“Jump,” he ordered, quietly.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Disappointing, isn't it?”
Ted had to smile at Fitzwilliam’s judgement. The first alien star system — the first star system humanity had ever discovered belonging to another intelligent race — was disappointing, in one sense. It didn’t look any different from a human-occupied star system. In many ways, it reminded Ted of Vera Cruz, except the alien system was lucky enough to have a gas giant for later mining. But it was an alien world orbiting an alien star and that made all the difference.
He looked up at the display, watching as the passive sensors sucked in data from across the star system and channelled it down to the analyst section. A number of signal sources — strong signal sources — on the planet itself or in close orbit, a handful of smaller signal sources scattered across the star system and very little else. If it was a forward alien base, Ted decided, feeling an odd hint of disappointment himself, the aliens had been criminally lax about fortifying it. But another part of him was relieved for the very same reason. A fleet of alien battleships would not be a pleasant discovery, not now.
“Locate the other tramlines,” he ordered. Tramlines were largely predicable, but there were times when reality didn't follow the laws laid down by human theorists. Ted had always been amused by how shocked the scientists sounded when they realised there was something in the universe they hadn't accounted for in their models, no matter how elegant they seemed. “Where do they go?”
There was a long pause as the passive sensors measured the gravimetric flickers around the local star. “Four tramlines,” Farley said, finally. “One leading back the way we came; two heading further into unexplored space, one dogging back along the edge of human space.”
Ted found himself seriously considering taking the tramlines that led further into alien territory, then quashed the impulse ruthlessly. “Launch probes towards the alien world,” he ordered, once he was reasonably sure that they weren't about to be attacked by alien starships guarding the tramline. “And then take us towards” — he glanced at the display — “Tramline Two.”
Fitzwilliam’s voice echoed in his ear. “You don’t mean to engage the planetary defences?”
“It depends on what kind of defences there are,” Ted replied. “We will just have to wait and see.”
The thought made him scowl. He couldn't blame Fitzwilliam for wondering; they had, on the face of it, a rare chance to attack an alien-settled world and rock them back on their heels. But the sheer lack of noticeable defences was worrying him. Had the aliens only discovered humanity when they’d stumbled across Vera Cruz and attacked at once? Where they facing the equivalent of a quick-reaction force? If that was true — and he doubted it — what would they face when the enemy actually mobilised?
Or would they make a deliberate decision not to fortify Alien-One? The thought was odd — in their place, he would certainly have insisted that the sole known point of contact between human and alien was heavily fortified — but perhaps it made a certain kind of sense. We might survey the system before they were ready to meet us.
He had a sudden mental image of humanity’s territory reaching out further and further, spreading the levels of deployable military forces ever thinner as their responsibilities grew rapidly. Perhaps, sooner or later, their ability to respond to a crisis before it got out of hand would be completely lost. He shook his head, putting the thought aside for later contemplation. Now humanity knew it was no longer alone in the universe, it was unlikely that petty nationalism could be tolerated any longer.
But we have aliens to hate now, he thought, cynically. There’s no point in hating humans when we have aliens to hate.
Hours passed slowly as the display continued to fill up with data. There was an asteroid belt in the system, several worlds that could have passed for Mars or Venus… and one Earth-like world, the source of the radio signals. Analysis indicated that the world rated at least 80% Earth-like; the atmosphere was breathable, the sea water was suitable for fish from Earth… from afar, it seemed the perfect colony. The drones kept creeping closer, boring their way through space on ballistic courses, sending data back via laser link to the carrier. There was no way — yet — to get pictures of the surface, but the alien orbital facilities were all too clear.
“It looks like a transhipment hub,” Anderson said. He sounded a little disappointed too, perhaps by the sheer normality of the alien structure. It was a boxy mass that looked too like some of Ark Royal’s contemporaries for comfort. But it was necessary. Humanity’s giant colonist-carriers couldn't land on planetary surfaces; judging by the presence of the station, nor could their alien counterparts. “I don't even think its armed.”
“We have to be careful,” Fitzwilliam reminded him. “The aliens might have different ideas about arming their settlements against possible attack.”
Ted couldn't disagree. Now, with alien attack a very real possibility, even the smallest colony worlds were bolting weapons to their orbital stations. Few of them had any real chance of standing off an alien attack, even one carried out by a single starship, but there was no way they would agree to leave themselves defenceless. Just before they’d left Earth for the second time, he’d heard that stocks in companies producing war material had skyrocketed. It almost made him wish he'd taken the time to invest some of his salary in such corporations. God knew he wasn’t doing anything with it.
He shook his head, studying the display. “Is there anything else in orbit?”
“A handful of satellites, but nothing else,” the analyst said, firmly. “Unless they have a way to cloak an entire battlestation from our view.”
He paused, looking down at the live feed from the drones. “Sir,” one of the drones just got into orbit,” he said. “It found a camp on the surface. “I think it’s a POW camp.”
Ted leaned forward, alarmed. “Show me,” he ordered. “Are you sure?”
He scowled as the images appeared on the display. The settlement was encircled by solid metal walls, guarded by aliens… and, inside, there were humans. They wore nothing, but the clothes they were born in; listlessly, they wandered around the camp.
“Two hundred and forty-seven men, women and children,” the analyst said, with heavy satisfaction. “Source unknown.”
Fitzwilliam coughed. “Are there any other alien settlements on the planet?”
“Not as far as we can tell,” the analyst said. He paused. “There is a handful of buildings outside the camp’s walls, but I don't think they’re large enough to be a full-scale settlement.”
“We’re missing something,” Ted mused. The aliens had installed a transhipment hub; clearly, they'd intended to settle the world. Had they changed their minds when they’d discovered Vera Cruz or were the human observers missing something? “But what?”
Fitzwilliam spoke rapidly. “Sir,” he said, “we cannot let this opportunity go to waste. This is a rare chance to recover a number of human prisoners from alien hands!”
“I know,” Ted said, rather more tartly than he intended. “But this could easily be a trap.”
He looked down at the display, contemplatively. Fitzwilliam was right; this was a rare chance to give the aliens a bloody nose, as well as removing human prisoners from their hands. But if it was a trap… he looked over at Major Parnell’s image on the display, quirking his eyebrows. The Major nodded, accepting the challenge.