The Valhalla Call (Warrior's Wings) (23 page)

“Ah.” Parath considered that. “Very well, triple the guards on all of these…marines.”

“We’ve already doubled them, Master, I’ll add the extra shifts immediately.”

Parath smiled slightly, looking out at the stars. “Excellent work. Now, bring me a full translator package and one of the officers.”

“Yes, Master.”

Parath supposed that it was time to get some useful intelligence on these people, though it would be a long and dirty job. Without far better information on their physiological makeup, not to mention their mental capacity and design, it would be a drudging task indeed. Luckily, they had time. The main fleet was still several fractionals out, and while the assignment was time sensitive, it was mostly only so in that they complete their task before the Ross finish their own.

That was good, because proper interrogations could not be rushed.

*****

Commander Diane Riggs cursed as she was dragged through the corridors, heading for the admiral’s flag deck as best she could tell. She struggled a little, mostly because that’s what she figured her captors would be expecting, but what she was really focused on was the enemy presence on the Terra.

There were quite a few of them visible, guards mostly. The tall blue ones seemed to be in command, while the more squat and powerful grey ones were clearly their version of Marines. The blue ones didn’t carry any visible weapons, something she considered abominably stupid given that they were on an enemy ship, even if it was a captured one, but every grey one she’d seen was armed.

Except the two dragging me through the ship. Smart.

They’d handed their weapons off to the others of her escort party before they grabbed her from the room with the captain and the others. They were disciplined, strong, and clearly trained well. That made them dangerous, but her interest at the moment wasn’t in them. She was trying to memorize everything she could about the taller, blue-skinned beings.

They had what she’d have to call an ethereal quality about them, a hint of otherworldly qualities that the grey aliens just couldn’t match. Where the greys—the Charlies, she supposed— moved with precision, the blues almost seemed to float between steps. Either they had some very interesting physiology, or they had an impressive strength to weight ratio and a feather-light stance.

The two greys half dragging her slung her into the admiral’s flag observation deck, letting her sprawl to the deck in front of a blue. She sized him up from the corner of her eye for a moment before moving. He was as tall as any of them, but while the others were probably officers, there was no doubt in her mind that this one was in command.

Captain, then. Admiral, maybe, or just one arrogant prick of a commander,
she thought humorously as she climbed to her feet, her hands shackled in front of her, and turned to face him.

“You have built a very impressive star ship here,” he told her in nearly flawless English, the only fault she could detect being that it was too precisely delivered.

Still, it was enough for her to gape at him in shock.

He ignored her obvious surprise, gesturing below their feet where the transluminum deck opened up on deep space and the running lights of the Terra herself. The length of the ship ran below them, falling away for hundreds of meters, and you could just make out the gravetics bulge in the distance. It was, she knew, an inspiring view, but it didn’t hold her focus in the slightest this time.

“Few of our ships are built with such places,” he told her simply. “It is perhaps a sad thing. I find myself truly in love with this concept. It is a grand place from which to command.”

“You speak English,” she stammered out, still boggled by the fact.

“Yes. It is a recently acquired talent,” he told her, turning his focus back to her. “Now, we have much to discuss.”

“I’m not telling you a damned thing.”

He laughed, or she thought that was what it was. It was almost a chirping sound, but it had a cadence that felt like laughter, and he didn’t seem pissed.

“I have little need of your secrets, those we will learn in time. The longer our conflict goes on, the more secrets will spill, from both sides. That is the way of war,” he told her when he’d stopped. “No, this is to be a…friendly chat, yes? I am Master of Ships Parath.”

She considered for a few seconds. “Commander Diane Riggs.”

“See? A most friendly chat,” Parath told her with what she thought was a smile. It was hard to tell; his mouth was small, hidden under a beaked nose that seemed to be bone or something hard. “Let us discuss something safe, yes, Commander? I understand that your world is quite beautiful, some of your crew spoke of oceans. My world has very little water above the surface, but our mountains have few peers in the Allied Worlds.”

Diane blinked, considering his words. She knew what he was doing, recognized the technique. It was one of the more effective interrogation methods one could employ, more so because even if you knew it was being used there was little you could do to counter it.

Under torture you could lie, make up whatever you wanted. Torturers weren’t going to stop even if you told them what they wanted to know, they enjoyed their job too much. That was what made enhanced interrogation useless except as entertainment for the less savory members of a given organization. If you wanted real information, you took your time, you got friendly with the target, you
chatted
.

Stockholm Syndrome would come into play in your favor, as well as other psychological factors. A human, at least, could only maintain a false persona for so long. Eventually the brain just got tired of it and the defenses would come down, mistakes would be made. Things of importance would slip.

There was a truism in military an intelligence circles. It went: Everyone breaks sooner or later. Most people thought that meant under torture, but no. You could hold out under torture indefinitely—it had been done before and would be again. You couldn’t hold out under a good and patient interrogator, however. It actually was a psychological fact. Resisting torture was easy; keeping your mental defenses up constantly was patently impossible.

How long does SOLCOM need?
she thought quickly, trying to work out just what she could say and do to push the timeframe back as far as she could.

Diane licked her lips slowly, thinking about each word before she spoke. She would not be able to keep that up for long, but she’d do so as long as she could.

Parath, for his part, had silently waited while she struggled with her thoughts. He probably knew everything she was thinking, she realized suddenly. If he were a good interrogator, he’d recognize her delaying for what it was.

Of course, it worked both ways. The interrogator was under almost the same stress as the subject. He, too, had to be on his guard, watching and considering everything he was saying, and he, too, could only hold that up just so long. That mattered less, since there was a hard limit on what she could do with the intelligence he let slip. Also, she wouldn’t have access to recordings as he would, but it was still something she could use to her advantage. She already knew one thing: If he was using this tactic on her, then the aliens’ minds worked very similar to humans. Very similar indeed.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “We have large oceans.”

“Marvelous,” he said, settling back in the admiral’s chair. It was a little small for his height, and large for his body type, but he made it look comfortable as well. “I’ve often thought about commanding a ship at sea. It seems like a very different task than one in space.”

“Probably,” she answered, this time electing not to offer up anything as she tried to work out what he was angling for, all the while knowing that she was playing into the technique just by trying to figure it out.

“Yes, an ocean command would be fascinating. We developed air ships before anyone even thought of something that floated on water,” Parath went on, as if he were simply chatting without a care in the world. “My ancestors harvested hydrogen from several species of floating flora and fauna on my world, using it to fly before we developed fire.”

He chuckled, “Between us, I’m quite certain that the development of fire was met with dismay in many corners.”

She smiled weakly, committing it to memory. Whether it were true or not didn’t matter, it was information and she needed, all that she could get.

“You must have a very different history than ours,” she offered up. “I admit, I would enjoy comparing them sometime, when things are more…calm between our people.”

“Indeed, that would be of great interest,” Parath agreed. “In time. For now, safe topics, yes?”

Diane sighed, repressing the urge to smile at him.

It was going to be a long, long discussion. She determined herself to try and keep her guard up as long as she could. She didn’t know what they might be looking for, but the longer she could keep from letting anything slip, the better it would be for SOLCOM.

In the back of her mind, she supposed it was probably futile. He had a whole ship of people to talk to, and if he and his people were as patient and as good as she was reading into the situation, they’d get what they were after. Few members of SOLCOM were as trained in counter-intelligence as she was. It wasn’t an in-demand field of study in the current climate.

I think that is about to change.

*****

Unnamed World

Ton dropped down from the rock cropping he’d just climbed over, landing easily on the edge of the river delta, and walked toward the five figures standing there.

“Is this everyone?” he asked, tone moderately concerned.

“So far, boss,” Crow said from where he was sitting by the river bank.

“Damn. You guys count the secondary flashes?”

“I got three,” Crow put in.

Korman looked over. “Five.”

“Four.” Merkur shrugged.

“I only noticed two,” Ton sighed. “I was hoping that meant good things.”

Scott Merkur chuckled dryly. “You know what hope did, boss.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Ton shook his head. “We’ve got a couple hours to dawn. We’ll give the others that long before we head out. Grab some shut eye, I’ll stand watch.”

Ton jumped back up the twenty-foot height to the outcropping he’d just hopped off and adjusted his adaptive armor to a smoked grey that matched the color of the rock he was perched on.

Two hours, then I add a few more MIAs to the men I’ve commanded.

He pushed that thought firmly from the front of his mind, focusing on the watch while his remaining men took the time to rest. The powered armor could keep you supported and on your feet for days, but it was still hard to sleep standing up.

A couple hours on your back could change the way you saw the world after you’d been on your feet for days. He knew that from experience, both good and bad.

While keeping watch he called up the mission plans for review, one eye literally on the map while the other watched the forest around them. They’d now made the primary rendezvous point, the next step was the final approach and then the actual assault. Shorthanded as they were, it would be tricky, but they were still mission-viable.

The Valve itself was a primary target, but not the real target. Ton hadn’t had a mission spec quite like this in a long time. Usually he was fighting on the side that had the power advantage and it was his enemy that was hitting all around him, trying to bleed off his forces, making him tired and worn down. Now here he was doing it to someone else.

Funny how the universe worked.

Must be true, after all. No matter how big you are, there’s someone out there ready, willing, and able to cut you down to size and teach you the meaning of humility.

USV
Legendary

Outer Hayden System

Nadine Brooke stood in the center of the observation and command deck, deep space surrounding her on all sides and below her feet. Task Force Five, Valkyrie, was arrayed around her and she found the feeling of being in space beside them to be more than a little empowering.

“Give me an update on the jump point status,” she demanded.

“We can’t get anything from this side of the point, ma’am, everything reads as normal.”

Brooke grimaced. She wished that there had been more intelligence available on the gravity pulse devices. She’d read the briefing on them and knew that they were supposed to be able to temporarily distort space-time, rendering the proper operation of a jump gate practically impossible. What she didn’t know, however, was manifold.

What happens if we jump into a region of warped space?

That was the question, something she wanted an answer to. She could initiate a jump from this side, but what would happen to the ships when they arrived at the other end? A rough landing, she’d expect at least. But there was rough, and then there was
rough
.

Brooke sighed, shaking her head. “We’ll have to do it the long way, then.”

That was going to take time, however—days at least, and maybe weeks. They’d be tracing the route that TF-7 had already taken, doing work someone else had already done, which was no way to get ahead of the game.

“Put up the local chart,” Brooke said suddenly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The chart lit up the 3D display, a block of clear material that could be made to fluoresce under intersecting laser lights. It served as a star map she around which could walk and get a better concept of the relationships between stars.

She stared at the chart for a long moment, then flicked out a finger and highlighted a star.

“Query the computer and every trained navigator onboard. I want to know if we can make that system from here.”

“Admiral, ma’am, that’s almost half a light year out of range.”

“Tell everyone to recalculate range based on the fourth-generation software.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Brooke stared at the highlighted point for a long moment then turned back to the distant running lights of her new Valkyrie squadron.