A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  “Yes, Your Excellency,” Captain Drew said. If he doubted her words – or the wisdom of making enemies of so many officers – he allowed no trace of it in his voice. “It will be done.”

  They’d hate her, of course, Neola knew. For thousands of years, all the Navy had known was ceremonial formations and displays, each one perfectly calculated to show the grandeur and unstoppable might of the Tokomak. The commanding officers had lavished their wealth in ensuring that their ships showed off their power and resourcefulness. They had never really considered that they might have to fight. The thought of being told to ditch everything that had won them their spurs ...

  They’d be horrified. She had no doubt they would complain, long and loud, to their superiors – and demand her immediate relief from command. But they would do as they were told or they would die, either at her hands, if she dragged up very old regulations, or at the hands of the human race ...

  She allowed herself to smile, coldly, for the first time since she’d fled Earth. The humans thought they’d won. They thought there was nothing left to do, but mop up the remains of her fleet and the Varnar. But they were wrong.

  It wasn't over yet.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The New Mexico State Government convened today to discuss the prospect of separating ties from the United States and declaring itself either part of Mexico or the independent state of Aztecan. In a statement issued yesterday, the Mexican Government declared that it would be happy to accept the return of territory stolen by the Gringos in the Mexican-American War. The White House has refused to comment, but given the demographics of the Southern United States, New Mexico may be merely the first state to go.

  -Solar News Network, Year 53

  “We have returned to normal space, sir,” Yolanda said. “I am picking up IFF signs from human and Coalition warships.”

  “Good,” Captain Singh said. “Transmit our IFF to them, then hold us steady.”

  “Yes, sir,” Yolanda said.

  She frowned as she did as she was told. The RV point was only five light years from Varnar, theoretically out of sensor range. She’d wondered why the higher-ups hadn't decided to assemble the fleet elsewhere, but she didn't know who she could ask. The orders had been passed down from Admiral Stuart himself, right from the very top. No doubt he had his reasons.

  The fleet was huge, larger than she’d expected. Two hundred human warships, mostly converted Galactic starships, were aligned with over a thousand Coalition warships, many of them larger than anything under human command. She honestly didn't understand why the Coalition needed human help at all, until she remembered that the Varnar deployed much the same number of starships. The Proxy War had been balanced so perfectly that it could have gone on for centuries without either side gaining a decisive advantage.

  And none of the battleships she saw through Freedom’s sensors were anything like as large as the Tokomak ships. The Tokomak, it seemed, had mistaken size for power and forbidden anyone to build their own five kilometre-long starships. It wouldn't have been a bad gambit, she told herself, if weapons and training had remained static. But the Coalition had far more experience than the Tokomak, as well as human ingenuity. Given a few more years, those colossal battleships might be smashed as easily as clay targets on the shooting range.

  “We’re picking up orders from the flag,” Commander Gregory said. “The fleet is to enter FTL in ten minutes. Destination; Varnar.”

  Yolanda sucked in her breath, feeling tension rising on the bridge. Varnar wouldn't just make or break the war, it would either ensure the victory of the Coalition or the ultimate success of the Tokomak. It was a gamble, all the more so as no one knew if the Tokomak had reinforcements on the way, but one that had to be taken. The Tokomak couldn’t be allowed to fall back and prepare for a long war. Given the sheer preponderance of firepower on their side, it might well prove disastrous.

  “Course laid in, sir,” she said. “They’ll see us coming.”

  “Unfortunately,” Commander Gregory said, dryly. Her voice became contemplative. “The designated endpoint is surprisingly close to the gravity point.”

  “They probably want to bar the Tokomak from calling for help,” Captain Singh speculated, cheerfully. “Commander. Is my ship ready for combat?”

  “Yes, sir,” Commander Gregory said. “Your ship is fully ready for command.”

  Yolanda smiled. The flight time between Earth and Varnar hadn't been wasted. Every last millimetre of the ship had been checked and rechecked for damage, then the crew had trained constantly until they could practically fight the battle in their sleep. The Tokomak might have realised the importance of training and experience after their catastrophic defeat, but they didn't have time to match the human ships. Or, for that matter, the Coalition.

  But they might let the Varnar take the lead, she thought. And that would be dangerous for us.

  “Signal from the flag,” Commander Gregory said. “It’s time to go.”

  “Take us into FTL,” Captain Singh ordered.

  “Aye, sir,” Yolanda said. Freedom shivered slightly as she slipped into FTL, her drives compensating effortlessly for the presence of so many other starships nearby. “We’re on the way.”

  ***

  “Your Excellency,” the sensor officer reported. “We have picked up incoming signatures.”

  Neola leaned forward as brilliant red icons appeared on the display, advancing remorselessly towards Varnar. They were flying in close formation, making it impossible for her sensors to pick out individual starships, but there were definitely over a thousand warships inbound on her position. There was no way to determine the owners, not directly, yet she knew they had to include Coalition warships. If the humans had enjoyed so many ships, her force would have been utterly wiped out before it reached Earth.

  “Bring the fleet to alert, then move our formations forward,” she ordered. The Varnar might have more experience, but they didn't have something to prove. Besides, they could guard their homeworld, while she needed to guard the gravity point. “And inform the commanding officers that I expect them to do as they’re told, rather than arguing over The Book.”

  “Yes, Your Excellency,” Captain Drew said.

  Neola smiled, rather coldly. Her staff had intercepted messages from her subordinate officers to her superiors, each one demanding her immediate removal from command. The reasons were many and varied, but they all boiled down to one simple fact. She just wasn't acting as a Tokomak should. Even after viewing the records of the battle, half of them still thought she was exaggerating the danger posed by the human race. Didn’t they realise that a far larger force had been smashed midway to Earth?

  But they see that as part of a trick, she thought. The gravity field that had yanked her ships out of FTL had been a nasty surprise, but it had inflicted a considerable amount of damage as well. Her subordinates wanted to believe that it had merely been a trick, because it was easier to accept a trick than the humans having any sort of qualitative advantage. And so they are still inclined to dismiss the humans.

  Idly, she speculated on where the humans would choose to emerge. She’d tried discussing the concept of building her own gravity net with the Varnar, but they’d seemed adamant it would take at least ten years to build a similar device. By then, no doubt the humans would have thought of something new. She shook her head, then tapped the display with one long finger. Her subordinates might have opposed her in writing, but they weren't trying to defy her in the middle of a battle. Their formations were moving forward with commendable speed.

  She turned her attention back to the main display as the human ships entered the system and advanced, still in FTL, towards the gravity point. It made sense, she told herself, even though the humans didn't realise just how strongly she’d been reinforced. Cut the Varnar off from the Tokomak ... the Varnar would either have to retake the gravity point, whatever the cost, or accept eventual defeat. They wouldn't even be able to uncover their homeworl
d at all, not even to prevent the loss of other worlds ...

  “The human fleet is dropping out of FTL,” the sensor officer stated. There was a long pause as the display started to update. “They’re using some form of jamming, Your Excellency. It’s hard to pick out individual ships.”

  Neola cursed. Trust the humans to come up with something new. The display was fuzzy, as though the sensor probes were reporting nothing, but gibberish. At one point, there seemed to be a million starships facing them; at another, less than a hundred. It would be hard – impossibly hard – to use any long-range missiles on the human fleet. But it would have been pointless anyway. This time, there was no gravity net.

  “Prepare to engage,” she ordered. The humans were still diving towards the gravity point, but her advance formations would get there first. And then the humans would have to come to them. “And order the Varnar to cover our backs.”

  “Yes, Your Excellency,” Captain Drew said.

  Neola forced herself to relax as the two fleets converged, sheer power allowing her sensors to burn through some of the layers of jamming. She’d been right, she noted; the Coalition had provided many of the warships facing her now. They didn't seem to have quite the flexibility of the cruisers the humans had built for themselves, but they did have more training and actual experience than any of her officers. And they were clearly prepared to make a stand against the Tokomak. They would die, of course, along with anyone else who dared question Tokomak power, but it was still disappointing.

  “Raise them,” she ordered. “Inform them that we will accept surrender.”

  There was a long pause. “No response, Your Excellency,” the communications officer said. “They didn't even send an acknowledgement.”

  “Noted,” Neola said. “Prepare to engage.”

  ***

  Mongo scowled as he saw the Tokomak fleet – bare and exposed before his sensors – and cursed under his breath. He had never assumed that the Tokomak wouldn't get reinforcements, but he hadn't expected another hundred battleships and assorted escort vessels. It said unpleasant things about the Tokomak ability to mobilise their fleet rapidly, if necessary. A cursory glance at the sensor console told him that the Tokomak had even managed to improve their training procedures. Much of their equipment was primitive, by Coalition standards, but they were using it very well.

  And just because someone is using primitive technology, he reminded himself, doesn't make him either stupid or useless.

  Their formation was better too, he noted; they’d spread their ships out enough to allow them to fire freely, without limiting their ability to cover each other if necessary. It was still a crude formation, but better than their previous work. And, if their technology had been better, it would have made their victory certain. As long as they held the gravity point, they could keep feeding new starships into the sector and eventually bury everyone – even the Varnar – under the sheer weight of reinforcements.

  “Inform all starships,” he ordered. “They are to fire at will. I say again, fire at will.”

  ***

  Yolanda braced herself, then plunged her mind back into the computer network as the two fleets converged with terrifying speed. The Tokomak opened fire as soon as the humans came into range, scattering their fire madly through space; the Coalition, more disciplined, held their fire until they came into effective range, then opened fire themselves. And then the two fleets were joined ... Yolanda hung on for dear life as she flipped the starship through a maze of evasive manoeuvres while Commander Gregory bombarded the Tokomak battleships with her weapons. One Tokomak battleship exploded in front of her, forcing her into another series of evasive patterns before a piece of debris struck them; moments later, she fell into formation with two other cruisers and raged towards a second battleship.

  “Break left and right,” she ordered, as the enemy ship fired towards them. There were just too many targets for the enemy to cope with; they tried to split their fire, too late. Human torpedoes slammed home, blowing the enemy ship into another ball of expanding plasma. “And then follow me.”

  She flew between two enemy battleships, then spun on a dime and raced back towards the closest ship, daring it to fire on her. Freedom shuddered as the enemy scored a direct hit, then Commander Gregory slammed four torpedoes into the enemy’s hull. No one was trying to conserve torpedoes now. Moments later, it too was gone. Yolanda spared a thought for the ship’s crew, dead before they had a chance to reach the lifepods, and then turned her attention back to the battle.

  It was even, much more even than she’d dared fear. The Tokomak had taken losses, but they were inflicting them too. A number of Coalition and human ships had died, weakening their respective forces far more than the losses they’d inflicted on their enemies. It didn't seem fair, part of her mind whined as she evaded another burst of enemy fire; they could obliterate this enemy force, or one far larger, and still lose the war. But they couldn't avoid fighting either ...

  A missile cruiser – an adapted Galactic freighter – moved past her, spitting out missiles towards the Tokomak formation. They posed no threat to the enemy, Yolanda knew, but they would give her some cover. She flipped Freedom around, then followed the missiles as they lunged towards the Tokomak ship. By the time the missiles were all picked off, Freedom was in attack position and firing savagely. The Tokomak ship flipped out of formation, then lost power. Commander Gregory teleported a nuke into its suddenly-unsecure interior; Yolanda watched, as dispassionately as she could, as the ship exploded into a gout of fire.

  Sooner or later, someone will figure out a way to beat teleport jamming, she thought. It was, after all, an obvious way to take out a starship. And when they do, the universe will change once again.

  Freedom groaned again as two enemy blasts struck her shields, knocking her out of formation and right towards a third enemy cruiser, which lunged forward. Yolanda hastily evaded a deliberate attempt to ram her ship, then put some distance between herself and the suicidal crew. Everyone agreed the Tokomak were brave, if only because they had no real concept of defeat, but no one had suggested they were mad. But then, trading Freedom for one of their escort ships would be highly advantageous – to the enemy. They could replace their losses far faster than humanity, the Coalition and the Varnar combined.

  “The Marines are ready to deploy,” Captain Singh said. “Find them an ideal target.”

  “Yes, sir,” Yolanda said. Five enemy battleships were heading towards the human formation, firing rapidly enough they were bound to hit something, even if their targeting was piss-poor. “I think I have one right here.”

  “Then take us right through their formation,” Captain Singh said. “And launch ECM drones at the same time.”

  “Aye, sir,” Commander Gregory said.

  Yolanda thought, briefly, of Martin, then did as she was told.

  ***

  Martin had to call on his implants to avoid panic as soon as he launched himself into space, even though he’d done the operation in simulators often enough to know what he was doing. There were just so many warships nearby, each one capable of swatting him like a bug if it bothered to notice the fire team. Four Marines simply didn't register on their sensors, not when the ECM drones were hitting them with sensor ghosts and other illusions. But if they happened to score a lucky hit ...

  He remained calm as the Tokomak warship rose up in front of him, a giant gleaming cylinder, glowing with light. Energy flickered and flared around them as they passed through its shields, then fell to the hull. As soon as they were on the surface, he led the charge to the airlock and forced it open, allowing the atmosphere to drain out. This time, he couldn't help noticing the enemy had clearly fixed their airlocks. This time, the outflow was surprisingly low. They’d clearly learned something from the last battle.

  Quickly, he picked up the nuke – so small, for something so destructive – and shoved it into the hull, then banged the airlock closed. There was no time to waste; they launched themsel
ves off the hull, heading right for the enemy shields. This time, they might not make it through before it was too late ...

  The nuke detonated. Below him, the enemy craft shuddered and lost power. Explosions flared out along her hull, although large parts of her remained intact. She’d been designed to cope with weapons a little bit stronger than nukes, Martin reminded himself; the briefing officers had even suggested that antimatter would have worked better, if there had been enough to go round. But it hardly mattered. The Tokomak ship would need years of work in a shipyard before she was back in fighting trim, if they bothered to waste the effort. Personally, he would have sent her to the yard for scrapping.

  “The shuttle is on the way,” Wilson said. “She’ll take us to the next target.”

  Martin nodded, relieved. The naked eye couldn't see much, apart from flashes of light, but his suit was happily filling in the details. There were hundreds of starships, fighting and dying, all around him. He forced himself to look away, then focused on the databursts from the Marines. Two of the assault teams had been wiped out completely, probably through a lucky shot; a third had made it to their target, then detonated the nuke ahead of time, damaging the ship, but not knocking it out of the fight.