“Welcome, Fellow Sentients,” Hoshiko said. She’d clearly downloaded a Gal-Standard One interface module for her implants, although she would have learned Gal-Standard One at the Academy like everyone else. “It is time to decide how to proceed.”
She leaned back in her chair, looking calm and composed. It would be wasted on the aliens, Griffin thought; their ability to read human expressions and postures was as limited as humanity’s ability to read theirs. Social etiquette in the Tokomak Empire was designed to limit friction and misunderstandings, but it couldn't eliminate them completely. Unless, of course, the aliens had obtained a human interaction file from the squadron. Griffin was fairly sure that at least one of them would have been included with the data packets they’d simply been giving away.
Their implants aren't as advanced as ours, he reminded himself. They’d have problems keeping the file in primary mode.
“The Druavroks on the surface have been contained,” Hoshiko continued, “and the ones in the system itself have been eliminated. There is no prospect of them successfully regaining the initiative, at least until reinforcements arrive from their forward bases. Should they attempt to launch a second offensive, we will hammer them from orbit and exterminate their remaining enclaves. Furthermore, the defences of Amstar are growing stronger all the time.”
She paused for effect. Griffin frowned, inwardly. Exterminating the Druavroks on the surface was a breach of standing orders, no matter what sort of threat they posed to everyone else on the surface. The Solar Union’s regulations flatly prohibited genocide. But it had been the only way to compromise between the planet's understandable desire to rid themselves of the threat, once and for all, and humanity’s moral qualms. He hoped - prayed -- that the Druavroks had enough sense to remain in their enclaves and not come out.
And that our friends on the surface don’t take control of the orbital platforms and bombard the enclaves themselves, he thought. What do we do if they succeed in committing genocide?
It wasn't a pleasant thought. The reports from the surface had made it clear that local militias and individual vigilantes were patrolling the edge of the Druavrok enclaves, while hunting down and slaughtering any Druavroks caught outside the enclaves. Sniper fire from the enclaves was so intense, the marines had noted, that the other enclaves had been evacuated and the entire area was largely deserted. If nothing else, it would make life easier if the Druavroks ever did come screaming out to restart their crusade. The KEWs could be dropped without worrying about civilian casualties.
“We now need to decide how best to proceed to take the war to them,” Hoshiko said. “As you can see, we have several options.”
Griffin dragged his attention back to her as she activated a large star chart, projecting it in front of them. Red stars marked worlds known to be held by the Druavroks, green stars marked allies; green and red icons represented worlds that were currently disputed. In most cases, the Druavroks had already been settled there in large numbers before the Tokomak had retreated from the sector. They’d promptly declared war on everyone else and attacked.
And there are a lot of red worlds, he thought. The Druavroks had held over twenty systems before the war had begun; now, they held thirty-two and seventeen other systems were battlegrounds. They're well on their way to becoming a major threat.
He cursed inwardly as Hoshiko talked her audience through the map. The bypasses and hacks humanity had developed for the fabbers would spread, of course. Griffin would have happily bet half his yearly salary that the Druavroks would have their own hacks within a couple of months, no matter how careful the allies were to protect the data. Someone could always be bribed, of course, or the information could simply be stolen. And then the Druavroks would start turning out human-grade weapons and technology of their own.
“The obvious course of action is to attempt to relieve one of the disputed worlds,” Hoshiko said, once she’d finished explaining the map. “However, that has its problems; the enemy will be in strength, expecting an attack. They may not realise that we are forming a coalition, but they do know that some of their targets have allies. Therefore, I intend to attack Malachi, here. The Druavroks have been running supplies through the system ever since they captured it, turning the system into a base camp. Hitting it and destroying their supply lines - stealing their fabbers and smashing their warehouses - would put a crimp in their operations.”
There was another reason, Griffin knew. The massive fleet simply wasn't very agile at the best of times - and getting thousands of ships from seventeen different races to work together was sheer hell. Hoshiko had freed up too many of her crew to serve as ‘liaison officers’ for Griffin’s comfort. Jackie Fisher could, in theory, be operated by only twenty officers and men, but it wasn't something Griffin wanted to try in practice. Cutting the crew to fifty was a major gamble.
But we need them on the ships, Griffin thought. And we need to blood the crews against a target that can’t fight back effectively.
He scowled at the thought. The coalition was fragile; humanity might have beaten the Tokomak and chased the Druavroks off Amstar, but the other members feared the Druavroks and worried for the safety of their homeworlds. They needed to believe they could win, they needed to believe they could beat the Druavroks, or humanity would be stuck doing the heavy lifting for the rest of time. And, with only nine cruisers and a handful of smaller ships, Hoshiko simply couldn't fight the Druavroks alone.
“We will spend the next three days working through tactical simulations, culminating with a live-fire exercise that will allow the crews a chance to get to grips with human-level technology,” Hoshiko continued. “The planning staff is currently working on ways to get a peek into the enemy system without alerting them to our approach. In the unlikely event of us running into more firepower than we can reasonably handle, we’ll divert the fleet to a secondary target. This will also give us a chance to further expand the fixed defences surrounding Amstar.”
And make sure the system remains secure, Griffin thought. He had to admit that capturing the fabbers had been a lucky break, despite the long-term risks. Their steady output would eventually make Amstar impregnable. But we don’t want to become too dependent on a single source of supply.
“Once we have completed the operation, we will consider our next set of targets,” Hoshiko concluded. “I ask all of you to request as many courier boats as possible, as we will need to move within our enemy’s decision-making loop as much as we can. We also need hundreds of additional warships and freighters, both to add fighting power to our forces and to supply our ships as we strike into enemy territory. This is warfare on an unprecedented scale and we need to be ready.”
And hope the enemy hasn't done as much planning as we have, Griffin thought. The Tokomaks rarely bothered with serious planning, not when they enjoyed such a vast advantage over any conceivable foes. They just gathered an overwhelmingly powerful force, pointed it at the enemy ship and stomped it into rubble. The enemy might have taken lessons from their former masters.
“I thank you for your time,” Hoshiko said. “The floor is now open for discussions.”
Griffin listened, feeling a twinge of sympathy for his commander - and for some of his former superiors, back in the days of the wet navy. Coalition warfare was never easy, not when each allied nation had its own agenda. Some of them had sought political advantage, some had wanted a formal quid pro quo and some hadn't been particularly invested in the war at all. Indeed, he recalled a handful of allies who had been playing both sides of the field and slipping information to the enemies of freedom. The only real difference between coalition warfare on Earth and the growing alliance against the Druavroks was that the aliens understood that they were targets, no matter what they did.
Good thing the Druavroks never learned how to be diplomatic, Griffin thought, as the discussion raged on. They could split the coalition in two just by making the right promises to the right people.
“But getting into
the system without being detected is impossible,” one alien insisted, loudly. “They will see you coming!”
“Yes, they will,” Hoshiko agreed. “But the fleet can actually get within a few hours of the system without being detected. We hold position and send a single spy ship on ahead.”
Griffin sighed inwardly as the discussion finally came to an end. Hoshiko had been more patient than he’d expected, but it had been easy for him to tell she was growing tired and ragged before finally calling a halt. The argument had begun to go in circles, after all; too many alien races were afraid that their rivals would take advantage of their weaknesses and strike at their homeworlds while they were diverted. Hoshiko had finally promised human retribution against anyone who broke their word, but Griffin was all too aware that she might not be able to keep that promise. The Solar Union would certainly object to strikes against allied worlds.
“We will start the first formal exercise tomorrow,” Hoshiko said. “And then the main body of the fleet will depart in three days.”
She sat back in her chair, looking tired and wan, as the holographic images vanished from the chamber. Griffin watched her, feeling a sudden flicker of concern. It was his job, as XO, to watch his commander’s health as well as her mental state and he had a nasty feeling that Hoshiko was pushing herself to the limits. She might have been heavily enhanced - the Solarians had no compunctions about loading their bodies with technology - but she was still human.
“Captain,” he said. “I’d suggest a long nap.”
“There’s too much to do,” Hoshiko said. She rubbed her forehead as she sat upright. “It’s never that bad when we have our regular meetings.”
“Your commanding officers share the same general background and understanding of the universe,” Griffin said. “They may be your subordinates, but they expect you to treat them as people and not to discard them without very good cause. Even if they don’t like you, they know you have nothing to gain by throwing their lives away. Pulling a Uriah Gambit would get you flung out an airlock after the inevitable court-martial.”
“Sending one of my commanding officers to die because I desired his partner would be shitty,” Hoshiko said.
“There are races involved in your coalition that have disputes,” Griffin reminded her. “If you were to send one race’s battleships to their doom, their rivals will grow relatively stronger and perhaps turn on their enemies once the war against the Druavroks is over. Therefore, even while they fight beside us, they guard their backs against their rivals and prospective future enemies. The only reason they trust us, I think, is because humanity isn't a particularly significant race in this sector - and I don’t expect it to last.”
Hoshiko raised her eyebrows. “Why?”
“Because there are large settlements of humans here,” Griffin reminded her. “We might end up using them as an excuse for Anschluss.”
“I wouldn't want to,” Hoshiko said. “We’re not interested in annexing worlds.”
“They don’t understand our society,” Griffin said. “And why should they? The concept of a society that is primarily based on asteroids and small moons is alien to them.”
“Because the Tokomak were obsessed with worlds themselves,” Hoshiko said. “They never made the transition to a spacefaring society.”
“And we only did for political reasons,” Griffin said. He shrugged. “Captain, if I may make a suggestion, get some sleep.”
“Soon,” Hoshiko said.
Griffin felt another stab of sympathy, despite his worries. Hoshiko effectively wore three hats now: commanding officer of Jackie Fisher, commanding officer of the squadron and commanding officer of the coalition fleet. She had placed dozens of people in positions where they could handle the immense problems facing them, but the buck still stopped with her. And if the Solar Union chose to object to her approach to the problems facing the sector, she’d pay for it with her life ...
... And there's no one she can truly confide in, he thought. It wasn't uncommon for junior officers or crewmen to form relationships - it wasn't against regulations, as long as they were at roughly the same rank - but there was literally no one who was either an equal or a civilian, not to Hoshiko. There’s no one she can relax around and just be herself.
Hoshiko cleared her throat. “I want to make some special preparations,” she said, leaning forward. “First, I intend to command the exercises - and our first deployment - from the CIC, leaving you in command of the ship. It’s technically a dereliction of duty, but I see no way around it.”
“Nor do I,” Griffin said. The regulations that forbade captains from leaving their bridge during a combat situation hadn't been written to cover these circumstances. Normally, there would be a captain on the bridge and an admiral in the CIC. “How do you intend to set up a chain of command?”
“That will be tricky,” Hoshiko acknowledged. “Captain Ryman is the most experienced person we have, when it comes to dealing with aliens, but his military experience is somewhat outdated. If something happens to Jackie Fisher, Captain Macpherson will assume command of the fleet. We can't risk appointing an alien because everyone who wasn't appointed will complain.”
“If this alliance turns into a permanent structure,” Griffin said, “we’re going to need to get around that somehow.”
“Maybe set up a joint space force,” Hoshiko said. “It isn't as though we couldn’t have multiracial ships.”
“The logistics would be a pain,” Griffin said. “Even if we insisted on only allowing humanoid races to join, Captain, it would still be a major headache.”
Hoshiko smirked. “Wasn't that what they said about allowing women on combat ships back in the wet navy?”
“The problems would be an order of magnitude worse,” Griffin said, irked. The wet navy had had problems integrating female crewmembers, but at least the women had been human and could use human facilities. He tried to imagine a Hordesman using a human toilet and shuddered. “Even for a bigger ship, even with modern technology, it would still be a struggle.”
“Perhaps,” Hoshiko said. “But the only way to overcome distrust is to have officers serve together before they take roles in high command.”
She sighed. “There’s one other thing I’ve been considering,” she added. “I want you to prepare a couple of ships for a small crew. A freighter, for preference, and a courier boat.”
Griffin frowned. “Can I ask why?”
“The problem with approaching Malachi is that they’ll see us coming,” Hoshiko said. “I think there’s a way to limit what they can see before it’s too late.”
She outlined what she wanted, piece by piece. “It should be doable,” she concluded. “And I will be commanding the ship myself.”
“You shouldn’t,” Griffin said. The commander should not put herself in extra danger during wartime. “You’re the glue holding this hodgepodge together.”
“That’s precisely why I have to take the risk, Commander,” Hoshiko said. “Our allies may be nervous about being knifed in the back by our other allies, but they have to be worried about us too. I need to prove to them that we’re going to be sharing the risks.”
“That’s ... not a smart choice,” Griffin objected.
“I know,” Hoshiko said. “But I don’t think we have a choice.”
Chapter Thirteen
A radioactive ‘dirty bomb’ was triggered in Delhi yesterday, creating a cloud of radioactive particles that poisoned thousands of civilians. The Indian Government declared it the work of Islamist terrorists and announced a major round-up of Islamists and everyone even remotely connected to them.
-Solar News Network, Year 54
Jackie Fisher, Hoshiko had discovered when she’d first boarded her command, hadn't really been designed as a command vessel. The Solar Union had been designing the Admiral-class heavy cruisers back when there had been little interest in mounting operations well away from Sol, where there were ample command vessels of other classes available. Her
CIC therefore doubled as her secondary bridge, while her flag deck was relatively small and there were only a handful of compartments for an admiral’s command staff. But as long as it did the job, Hoshiko found it hard to care. Her uncle had worked hard on reducing personal staffs in any case.
“It’s bad for an admiral to be surrounded by ass-kissers,” he’d said, back when Hoshiko had been preparing for the Academy. “They tell him what they think he wants to hear and never tell him what he needs to hear.”
She pushed the thought out of her mind as she looked up at the holographic display, silently replaying the single live-fire exercise they’d completed. Thankfully, they’d carried out a number of simulated exercises first or the Grand Alliance - as she’d dubbed it - would have come to a crashing halt there and then. Accidentally shooting up their own ships was quite bad enough, but it was unlikely that half the races involved would have accepted it was an accident. Commander Wilde’s assertion that some of the members would take advantage of the alliance to address their own concerns, even at the expense of the other members, was starting to look very well founded indeed.
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