Storming Heaven (4 page)

The Administrator looked like a young man, but appearances were deceptive; Paula knew from his biography that he was over three hundred years old, an early recipient of regeneration therapies.  Humanity could now live longer than ever before without going into the MassMind, or becoming a Spacer and losing most of their humanity.  He had light brown skin, hints of stubble on his chin and a faint smile on his mouth.  His eyes focused on her sharply, suggesting that he’d been communing with the MassMind and only just come out of contact to talk to her.  She supposed that she should have been flattered.  The people who believed that her experiments should not go ahead lived in the MassMind.

“Paula,” Arun said.  A chair flowed out of the floor and took shape in front of her.  “Have a seat.  We have some things to discuss.”

Disciplinary matters, surely
, Paula thought, as she sat down.  The chair moved slightly under her, conforming to the shape of her body. 
They probably know that I urged the Defence Force to consider the experiments even without the consent of the MassMind.

“You’re not actually in trouble,” Arun said.  He’d probably seen her thoughts written over her face.  Contacting the Defence Force directly had been a risk, but there’d been no choice, damn it!  “You have, however, marked yourself out as a person suitable for an immensely dangerous mission.  The Defence Force intends to capture a Killer starship.”

Paula felt her eyes go wide.  She had seen countless entertainments where the Technical Faction, or a single isolated mad scientist, made a breakthrough that allowed Killer starships to be blown out of space with a single hit, but none of them had been real.  She had learned to hate them rapidly; she hated them and the humans who wasted their lives dreaming of easy victories and an end to humanity’s long torment.  They were nothing more than illusions.

“Seriously?”  She asked, finally.  “Why…?”

“You don’t need to know,” Arun said, holding up a hand.  “The important detail is that it might not be possible to actually capture the ship, even if they do manage to board it, and if that’s the case we may lose the entire attack fleet.  They want someone along who has an understanding of gravity technology and…well; you’re the best we have who is still mortal.”

Paula nodded, slightly dazed.  Everyone else was in the MassMind.  “I can’t promise you anything, but incredible danger,” Arun added.  “You might be killed outright, or trapped on a Killer starship as it opens a wormhole to escape, or…we may never be able to transcribe you into the MassMind.  Do you want the position?”

She touched the side of her head.  There was a chip in there that recorded everything that made her herself; her thoughts, her personality, even her deepest darkest secrets.  She rarely thought about it, but if she were to be killed, the chip would be uploaded into the MassMind and she would live again.  The thought of losing that immortality was terrifying, yet if she went, she would be the first Technical to set foot on a Killer starship.  How could she refuse?

“Of course,” she said.  “Where do I go to sign up?”

“There’s a shuttle waiting for you now to transport you to Sparta,” Arun said.  “The Admiral and his men will brief you there.  Listen carefully to them.  I don’t want them refusing other requests because you annoyed them, or acted dangerously.  And Paula?”

Paula looked back at him.  “Yes, sir?”

“Good luck,” Arun said.  “You’re going to need it.”

Chapter Four

Sparta Asteroid was nothing remarkable, from the outside; a simple piece of rock floating in an endless free orbit around a dull red star.  On the inside, it was very different.  It served as one of the main hubs for the Defence Force and held part of the command staff.  The Defence Force was very decentralised – no one had any illusions as to how long Sparta would survive a Killer attack – but if anywhere could be said to be the headquarters, it was Sparta.

Captain Andrew Ramage walked through the asteroid, barely aware of the security probes that checked and rechecked his identity.  It had been years since he had served a team as a dispatcher on Sparta and it was rare for any Defence Force officer to be recalled to the headquarters unless he or she had an absolutely pressing reason to be there.  Rumours had been flying around the various communications networks for weeks now, but nothing concrete had been said, not when the Killers might eavesdrop on the Defence Force’s communications links.  Andrew privately doubted that they could – hacking into a network bound together by quantum entanglements was supposed to be impossible – or that they would, but no one questioned the requirement.  The Killers weren't the only enemy out there; there were human foes as well.

The Community, by its very nature, counted hundreds of thousands of different types of society, scattered across the stars.  Andrew had seen asteroids that worked by a form of pure communism, asteroids that practiced free enterprise and universal franchise, systems based on aristocracy and meritocracy and everything else.  It never ceased to astonish him how many different systems humanity could invent to govern themselves, or how often they could come to blows over political questions.  The Defence Force didn’t have the muscle to reform all of the unpleasant governments – the Community would come apart at the seams if they tried – but the Defence Force did try to keep a lid on any conflicts.  They might attract the attention of the Killers.

And then there were the hidden colonies, which didn’t recognise the authority of the Community and sought to remain in isolation, and the pirates, who preyed on human shipping with gleeful abandon.  The Anderson Drive was a great invention – Andrew would never have denied it himself – but it gave the pirates too many advantages.  They could jump in, carry out their raids, and then jump out again, escaping anyone who came in pursuit.  Andrew sometimes wondered why the pirates didn’t form a Counter-Community, but that would have destroyed their secrecy.  It was about as likely as them preying on the Killers and their massive starships.

His last mission had been against fanatical adherents of the Dreaming Meme.  The Dreamers believed that they – and they alone – should dominate the MassMind, apparently in the belief that it would one day rise to godhood and remake the entire sorry universe.  The remainder of their beliefs were so complicated that no one, short of a entire team of researchers, could make sense of them, but it hardly mattered.  The Dreamers had left hundreds of people dead in their wake and, worst of all, they had mutilated their heads.  The chip that would have given their victims immortality within the MassMind had been destroyed.  It was the ultimate horror.

Bastards
, he thought, as he stepped into the Admiral’s private office.  He’d only seen it once before, back when he’d been a dispatcher, and so lowly as to pass unnoticed by the senior officers.  The Defence Force recruited from the entire Community and was surprisingly egalitarian, but order and discipline had to be maintained.

“Captain Andrew Ramage, reporting as ordered, sir,” he said, saluting

“Captain,” Admiral Brent Roeder said.  He was a short fireplug of a man, smoking a cigar so vigorously that he looked as if he was going to chew it in half.  He was over two hundred years old and he’d been heading up the Defence Force for the last fifty of them, serving so well that no one had sought to remove him.  “Stand at ease.”

Andrew relaxed, slightly.  The only reason he could think of for the Admiral to call him to Sparta was for a special mission of some kind.  The mission against the Dreaming Meme had been a success, but that wouldn’t have called for a special reward, apart from the medal his immediate superior had pinned on his chest.  The only other reason was for disciplinary action, but he knew for a fact that he had committed no offence sufficient to be summoned before the Commander-in-Chief.

“Be seated,” Brent said, after studying him for a long moment.  Andrew took the forming chair and waited patiently for the Admiral to tell him what he was going to tell him in his own time.  “You did well against the Dreaming Meme, Captain; well enough to recommend you for a more dangerous mission.  Admiral Al-Rashid was unhappy to lose you, but I insisted on having you and your entire attack wing prepared for a special mission.”

There was a pause.  “You’re going into Killer space,” Brent said, after a moment.  “We want you to capture – or destroy – a Killer starship.”

Andrew blinked, the only sign of concern he would allow himself.  He’d seen the images of High Singapore; they’d been shown throughout the Defence Force.  The entire Defence Force could have used the Anderson Drive and railed to the defence of the asteroid settlement, but it would have been a hopeless battle.  It would have cost hundreds of starships, for nothing.  His attack wing was the most formidable force humans had assembled – he had built and trained it personally – yet they could barely scratch the paint on a Killer starship.  They would be decimated if they had to stand and fight.

Brent read his expression and smiled.  “Don’t worry,” he said.  “We’re not expecting you to take the starship down yourself.  We plan to board the ship.”

“Board the ship?”  Andrew asked.  It seemed impossible.  “Can they actually get onboard?”

“We believe so,” Brent said.  He didn’t say any more, not entirely to Andrew’s surprise.  The chip in his head would have recorded it and if his body had fallen into enemy hands…they would learn everything he knew.  The recording chips posed a security nightmare for the Defence Force, but there was little choice; if they had been banned, the recruitment stream would have dropped to almost nothing.  “There are some possible ways into the Killer starships and the Footsoldiers will attempt to use them.”

He paused.  “Once inside the ship, they will attempt to disable it and allow you to take it in tow to Star’s End,” he continued.  “Your remaining ships” – neither of them had any illusions as to how many starships would survive the coming encounter – “will take it though by linking your Anderson Drives together.  Once there, the researchers will take command and take the starship apart to find out how it works.”

Andrew scowled.  “It seems like one hell of a gamble,” he observed.  “What happens if they vanish somewhere within the Killer starship?  We don’t have any idea what they’re going to be facing.”

“You fall back and break off the engagement,” Brent said.  “If they lose contact…well, there’s no point in taking additional risks.  One of the Footsoldiers will be carrying an antimatter mine and if that baby goes off inside the ship…”

“Goodbye Killers,” Andrew said, slowly.  The plan sounded workable, but there were far too many unknowns.  Defence Force training had focused on how dangerous unknowns could be in combat.  On the other hand, there weren’t very many other choices.  If they couldn’t gain samples of Killer technology to study, the Defence Force would never be able to match the killers.

“Probably,” Brent confirmed.  Andrew nodded.  Killer starships had survived enough firepower to lay waste a hundred worlds.  They had barely even noticed that they were under attack – or perhaps they just hadn’t bothered to launch a serious counterattack.  Who knew what really motivated them?  “We’ll run through an entire series of simulations and contingency plans before the attack wing departs, but if the unexpected happens, use your initiative.  We can’t afford to lose this one, Andrew.”

“Yes, sir,” Andrew said.  The Defence Force might have been rebuilt, but its morale was fragile; they knew that they couldn’t defend humanity against its single worst enemy.  The destruction of a Killer starship, one of thousands, wouldn’t alter the material balance of power that much, but it would give the human race a massive boost.  They needed the victory desperately.  “I won’t let you down.”

“I hope so,” Brent said, standing up.  “Come and meet your team.”

***

The human race hadn’t developed much of a military presence in space – not that it would have done much good anyway – when the Killers arrived.  The legendary human armies and Special Forces – the Special Air Service, the United States Marine Corps, the
Spetsnaz
and many others – had been wiped out along with their planet, destroyed by an enemy they couldn’t touch, let alone fight.  The isolated law enforcement and paramilitary units in space had been folded into the Community, but there had never been a serious military presence.  The Community had had to build one from scratch.

They called themselves the Footsoldiers, a name that Captain Chris Kelsey had always found more than a little ironic.  The human race might have lost most of its heritage – he’d never been sure if some of the stories about Old Earth’s Special Forces were real or exaggerations – but the Footsoldiers were far from common infantry.  They were too expensive to train and maintain.  They had more in common with the Special Forces – they operated in small groups and were rarely deployed to the surface of a planet – but they wore heavy Armoured Combat Suits and carried enough firepower to take out entire armies, each.  If a platoon of armoured soldiers had been sent back in time to the heyday of Old Earth, or the Second World War, they could have conquered the world.

Provided we had our armour, of course
, Chris thought, as he took his seat in the main briefing chamber.  There were over two hundred Footsoldiers gathered together, which
was
unusual.  Normally, they operated in teams of ten to twenty Footsoldiers, rarely more. 
Without our armour, we’d probably be captured or killed outright within seconds
.

The thought reminded him of the survival training they’d done on a nameless planet along the edge of the galaxy.  The trainees had been dropped on the planet with nothing, not even their clothes, and told to make their way to the pick-up point alone.  The planet was completely uninhabited, at least by humans.  The local wildlife was nasty and intolerant, the local fauna was either disgusting or poisonous – or both – and it wasn't easy to find anything that could be used as a weapon.  Those who had survived had known that they’d been the best; those who had failed at that point had died.  It hadn’t been a pleasant experience and it had given him a new respect for the old-style soldiers back on Earth.  They’d probably gone through worse.

“Attention,” a voice said, and the Footsoldiers came to attention.  Military formality wasn't part of their nature – they’d been taught to use their brains and work together, not operate by rote – but they showed respect for officers who’d earned it.  Admiral Brent Roeder had definitely earned their respect.  “At ease.”

Chris opened a memory cell in his augments – the Footsoldiers might not quite qualify as Spacers, but they were almost as heavily augmented – and started to record as the Admiral began to speak.  The locker rooms had been full of chatter about the mission, with speculation ranging from clearing out a pirate base to rescuing hostages, although
that
wouldn’t have required two hundred Footsoldiers to handle.

“This is Killer #453,” Brent said, as the image of a Killer starship materialised above them.  Chris felt, more than heard, the angry helpless rage that flared though the audience at the sight of the massive starship.  “You’re going to board her.”

The shock that ran through the audience was greater this time.  They all knew that boarding a Killer starship meant jumping right into the unknown, yet they’d all volunteered to be Footsoldiers, knowing that one day they might be called upon to jump right into a Killer base.  The Defence Force might sneak around Killer star systems, trying to learn as much as they could, but the Footsoldiers had always known that the only way to learn would be to capture one of their systems.  It wouldn’t be easy – they knew nothing about internal defences, but the outer defences on an
Iceberg
were known to be formidable – but they were the best.  If it could be done, they could do it.

“Once you board the craft, you’ll have to proceed independently towards the main power source and put it out of commission,” the Admiral continued.  One of the few things that
were
known about the Killer starships was the location of their main power plants.  No one knew how they worked or what they looked like – which added yet another degree of risk to the mission – but they knew where they were, roughly.  “We cannot advise you on passing through the internal defences, or what kind of environment you might encounter, but we believe that there is no other way to secure control of the ship.  Do
not
lose contact with the escorting starships; we need whatever data you can retrieve from the interior.”