And if they’d been united against us, he thought morbidly, they would probably have won the war by now.
“Admiral,” he said, formally. “It looks as though we can enter the system.”
“It does,” Admiral Smith said. There didn’t seem to be anyone waiting in ambush. “Take us through the tramline.”
“All ahead full,” James ordered. “Take us into the system.”
He braced himself, instinctively, as the carrier slid towards the tramline and vanished from the barren system, only to reappear, nanoseconds later, in the alien system. The display flickered, then lit up with the live feed from the starship’s passive sensors. If anything, the frigate’s preliminary scans had underestimated the sheer size and power of the alien system.
“I’m picking up cloudscoops, mining stations, industrial nodes…” Farley’s voice trailed off. “Sir, if my observations are accurate, this system has a considerably greater industrial potential than Earth.”
James sucked in his breath sharply. Earth’s high orbitals had been colonised for over two hundred years, allowing humanity to move its industrial base from the surface of its homeworld to orbit. And then there were the settlements on the moon and the outer planets, the mining stations in the asteroids and the gas giants, the countless installations built by the spacefaring nations… all of the economic predictions suggested that Earth would be the centre of the human sphere for hundreds of years to come. None of the settled worlds had anything like the same level of industry.
But the alien system was clearly older and far better developed.
He eyed the display, thoughtfully. “Is this their actual homeworld?”
“…Unknown,” Farley said. “One of the worlds is definitely within the life-bearing zone, and it is clearly heavily industrialised, but there’s no way to tell if it’s their actual homeworld.”
He paused. “It may be settled by multiple factions, though,” he added. “The analysts will have to check, sir, but I think their industrial base is actually quite inefficient for its size.”
James frowned, stroking his chin. The same could be said of Earth’s industrial base. Twenty-two nations, of varying size and power, had established industrial nodes, mining stations and other off-world facilities. Even with the threat of interstellar war against a ruthless alien race, few nations had been willing to combine their industrial bases with those of their rivals. But then, the duplication of facilities had probably worked out in humanity’s favour, in the long run. They weren’t completely without a vitally important facility.
But if the aliens were showing the same pattern… did it mean that the system was ruled by a collective of factions, rather than just one? Or were they completely misinterpreting the data? There was no way to know.
“Keep monitoring the system,” he ordered, finally. “Can you pick up any defensive installations?”
“No, sir,” Farley said. “There’s a number of starships passing through the system, without trying to hide themselves, but I can’t get accurate data at this distance.”
“True,” James agreed. They were over twenty light minutes from the life-bearing world. The data they picked up would be out of date by the time they received it. “Inform me the moment anything changes.”
“We could launch probes,” Farley offered. “A ballistic probe would be almost completely undetectable.”
James hesitated. It was a tempting thought; they needed tactical data, particularly if they had to attack the system at a later date. But he knew the aliens might take it badly if they detected the probe — and he’d learned the hard way not to take anything for granted where alien technology was concerned. They might get lucky, after all, and it would be potentially disastrous.
It was easier sneaking up on Target One, he thought. There, we knew we were going to hit the system. Now…
“No,” he said, out loud. “Passive sensors only.”
He paused. “And our shadow?”
“Still with us,” Farley said. “They came through the tramline just after we made transit. I don’t think they changed course and speed at all.”
“Keep an eye on him too,” James ordered. He settled back in his command chair, forcing himself to relax. “And tell the CAG that two starfighter squadrons can stand down. The remainder are to remain on alert.”
“Aye, sir,” Farley said.
Ted had rarely been intimidated in his life. As a young officer, he’d been too stupid to be intimidated; as an older drunkard, he’d been too drunk to be intimidated. But he felt intimidated, more than he cared to admit, as the alien system slowly revealed its secrets. It was growing alarmingly clear that the aliens had a far greater industrial base than humanity had realised.
Then they should have been able to deploy a much larger fleet, he thought, slowly. Did they only start building up a military after they encountered us at Heinlein?
But it didn’t seem too likely. The Royal Navy — and the other spacefaring navies — had spent near two hundred years learning what worked and didn’t work when it came to interstellar war. There had been no shortage of mistakes over the years, as well as ideas that had come before or after their time. Ark Royal herself was an example of an idea that hadn’t quite worked out quickly enough to suit the planners. He found it impossible to believe that the aliens had only started to build their military machine after Heinlein. A fleet as large as the one humanity had observed would take decades to build.
We built up a war fleet too, he thought, remembering his history lessons. Early concepts of the demilitarisation of space hadn’t lasted, not when there was something in orbit worth protecting. Early tin-can spacecraft had given way to larger, more powerful starships, with each spacefaring power seeking ways to outdo its rivals. Then they’d produced starfighters and carriers and fast frigates… there had been no real way to halt the development of military starships. No spacefaring power would consider calling a halt when their rivals would take advantage of the opportunity to leap ahead of them.
And yet, there had been no real threat…
The thought bothered him. Had the aliens believed that there would be a threat, one day? The diplomats had asked and the aliens had claimed that humanity was the first intelligent race they had encountered, but it was hard to be sure. They might be lying — or there might be a translation problem. But would they have built up all the firepower they’d used against humanity if they hadn’t seen a need for it?
Perhaps they were fighting each other, he thought, dryly. Humans didn’t know about aliens until Vera Cruz and we still built up a shitload of firepower.
“Admiral,” Janelle said, “we’re picking up a signal from the alien ship. They’re requesting we approach the life-bearing world and enter high orbit. They actually sent very detailed diagrams.”
Ted wasn’t surprised. If he’d been in charge of planetary security, he would have been very reluctant to allow a warship like Ark Royal anywhere near the planet without making damn sure she was harmless. And none of the aliens would ever mistake Ark Royal for harmless.
“Follow their instructions,” he said. “And watch for any signs of trouble.”
But the closer they came to the planet, he knew, the more damage they could do if the aliens decided to turn hostile. He could fire missiles towards the planet — or mass driver projectiles, inflicting horrendous damage. Even without the bioweapon, he could make the aliens pay an immense price for any treachery. And yet… he knew losing the Old Lady would be disastrous for humanity. Ark Royal had come to symbolise humanity’s only hope of victory.