“They do,” Siskin said. “Natural bureaucrats, the lot of them. Everything must be signed and dated in triplicate before they’ll get off their butts and do something. But that doesn't mean they’ll share everything they know with the peons. Can't have the peons knowing too much about how the universe works, can we?”
“No, sir,” Thomas said.
“Wrong answer,” Siskin said. He smiled, rather dryly. “Maybe you’re looking in the wrong place.”
“I don’t know where to look,” Thomas confessed. He rubbed his eyes, tiredly. “I’m not even sure why the XO gave me this job.”
“To see what you did with it,” Siskin said. “If you needed to know something, Ensign, how would you find it out?”
Thomas frowned. “Look it up online,” he said. “The naval database has lots of data.”
“So it does,” Siskin agreed. “And what would you do if the database doesn’t include information you need? Like, perhaps, how to slot a missile launcher into a modified casing?”
“Oh,” Thomas said, remembering. It had been one of the tests for young officers, back when he’d boarded the ship and he had a feeling he’d failed it, although no one had given him a definite answer. There had been nothing in the files, but when he’d asked the Senior Chief in despair he’d been told that the launcher needed to be adjusted manually when it was halfway into the casing. “I’d ask someone with more experience.”
He looked down at the deck for a long moment. “But who on this ship has ... oh.”
“Oh, indeed,” Siskin said. “Why don't you ask Captain Ryman?”
Thomas looked back at the files on his screen. “I thought I was meant to find out what the files said ...”
“You were told to learn what you can about the Druavroks,” Siskin corrected. “Did the XO specifically tell you not to ask Captain Ryman or his crew? They have something no one else on the ship has, Ensign: direct personal contact with our potential enemies. You should ask them before we reach Amstar.”
Thomas glanced at the wall-mounted display. They’d spent four days in transit, with three more to go before they arrived at their destination. He’d hoped he’d find something useful in the files, something that would make the XO notice him as more than just another wet behind the ears ensign, but nothing had appeared. Indeed, the ship’s intelligence staff had probably already come to the same conclusion.
“I’ll ask the doctor if I can speak to Captain Ryman,” he said. “Thank you, chief.”
“Make sure you don't waste the opportunity,” the chief warned. “You won’t get a second one, I suspect.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. He hastily activated his implants, uploading the request to the doctor’s office, then looked back at the Senior Chief. “Can I ask a question?”
“You can ask any question you like,” the Senior Chief said. “Just remember that such questions are always a learning experience.”
Thomas paused, trying to organise his thoughts. “The intelligence staff must have already gone through the files - and interrogated Captain Ryman,” he said. A message popped up in front of his eyes, informing him that the doctor had cleared his visit to the freighter captain, provided he was quick. “Why ask me to do it too?”
“I could give you two possible answers,” the Senior Chief said. “First, having a number of different eyes on a problem makes it more likely that a solution will be found. The intelligence staff are good at their work, but they’re not always good at understanding the real universe. Second, the XO gave you the task to see what you would do with it. Sure, you could have spent the next three days trying to get actionable intelligence out of some very thin files ... instead, you thought outside the box and found a new angle of approach.”
“After you helped me,” Thomas said, slowly. He shook his head morosely. “I should have thought of it for myself.”
“It isn't a crime to want to ask for help,” the Senior Chief said. “And it isn't against regulations to ask for information one of your comrades or subordinates possesses. You never know just how much your comrades know until you ask them.”
He shrugged. “But it is a crime to hit a dead end and then continue to pick through the intelligence, rather than admitting that there’s nothing to find,” he added. “That caused no end of problems with intelligence officers, back in the day.”
Thomas looked up at him. “Can I ask a question? I’ve looked at your file - the sections that were open to me, at least. Why did you never switch to command track? They’d have fast-tracked you through the Academy and made you a lieutenant as soon as you graduated.”
Siskin considered it for a moment. “I’ve been a chief on a dozen vessels,” he said, slowly. “I was a chief on the Enterprise, the aircraft carrier, long before I joined the Solar Navy and left Earth behind. I grew to enjoy supervising crewmen and mentoring promising young officers, but it wasn't a task I could do properly back when I was younger. Too much political interference. Here ... I can do it properly and enjoy passing my wisdom on to older officers smart enough to listen.”
“I see, I think,” Thomas said. “Why would anyone interfere, politically?”
“You’re not a senior officer,” Siskin said, “but you are someone who could grow into one, someone who could influence the future direction of the navy. People who think about anything other than the long-term good of the navy try to influence selections and promotions in the hope of appeasing a political agenda. And the fact you don’t understand what I’m talking about shows just how far the Solar Union has come.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said, privately resolving to look it up in the history files. “Are you going to accompany me to see Captain Ryman?”
The Senior Chief gave him a look. “Do you need your hand held?”
“No, sir,” Thomas said, quickly. “I’ll record the meeting for later analysis.”
He nodded to Siskin, then headed out of the hatch and down towards sickbay. A note popped up in his implants, ordering him to report to the XO at 1900; he placed a reminder in his calendar and then swore, inwardly, as he realised he’d be going on duty directly after his interview with the XO. Unless the XO had decided to tell him that there had been a terrible mistake and his assignment to Jackie Fisher had been revoked. He’d sometimes wondered, when he’d been feeling terribly inadequate, if he truly deserved his rank.
Doctor Carr met him at the hatch, her stern gaze making him feel around ten centimetres tall as he came to a halt and saluted. She wasn’t in the line of command, technically, but only a fool would treat the ship’s doctor lightly. Thomas wasn't the only ensign who was scared of a woman who could relieve the captain of duty, let alone a junior officer on his first deployment. And being relieved would look very bad on his service record.
“Ensign,” she said. “Captain Ryman is currently awake and reasonably healthy, but if he gets tired or agitated I want you to stop the interview at once. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, doctor,” Thomas said. The next question popped out before he could stop himself. “I thought he would have implants to compensate ...”
“He’s pushed them to the limit,” the doctor said, cutting him off. “Implants can give your system a boost, ensign, but they can't compensate for everything. He really needs a long period of rest and relaxation, so don’t push him too hard.”
She stepped back and pointed to a hatch. “He’s in there,” she said. “He said he would talk to you, so ... good luck.”
Thomas swallowed as he walked up to the hatch and pushed the buzzer, unsure if he should just walk in or not. Back home, entering a person’s private apartment without their permission was a gross breech of etiquette, but in sickbay? The doctor could walk in and out at will, he was sure ... the hatch hissed open, cutting off that train of thought. Bracing himself, Thomas stepped into the private compartment. Captain Ryman was sitting on his bed, reading a datapad. He looked up and smiled, then nodded to the hatch. It hissed closed behind Thomas.
“Th
e doctor said you wanted to ask me a few questions, young man,” Captain Ryman said, as Thomas saluted. He certainly sounded better than he had on the bridge of his ship. “I am at your disposal.”
“Thank you, sir,” Thomas said. He pulled up a chair and sat down. “I’ve been asked to gather as much information as I can about the Druavroks before we meet them in battle, Captain. There’s frustratingly little in the files.”
“I had that problem too,” Captain Ryman said.
“But you’ve met them,” Thomas said, feeling a flicker of panic. What if the whole interview turned out to be a waste of time? The XO would have a few sharp things to say about it - and more, perhaps, if Captain Stuart found out. “You must know something about them!”
“I do,” Captain Ryman said. He leaned backwards, as if the subject was somehow distasteful. “I just didn't learn about them in the files.”
He paused. “I don’t suppose you managed to smuggle a box of cigarettes in here?”
“I’m afraid not,” Thomas said, wondering if he were being teased. He had to consult his implants to find out what cigarettes were, leaving him wondering why people smoked when they could just use electronic brain simulation instead. “I might be able to find a packet in ship’s stores, if you like.”
“No worries,” Captain Ryman said. “The Druavroks.”
He leaned forward, resting his hands on his lap. “I don’t know much about their history, certainly nothing more than you’ll have found in the files,” he said. “What I do know is that they’re an immensely aggressive race - even-tempered, you might say; mad all the time. The Druavroks picked the most fights with everyone else on Amstar long before the Tokomak pulled out and abandoned them to their own devices. Look at a group of Druavroks funny and you’d be fighting for your life seconds later. They even picked fights with each other when there was no one else to fight.
“I actually saw two of them fight in a mixed-race bar on Amstar,” he added, his face twisting in dismay. “They just flew at each other, claws out; the peace force had to stun them to get them to stop. They’re not the sort of people who’ll use the bureaucracy to screw you, to be fair, but they’ll hammer you into the ground if they think you’re not treating them with sufficient respect. Most folks of all races tended to avoid them as much as possible, or only deal with them over telecommunications lines. It was safer than perhaps winding up in an autodoc after being beaten half to death.”
He paused. “And yet, it was rare for them to actually kill someone.”
Thomas frowned. “Wouldn't killing someone have been a great deal more serious?”
“They were the local enforcers,” Captain Ryman pointed out. “I dare say they could have gotten away with killing a few of their victims if they wanted. Most of the deaths they did cause were misjudgements, I believe; they simply didn’t realise how badly they were injuring their enemies. I wouldn’t have expected them to slip into committing genocide.”
“I see,” Thomas said. “How do they fight?”
“Hammer and tongs,” Captain Ryman said. Thomas frowned, puzzled. “They’ll go all-out to beat you, if they want to fight. The only way to stop them is to hammer the bastards so hard they back off, dazed. It isn't easy for an unenhanced human to inflict enough damage to convince them to submit. And yet, I've never heard of any of them directly defying the Tokomak. I don’t know how the Tokomak managed to make them surrender.”
He sighed. “Something has changed with them,” he added. “Wanting to win at all costs is one thing, but committing genocide is quite another. Maybe they’ve decided they simply cannot endure the presence of aliens any longer. I honestly don't know.”
Thomas considered it for a long moment. “A plague? Or a meme-attack?”
“A plague could have been countered by an autodoc,” Captain Ryman said. “A meme-attack ... maybe. Their internal politics are something of a mystery. A new religion, perhaps, preaching death to all other races. There’s no way to know.”
“Do they have a religion?”
“If they do, I don’t know about it,” Captain Ryman said. “They rarely talk about themselves, at least to outsiders. The Tokomak may know more, Ensign, but they’re unlikely to respond to a request for information.”
“And their borders are over a year away now,” Thomas added. “It would be quicker to get answers from Earth.”
“The one thing you have to bear in mind,” Captain Ryman warned, “is that they are a very aggressive race. Show them a hint of weakness and they’ll attack. You see this in their trade negotiations too, I’m afraid. I always found it was easier just to set a price and stick to it, because any haggling is seen as either an admission or a charge of weakness.”
Thomas frowned. “They don’t realise you’re setting your first demand too high?”
“They don’t understand the concept,” Captain Ryman said. “To them, you ask for what the items are worth and stick to it. Dropping your price is an admission you don’t have the nerve to hold it and they’ll jump on you. And don’t play poker or any other game that requires bluffing with them. They always end in naked violence.”
“Shit,” Thomas said. “The XO is not going to be pleased.”
“Of course not,” Captain Ryman said. “Nor is anyone else who is likely to encounter them.”
Chapter Seven
The Michigan Free State announced the death by firing squad of a number of criminals charged with crimes against the state, including former federal officials, liberals, radical feminists and a handful of former politicians. It is believed the purge, spearheaded by refugees from federal tyranny, will continue until all remnants of federal authority have been removed.
-Solar News Network, Year 54
It was, Hoshiko had to admit, a common tactical problem - and one that had no satisfactory answer.
The Druavroks, unless they were complete idiots, would be watching for incoming starships and could hardly fail to miss nine heavy cruisers of unknown design. It was just plausible that the Druavroks would assume the ships were freighters instead of military vessels, but that would rely on a level of incompetence unmatched since the day newly-minted cadets had been given command of a simulated starship to demonstrate just how little they actually knew. No, they'd see her coming, which limited her options. Dropping out of FTL on the edge of the system and sneaking in would take far too long, giving them all the time they needed to prepare for her arrival, while coming in too close ran the risk of running straight into an ambush.
Pity we can’t use realspace sensors in FTL, she thought. It was possible to track ships moving at FTL speeds, but a starship that dropped out of FTL might as well have vanished somewhere within a vast immensity of space. There’s no way to know what’s waiting for us until we arrive.
She keyed her console thoughtfully, then glanced at the tactical officer. “We’ll drop out here,” she said. Unless the enemy had supernatural powers, they would find it impossible to guess her precise endpoint. “Communicate my intentions to the rest of the squadron. I want to hit maximum velocity and drive straight at the planet as soon as we drop out of FTL.”
“Aye, Captain,” Biscoe said.
“Prepare to transmit our warning message as soon as we arrive,” Hoshiko added, “but hold it until I give the order to send.”
Just in case they have a battle squadron we cannot defeat in orbit around Amstar, she thought, sourly. She doubted it, but she didn't dare take the chance. If that happened, they would have no choice; they’d have to leave with their tail between their legs. Uncle Mongo should have given me some goddamned Hammerhead missiles.
She shook her head, reminding herself not to be an entitled Earther brat. Hammerhead missiles were expensive, even for the Solar Union; she didn't blame Admiral Stuart for not assigning any to her command when they were required to protect Sol. But they could smash through a Tokomak battleship as though she were made of paper. One or two Hammerhead missiles might be enough to convince the Druavroks to withdra
w without much of a fight.
“Ten minutes to the system line,” the helmsman reported. “Twelve minutes to emergence point.”
“Red alert,” Hoshiko ordered. “I say again, sound red alert. Set condition one throughout the ship. Bring combat datanet to ready position.”
“Aye, captain,” Biscoe said, as the sirens began to howl. “Red alert; condition one. Combat datanet ready and standing by.”
Hoshiko nodded at Wilde, who was watching the live feeds from all over the ship. The XO hadn't complained once, since they’d departed, but she’d been very aware of his concerns about just what they were about to do. Nothing either his officers or the intelligence staff had been able to dig up on the Druavroks sounded good. Hoshiko had the uneasy feeling that nothing, not even the threat of overwhelming force, would be enough to make them submit without a major fight. It rather made her wonder how the Tokomak had kept them under control.
Maybe they just offered the bastards a string of ready targets, she thought, sardonically. Let them take their malice out on anyone but the masters of the cosmic all.
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