Fracture Lines (The Glass Complex Book 2) (32 page)

A shout from Beagle penetrated his introspection. Steg discerned a tinge of fear in her voice.

“Captain. The Xesset’re back. They’ve got the largest starship I’ve ever seen. It must displace ten million tons.”

Richard Montrose compared the Xesset starship against his destroyer. The new Xesset arrival was gigantic—larger than any of the Alliance Fleet’s dreadnoughts. He estimated
Destroyer
, at five hundred thousand tons, was a tenth the size of the alien ship, if that. The holo display showed the Xesset had exited s-t about fifteen thousand klicks from the way station, surprisingly close, in his mind. Tac had the main viewscreen displaying the alien ship with her team’s assessment of its size, crew, and armaments, and the station in separate panels.

Tac said, “Sir, she’s commenced firing. As we thought from their position, their target is the way station. It looks like they’re using old-style explosive military shells. They’re shredding the station. They’re not differentiating between docks, starships, or personnel areas. The station’s got no weapons, no defenses. It’s sheer, bloody-minded murder.”

The bridge crew watched in silence—apart from expressions of horror—as the way station was destroyed. Shells hit sections, one after the other, either enlarging damaged areas or punching new holes in the station’s structure. Debris and atmosphere sprayed out from gaping holes. Some of the debris may have included escape pods; however, Montrose expected few of the station crew and other inhabitants would have been able to reach emergency sections. Also, he doubted the Xesset would launch rescue teams to recover anyone still alive. Their attack was intended to kill and destroy.

Tac turned away from the viewscreen and stared at her captain. “Sir, they’ve killed—at least—a thousand people. What can we do?”

“Us? I’m not sure we can do anything. If
Defender
was a dreadnought instead of a destroyer, we’d have a chance of countering them. By ourselves, they’d chew us up and spit us out. And yes, I’m as angry and frustrated as you are.”

“Sir, they’re in range of our missile pods, though.”

“Granted.” Montrose nodded his head. “I’ve considered that. Tempted. However, we don’t know their shield capabilities. If we expose ourselves—we’d need to drop our stealth shields to transmit firing instructions—they’d have our location. If their shields bounce our missiles, we’d have to flee. The alternative—staying to fight them—is likely to be bad for all of us.”

“Do you think
Wasp
would help us?”

“I’m not confident two warships the size of
Defender
would prevail against that monster, and
Wasp
is somewhat smaller than us.” He indicated the Xesset ship on the viewscreen as he spoke. “We might have speed and maneuverability advantages—benefits of being smaller, I suppose. Work out how to contact
Wasp
without exposing us to the Xesset. Determine tactics. No promises.”

Jessie Brent was thoughtful when she turned back to her workstation. She reached for her stylus and then changed her mind.

Riddell joined Steg on the shuttle’s small bridge when he heard the Eos station was under attack. Their viewscreens were displaying images of the monstrous warship and the station in separate panels, and the bridge team watched in horror as the way station was rapidly destroyed.

“Hell and damnation, sir. Can’t we do anything?” Riddell asked. The question was rhetorical; he knew the shuttle didn’t have weapons.

“We’re unarmed.” Steg’s blunt reply reflected his own frustration. “That Xesset—what would you call it, a dreadnought?—dwarfs the Alliance destroyer, and
Wasp
is smaller again. We’d be a minor irritant. They’d swipe us away without thinking.”

“Sir, could we load their system with our virus?”

The question, almost naive, Steg thought, came from Beagle. He didn’t comment immediately. At first he was amused. Then he realized that the virus might provide them with a way to overcome the monstrous starship.

‘Do we have a copy of your virus on board?”

“Sir, it’s safe.” Beagle looked shamefaced and then worried. She said, “It is, I guarantee. I wouldn’t infect the shuttle’s systems. I keep all my software tools with me, on PDs.”

“Stop. We’ll discuss system issues later. You have it with you, here?”

“Yes, sir.” She looked sideways, at her compad. ‘It’s there.”

“You think the alien system will run your software?”

“Sir, when you were on
Djamu
, and the Xesset were trying to attack, I managed to connect to one of their computers. Its operating system was familiar—very old, though. I think they might have gained access to some Imperial systems and pirated them for their own use. I—I adapted a copy of my virus, just in case.”

“Well, your virus might be our weapon. Let me think on it. We’ll need a way to load it into their systems without being detected; otherwise they’ll back trace and destroy us. Copy the Xesset version to another PD for me.” Once Beagle loaded a copy of the virus onto a small portable drive, Steg would look for ways to transfer it to the Xesset dreadnought without exposing their shuttle.

Steg found a spare compad and took it with him to his cabin. The separate accommodation space was small and was the only privilege of rank on the shuttle. He climbed out of his exo-armor and showered, taking a small risk of being caught out in an emergency for the next few hours. He plugged the PD into the standalone compad, first ensuring the small computing device was not connected to the shuttle’s systems. He set the device beside his bunk and lay down, bracing himself to make contact with the Xesset dreadnought.

He could, he thought, communicate with the Xesset and while connected, transfer the virus undetected to their huge starship. He would be able to hide his and the shuttle’s location; his major concern was the evil he knew he would encounter when he connected to the Xesset system. He relaxed, breathing deeply, building his intention to link to the alien starship. He closed his eyes.

Steg focused on his task. He reached past everything except the dreadnought. He detected
Wasp
; it was holding position adjacent to a large asteroid. He felt the whisper of
Defender
, well-shielded and passive. He pushed past the final shrieks of the occupants of the way station—there was nothing he could do to alleviate their pain. His duty was to deal death to the aliens, and he could not divert from his objective in order to conduct rites of passage for their victims. His probe reached the initially faint, almost muted, presence of the Xesset. He strengthened his probe. The entangled system linkages slowly resolved into separate recognizable entities. He sought the largest system, the computer structure with the strongest sense of evil. There was an unexpected familiar foundation and he realized Beagle’s analysis was correct: there was a contrasting taste of Imperial processing underlying the alien structure. Repeating a step he had taken once before, far in his future, he merged with the Xesset system, certain somehow it would not detect his presence.

He brought with him a small and passive presence—the coded virus. He treated it as though it was a flame, which he needed to shelter against the drafts created by the rapid processes of the target, the main Xesset computer. He coaxed the tiny flame, adding minuscule amounts of fuel to its fire until at last it replaced his care with its own awareness. It was as though the small set of code recognized the huge environment in which it could roam and romp, adding its own fiery touch to the core and root processes and then it could inflame the total set of system activities. Moreover, there were other systems, unprotected, available to satisfy its hunger. The virus flared, almost scorching its protector as it dived into the streaming processes. Steg monitored the burgeoning code, and when it split explosively amoeba-like into hundreds of identical shards, he withdrew.

Steg lay for a while in the bunk gathering energy enough to move. As he was about to stand, he realized he needed to alert
Wasp
and
Defender
to his actions.
Wasp
, first, he thought, and delivered a simple message. It advised Commander Gillespie to monitor the alien starship and to expect to see indications of a system failure in a matter of an hour or so. He did not open a channel for a reply. He did not want
Wasp
to generate electronic whispers, which could reveal its presence despite its shields.

“Sir, I have a message appearing on my viewscreen.” Jessie Kent’s voice tenor bordered on alarm.

“Captain de Coeur, again?” Montrose asked.

“Sir—how did you know?”

“I could tell by your reaction. What’s the message?”

“Sir, he said to boot up an isolated compad. He’ll be able to exchange messages with you.”

“Tell him yes. Someone—give me a compad that’s not connected to any part of
Defender
’s systems.” It took only a moment for a technical rating to hand over a compad, and Montrose booted it up. He checked its isolation from his ship’s system, not sure they could prevent de Coeur from contaminating it, if he so decided.

“Tell de Coeur—no, he’s found it.” The skipper watched as text formed on the isolated screen. Julie watched and read with undisguised awe.

“Good evening, Captain Montrose.”

“Captain de Coeur, I presume?”

“Yes, sir. A quick update for you. The Xesset apparently based their computer systems on an old Imperial design. While they have built a powerful starship system from that foundation, they failed to recognize the need for anti-virus protocols.”

“Indeed. I can almost guess the next step.”

“Yes, I’m sure you can. Thirty minutes ago, I—we—delivered a copy of a virus, similar to the one impacting systems on Eos, to their dreadnought. It was like holding a match to extremely dry wood. As a result, there soon should be an excellent conflagration. I don’t know how long the virus will take to negate their offensive capabilities. Not long, I’m sure.”

“An hour? Longer?”

“Possible less, sir.”

“What do you expect their reaction to be? I ask, only because you appear to have prior experience of these aliens. We overheard your conversation, apparently in the Xesset language.”

“Yes, I am—much to their surprise—fluent in High Xesset, which is used by their ruling and upper classes and by their priests.”

“And your expectations?”

“Xesset are truly alien. They are a hive-like species and have no redeeming features from our perspective. They are so different from humans, indeed from most aliens we’ve encountered, it’s impossible to guess their current reactions. They may flee. They may panic and self-destruct. I’ll try to communicate with their captain—actually, I think his rank is admiral—and see if I can gauge their likely response.”

“I’d be interested to participate.”

“Sir, you would need to be fluent in High Xesset. It will take me up to twenty minutes before I can make contact. It’s an exhausting process and I need to have a meal first. I’ll report back to you after I speak with their admiral.”

“I’ll look forward to your report. Montrose out.”

The Alliance skipper looked around at his the bridge crew. “That is the most startling conversation I’ve ever had. Tac, was there any indication of penetration of our electronic defenses?”

“No, sir. I’ve asked our Systems team to conduct a thorough anti-virus sweep, in case we’re contaminated.”

“Prudent.” He addressed his wider audience, knowing Jessie had read the conversation typed on the compad. “He somehow has inserted a virus into the alien dreadnought’s system. I have no idea how he or his team could achieve that. We should see a degradation of its offensive capabilities within an hour. As we suspected, de Coeur is fluent in Xesset—what he called High Xesset. He’s going to make contact with the admiral of the dreadnought, to try to assess their reaction when they realize a virus is eating their computers. It should be an interesting conversation. I only wish we could listen in and understand the content of their conversation.”

“Sir, you could ask de Coeur for language lessons?”

“My sense is that de Coeur finds his contacts with Xesset to be mentally exhausting, so I’m not sure I want to add learning their language to my task list, Tac. Perhaps you—?”

“No, sir. But thank you.”

“Tac, I want to take advantage of whatever the impact is of this virus. Get some tactics set up for discussion and implementation.”

“Yes, sir.” Jessie noted the captain left the compad open. He did not move it from his command station.

Steg spent some time with Riddell, Beagle, and Howe while they ate their evening meal. He explained what he had managed to do, without answering Beagle’s unasked question of how.

“Thank you Beagle; well, thanks to both of you. Your virus should shortly be making itself felt. The dreadnought’s computer systems were totally unprotected.”

“Sir, do you have any idea of how they’ll react?” Riddell asked.

“Not yet. I’m going to try to find out. The Alliance skipper asked the same question. I won’t try to guess which of their options they’ll go with.”

“Sir, what are their options?” Howe was curious.

“Self-destruct, return to their base, abandon ship, attack the planet, fix their computers, try to find and attack us—including
Wasp
and
Defender
—or some combination of these. So, all is possible. I suppose they could send for help—which would be a tremendous loss of face. As their systems progressively degrade, some of those options disappear, of course.”

“Any likely option?” Riddell asked.

“No, Sergeant. I’m planning to discover more. Keep an eye on the bridge for me, while I head to my cabin. I’ve some work to do.”

“Yes, sir.”

Steg was stressed. He imagined everyone else on board the shuttle was in a similar status, except, perhaps, his dealing with the Xesset added another level. At least, in his opinion. He decided to stop feeling sorry for himself and lay on his bunk, preparing to communicate with the Xesset admiral. Just as he had done before when he contacted the Xesset starship trying to attack
Djamu
, he rehearsed the language structure he should use when addressing the admiral. He had identified the names of the ship and the admiral when he released the virus. Now he needed to link to the admiral.