Piece grinned. “You’d think, wouldn’t you?”
He sat back, resting his arms in his lap. “Think of the Galactics as religious fanatics. They’ll cling to their religion, the doctrine of supremacy, even when cold-blooded analysis tells them it isn’t true. The more they hear the truth, the more they reject it. They’re just like us, in that way. They won’t give up something they should give up because they think they should have it. The Harmonies cling to their favoured status and we can rely on them to make things difficult for the Tokomak, if the Tokomak violate it.”
Martin lifted his eyebrows. “Even if the Tokomak are right?”
“Even so,” Piece confirmed. “A bunch of enemy agents use Harmony codes to get through the gravity points? So what? That’s not really important. What’s important is keeping their ancient rights and privileges. They don’t have space in their heads for anything else.”
“It makes no sense,” Butler grumbled. “How can a society survive with such a glaring blind spot?”
“Because it wasn’t really a problem until the war actually started,” Piece pointed out. “They didn’t really care about fringe activities. A handful of smugglers plying their trade never really bothered them. No matter what they did, it never really upset the balance of power beyond easy repair. One of my tutors used to think it was deliberate, although that might be giving the Tokomak too much credit. The whole system might be a way of drawing rebellious souls into doing something rebellious that’s actually harmless.”
He stood. “I’m going to sleep,” he said. “Wake me if you need me.”
Martin watched him go, scowling at his back. Piece was an experienced agent - it hadn’t been hard to check his credentials - but Martin detested relying on the stupidity of others. A plan that relied on the enemy being an idiot was doomed, in his experience. Sure, there were ways to use enemy tactics against them - and get inside their decision-making loop - but they could only go so far. And yet, it wasn’t as if they were top of the enemy priority list at the moment. The hundreds of freighters scattering in all directions were merely the tip of the iceberg. For the first time in ever, an enemy fleet was within the Tokomak’s borders.
Butler shrugged. “You want to stay on the bridge?”
“Someone has to,” Martin said. Freighters didn’t require a constant watch, unlike warships, but it went against the grain to leave the bridge completely unmanned. “You can wake the others in a few hours.”
He shrugged. He’d sent the rest of the team to get some rest, knowing that it wouldn’t matter if they were awake or fast asleep if the deployment was uncovered. They’d worked themselves hard over the last week, trying to prepare for every last possibility before they set out on their mission. And yet ... he was glumly aware there were just too many things that could go wrong. He’d sooner be in the middle of a planetary invasion, wearing nothing more than his briefs. At least he’d be able to shoot back.
The display continued to update, a handful of icons fading as enemy asteroid settlements shut down their emissions and pretended to be worthless rocks. Martin didn’t fault them. Hiding was their only protection, unless they had starships they could use to evacuate the settlements. A handful of freighters were heading out of the system, joining the fleeing throng from the previous system. Martin wondered, idly, where they thought they were going. Where was safe, these days? His lips twitched, remembering the handful of middle-class kids he’d met as a child. They’d been safe and secure in a way that had always ground at him, as if some invisible force was keeping them from the very bottom of society. The Galactics were worse. They’d been safe for so long that being attacked in their lair was almost beyond their imagination.
No, it was beyond their imagination, Martin corrected himself. The defences surrounding the gravity points had been thrown together in a tearing hurry. A more measured approach, with all the time in the universe, could have made the system impregnable. And now they’ve come face to face with the bitter reality.
The hours crawled by, one by one. Martin forced himself to get some rest, then return to the bridge in time for the next transit. The ID codes worked again, somewhat to his surprise. Each jump was taking them further and further from the fleet, from all hope of help if things went wrong ... he shook his head as he watched the panic spreading through the system, heralded by the refugee freighters. The Tokomak really did have other problems. How long would it take for them to mount an effective defence?
They have a vast fleet at Tokomak Prime, he reminded himself. Sooner or later, the advancing human fleet would run into its alien counterpart. And they have to make a stand a long time before we reach their homeworld.
Piece returned to the bridge, looking amused. “I downloaded a local update, galactic-level,” he said. “They’re warning all ships to avoid a dozen sectors.”
Butler coughed. “Are you sure they can’t trace the download?”
“It’s a free briefing for Galactics.” Piece waved off his concern. “Point is, chaos is spreading.”
Martin looked at the display, then frowned. He wasn’t an expert in interstellar shipping patterns, few of which made logical sense as far as he could tell, but it was clear the affected sectors were some distance from the Twins. They weren’t that important, not in the grand scheme of things. But if they were rebellious - if the Galactics were ready to admit they were rebellious - who knew where it would end? In fire? Or in freedom?
He watched the pattern grow as they crawled from system to system. The official news bulletins were bland, utterly uninformative. They sounded as if they’d been put together by someone who didn’t have the slightest idea what was real news, except they were just a little too deliberate for him to believe it. No one could be that stupid unless they were under orders. The unofficial broadcasts, hints of messages routed through random communications nodes, all traces of their existences wiped as soon as they were detected, told a different story. The humans were coming, freedom was in the air ... there were stories of everything from strikes and shutdowns to outright rebellions, too many to be put down. Martin had no idea how many of them could be taken seriously, if any of them could be taken seriously, but it hardly mattered. The times were changing. He wondered, deep inside, how the Tokomak would take it. Even they couldn’t emerge unchanged, after fighting a war for survival. Surely ...
“What happens if they crack down on the Twins?” Butler raised the issue, one evening. “And we can’t get down to the surface?”
“There are contingency plans,” Piece said, vaguely. He’d been spending a lot of time with his alien comrades, discussing the news reports. “It depends on what we find when we get there.”
“How very reassuring,” Butler said, sarcastically. “Don’t you have any idea at all?”
“No, because I don’t know how much we can rely on the news reports.” Piece didn’t sound angry, but Martin thought he was irritated. “If things haven’t really changed, we should have no trouble getting down to the surface. If they have, we might have to make contact with the spacers instead. And that poses other problems.”
“Quite.” Martin didn’t know the specifics, but he’d read the generalist reports. The Tokomak kept a wary eye on all space-based industries and settlements, particularly the ones owned and controlled by their subordinates. “We might be betrayed.”
“Or worse.” Piece shrugged. “There are bounties on human scalps, you know.”
“We should start force-growing them,” Butler said. “And see how many we can sell before they catch on.”
Martin laughed, although it wasn’t really funny. “They’d smell a rat, sooner or later.”
“But they wouldn’t know,” Butler mock-protested. “They’d have to take it seriously.”
“We don’t want attention,” Piece pointed out. “There aren’t supposed to be any humans left, not on the Twins.”
“Shit.” Martin sobered. “What happened to them? The ones who were settled there, I mean?”
&n
bsp; “Dead, if they’re lucky.” Piece shrugged. “The Tokomak might have transported them to another world, but I doubt it. They’re much more likely to have killed them all.”
“And if they have, we’ll kill them all,” Butler said. “We have to teach the bastards a lesson they’ll never forget. Human lives don’t come cheap.”
Martin wanted to agree, but he held his tongue. The Tokomak would be much more likely to come to terms with humanity, and their former subordinates, if they thought they’d survive the peace. And yet, he wanted to pay them back in their own coin. He wasn’t the only one, either. There would be uncounted and uncountable numbers of people, human and alien, who wanted to extract a little revenge. The war - so far - had been relatively civilised. It might not stay that way.
And it won’t, when they get desperate, he told himself. The Tokomak had to be getting desperate. There was an entire fleet inside their borders, threatening to cut its way to their homeworld. All hell will be out for noon.
Chapter Twelve
N-Gann looked different, Hoshiko thought, as she surveyed the holographic display. There weren’t many visible differences, since the fleet had chopped its way into the system, but ... it felt different. The provisional government had taken over the ring, the orbital facilities and what remained of the defences, swearing that every last person on the planet would sooner die on his feet - or whatever he had instead of feet - then live on his knees. Hoshiko wasn’t so sure - the Tokomak could retake the system, if they committed a sizable fleet to the effort - but, for the moment, it didn’t matter. Either they won the war, in which case N-Gann would have its independence, or they lost. If that happened ...
She shook her head, telling herself not to be so pessimistic. The first part of the plan had worked perfectly. Admiral Teller was in position, ready to start smashing his way towards the Twins - and Tokomak Prime. Preliminary reports suggested there wasn’t much in his way, although that would change quickly. Word was already spreading, rocketing down the chain at the speed of light - and FTL. The Tokomak would know he was on his way well before he challenged the next fleet base. And they’d have to react.
And in the meantime, we’ll be moving around the edge of their empire, she thought, coldly. It would take time to reach their target, but - if they were lucky - they would get there without losing the advantage of surprise. And then ... even if they failed, her most pessimistic calculations suggested they’d still be able to pull off the plan itself. Even if we lose, we’ll give them one hell of a fright.
Her gaze slipped to the gravity point, where a dozen orbital weapons platforms and thousands of cheap, mass-produced mines were being pushed and prodded into position. They wouldn’t last long, not against a determined assault, but they’d force the Tokomak to work if they wanted to punch into the system. It might just buy the provisional government more time for when the inevitable counterattack materialised. The Tokomak would have to retake the chain if they wanted to launch a thrust towards Earth ...
She closed her eyes, cursing herself. Things had been a lot easier when she’d commanded a lone squadron, or even sat in a starship’s command chair. There had only been a few hundred lives resting on her, not uncountable trillions. She knew what the Tokomak would do, if they won the war and restored order. Humanity wouldn’t be the only race hurled into the fire. They’d slaughter billions to cow trillions ... or maybe they’d just wipe out every last race, even their fellow Galactics. Hoshiko had signed off on black propaganda that suggested just that, but she hated to think it might be true. The slaughter would be beyond comprehension if they won.
Her intercom bleeped. “Admiral,” Yolanda said. “Commander Khalid is reporting, as ordered.”
“Ask him to remain in the outer office,” Hoshiko said, opening her eyes. “I’ll be along in a moment.”
She tapped her console, turning off the holographic display. Her office snapped back into focus. She rubbed her eyes, trying not to look at the sofa. She’d slept there over the last few days, catching what little sleep she could while making frantic preparations for departure. Her grandfather had urged her to sleep in her own bed, but she couldn’t. There was just too much to do. She’d promised herself a proper rest once the fleet was underway, having broken contact with prowling enemy pickets ...
Her finger rested on the terminal. “Secure mode, on,” she ordered. “Record, Level Ten.”
There was a pause. “Secure mode engaged,” the terminal said. The voice was cold, masculine. The feminine user overlay was gone. “Status check ... working ... done. Secure mode confirmed secure. Level Ten recording, standing by.”
Hoshiko let out a long breath. “You will have seen the tactical concepts developed by my staff,” she said. “It is my intention to proceed with Plan Wellington. I believe that Wellington offers the greatest chance for winning the war in a single campaign, for ensuring that the Tokomak either surrender or lose so badly that they will never be able to threaten us again. My staff and I have evaluated the risks and decided that we can proceed. Defeat remains a possible outcome, but ...”
She paused, choosing her next words carefully. “I am aware that I am pushing my authority beyond its limit,” she added. “I am aware that I am risking more than just myself and my fleet in committing us to Plan Wellington. However, our window of opportunity is slight and there simply isn’t time to request and receive orders. We have to move now or not move at all. It is my considered judgement that we have to move now.
“I have consulted with others, but the final decision is mine and mine alone. I accept full responsibility for the consequences, whatever they happen to be. If it becomes necessary to disown and disavow me, or to put me in front of a court martial, I will accept your judgement without hesitation. I - and I alone - will bear the burden. Goodbye.”
Hoshiko took her finger off the terminal. “Seal the recording, then cancel secure mode,” she ordered. “And eject the datachip.”
The terminal bleeped, ejecting the chip. Hoshiko picked it up, the fanciful side of her mind wondering why it felt so light. The weight of her words seemed to hang in the air. She knew she would be blamed, if things went wrong. She shook her head as she stood, knowing she was being foolish. If things went wrong, she would be dead or trapped in a POW camp. And the Solar Union would pay a price for her failure.
But I’ll win them time, she thought, as she headed for the hatch. There’ll be enough time to build a new fleet, with newer weapons. And the Tokomak will never catch up with us.
She stepped through the hatch, which hissed closed behind her. Commander Khalid was talking to Yolanda. He straightened up as he saw her, throwing a salute that was just a little sloppy. Courier boat commanders tended to be more than a little sloppy, if only because they rarely spent much time on real starships. Hoshiko found it hard to care. There simply weren’t many volunteers for the job.
“Reporting as ordered, Admiral,” Khalid said.
“Good.” Hoshiko held out the chip. “You are to take this chip back to Sol, where you are to put it directly into Admiral Mongo Stuart’s hands. No one else, and I mean no one, is to take possession of it unless Admiral Stuart has been replaced, in which case you are to pass it to his successor. In the event of your ship being boarded, the datachip is to be destroyed along with your datacores.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Khalid said. “I won’t let you down.”
“Very good.” Hoshiko nodded, shortly. “Dismissed.”
Khalid saluted, slightly snappier this time, then turned and left the compartment. He’d beam to his ship shortly before the fleet departed, heading back to Sol at speeds few other ships could match. Hoshiko told herself, firmly, that most of the chain was in human or allied hands. He’d have no trouble making it back. And ... she felt oddly free, knowing she was committed. Whatever happened, it would be all on her. She’d reap the rewards of victory or the punishment of defeat.
And none of my officers will bear the blame, she told herself, although she knew it
might be wishful thinking. She was pushing her authority further than it should go and everyone knew it. She could have been relieved of command, quite legitimately. Even her grandfather’s quiet support had its limits. They’ll say my staff should have refused to follow orders ...
She sat in her command chair and studied the display. The fleet was in position, dozens of squadrons ready to head out in all directions. Half the ships were under cloak, flying so close to their uncloaked fellows that any watching eyes should have problems realising the ships hadn’t been assigned to Admiral Teller. Teller had complained bitterly about the number of sensor decoys he’d have to deploy, as he began his march to the Twins and Tokomak Prime, but he’d understood the logic. Hoshiko didn’t want the Tokomak considering her fleet a strategic threat. Let them think her a minor nuisance. The longer they believed she was merely raising hell, behind the lines, the longer it would take them to react when they discovered the truth.
“Admiral,” Yolanda said. “The final units have checked in.”
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