“Clever,” the XO said. He didn't sound pleased. “And supplying them is going to be a pain.”
“The only other alternative is destroying them,” Hoshiko reminded him. “I’d prefer to at least try to get some use out of the fabbers.”
She glanced down at the manifest the intelligence staff had pulled from the fabber. The Druavroks had been producing all sorts of components, some of which were giving her ideas for later tricks. Putting together an entire antimatter production station out of spare parts was mildly impressive, she had to admit; they’d neatly bypassed the security protocols without ever hacking into the computer cores. It was a shame she hadn't been able to capture the station intact, but the Druavroks had turned off the containment fields as soon as her shuttles approached, blowing the structure into atoms. They’d just been lucky the bastards hadn't turned the moons into antimatter storage facilities.
Although theirs was the only planet at risk, she thought, wryly. Maybe that was a step too far even for them.
“I want to load the antimatter storage pods and everything else onto the freighters, then ship them back to Amstar,” she said. “They’re useless without antimatter, but I think I’ve had an idea about what we can do with them.”
“There’s an antimatter production station at Amstar,” the XO said.
“And a fabber capable of producing a few more surprises,” Hoshiko agreed. She gave him a devilish smile. It was his job to serve as the Doubting Thomas, it was his job to question her decisions ... but she half-wished he could open himself up to the idea. “We may have turned the Grand Alliance into a reality, Griffin, but we still have a long way to go.”
She sent a command to the room’s processor, replacing the in-system display with a holographic starchart. “I’m going to be sending a report and most of the supplies to Amstar, but I think we should be going elsewhere,” she added, slowly. “I want to take advantage of their surprise and launch an attack on Dab-yam.”
“Which is under siege,” Wilde said, sharply. “The Druavroks will have a major force present in the system, Captain.”
“But not an overpowering one, not if they haven’t already taken the system,” Hoshiko pointed out. “I believe we could give them a nasty shock. At the very least, we might open up a channel to run more supplies to the defenders. They only have a single military-grade fabber and they have to be running short of supplies.”
“True,” the XO agreed. “But taking our rather ragged force up against a full-sized fleet of enemy warships is asking for trouble, Captain.”
“I know,” Hoshiko said. She picked up a datapad and passed it to him. “That’s why I intend to ask Amstar to put together one of these for me.”
The XO’s eyes narrowed. “Captain, with the greatest of respect ...”
“The secret is already out,” Hoshiko said. She'd anticipated his objections. “The Tokomak know what happened to them, Commander. Our allies near Sol also know. I doubt it will be long before they start producing gravity-well generators of their own. This is probably the one chance we have to use one to score a complete surprise.”
The XO met her eyes. “And if you’re wrong?”
Hoshiko shrugged, keeping her concern off her face. The Tokomak might well have won the Battle of Earth, even if their ships had been old and primitive, if they hadn't run straight into an artificial gravity field. And Hammerhead missiles ... they, at least, were a secret she had no intention of sharing with her allies. The principles wouldn't be hard to deduce, but she’d be lucky to escape execution if she came home and admitted she’d given away one of the Solar Union’s most closely-held secrets.
“Then I will likely be court-martialled and marched out an airlock,” she said. “But we need to use our handful of advances to best possible effect, Griffin, while we still have them.”
She looked back at the starchart. “We don’t have enough starships to make a real difference,” she added. “All we can really do is use our technology to assist our allies, build up their fighting power and support them where necessary. And, if we can keep the Druavroks off balance, we can eventually build up a fleet that will stop them in open battle and take the offensive to their homeworld.”
“I hope you’re right,” Wilde said. He looked down at the deck for a long moment. “But I would still like to register my objections in your log.”
Hoshiko kept her face blank with an effort. A recorded objection almost certainly meant a Board of Inquiry when the squadron returned home and Fleet Command started parsing its way through their records. It could mean the end of Commander Wilde’s career, if Fleet Command thought he’d overstepped himself, and the end of hers if they didn’t. And they’d be judging everything she did with the benefit of hindsight.
Posterity can take care of itself, she told herself, sharply. All I can do is make what seems the best decisions at the time.
“If that is your decision, I won’t try to stop you,” she said, finally. She couldn’t help feeling as if he’d knifed her in the back. “I will, of course, record the reasons for my command decisions in the log too.”
“Understood,” Wilde said.
Hoshiko cleared her throat, changing the subject. “The main body of the fleet will head to the Paradox System,” she said. “It’s a bare two light years from Dab-yam, which will give us a chance to send a spying mission into the target system and confirm the presence of enemy warships. We can also alert the defenders, if we can make contact, that we’re going to try to slip supplies through the blockade.”
“I would be surprised if we had a hope in hell of defeating them,” Wilde said. “They must have a hard core of battleships there.”
“I’m not planning a conventional engagement,” Hoshiko said. Wilde was right. A conventional battle with enemy warships could only have one outcome. “I intend to bait a trap.”
She keyed the datapad. “I want a few more supplies from Amstar,” she added. “Assuming there are no unexpected delays, Commander, they should reach us at Phoenix at least a day or two before the planned offensive. Then, with a little careful preparation, we should have a chance to bait a trap.”
Commander Wilde took the datapad. “They may hesitate to hand all of these over, Captain,” he warned. “The antimatter alone ... they’re going to be churning it out as fast as they can for missile warheads.”
“I know it’s a risk, Commander,” Hoshiko said. “But if the operation succeeds, we’ll give them one hell of a bloody nose.
“And there’s another point,” she added. “It’s time to start sending raiding ships into their space, just to keep them off balance. The more we can force them to react to us, the better.”
“Or goad them into launching an all-out attack on us,” Wilde pointed out.
Hoshiko smirked. “Where will they go? Sol’s six months away at best possible speed, Commander, and the Solar Union will have plenty of warning.”
“Amstar,” Wilde said. “Or Martina.”
“Perhaps,” Hoshiko said. “But the longer they wait, the tougher the defences will be.”
“If Martina manages to put together a shared defence force,” Wilde said. “The last report said they were still stalling.”
“True,” Hoshiko agreed. “But we have time to convince them to work with us.”
She looked back at the display. “I want Ensign Howard and his courier boat to take the message to Amstar,” she added. “Captain Ryman will need to be briefed and he may as well get the briefing from someone he already knows. Then the ensign can head to the RV point at Phoenix and pass on his response.”
“He’ll need at least one other person assigned to the courier boat,” Wilde pointed out. “He may be able to handle the ship completely on his own, in theory, but he’ll be alone for ten days. Not a good idea.”
“Not if he refused courier service,” Hoshiko agreed.
It wasn't a pleasant thought. Couriers were paid well over the odds, far more than anyone below the rank of commander, but it was
still hard to attract new recruits. She'd heard, through the grapevine, that Fleet Command was seriously considering trying to find other rewards for couriers. It said something about the sheer unpleasantness of the job that hardly anyone bitched about the couriers being favoured by their superiors.
“See to it,” she ordered. “He can depart in” - she glanced at the display - “five hours. The fleet itself will leave in two days. We should be at Phoenix for at least a week before he joins us, with the supplies following after.”
“If they do,” Wilde said.
“They will,” Hoshiko said, seriously. “After what we did here, in this system, the Grand Alliance is very definitely a going concern.”
***
“Well,” Hilde said, as she stepped into his cabin. “You did manage to write a decent report, after all.”
Max looked up from his desk. The cabin was small, although any inclination he might have had to complain about it had been stifled by the realisation that only Captain Stuart and Commander Wilde had bigger compartments to themselves. But it suddenly seemed a great deal smaller as Hilde made her way into the compartment, the hatch hissing closed behind her. She seemed to take up a great deal of room, merely by being here.
“Thank you,” he said.
“I was particularly fond of some of the more descriptive phrases you used for our dead enemies,” Hilde added. She sat down on the deck, crossing her legs. Her muscles strained against her overalls. “I’m sure some humourless bastard will make a fuss about it.”
“It’s hard to show sensitivity to aliens who are responsible for billions of deaths,” Max commented. That sort of stupidity was mercifully absent from the Solar Union, for the most part. Needing to maintain the environment with great care tended against it. “What one does in private is one’s own business, but what one does in public is the public’s business.”
“The Druavroks feel differently, of course,” Hilde observed.
“I don’t think they do,” Max said. “They haven't done anything to attempt to hide the genocide. Rumours are spreading through the sector as fast as courier boats can fly. I think they’re either proud of slaughtering so many innocent people or they just don’t give a damn about outside opinions.”
“Probably the latter,” Hilde suggested. “They don’t seem to be shouting their work to the skies either. They’re just ... doing it.”
Max nodded, slowly. “Are you here for another interview?”
Hilde gave him a sharp look. “Did you somehow call me here to attend an interview with the power of your mind?”
“No,” Max said, feeling his face heat. “But I would have called you here sooner or later.”
“I just came to congratulate you,” Hilde said. “Your recordings are not only going to Earth, but right across the sector. You’ll be the most famous reporter in the galaxy by the time this is through.”
“Because telling the sector the Druavroks can be defeated is important,” Max said. He wasn't sure if he believed her. Hilde was the last person on the ship he'd have chosen as a messenger girl. “Do you feel they can be defeated?”
“Everyone can be defeated,” Hilde said. “It’s just a matter of knowing how to do it and actually doing it.”
Max smiled. “Even the Solar Marines?”
“We like to think not,” Hilde said. She shrugged. “But we do need to understand our own limits too.”
She gave him a mischievous smile. “Thinking of joining up?”
“I’m tiny compared to you - and the others,” Max protested.
“That wouldn't be a problem,” Hilde countered. “There’s no reason why you couldn’t have a body like the major’s - or mine - through a long session in the bodyshop. You’d have to keep it in shape, of course, but you could do that if you wanted. It’s all about mental toughness, not physical toughness. You have to have the urge to keep going no matter how much gets dumped on you from high above. Even among the Solar Union, Max, that sort of urge is rare.”
She shrugged. “For every marine who graduates, Max, there’s fifty who don’t make it through the final exercises and a hundred who quit during Hell Week.”
“I’m not sure what I’d do with a body like the major’s,” Max said.
Hilde winked. “I can tell you what he does with it,” she said. “Captain Sharpe was pissed at me for some reason and sent me to take a message to the major, while he was technically off duty. Turned out I interrupted him in the middle of an orgy with three girls and he was not best pleased.”
“He wouldn't be,” Max said. He’d spent plenty of time testing out the limits of sexual expression during his own adolescence, but the major had to be at least fifty. “Three girls?”
“We know, every time we go out, that we might be the unlucky ones who buy the farm,” Hilde said, gently. “We don’t have a million-ton starship wrapped around us and the suits, while tough, are not invulnerable. A single lucky shot could wipe one of us from existence before we know we’re under fire ... and a rigged demolition charge could wipe out a whole platoon. So yeah, we work hard and we play harder because the next mission could easily be our last.”
Max shuddered. There was something about the marine lifestyle that was tempting to him, a sense of ... camaraderie he’d never felt in the Orbital Guard, but he doubted he’d be able to cope with the training. Did he have it in him not to cut and run when the shit got too hot? He’d managed to stay embedded with the marines, but he knew he could pull out at any moment before zero hour. Hilde and her comrades didn't have that option.
He looked at her. “And do you play hard too?”
Hilde met his eyes. “Do you really want to find out?”
Max’s throat was suddenly very dry. “Is it safe?”
“Life is rarely safe,” Hilde pointed out. She rose, slowly. Max was suddenly very aware of the sheer power of her body. His heartbeat started to race as she took a step forward. “Do you want to back out now?”
“... No,” Max said. He was nervous, but he knew he’d hate himself afterwards if he turned her down. “I don't.”
He raised a hand as she came closer, one hand removing her overalls with practiced ease, and gently pressed it against her skin. It was warmer than he’d expected, despite the leathery feel; he lifted his head to meet her lips as she bent down and kissed him, her arms wrapping around him and holding him gently. Resistance, he realised suddenly, was futile. Her grip was too strong for him to fight. If she’d wanted to hold him down and have her way with him, he couldn't have stopped her. The thought was both terrifying and exciting.
She broke the kiss and smiled down at him. “Still want to find out?”
Max allowed his hands to trail over her chest. Her breasts felt strange to his touch, warmer than the rest of her chest and yet practically non-existent. She made no move to stop him, but he was very aware of her muscled arms holding him. He heard her sigh, deep in her throat, as his finger traced her nipple. Her hand moved down and started to unbutton his pants. A sudden surge of excitement ran through him as she kissed him again, firmly. She was very definitely in control.
He gathered himself. “Are you going to carry me into the bedroom or are we going to do it here?”
Hilde grinned, then picked him up almost effortlessly and carried him towards the bedroom door.
Chapter Twenty
The price of food over the former United States of America has skyrocketed as farmers refuse to sell crops at affordable prices or simply walk off the land, in the wake of new demands by the federal government. Insurgent activity - termed bandit activity - has trebled as the government attempts to enforce its control, while rogue states like Texas have flatly refused to accept the government’s orders.
-Solar News Network, Year 54
“The Grand Alliance is delighted, young man.”
“Thank you, sir,” Thomas said. He hadn't enjoyed the flight from Malachi to Amstar, but he had to admit he was still the only real candidate to fly the courier boat. The only u
pside was that he’d had time to review a number of manuals, catch up on some sleep and play games while the courier had been in FTL. “I believe the Captain is delighted too.”
Captain Ryman smiled. He’d greeted Thomas in person, when he’d teleported down to the Pan-Gal, then told Thomas to go into one of the human-compatible suites and have a few hours of sleep. Thomas had been astonished at just how compatible the suites actually were, now most of the staff had been put back to work. They’d even offered to find him a girl for the night, which he’d declined hastily. The mere concept was embarrassing, even though he’d been raised in the Solar Union.
“I’m sure she has good reason to be pleased,” Captain Ryman said, peering down at the datapad. “Did she ... do you know what she’s requested?”
“I wasn't made privy to her private message, sir,” Thomas said. The idea of the captain confiding in him was ludicrous. “I’m just the messenger boy.”
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