t have enough future starships to tow the entire fleet through a single jump.
“The fleet is reporting in now,” Georges said. “Communications links – primary, secondary – are up and running. Enemy fleet is coming to battle station.”
“The time delay has been cut down sharply,” Hamish agreed. “Transmit the surrender demand.”
“Aye, sir,” Georges said.
Hamish braced himself. Historically, the Diyang had been willing to come to terms when they’d been soundly beaten by the human race. Here ... he didn’t know. The four years of hard fighting in one timeline had been replaced by a pair of one-sided engagements, both incredibly costly for the aliens and remarkably cheap for their human opponents. No wonder the Diyang were frightened, he reflected, but that didn’t excuse their crimes. No amount of fear could justify mass slaughter. If they refused to surrender, they were going to get thrashed. And then confined to their homeworld for the rest of existence.
“No response, sir,” Georges reported. “Should I resend the signal?”
“Yes.” Hamish suspected he already had his answer, but he owed it to himself to try again. “Do it.”
There was a long pause. The signal would already have reached the enemy fleet, he knew, and there should have been enough time for a reply. Could they read the signal? Understand it? Their language held no secrets, not to the future. They should have no trouble reading the signal and then ...
