Faith Page 15

  Foord yawned and settled deeper into his contour chair. “Status reports, please.”

  Joser hit the alarms. “Commander, an unidentified ship has just entered the Gulf.”

  3

  “Battle stations, please,” Foord murmured.

  Darkness grew like fur on the Bridge. The main lights dimmed, leaving only the glow from the consoles and from the stars on the circular Bridge screen. Seats extended to full harness configuration. Alarms sounded politely through the ship’s inhabited burrows.

  “Thahl, please request the intruder to make identification.”

  A tall beaker of amber fluid—a sleep and defecation inhibitor—had appeared in Foord’s chairarm dispenser. He sipped it thoughtfully.

  “Well?”

  “No reply, Commander.”

  “Keep trying, will you? Joser, position of intruder, please.”

  “12-19-14, Commander. Behind us, coming from the direction of Sakhra.”

  “Thank you. Kaang, please turn us to face that reference. Then hold.”

  There was a muffled bump, which just failed to ripple the fluid in the beaker which Foord had left balanced on his chairarm, as the photon drive shut down and the gravity compensators cut in. Other compensators swept the screen invisibly, turning the starfield from an analogue to a real image.

  “Joser?”

  “Preliminary readouts indicate that the intruder is a Class 097 cruiser of Horus Fleet, Commander. A visual will follow shortly.”

  The Charles Manson turned, manoeuvre jets playing like fountains from the outlets grouped round the nose, midsection and rear of its hull, Kaang first activating jets for the turn and then others to counter it, and others to counter those, and so on; normally an operation left to computers, but Kaang did it manually for greater speed. The starfield stretched around the circular screen as if it was a tight skin inside which the Bridge rotated. The ship came to rest.

  “Joser, you’re sure that’s a Horus Fleet ship?”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “Sure enough to attack it if you were Her?”

  Joser blinked at the strangeness of the question, but said “Yes, Commander. I’m now getting detailed readouts which are quite definite. And the visual is coming up now.”

  “Thank you. Superimpose it when it’s ready, please. Thahl?”

  “Still no reply to our requests for identification, Commander.”

  “Then get Horus Fleet Directorate at Sakhra, please.”

  “I’ve already done so, Commander. They absolutely deny ordering any ship to shadow us.”

  “Then please get me Director Swann personally.”

  “Here’s your visual, Commander.”

  From a widening point dead ahead, the imaginary skin round the circumference of the Bridge screen was ruptured and a locally-magnified image slapped against it, like a plaster over a wound. The visual was so good that for a moment the details were more prominent than the whole: silvered overlapping hull plates, rings of manoeuvre drive blisters like plague scars, oxidation streaks, and, clearest of all, Horus Fleet insignia and identification markings. The ship was large and heavily built and looked close enough for collision.

  “When we stopped and turned,” Joser said, “it switched down from photon to ion drive. It’s approaching us very slowly, at about five percent. And it’s on battle stations.”

  “Yes,” Foord said. He noted the hooded viewports like eyeslits in a perhaps-empty suit of armour, and the weapon ports housing extended nozzles which tracked back and forth.

  “Commander,” Thahl said, “I have Director Swann.”

  “Thank you. Put him through, please.”

  Silence.

  “Has something gone wrong, Thahl?”

  “I’m sorry, Commander. Director Swann just cut the channel.”

  “Position of intruder is 12-18-14 and closing slowly,” Joser said.

  “Cut the channel? I don’t understand.”

  “I told him you needed to speak urgently. He said ‘Later’, and cut the channel.”

  Foord smiled faintly.

  “Commander,” Cyr spoke for the first time, “we’re still at battle stations.”

  “And?”

  “And I have no orders. I’d like to ask if you intend to…”

  “If I intend to attack that ship?”

  “Our orders were quite explicit, Commander.”

  “Yes, I got a copy of them. I know what may have to be done.”

  “Commander,” Joser began, “for the record I must…”

  “No, for the record you mustn’t. Please confine yourself to readouts of the intruder’s position. Can I have the latest one?”

  “12-17-14 and closing slowly.”

  “Thank you. Thahl?”

  “Still no reply, Commander. From the intruder, or Director Swann.”

  “Get me the Director’s chief of staff, please. Tell him I have a message.”

  “Intruder is now 11-17-14 and…Commander, he’s decelerating!”

  Foord glanced up at the screen. Manoeuvre jets were blazing in sequence from the front of the ship like a visible scale played up and down organ pipes. Scanners and weapons peered ahead from the dark semicircular recesses of their housings. The Bridge screen, before it was asked, patched in a view from another angle, showing the name and Fleet ident, SABLE 097 CX 141, bulging over the corrugations of its flanks. The ship came to rest.

  “Kaang, please take us forward slowly on ion drive, no more than five percent. Thahl?”

  “I have Director Swann’s chief of staff, Commander.”

  “Oh, and Cyr: no further orders for now. Thank you, Thahl. Put him through on sound only; visual won’t be necessary.”

  “Commander Foord? I’m not getting your…”

  “Forgive me. You’re Director Swann’s chief of staff?”

  “I am. Commander, I’m not getting your visual.”

  “But you can hear me clearly?”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “Then please give the Director this message. Tell him that it appears that the Sable, a Class 097 cruiser of Horus Fleet, number CX 141, has disobeyed orders and shadowed us into the battle area. Emphasize the word Appears. Tell him I have orders to engage and destroy an unidentified ship whose specification—are you recording all this?”

  “Every word. Please go on, Commander.”

  “An unidentified ship whose specification is largely unknown, but whose documented abilities include evading and confusing scanners.” He glanced briefly at Joser as he said this. “Horus Fleet has been recalled to defensive positions around Sakhra, and my orders entitle me to rely on Horus Fleet to ensure that I engage that ship alone.”

  “Commander, we’ve already received an enquiry from one of your officers on this matter. I assure you we’re treating it with the utmost urgency. If any ship has broken formation it will be ordered back and if necessary brought back by force.”

  “I think,” Foord said, “that you may have misunderstood. Let me complete the message, and then I’ll leave it to you to pass it to the Director. This unidentified ship—I’ll use the name Faith, most people do now—can evade and confuse scanners. My orders entitle me to rely on Horus Fleet to ensure that I engage Her alone. The ship shadowing us has repeatedly failed to identify itself. Please tell the Director that I must assume this ship is Faith, and that somehow She’s contrived to appear on our scanners as a Horus Fleet ship. I’m therefore going to engage and destroy Her.”

  “Commander,” Joser said quietly, “I must tell you on the record that I have detailed readouts on that ship, and it’s definitely a Class 097. Drive emissions, dimensions, mass, they can’t be faked.”

  Foord appeared not to have heard, though in the sudden silence on the Bridge that was quite impossible.

  “Thahl, you’ve continued to request identification?”

  “Yes, Commander. No reply.”

  “Continue sending, right up to the moment we open fire.”

  “
Commander,” Joser persisted. “It would be…”

  “Don’t!” Cyr snapped, before Foord could answer, “Don’t say it would be murder!”

  “Thank you, Cyr, that’s enough,” Foord said.

  But for Cyr, it wasn’t. “Unsolicited comments,” she hissed at Joser, “from unproven Bridge officers, are not helpful.”

  “Thank you, Cyr, that’s enough.”

  “Commander,” Thahl said, “I have Director Swann.”

  4

  “Commander Foord.”

  “Director Swann.”

  “This conversation is long overdue.”

  “It’s overdue; don’t expect it to be long.”

  “I’ve been handed a message from you.” On the screen, Swann looked like a badly-drawn cartoon of Foord. He too came from a heavy gravity planet, and had the same large frame and the same dark hair and beard; but his frame was less toned, and his hair and beard less well groomed, than Foord’s. “Let me make sure I understand you. You’re about to destroy a Class 097 cruiser of Horus Fleet. Is that correct?”

  “Position of intruder,” Joser said, “is 11-17-14 and holding.”

  Foord glanced at the magnified section of the circular Bridge screen. The large silver ship remained at rest, the only movement coming from the nozzles in its weapons ports and scanner housings which tracked side to side, side to side, much as an underwater current might move the minor appendages of something long since drowned.

  “I’m about to engage a ship which I have to believe is Faith,” Foord said.

  “Have to believe?”

  “I’m at war with everything in the system not in the immediate vicinity of Sakhra, where my orders tell me I can assume it belongs to you. And I’m at war with anything which follows me into the Gulf and fails to identify itself.”

  “You attack that ship, Commander, and you’re at war with Horus Fleet.”

  “We both know that isn’t true.” But if it was, we’d probably win.

  “Commander, listen to me.”

  “Holding on ion drive at five percent, Commander. Shall I continue?”

  “Thank you, Kaang, yes.”

  “Commander, listen to me. The Sable shadowed you without my knowledge and in defiance of my orders. I now know what made its Captain commit this error. It’ll be the last error of his career, but it is just an error. The Sable has a crew of ninety. It’s only an 097. It wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”

  “Not if it’s really an 097. But why hasn’t it identified itself?”

  “Stop this, Foord! That’s a real ship with real people. I can prove it to you, I have documented evidence that the Sable joined the cordon and then broke formation and followed you.”

  “Not enough. She could have heard all that when She monitored your comms, and decided to appear as the Sable.” Foord knew this was almost inhumanly unreasonable, but it was how Swann would expect him to behave. Perversely, he was enjoying it.

  “Commander, please listen to me. The Captain of the Sable has been under strain recently. He broke the cordon because…”

  “You’re making my point. I don’t need to know his motives, but if She became aware of them through monitoring your comms, that’s another reason to doubt whether that ship is any ship of yours.”

  “Commander, if that’s Her out there and not the Sable, why hasn’t She already attacked you?”

  “If She always attacked when people like you expected Her to, I wouldn’t have been sent here.”

  It continued. The more desperate Swann’s voice got, the more even Foord’s stayed. The more disshevelled Swann looked, the more poised Foord appeared. They were both acutely aware of the contrast.

  “Still no reply to requests for identification,” Thahl said. “Shall I continue sending?”

  “Yes, I think so, though it seems pointless…I’m sorry, Director, but it also seems pointless continuing this conversation.”

  “Then let us try ordering the Sable to identify itself to you.”

  “You mean you haven’t already?”

  “Let me try. Personally. I’ll order its Captain to call you now.”

  “Not enough. It could still be Her.”

  “Then we’ll send out two or three ships of our own to bring it back. On tractor beams if necessary.”

  “Not enough. They could be two or three of Her. Anything in Horus system, not in the cordon, I’m at war with.”

  Swann played his final card.

  “If the Sable doesn’t identify itself, I could send out two or three ships….”

  “You already said that.”

  “…to destroy it, Commander.”

  “Not enough. I can do that myself. Director, I want you to treat us how you want to treat us, like we’re infected. I want you to leave us so alone that we can assume anything else we meet is hostile. If any ship of yours leaves the cordon, it’s hostile.”

  “Then you are at war with us.”

  “Orders, Director.”

  “If I had your orders I would…”

  “Have you ever in your life had orders like mine?”

  “I’ve never in my life had to deal with anyone like you, Commander. Whatever I thought about your ship coming here, I still offered you courtesy and hospitality and you ignored it. I arranged receptions to welcome you and your crew. I gave your ship’s refit total priority. I gave you assistance to return to your ship. I even made sure that the unspeakable events on your last day here didn’t stop your liftoff. So please, tell me what will stop you destroying the Sable.”

  “Nothing, Director. I can’t and won’t stop.”

  “Commander!” Joser said. “Scanners have just registered an emergence at Horus 5.”

  “Do you have detailed readouts?”

  “Yes, Commander. It’s Her.”

  5

  “Yes, Director,” Foord said, “you did hear me correctly. I said we’ve detected an emergence at Horus 5. I said our first readouts indicate a ship matching the known specification of Faith. And I said I refuse to move.”

  “You have orders,” roared Swann, “and I demand you obey them!”

  “I have orders to engage Her alone. I’ve now got two unidentified ships, one at Horus 5 and one here in the Gulf.”

  “Then fuck off, and engage Her alone, and I’ll see to it that the Sable doesn’t follow you.”

  “I can see to that myself. What’s the difference?”

  “Ninety lives, if that is the Sable, which you now know it is. Come on, Foord. She’s arrived. She’s here waiting for you, like you always wanted. Somewhere down here we’ve probably picked Her up too, and they’re probably checking and rechecking before they tell me. And then there’s the cordon to complete, which was held up so you could leave Blentport, and the evacuation into the lowlands, and the civil chaos when the news breaks that She’s here, which is something you couldn’t begin to imagine because you don’t spend much time among real people, do you?”

  “What’s the point you’re trying to make?” Foord said, adopting a tone of puzzlement. He was beginning to overdo it, he thought.

  “A moment, please.” Swann’s face turned to one side, where someone off screen was whispering to him.

  Foord too turned away from the screen. “Positions, please,” he asked Joser.

  “The Sable, I mean the first intruder, is 11-17-14 and holding. The second intruder is 99-98-96 and holding. Readouts on the second intruder conform to Faith’s known profile; heavily shrouded on all wavelengths.”

  “Foord,” Swann resumed, “that was the expected message, and our readouts match yours. So stop talking about unidentified ships. That ship at Horus 5 is Faith, and that ship which shadowed you into the Gulf is a Horus Fleet ship!”

  Foord glanced at Joser, who nodded vigorously.

  “Then I’m about to order the destruction of a Horus Fleet ship. I will not engage Her until I know for certain that I’m engaging Her alone.”

  “When this is over, Foord”—Swann’s voice had
lost its desperation; now it was oddly calm—“when this is over I’ll make sure that whatever’s left of the Commonwealth knows what you did, and disowns you.”

  “It’s already disowned us.”

  “Commander. Please. My last try. Give me two minutes to contact the Captain of the Sable, and I’ll make it go away. Two minutes, Commander.”

  “You have as long as it takes me to give the order. But I’ll speak slowly.”

  6

  The Bridge was silent as they watched the big silver ship on the magnified section of the screen, in an effort to confirm visually what the scanners had already told them. Slowly, gradually, it happened. One by one the weapons nozzles ceased tracking and retracted into their housings; a dull red aura spread from the stern as the ion drive restarted at low intensity; manoeuvre jets flared and fountained in shifting combinations; and then, quite deliberately, and with the same lack of communication which had characterised its first appearance, the Sable turned away.

  Not once, thought Foord, did it make any contact with us. Not even now.

  On the Bridge, banks of subdued red warning lights continued to glow at every console. Alarms continued to murmur at discreet intervals.

  “Position of Sable…” began Joser, then stopped as Foord glanced up at him sharply. “…of first intruder, is still 11-17-14, but the turn will register shortly. And…”

  “Excuse me. Thahl?”

  “No call yet, Commander.”

  “Thank you. Please keep us at battle stations. Joser?”

  “Position of second intruder is still 99-98-96 and holding. No detectable movement or activity on any waveband.”

  The ship on the screen continued to turn away. Now it was almost sideways on, repeating the view the screen had patched in earlier. Like before, SABLE 097 CX 141 bulged over the long contours of its flanks. Class 097s were heavy cruisers. The Sable was bigger than the Charles Manson, but much less powerful; like Foord against Thahl, it wouldn’t have lasted ten seconds.

  “Commander,” Thahl said, “I have a call from Director Swann.”

  “Thank you. Put him through, please.”

  “Well, Commander Foord.”

  “Well, Director Swann.”

  “As you can see, the Sable is leaving the Gulf. When can I expect you to do the same, in the opposite direction?”