by Chris Hechtl
Others didn't care and made a lot of noise about it on the net. “They made their bed!” was a common sentiment, as was “It's not our problem! It's too far away to bother us, so why should we care?”
The backers of some of the colonies took keen interest in defending their investments. When news of that came to light, it brought up questions about the loans for the existing colonies. Was the government willing to write that off?
The constant interest and possible threat made for a lot of viewership for the normally sleepy committee meetings. That pissed off a few of the senators since they embarrassed themselves. Others quickly learned to be on their best behavior. General Taylor's weathering of the senator's questions built sympathy for him as well as additional interest in the navy.
Only two of the mega corporations other than Lagroose Industries had ties to the sector. Both were terraforming corporations contracted by Lagroose Industries, but several bank and loan institutions were also peripherally involved. Roman's efforts to get them and others to help lobby for support of the navy began to pay off slowly. Their donations to the navy effort were good press. It also put the politicians in a bad light since it showed them dragging their heels.
Roman found that he was accused of warmongering, perpetuating a hoax, and eating babies. “I'd be amused but this is serious,” he said in a brief interview.
The one thing he needed was support from the biggest player in the sector. For the entire time, the debate had raged one company had remained strangely silent.
Roman managed to get himself onto Wendy's schedule to talk to her face-to-face in a rare meeting. He was privately very surprised that she allowed the meeting at all. He decided to go whole hog and went to the meeting in his full formal uniform to make an impression with her as well as anyone watching.
She kept her poise despite their mutual history. He nodded to her. “You are looking well,” he murmured. It'd be a cold day in hell before he said anything like that he was glad to see her. Especially behind that desk. Not after how she'd taken it from her father.
“You can skip the small talk. What do you want?” she demanded, eyes flashing.
“Okay, down to business it is,” he said with a grudging nod of approval. He noted mentally that she didn't indicate he should take a seat. In fact, there were no seats beyond the one she was sitting in. So be it.
“I know you've been keeping tabs with what's happened in Rho. That there is official confirmation of an alien race is one thing. That they are potentially hostile is another.”
“I know all that,” she said impatiently.
“They are threatening your holdings there. You know that; I know that. Something has to be done, or the Confederation government will ban all travel there. They are working a bill through congress now.”
“My people will kill it,” she replied confidently. “Anything else?” she asked.
He inhaled and then exhaled slowly, keeping his temper firmly in check. Having to deal with congress on a near daily basis had done wonders for his self-control. His implants and work outs kept him fit and from having a heart attack or stroke he knew. “Look, I know we've had our differences, but we need to put that in the past and get beyond it,” Roman pleaded. “This is a common enemy situation Miss Lagroose.”
Wendy shook her head. “It's my father's problem if it is a problem at all,” she said, clearly refusing to help. “That's what we pay taxes for; I'm not putting my company in the red again.” She shook her head. “No more freebies. If they want ships or anything, they'll have to pay for it,” she said.
Roman nodded once. The company was still drawing on the slowly maturing war bonds that had financed the A.I. war, but at a reduced rate since they'd had to sell off quite a few of them over the years to remain solvent. “I can respect that. I'm asking you to prime the pump with your engineers and ship architects. Get them thinking in the right direction. And if possible, lean on your lobbyists to push for a quick resolution to end the debate,” he said.
Her nostrils flared as her lips thinned in a pout.
“Your shipyard and company will benefit. So will your orbital industry, you know it,” he added. “War is bad for business for some. For you …,” he spread his hands slightly.
“Maybe,” Wendy admitted grudgingly. “The taxes to pay for it all will hurt. They haven't even finished paying off the last war!” She waved a hand. “No, I'm not allowing any unauthorized brain storming sessions. Nothing out of our coffers. If they want something, if you want something, bring your checkbook,” she said, knowing the Space Marines were strapped for cash.
“I've got some people trying to come up with ideas. If I can get you the minimum funding for a paper study, will you match it?” Roman asked. She merely smiled and shook her head at him, eyes gloating.
“I see. Well, perhaps Lagroose Industries isn't the shipyard I should be talking to then,” he said. Her smile instantly congealed. “I'm sure Radick or one of the others would be interested in this. The potential for future business in building the navy would be enough of an incentive,” he said. “Especially if they got their foot in the door by working up the design. They'd have the inside track on any bids,” he said mildly.
Her eyes flared in anger. “You wouldn't dare,” she practically hissed.
“I've already got appointments with them. Good day,” he said with a nod as he left her office. He could practically feel the heat from her fuming glare as he left her office.
~~*^*~~
Roman did his best to keep his face impassive as he followed the guide through the corridors of the administration complex to the shuttle bay. It wouldn't do to let anyone know he was vexed with Wendy, though unsurprised by her response.
“General,” a male voice said from the side. He slowed his stride and turned. His guide did the same. A human male came over. “My name is Rick, Rick Krawley,” the man said, extending his hand.
“I'd say it is a pleasure to meet you but …,” Roman shrugged as they shook hands.
“Sorry to come at you cold, especially after what you'd just experienced.”
“You had a spy?” Roman asked, lifting an eyebrow in inquiry.
Rick snorted. “The writing was on the wall the moment you asked for that appointment. I could script it out if you want. Essentially you came hat in hand and she told you to piss off. Am I right?” he asked.
Roman grimaced at the accuracy of the other man's observation. He nodded once.
“Thought so. Well, as it happens, some of us aren't as … obstructionist as our beloved CEO,” Rick said in a mild but scathing tone of voice. “We're a bit … civic minded. I think you know one of our people; he's a bit busy and conspicuous. I thought I'd stop in with you and let you know we're … exploring things. I can't promise any miracles, but we are at least considering our options,” he said.
Roman nodded slowly. Feeling a sense of relief come through him. It was too early to let it get to his head, far too early he reminded himself sternly. But that anyone was doing something at all …
“It's all volunteer of course. We aren't using company resources or time,” Rick said. “Bullshit sessions during lunch breaks or off duty time. But, well, I thought you should know someone else is taking the threat seriously.”
“Thank you. And thank anyone who's working with you,” Roman said with a nod.
“He's not with her anymore. I know he regrets what he did and is trying to make amends. Give the guy some slack,” Rick said in a soft aside to Roman as the guide turned a curious ear to them. He glanced at her as Roman stiffened. “Just thought you should know,” Rick said as he laid a finger on the side of his nose and then left.
Roman stared after him for a moment and then shook himself. “Sorry,” he said to the young woman.
“Not a problem, General. This way,” she murmured, motioning for him to follow.
~~*^*~~
A few corporations donated used gear, which gave the sludgedly growing navy a small kick in the pants. A few real estate comp
anies offered space initially for free, then a tiered rate after that. Civilians donated equipment. Mars and some of the space colonies donated gear. Towns near shuttered bases offered up the empty bases and pointed out that they could easily be used for this or that.
Volunteers come forward with interest in joining the navy. Public funding efforts began; many were scams however. All of the media interest and public support shamed politicians who were dead set against the creation of a navy. It boiled down to the leadership of Earth First didn't want to lose the money for rebuilding Earth and the various medical and welfare programs for the population. “It's been over twenty years since the A.I. War ended!” Senator Camp protested during a hearing.
“Yes, but some of the genetic damage has been cropping up now. We're going to see this for generations,” Senator Calhoun insisted. The senator was a major supporter of widespread government subsidized healthcare on Earth as well as welfare for those who couldn't get on their feet or for those who were disabled due to the war and its pollution. The subjects were so widely accepted on Earth that the opposition was very careful about attempting any sort of actions to curtail his demands for more and more funding. Given that the birth and death rates on Earth were still pretty close to equal, she had a point. “The health situation will be an ongoing problem for generations.”
“And so will the death of everyone here when the aliens come and blow everyone away!” Senator Camp growled. “It's time to shit or get off the pot!” he said, brown eyes looking directly into the camera. “If we don't stand up for ourselves and protect ourselves, there will be no planet or anywhere else for that matter to live or save. It's that simple.”
~~*^*~~
“Nice speech,” Roman said quietly as he entered the room. Joe looked up and snorted.
“They hope it will go away. They think that they've got plenty of time to prepare, that they can just kick the can down the road a bit longer. Let it be someone else's problem.” he shook his head.
“I know. It takes time to prepare. We can't throw a navy together overnight. We pulled off a miracle with the Space Marines, but this is different. We need ships and missiles, trained personnel …,” Roman shook his head.
“What are you going to do about people? I mean running a ship is a far cry from knowing which end of a rifle to point at the enemy,” Joe said.
“I'm working on that. I've got volunteers coming out of the woodwork. Plus, I'm moving things around and trying to lay the groundwork so we can hit it fast when the politicians finally get off the stick. No offense.”
He left unsaid the promise from Krawley. He still didn't know what to make of that.
“None taken.”
“We need ships. It is going to take time to design them, time to iron out the bugs, time to build them, sort them out, the works. The sooner we can get things rolling the better.”
“I know. All I can say is that I'm trying my damndest, General,” Joe said.
“Thank you,” Roman said with a nod.
Chapter 16
The military personnel and volunteers tried their best to throw together quick and dirty warships. Mines and nuclear warheads were ruled out for the time being; although uranium was to be found easily, there were no nuclear devices in space.
As ranking officer of the Space Marines, the only accepted military branch, Roman oversaw the efforts. He shook his head as he looked at what they'd cobbled together. They had two converted transports in the yard; both had slapped on armor and improvised rail guns built from a quartet of KEW platforms that had once overlooked Earth. The four small volunteer ships had smaller scratch-built rail guns and little else.
Desperate indeed he thought. Mounting improvised rail guns on ships was one thing, but they had no defense at all despite the armor some were talking about mounting on the hulls of the volunteer ships. Most of their mass was taken up by fuel and the magazine rounds too he knew. Not good when he knew that they needed other critical pieces of equipment to be even remotely survivable in a combat environment.
Between that, the crash research and development going on, and the activation of the ships left in mothballs, he was using up most of his reserve funds. Unfortunately, they didn't have many ships left there; the government had forced him to sell them off over the past two decades. The five ships he did have left each needed an overhaul before returning to active service, but they were getting the bare minimum. And the ships he currently had in service also needed long, overdue overhauls he reminded himself.
It boiled down to money, resources, and time. He had to get the government to do something soon.
He was bleakly aware of his chances of pulling that off however.
~~*^*~~
“Do we have anything from Earth?” Admiral Kepler asked as she looked on to Admiral Lewis. They had uniforms on, military uniforms but no rank insignia or markings for the moment. So far, the Senate had yet to confirm them or the navy in general.
She appreciated General Taylor's insistence on giving them the rank of admiral. Well, she was technically a rear admiral, but she wouldn't quibble over it—not when it hadn't been confirmed.
“Anything as in …?” Admiral Lewis asked, drumming his fingertips on the table.
“You know. They had all sorts of energy weapons and other things back before the A.I. War. Do we have any of that?” Jane asked.
“You're asking about a toy chest that was rather thoroughly destroyed after it had been corrupted, Jane,” Admiral Lewis replied with a shrug. Jane made a face. “Hey, don't look at me like that. You forgot, didn't you?”
“Yeah,” she mumbled.
“I know some of the tech translated to space-based tech over time. I suppose they can recreate some of it. You are thinking the energy weapons?”
Jan nodded. “And the composite armor. Plus, some of the other goodies I'm sure they had. I wish we had some wet navy sailors to talk to. Pick their brains,” she said.
“I'd give a lot to talk to Halsey, Nelson, or Nimitz or one of the others,” Admiral Lewis said in agreement. “But they fought in a different time and on a different field. They'd be out of their element in space.”
“True,” Jan admitted.
“So, energy versus kinetic weapons. Your thoughts?” he asked.
She snorted. “Is there really any argument?” she asked. Kinetic energy weapons needed energy to propel a mass at a target. Those two elements, energy and mass, were at issue. Mass meant you had to have a magazine to store it in plus you had to do maintenance and that mass ate up space and mass on the ship. More mass meant more fuel needed to shift it around space.
On the flip side, energy weapons didn't have mass; they just required energy. But they lacked the punch of a kinetic weapon hit. They also took time to fire and time to cool down between shots. Some were ineffective outside a given range. They also needed time on target to burn through armor. But, both were hard if not impossible to stop. The only defense against a kinetic round was to dodge it; a major failing of a KEW was that it was unguided once it left the barrel.
On the other hand, energy weapons could be defeated by energy shields, armor, or something as simple as a cloud of smoke or foil particles.
“I'd say there is an argument in favor and against both and also for missiles,” Admiral Lewis said dryly. “We need to find a happy medium. But before that we need working prototypes to have a meter stick to compare them to each other. Plus, a means to scale them up or down as required.”
“An entire research and development program done on the shoestring. Without the backing of our own government. Lovely,” Jan sighed. “I think you are right. But off the top of my head, I'd go with energy weapons wherever we can … if we can get them to actually make a difference. If not KEW is the way to go. And yeah, I think a mix of all three is what we need.”
“Okay,” Admiral Lewis said, bringing up a sketch program in their favorite naval simulator. It had become rather popular with the population again.
“I see the
navy being divided three ways,” he said. “We've got the big capital ships, the backbone, then the smaller escort ships, and finally, the carriers.”
“Don't forget support ships,” Jan reminded him as she came over to sit beside him.
“I haven't. But I'm thinking front line units for the moment. The argument for quantity in a lot of small ships versus quality with a capital ship.”
“All our eggs in one basket isn't something very appealing to me. But having a lot of pop guns against a behemoth isn't either,” Jan admitted.
“Dreadnaught, I was thinking Dreadnaught personally,” Admiral Lewis said. “I ran a series of sims for General Taylor,” he said, pulling up the relevant files. What I'm looking for is what mix will work. Unfortunately, there are too many variables, including which way the government will jump.”
“True,” Jan said sourly. “You know, if we weren't lucky there'd be a fourth group,” she said.
“Oh?”
“The wet navy types would have pointed to submarines, in our case, stealth ships,” she reminded him. “And, FYI, carriers are a mix of capital and quantity,” she said. “With its own pros and cons I admit.”
“Yeah. Short-range limited firepower parasite craft with an unarmed capital ship that is horribly vulnerable. Take out the ship; lose the carrier wing,” Admiral Lewis said.
“Exactly,” Jan said with a wince. “I admit; I'm not much of a carrier fan.”
“Me neither, but it is the running trend at the moment,” he said, pulling up a file. He showed her an image of a tug one of the civilian groups had donated. It was a pretty generic model with big massive engines and very little habitation. Without the need to push a ship, the volunteer design team had stripped the tug's blueprints down to the basics and then rebuilt it from there.
It was big and ugly, but it had a lot of power he had to admit.
“We've got three designs here. Four if you include the unmanned version.”
“Unmanned?” Jan asked, looking at him.