Think, she told herself. What do they want?
It was hard to imagine what the aliens must be thinking. Empathy had never been a Tokomak strength, even though she could see some uses for it. They’d committed suicide. No matter how advanced their technology, they couldn't match the Tokomak for sheer numbers. She could trade a thousand battleships for every alien ship involved in the attack on Hades and still come out ahead ... if there were a thousand battleships on call. The hundreds she knew to be approaching the sector might not be enough ...
No, she thought. They couldn't have the firepower to destroy my battleships. The entire war would have been ended long ago.
She fought to wrap her mind around a totally new concept. No one had encountered a self-starfaring race, certainly not one who had mastered FTL on their own. The Tokomak had been the first and only race to devise a way to liberate themselves from the tyranny of the gravity points. It was why they were the masters of the universe. If someone else had mastered it, they would have been encountered long ago. Unless ... no, she decided. The humans were the only logical suspects for the attack on Hades.
Piece by piece, she worked her way through the concept. The humans had received her ultimatum and reacted with blinding speed, launching an immediate attack on Hades to push the Tokomak back. But she’d spent long enough struggling with the moribund logistics department back home to know that it took a long time to plan a war, particularly one against a far greater power. The humans had to have had their war planned out long before she’d arrived in the sector, gaming out move and counter-move in their fight against an overwhelming force. They would have calculated her reaction and factored it into their plans.
Standard procedure was to stamp on any source of trouble before it became a major problem, she knew. The humans would anticipate her launching ships to Hades, bent on recovering the world and trapping the attackers before they could strip the planet bare. And if that was what they expected her to do, she was sure, they would take it into account when they were planning their operations. They would adapt their plans to deal with it ...
It had been too long, she realised numbly, since the Tokomak had fought a real war. The humans might have an edge, one she simply couldn't match.
She looked up as the Admiral entered the chamber. “Your Excellency,” he said. “I have detailed three squadrons to recover Hades.”
“Hold them here,” Neola ordered.
The Admiral was too skilled a veteran of political battles to show much of a reaction, but Neola had no difficulty in reading his shock. She would have known he was shocked even if he’d shown nothing, for leaving the enemy in possession of Tokomak territory was effectively admitting defeat. Everyone knew the Tokomak would punish any offense against them a hundred-fold. To leave the humans in possession of Hades would call that into question, suggesting to a hundred races that the Tokomak could be beaten. It would threaten the very existence of the empire.
“Your Excellency,” the Admiral said. “I beg you to reconsider.”
“They will expect us to send a fleet to Hades,” Neola said. She mourned, inwardly, for what her race had lost. None of them were particularly imaginative any longer, even the Old Ones who had been young when FTL was first discovered. “We shouldn't do what they expect us to do.”
The Admiral looked uncomprehending. “It is standard procedure ...”
“Yes, it is,” Neola said. “And that is precisely why we won’t do it.”
She understood his doubts perfectly. They were both young by Tokomak standards. If they made mistakes, their mistakes would be attributed to their youth. They would certainly not be honoured with any future commands, even if they won the overall war; instead, they’d be told to leave matters of galactic import to the grown-ups. She understood precisely how he was feeling, but she was sure – now – that doing what she was expected to do would be a dreadful mistake. At best, she would look weak for giving the enemy a chance to steal everything they could carry from Hades and destroy the rest; at worst, her ships would run into an ambush and be destroyed.
And I would have sent ships away from Varnar, she thought. News of the defeat hadn’t become public, yet, but it would. Who knew which way the Varnar would jump, if their Tokomak backers looked weak? They might be counting on the Varnar deciding to move against us.
She turned and walked over to the window, looking out over the towering city. Millions of aliens lived below her, she knew, from hundreds of different races. Some of them would be loyal to the Tokomak, or at least to the Status Quo; others would see advantage in any shift in the balance of power. The Varnar themselves, as loyal as they were, couldn't be blind to the ultimate truth of the proxy war. Or, for that matter, that her orders might encompass more than just crushing the Coalition, once and for all.
“Fetch me a Varnar Admiral,” she ordered. “One who has faced the humans in battle.”
“Your Excellency,” the Admiral protested. “He would know nothing of naval affairs.”
“But he would know the humans,” Neola said, patiently. “Find someone who has faced them and bring him to me.”
She returned to the raw data as the Admiral bowed, then left the room. There had been no time to have any analysts take a look at the data – she hadn't even brought any on her ships – but she could pick out some of the more important details for herself. The human ships were faster and more manoeuvrable than her own, capable of tricks she hadn't thought possible. In fact, one on one, she had a nasty feeling the humans had a definite advantage. The more she thought about it, the more she wished the Tokomak had done more than log the human race’s existence when they swept through the sector, centuries ago.
It was nearly an hour before the door opened again, revealing a Varnar. He was a short being, even by their dwarfish standards, with grey hairless skin, dark eyes and a simple black overall. Neola didn't pretend to understand how the Varnar governed themselves – as long as they obeyed, races enjoyed internal autonomy – but she knew he would be competent. The Varnar would not have been able to fight the war without competent and experienced officers.
She allowed herself a hint of worry, although none of it showed on her face. It was a fact, as far as the Tokomak were concerned, that they were simply the best at everything. Once, it had even been true. Asking another race for advice was utterly unthinkable. But so was a swift and decisive defeat, one that had shocked her to the core. It was time to do the unthinkable and hope she produced a victory before the Old Ones relieved her of command.
“Your Excellency,” the Varnar said. He lowered his head, then closed his eyes in submission. “I am Admiral He’cht.”
“You may open your eyes,” Neola said. “You have fought the humans, have you not?”
“Yes,” He’cht said. “I have faced them four times in open combat.”
“You must have some impression of their skills,” Neola said. “What do you make of them?”
“They’re very capable,” He’cht said, carefully. “I think ...”
“I will not take offense,” Neola assured him. “Be blunt.”
“I think they’re among the best soldiers in the galaxy,” He’cht said, flatly. “Certainly the most innovative and dangerous.”
Neola started. “Explain.”
“Human soldiers started cropping up in mercenary forces fifty years ago, mostly on disputed worlds,” He’cht said. “They proved themselves to be flexible, adaptable and terrifyingly innovative. Their skill at creating or improvising weapons is unmatched. The Coalition saw fit to use them as shock troops, a role to which they are aptly suited. Even in space, they proved themselves capable. Our cyborgs were unable to match them.”
“Your cyborgs,” Neola mused. “Couldn't you use them to match the humans?”
“They had to be brain-burned,” He’cht admitted. “The ones who were allowed to keep some initiative tended to turn on us, when facing other humans. Some of our researchers believe the race has a unifying aspect we have bee
n unable to discover. Others think they merely recognise their own kind and start rebelling. The only way we were able to use them on the battlefield after humans entered the war in large numbers was to reduce them to little more than puppets.”
“And you knew about the threat for fifty years,” Neola said. “You did nothing.”
“To move against Earth would have allowed the Coalition a shot at a decisive victory,” He’cht pointed out. “It was why we requested assistance from you.”
“Point,” Neola said. She keyed a switch. “I want your honest opinion of this battle.”
He’cht watched, dispassionately, as the Battle of Hades played itself out, once again.
“Your ships acted poorly,” he said, when the battle was over. “Their commanders made too many mistakes.”
There were Tokomak, Neola knew, who would have ordered his immediate execution for daring to point out the obvious. The Tokomak had to stick together, after all, and if that meant ensuring that no one ever dared criticize them ... well, it had seemed a fair price to pay. But now, in hindsight, she understood that it was a deadly mistake. A critic, a critic with real experience, could be very useful.
“Detail them,” she ordered.
“The squadron’s formation was designed more for display than combat,” He’cht said. “Several of the ships couldn't fire because their comrades were in the way, crippling their firepower. One of the ships even collided with another ship. Furthermore, the commander attempted to keep his ships in formation even when it was clear the formation was actually impeding their response. By the time he was killed, it was too late to salvage the situation.”
“Go on,” Neola said.
“Their rate of fire should have been a great deal higher too,” He’cht added, after a moment. “Everything about them was sluggish, Your Excellency. I would go so far as to say they didn't have any real training for war. They acted as though they expected the enemy to follow a completely predicable flight path and, when it became clear the enemy wasn't going to do anything of the sort, they fell apart.”
There was a nasty amount of truth in that, Neola knew – and He’cht didn't know the half of it. Naval exercises, what few of them there were, tended to be carefully scripted, with the ‘right’ side always emerging victorious. It helped to maintain morale in a fleet that was badly undermanned, but it hadn't prepared the crews to face an enemy who took pleasure in being completely unpredictable. And the humans didn't have a choice, either. They had to be unpredictable or they would be crushed by superior numbers.
“The humans attacked Hades,” she said, flatly. “How do you propose we respond?”
The Varnar looked up at her with big dark eyes. “As soon as your battleships arrive, launch an immediate attack on Earth,” he said. “There is little else worth targeting in human space.”
Neola blinked in surprise. “They only have one system?”
“There are few empty systems within fifty light years of their star,” He’cht reminded her. “They do not have room to expand, Your Excellency. There are a number of small human settlements on many worlds, but always as minority groups. Earth is their sole majority world.”
“And Earth will no longer exist soon,” Neola said. “How do you propose we attack?”
“Train your people to think and react to surprises,” He’cht said, “then go for their homeworld with your entire fleet. You will have to expect a hard fight, I think. The humans will not falter in defence of their world.”
“I imagine not,” Neola agreed. “And Hades itself?”
“Is immaterial,” the Varnar said. “Your plan assumed you had all the time in the universe to put your pieces in place. That is no longer valid. You have to react to the new situation. Expect the humans to go for your other bases if you give them the time ...”
Neola grimaced. The last major interstellar war, four thousand years ago, had been resolved by patiently barricading the enemy into a handful of heavily-fortified star systems, then battering them down one by one. Putting naval bases in the right locations had been an integral part of the victorious strategy. But things had been different back then; FTL had been a relatively new concept, while the Tokomak hadn't been anything like as ossified.
“They’ll attack other bases,” she said, slowly. “Each attack will embarrass us still further.”
“And convince the Coalition that they can hurt you too,” the Varnar added. “You might find yourself waging war against them before you’re ready.”
“Then the plan will be revised, as you suggest,” Neola said. “Once the battleships arrive, we will take them straight to Earth.”
She paused. “You will be assigned to my personal staff,” she added. “You will have full permission to speak your mind, when we are alone. I will require your opinion on all matters.”
The Varnar was hard to read, but she had the feeling he was less than pleased. He was an important person on Varnar, one of their senior commanders; to the Tokomak, he was nothing more than a lesser personage. His opinions would be discounted, at best, if he made them in public; at worst, he would be considered an uppity inferior and ordered to report for execution. There was a reason most of her body-servants came from races that practically worshipped the Tokomak as gods.
“Your wish is my command, Your Excellency,” He’cht said, finally.
“Of course it is,” Neola said. “Report to my Steward. He will assign you quarters and a staff. Bring others, if you wish. They can all be accommodated.”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” He’cht said. “I will serve you faithfully.”
***
The Tokomak were simply not very good at understanding emotions, certainly not those belonging to other races. It was hard for the Viceroy to comprehend, He’cht suspected, just how much humiliation she had poured on him – and how much was yet to come. He’d entered the room a proud Admiral, a serving officer in the Varnar Navy; he’d left it a servant, an advisor to someone who would happily take the credit for his victories. And would she even listen to his advice?
He showed no trace of his feelings as he made his way back to the Naval HQ, thinking hard. The Tokomak had been beaten; worse, they’d been beaten publicly. They weren't likely to take it too calmly, which was bad news for the human race. Once, He’cht would have been pleased; now, he had a feeling that the Varnar would simply be the last race to be crushed into eternal servitude.
And yet they’d been beaten!
The humans hadn't been spacefarers when the Varnar had first visited their world, taking biological samples and breeding stock for cyborgs. They certainly shouldn't have been able to develop FTL on their own. And that suggested someone had given them the technology and invited them to play with it. The Coalition? Or someone else?
But it hardly mattered. If an upstart race could do so much, against the masters of the universe, what could the Varnar do? They had ships, they had weapons ... and they had experience. Could they fight the Tokomak and win?
It was a treacherous thought. It was a dangerous thought. But it taunted him as he entered the building. They’d always known the proxy war would go on until everyone was exhausted, at least until the humans entered the war. Now ... there was a prospect of something else, a chance to unite against the true foe. But it would be risky ...
We will need to plan carefully, he thought. The Tokomak battleships would arrive soon, in staggering numbers. Thankfully, the Tokomak hadn’t demanded the Varnar Navy provide support to their fleet. And then we will need to decide which way to jump.
Chapter Thirty
In the wake of yet another child-abuse scandal, angry crowds stormed the Vatican in Rome and lynched an as yet undisclosed number of priests and religious figures. A number of Swiss Guards are reported dead in the attack, but Italian police and military units refused to get involved. The Italian Government has declared a state of emergency, yet it is unlikely that anyone will be prosecuted for the attack.
-Solar News Network, Year 53
Kevin looked down at the bootleg recording. Starships – human starships – had attacked Hades, smashing the defenders without taking any losses of their own. It was the single most one-sided victory the galaxy had seen for over three thousand years. And it had happened to the Tokomak, the masters of the universe. It couldn't have been more shocking if a small army of cavemen had killed a hundred heavily-armed Solar Marines.
“It’s good,” he said. “Everyone knows?”
“The recording leaked onto the datanet,” Sally said. “They keep taking it down and it keeps popping back up, somehow.”
“The age-old problem with information datanets,” Kevin said. “How do you censor without the system regarding it as a malfunction and routing around you?”
A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons Page 30