“So they brought flags for us to wave,” the Commodore said, slowly. He smiled, as if remembering something bitterly amusing. “I assume they brought humanitarian supplies too?”
“No, sir,” Yolanda said. She didn't understand his meaning. “They brought some medical gear, but most of it is specifically designed for Tokomak and would need reprogramming before anyone else could use it.”
“Never mind,” the Commodore said. “Weapons? Computer gear? Body bags?”
“They stockpiled charger packs for weapons, but few actual weapons apart from the missiles,” Yolanda said. “We didn't find any body bags, sir; do the Galactics use them?”
“Not until now,” the Commodore said. He looked up, meeting her eyes. “What do you make of the stockpile?”
Yolanda hesitated. “The analysts say ...”
“Not the analysts,” the Commodore said. “What do you make of it?”
“I think they are confident of victory,” Yolanda said. “And I think they don't know what they’re facing.”
The Commodore’s eyes never left her face. “Why?”
“Because they stockpiled weapons for attacking a planet, not a fleet,” Yolanda said. “They were barely prepared for ship-to-ship combat, even here, guarding a stockpile half the galaxy would want to steal. They’re not planning on the assumption of meeting serious resistance, sir. I think their plan is to waltz up to Earth, launch enough missiles to turn the entire planet into a radioactive wasteland, then go home.”
“Maybe,” the Commodore said. “Or they could have decided not to put all of their eggs in one basket. They’re planning to move against the Coalition, after all, and they do know the Coalition has a fleet.”
Yolanda nodded, embarrassed.
“They may feel the Coalition would surrender after the Tokomak appear in their system,” the Commodore added, “but surely they’d feel better if they had a big stick ready to enforce their words.”
“Yes, sir,” Yolanda said. If the Coalition was challenged, the Coalition might just open fire ... and discover just how ill-prepared the Tokomak were for modern war. And, at that point, the Tokomak hegemony would start to unravel. “But now ... won’t the galaxy know what we did?”
“Oh, yes,” the Commodore said. “They will know what we did. And that will blow the bloody doors right off.”
He took the datapad, then smiled at her. “Dismissed, Ensign,” he said. “I believe Commander Gregory wishes to see you.”
“Yes, sir,” Yolanda said. She would have preferred to sleep, with or without Martin, but there was no time. The crew was working overtime just to get the freighters loaded and away from Hades by the time the Tokomak responded to the attack. Even with half of the supplies being classed as useless, there were still plenty of items Earth could use buried amidst the garbage. “And thank you.”
She saluted, then walked out of the compartment and back up to Officer Country. Her implants told her that Commander Gregory was in her office, so Yolanda paused outside the hatch and pressed her hand against the scanner. A long moment passed, then the hatch opened, revealing a tired-looking Commander Gregory seated at her desk. Yolanda stepped inside, allowing the hatch to hiss closed behind her, and stood to attention.
Commander Gregory looked up. “Relax, Ensign,” she said. “You’re not in trouble.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Yolanda said.
“You did well in combat,” Commander Gregory added, after a moment. “The Captain was very pleased with you. So was the Commodore.”
Yolanda swallowed, nervously.
“You are hereby promoted to Lieutenant,” Commander Gregory said, almost casually. She picked a small box off the table and passed it to Yolanda. “You may now don the rank pips, if you wish.”
It took Yolanda a moment to realise what she’d been told. “I’m ... I’m being promoted?”
“I suppose it does sound unbelievable,” Commander Gregory said, snidely. She grinned at Yolanda’s stunned expression. “You’ve done well, both in actual combat and in ... the other tasks of managing a starship, so I had no hesitation in recommending you for promotion. You will, of course, be expected to live up to this honour, Lieutenant. I will not prove forgiving if you screw up or abuse your authority.”
She smiled again, then sobered. “The Solar Navy doesn't have many officers with actual space combat experience,” she added. “We were careful to try to avoid major conflict with any of the Galactics, apart from the Horde and other scavengers. Experienced officers like yourself are going to be worth their weight in compressed antimatter, now we’ve finally stepped onto the galactic stage. I think you will probably be transferred to another ship soon enough, once we have time for a proper reorganisation.”
“Yes, Commander,” Yolanda said.
“You won’t get a bigger cabin yet,” Commander Gregory added. “Not that anyone really has a big cabin on this ship, anyway.”
That was true, Yolanda knew. The Captain and the Commodore had enough room to swing a cat, but everyone else had a small compartment or had to double up with another officer. It was odd, given the sheer scale of the quarters available to Tokomak officers, yet she had a feeling it helped to concentrate a few minds. Besides, VR could create the illusion that one was living in a palace, with a harem of nude servants, or any other illusion one fancied. It wasn't as if an officer needed a huge compartment to himself.
“I ...”
“Just remember not to throw your weight around too much,” Commander Gregory warned, darkly. “And you still have plenty of work to do.”
“Yes, Commander,” Yolanda said.
“Take ten minutes to recover, then report to the simulation chambers,” Commander Gregory ordered. “We have some new scenarios based on their war plans, such as they were. And some interesting potential uses for pieces of alien technology.”
***
It had taken several hours of careful argument, but eventually the Marines had been able to convince most of the aliens to assist the humans in stripping the storage dump of supplies and transferring them to the captured freighters. There really wasn't much of a choice, Martin knew; the aliens had been trained to use the equipment, which was specifically designed for their physiologies. The Marines couldn't have used it without real problems, which would have delayed operations too far. But some of the Commodore’s decisions seemed to be delaying matters too.
“You have a question, Corporal?” Lieutenant Robbins asked. The breather she wore on her face made it harder for him to make out her words. “You’re hanging there as if you have something you want to say.”
Martin hesitated, then nodded. “Why are we stealing their missiles, Lieutenant?”
“Because the Commodore wants us to take them,” Robbins said, shortly. She was a good Marine, everyone agreed, but she had a tendency to be sharp when asked stupid questions – or questions she considered to be stupid. “And his orders stand.”
“But ...” Martin stepped aside to allow another missile rack to be moved to the freighters, then looked back at the Lieutenant. “We can't use these missiles, can we?”
“You never know when you might want to bombard a planet,” Robbins said, evasively. “And besides, better we have them than the alternative.”
“But we can’t use them,” Martin said.
Lieutenant Robbins smiled, lightly. “The Commodore had years of service in the wet-navy, then fifty-plus years of service in the Solar Navy,” she said. “I think he probably knows what he’s doing. Just because the order didn't seem to make sense doesn’t mean that it’s stupid, Corporal. The people at the top often have a better idea of the big picture than the people on the ground.”
Martin frowned, remembering some of the exercises they’d been forced to undergo, purely to draw the lesson that the people at the top didn't always know what was going on at the bottom. He’d never heard of the concept of micromanagement before he’d left Earth, but now he understood that it represented a temptation senior offic
ers had to resist. It was easy – far too easy – to move Marines around like pieces on a chessboard ... and ignore the fact that the landscape didn't work like a chessboard. A Marine standing where he was ordered to stand might be exposed to enemy fire, while – left to his own devices – he could find cover and fire back. It had taken him some time to understand that they were getting taught what to avoid, with senior officers deliberately making mistakes to force them to learn the hard way.
Robbins pointed a finger at his nose. “And, to add to that, the Commodore is the Commodore,” she added. “Your job is to supervise the loading and then prepare to be evacuated, before we blow the rest of the complex. Or you could write him a tactical memo, telling him what you think. I’m sure he’d be very pleased to hear from you.”
Martin winced. She hadn't even tried to hide the sarcasm.
He shook his head, then turned his attention back to the freighters. The Tokomak had moved enough ships to Hades to lift enough supplies to keep an entire fleet operating for years, apart from a handful of curious exceptions. It baffled him to think that someone could have ruled the galaxy for so long and yet not bothered to re-examine their security arrangements, every so often. No human power had remained intact and stable for so long. But the Tokomak had managed to convince the entire galaxy that they were effectively invincible, that resistance was not only futile, but just plain stupid.
“You’ll be going back to the ship at the end of this shift,” Robbins said. “We have orders to allow some others a chance to relax down here.”
“Oh,” Martin said. “Relaxing?”
He snorted. Watching the aliens wasn't relaxing, not when he knew just how many missile warheads or antimatter storage pods remained in the complex. A single saboteur who had gone undetected could do real damage, just by turning off the antimatter containment field. Or by detonating an IED next to an antimatter pod. He wasn't sure what would happen if someone managed to detonate a nuke in the complex, but he was fairly sure it would be utterly disastrous.
“It beats running simulations all the time,” Robbins assured him. “And besides, you would be able to see your girlfriend.”
Martin would have coloured, if it had been possible. “You know?”
“You haven’t exactly done a good job of hiding it,” Robbins said. She cocked her head at him, then rolled her eyes. “Pretty much everyone knows, Martin. They're happy for you.”
Martin blinked. “Really?”
He knew what would have happened on Earth, even if he’d dated a sister. The young men – boys – would have crowded round him, demanding details. Was she really so pretty with her dress off? Had she gone down on him yet? Were her breasts firm or soft to the touch? Was she good in bed? And the immature bastard he’d been at the time would have happily told the other immature bastards intimate details ...
It would have been worse, of course, if he’d been dating Yolanda on Earth. The questions would have been fascinated or insulting, depending on which stereotypes the questioners believed. One half would have demanded to know if it was true that all white girls wanted a taste of chocolate, others would have demanded to know why he wasn't dating a black girl. Martin would have given a great deal for a chance to meet Yolanda’s father up a dark alleyway with no witnesses, but he understood the man more than he cared to admit. In a society where dating outside one’s own race was sometimes considered worse than treason, it would be very tempting to deny the relationship had ever happened. And neglect his daughter, the sole proof the affair had ever existed, into the bargain.
“Yes,” Robbins said. “Honestly ... were you trying to keep it a secret?”
She winked at him. “You’ll need to be more stealthy if you want to go into covert ops,” she added, darkly. “You couldn't have made it more obvious if you’d painted a declaration of love in giant letters on the bulkheads, complete with pink and red hearts and flowers.”
“Oh,” Martin said.
“She isn't a Marine, so you’re not breaking the laws on fucking within the corps,” Robbins said. “She isn't a security risk, so you’re not putting your cock ahead of common sense. She doesn't have a bad reputation, so you’re not risking more than heartbreak and some minor embarrassment, should the affair go sour. The worst that will happen is that you will be assigned to different ships, you’ll try to keep it going for a time and then you will discover that it’s impossible and you both go find different people.”
She paused. “And, if you’re lucky, you’ll remain friends despite all the bullshit you will go through when you end the relationship.”
Martin threw her a curious look. “Are you talking about yourself?”
“It happens,” Robbins told him, tartly. “You’re in the military. So is she. Sooner or later, you will be assigned to different ships. When that happens, you will have the choice between trying to keep the relationship going and breaking it off as cleanly as possible. And if you happened to be under my command, if you start crying all the time, I will happily help you to cope by banging you over the head with a blunt instrument.”
“Thank you, Counsellor Obvious,” Martin said.
Robbins smirked. “Fairness isn't part of the deal,” she said. “The military doesn't give a damn about the way you feel about something, nor should it. You signed away your freedoms the day you swore the oath. And she did the same.”
She shrugged. “You want my advice?”
Martin covered his ears as a freighter rose into the sky, then nodded.
“Keep it as light as possible until you reach the end of your first contract,” Robbins said, slowly. “Don’t pin all your hopes on having her for the rest of your life. After you retire from the military, you can see if the pair of you can build a home together – and if there’s something more than sexual lust involved. She really is quite pretty. But is that all there is to it?”
“No,” Martin said, firmly.
Robbins smirked, again. “Are you sure? What do you want to be doing in ten years?”
Martin considered it. “Your job?”
The Lieutenant gave him a one-fingered gesture. “In ten years, Martin, you should be a Captain, if you stay in the ranks,” she said. “If you’re a Lieutenant still, people will start to ask questions. Pointed questions. Why is that jerk still an LT when he should be a Captain?”
“I see, I think,” Martin said.
“There will probably always be room for Marines, unless we lose the war,” Robbins said. “You can probably stay in, unless you commit some fuck-up so fucked that the court-martial board has no choice, but to kick you out on your ass. But what will she want to do?”
Another freighter took off, passing through the atmospheric forcefield and climbing into the sky. Martin watched it go, wondering if the aliens would behave themselves – or take advantage of the opportunity to vanish into FTL and lose themselves in the endless sea of stars. The bomb on the control deck should make it a no-brainer, but who knew how aliens thought? They were even stranger than girls.
“But leave it until the end of the war,” Robbins said, clapping him on the shoulder. “By now” – she made a show of checking her watch – “the news should have reached Varnar. And who knows how they will react, once they know what’s happened here?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Thousands of refugees from Sabah have begun to swamp refugee camps in East Asia, following the start of a purge of natives from Sabah. The Malaysian Government claims to be only targeting rebels, separatists and terrorists, but sources on the ground claim that Malay troops are slaughtering innocent civilians and burning entire villages. Chinese and Christian citizens are crossing the border into Singapore or booking flights out of Malaysia at an unprecedented rate.
-Solar News Network, Year 53
There was nothing inherently unpredictable about the universe. The Tokomak believed, quite firmly, that everyone could be calculated, that everything could be predicted and eventually placed firmly where it belonged. Surprise – true
surprise – simply didn't exist. But none of the planners had ever anticipated one of the newer races actually daring to attack a Tokomak world.
Viceroy Neola sat in her office, staring at the report. Two ships had made it to Varnar, one reporting that Hades was about to come under attack, the other reporting that the defending squadron had been decisively beaten. It was impossible. It was unthinkable. No one would ever dare to attack a Tokomak world.
It had happened.
She forced herself to remain calm, despite the shock, despite the rage that called for the immediate eradication of every last member of the race that had dared to attack the masters of the universe. Someone had attacked ... but who? The humans? Or someone else, someone completely new? The ships hadn't been recognised, which meant whoever they were facing was someone who had mastered starfaring technology before encountering the expanding edge of civilisation. Or someone deliberately trying to disguise their involvement.
A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons Page 29