-Solar News Network, Year 53
“Captain,” Yolanda said. “We will return to normal space in five minutes.”
“Take us out as planned,” Captain Singh ordered, calmly. “And give me a full tactical report the moment we come out of FTL.”
“Aye, sir,” Yolanda said. It had been a long flight, with rumours spreading that the Tokomak had ignored Hades and launched an immediate attack on Earth instead. She had no idea what the squadron would have done if it had returned home to find a devastated solar system, but she doubted it would have been pretty. “We will return to normal space in one minute.”
She counted down the remaining seconds until the squadron slipped back into normal space, then plunged her mind into the sensor nodes. The inky darkness of FTL was suddenly replaced by stars ... and icons representing unknown starships. IFF signals started to come in seconds later, identifying them as the Solar Union Navy. There were over four hundred starships waiting for them.
“Captain,” she said. “The entire Solar Navy is here.”
“Shoot the Admiral a tactical download,” the Captain ordered. “Everything from the moment we arrived at Hades to now.”
“Aye, Captain,” Commander Gregory said.
Yolanda barely heard him. She was staring at the starships, a multitude of human and alien designs. Most of them were converted freighters or Galactic warships that had fallen into human hands, but a small number were identical to Freedom. Humanity’s own design of warship, elegant and yet practical ... she felt a lump in her throat as she looked at the fleet, finally understanding why the Tokomak viewed her people as a threat. Fifty years after gaining access to alien technology, the human race had put together a formidable force, enough to tip the balance in the endless Proxy War.
“There’s a private message from the Admiral for you, Captain,” Commander Gregory said, softly. “You’re ordered to read it in private.”
“You have the bridge,” Captain Singh said. “I’ll be in my ready room.”
Beyond the warships, there were a number of surprises. Some objects weren't broadcasting an IFF, their purposes unknown; others were automated weapons platforms, a design copied from the Galactics years ago and endlessly refined. It looked as though someone was planning an ambush, but how could they be sure where their enemy would appear? Anyone with the right technology could detect a starship in flight, yet they couldn’t predict the exact emergence point. How could they?
“We have picket ships out several light years in all directions,” Commander Gregory said, once the Captain had left the bridge. Clearly, she’d accessed a tactical download from the fleet datanet. “We will know when they are coming and will move position, if necessary, to intercept.”
Yolanda frowned. A glance at the navigation subroutine told her they were placed along a least-time course from Varnar to Earth, but it still didn't explain how they were going to intercept the Tokomak. The Galactics were unlikely to drop out of FTL long enough to engage the human ships, if only because they wouldn't know they were there. There was no point in mock-threatening the Varnar worlds if the threat wasn't visible. It made no sense.
Think outside the box, she told herself. What does the Admiral have in mind?
“You will also review the tactical planning files,” Commander Gregory added, “then start drilling. By the time they arrive, we need to be one united fleet.”
“Yes, Commander,” the bridge crew said.
Yolanda smiled. Commander Gregory might be a hard-ass when it came to running endless drills, but her heart was in the right place – and besides, she was entirely correct. Hard training, easy mission; easy training, hard mission. Better to get all the mistakes out of the way before lives were actually placed at risk ...
She sighed, then accessed the tactical files and frowned. They all seemed to believe that the aliens would appear right in front of the human fleet. But why?
***
“I suppose,” Neola said, “that you have an explanation for this?”
She glowered at the holographic images, wishing she could reach through the datanet and strangle the commanding officers in person. They hadn't listened to her, even though she’d taken the precaution of having the fleet fly in close enough formation to allow them to drill together, even in FTL. And the latest set of simulated exercises had been an embarrassing disaster, worse than any of them thought. They didn’t know – yet – that the enemy commander had been a Varnar, not any of her Tokomak subordinates.
“I told you to use your brains,” she said. “I told you not to use predictable formations and flight paths. I told you to actually think before you acted. And what did you do? You followed the same old routines, time and time again, until the enemy smashed your ships into rubble!”
“Your Excellency,” one of the commanders said, “these tactics have been laid down since the dawn of empire ...”
“Yes, they have,” Neola said. “And the universe has changed since then! Didn't you realise that Tactical Pattern ZZ-Alpha was leading you into a trap? The Admirals who devised it didn't have to reckon with long-range energy weapons, did they? You practically impaled yourselves on their weapons because you didn't bother to think!”
She took a long rasping breath. “And you then fell back on an entirely predictable defensive formation,” she thundered. “And you didn't even change it when you realised the enemy was taking advantage of your lack of thought!”
“This is the way things have been done since time out of mind,” one of the older commanders insisted. He hated her for being younger than him and yet his superior, Neola knew. It was understandable, in a way, but not after Hades. “These tactics served our forefathers well.”
“Yes, they did,” Neola said. “And charging while throwing spears also served our forefathers well, until they ran into machine guns and got killed. The universe has changed since the days we built the empire! We need to adapt or be slaughtered.”
She clenched her fists in irritation. It was hard for her, so very hard, to adapt to the new universe. Every conservative bone in her body called for her to stay with the old ways, the routines she’d been taught since she was a child. There was no grounds for change, they insisted; the old ways were more than good enough. Hadn't they built an entire empire? But the universe was different now and they had to adapt too ...
The humans had obtained Galactic technology, somehow. That was certain. The last time the Varnar had looked at them, they had been barely capable of flight. A fast rate of expansion, particularly as they’d been riding horses when the Tokomak had logged their world in the database, but not fast enough to propel them to spaceflight by now. Or so she hoped. If the humans really had developed spaceflight and FTL without help, in four hundred years, the Tokomak were doomed. They had barely been able to adapt to changes wrought by far slower Galactics. A race that progressed at breakneck speed would outstrip the empire before the empire knew there was a threat ...
There had been races that had advanced fast, she knew. They’d tended to destroy themselves before they ever got into deep space. But there were rumours that some had been exterminated by her superiors, just in case ...
She made a note of the thought for later contemplation, then glowered at her subordinates.
“You will run the exercise again,” she said. “And this time you will use your brains. Or I will dig out the old regulations and put them back to use.”
They blanched. The really old regulations, dating back all the way to the pointless wars before FTL had been invented, gave her the power of life and death over her subordinates. If she wanted, she could flog, maim or even kill them ... and no one would be able to complain, no matter how barbaric it seemed. She was the supreme commander, after all, and the regulations had never been revised or removed from the book. Given how conservative her race actually was, it was no surprise.
“Go,” she ordered.
The images blinked out of existence, to be replaced with the final image from the sim
ulated battle. A dozen battleships had been destroyed, along with thirty smaller ships ... it would have been an embarrassing defeat, in real life. Instead, it was a learning experience – she hoped. Coming up with new tactics on the fly wasn't something her crews did.
“That could have gone better,” she said.
“It could have gone worse,” the Varnar countered. He’d been lurking in the shadows at the rear of her cabin, knowing that he couldn't be seen by the officers. They would have protested his involvement. “At least they listened to you.”
Neola clenched her teeth. The fleet was four days from Earth and hadn't shown many signs of improvement. Morale was in the pits, at least partly because she’d ordered the crews to remain on alert, even though they were in FTL and thus immune to the universe. Normally, the crew would take FTL as a chance to relax and burnish the internal decoration; now, they were standing watches, running simulations of their own and practicing repair work. It had chilled her to the bone, after the first drill, to realise just how poorly prepared they were for a real battle. But the crew hadn't come to agree with her.
“They listened because I threatened them,” Neola said. Other races had it easy. To them, a six hundred year old officer was worthy of respect. But to the Tokomak, she was little more than a child. “What’s going to happen when we encounter the humans?”
“You’ll take heavy losses,” He’cht said. The Varnar seemed unbothered by the thought. “I don’t think your crews are prepared for damage control duties, so the damage will swiftly mount up and eventually doom your ships. You have to hope you have enough firepower to absorb the losses and keep going.”
He paused. “You should have accepted our offer of additional crewmen,” he added. “They would have made your ships stronger, more able to fight.”
Neola would have accepted, if regulations had allowed it. But she couldn't have, which was something of a blessing. At least the Varnar wouldn't get a close look at just how unprepared her ships were for war, after all. They were sitting on top of the gravity point leading further into the empire, allowing them to pose a real threat if they changed sides. There was no point in giving them ideas.
She contemplated He’cht, coldly. As useful as he was, he could not be allowed to go home after serving as her aide. He had simply seen too much.
“Four days,” she mused. “Four days to get the fleet ready for battle.”
The plan was simple enough. Drop out of FTL near Earth and advance on the planet, firing long-range missiles as they approached. There would be no attempt to occupy the planet, not after the humans had proved themselves so dangerous. Instead, Earth would be destroyed, her population exterminated. In the meantime, the fast little human ships would have no choice; they would have to come to her and fight, or watch helplessly as their homeworld died.
And without their homeworld, she thought, the rest of their population will dwindle and die.
“You will need to run more simulations,” He’cht said, softly. “Because the humans are many things, but they are not cowards. And they will know you are coming.”
***
Martin wiped sweat from his brow as he exited the simulation and nodded to Lieutenant Robbins, who looked as tired as he felt. Days of endless simulations, of running through every possible contingency plan they could imagine, had left a toll on them all. If they hadn't been heavily augmented, he had a feeling they would have collapsed by now.
“Good work, everyone,” Robbins said. Her voice was alarmingly quiet, nothing like any of the Drill Instructors. But then, she had more than earned their respect. “You could have moved quicker in the latter half of the exercise, but you’ve done well.”
Martin nodded. The computer hacking protocols had failed – according to the random chance written into parts of the simulation – and the Marines had had to fall out of the ship, leaving a nuclear warhead behind. It wasn’t a tactic he would have cared to try, if there had been any alternative, but there had been none.
“BRUTE should have moved faster,” he said. “We could have had the ship if they hadn't had the wit to separate the infected datacore from their datanet.”
“I moved as fast as possible,” the AI’s voice said, stiffly. “The simulation was simply not devised to give me a chance to subvert the ship before it was too late.”
“We cannot expect to simply take over every ship,” Robbins said, firmly. “The Galactics may not have AIs, but they do understand the dangers of hacking software and other electronic weapons. Their precautions may work better in combat than in the simulations.”
“Their datacores are cranky and old,” BRUTE added. “Some of them crumble at an AIs mere touch.”
Martin looked up towards the ceiling, where he imagined BRUTE to be. “Why? Why don’t they use AIs themselves?”
“They may have had a bad experience with AIs in the past,” BRUTE said, “and thus designed their systems to completely preclude the possibility of spontaneously generating an AI of their own. Or they may simply be masters of bad or no maintenance. The computer cores on the captured starships should have been replaced regularly and weren't. Even with Galactic-level tolerance engineered into the design, they were on the verge of collapse even before we captured them.”
“Poor bastards,” Robbins muttered.
Martin found himself caught between agreeing with her and being irked at her attitude. He knew just how much starships depended on computers, how absolutely impossible it was to use FTL drives without computers monitoring the gravity flux and compensating for any shifts if necessary. Navigating home, too, would be difficult without the computers. But, on the other hand, anything that wrecked a Tokomak starship before it had a chance to engage the human fleet was a good thing. The Tokomak were throwing overwhelming force at Earth. If they lost a few ships because of their poor maintenance ... well, that was their problem, wasn't it? He certainly wasn't going to complain.
“Dismissed,” Robbins said. “Report back here in six hours if the alert doesn't sound before then.”
The Marines saluted, then walked out the door. Martin headed out of Marine Country and up through the network of corridors towards Officer Country, wondering when – precisely – Freedom had become home. He knew everyone on the ship, from the Captain himself to the lowliest crewman, without having to resort to his implants. And it was ... safe. There was no need to constantly watch his back, at least when he wasn't exercising and drilling with the other Marines. The ship was home in a way the ghetto never could have been.
He tapped on Yolanda’s hatch and smiled as it opened, then stepped inside. Yolanda was lying on her bunk, while her roommate was absent.
“Simone has been dating a girl in engineering,” Yolanda explained, as she sat up. “So we agreed we’d vacate the cabin in a couple of hours for them to have their fun.”
“Oh,” Martin said. He started to pull off his shirt, then grinned. “We’d better be quick, then.”
“You’re always quick,” Yolanda said, sticking out her tongue.
“It’s the implants,” Martin said, as he removed his trousers. “Whoever would have thought the most common use for implants was sex?”
Yolanda smirked. “The same people who took cameras and used them to take naughty photos, the same people who used camcorders to make naughty movies, the same people who used the internet to share pornography with everyone ...”
“Oh, shut up,” Martin said. He climbed onto the bunk, then began to unbutton her shirt, revealing her breasts. “Sex is a natural part of human existence.”
Yolanda kissed his lips, then pulled him towards her.
Afterwards, they held each other tightly, knowing that time was running out. Martin looked down at her and wondered, absently, just how they fitted together. Yolanda wasn't the kind of girl he’d expected to have a relationship with ... and he would have bet half of his salary that he wasn't the kind of boy she’d planned to date. But the thought of abandoning her was unthinkable.
“Yes,�
� Yolanda mused. “Those implants do come in handy, don’t they?”
Martin elbowed her. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I feel better now,” Yolanda said. “And it helps, being completely separate from my past life. And thank you too, for being different.”
“You’re different too,” Martin said, although he understood. Stereotypes were far too prevalent on Earth, if only because there was no shortage of idiots who tried to live up – or down – to them. “And thank you.”
He kissed her, then checked his implants for the time. They didn't really have time for another round before they had to vacate the quarters ... and there was nowhere else to go for some privacy. The Captain had been less than happy to discover a pair of crewmen making out in one of the intership tubes, a few weeks ago ...
A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons Page 33