“We can get her most of what she wants, particularly if we tell everyone what she wants it for,” Captain Ryman said. “Giving up so much antimatter will worry people, though. They think they need it to defend Amstar.”
Thomas frowned. It had only been twenty days since the fleet had left Amstar, but it had been clear, the moment he arrived, that the planet’s defenders hadn't wasted their time. A ring of new-built orbital weapons platforms surrounded the planet, backed up by shoals of mines and remote single-shot buoys. Behind them, dozens of freighters and a handful of warships were waiting, ready to give the Druavroks a bloody nose if they came back to Amstar. But even Thomas’s limited experience was enough to tell him the Druavroks probably could retake Amstar, if they were willing to soak up the casualties.
“I can't speak for the Captain,” he said, carefully, “but surely keeping the Druavroks reeling is a good idea.”
“I think so, too,” Captain Ryman said. “But everyone here is terrified of the Druavroks coming back.”
He scowled. “And a couple of the items she requested will take at least ten days to produce,” he added. “The engineers she left here are great, but they say they’ll have to reprogram one of the fabbers to produce the components and then put it together themselves.”
“I believe the Captain is prepared to wait,” Thomas said. He hoped he was right. “But we do need to go on the offensive again as soon as possible.”
“So we do,” Captain Ryman agreed.
He put the datapad down on the desk and looked up at Thomas. “Are you recording a sensory for your commander?”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. He’d taken the earlier orders to heart. “A full sensory.”
“Very good,” Captain Ryman said. He cleared his throat. “Production of missiles and orbital defence weaponry proceeds as planned, Captain. Full figures will be sent along with your” - his lips twitched - “messenger boy, but I have no doubt that the Druavroks will get an unpleasant surprise when they come calling. In addition, we’ve received reports from several Grand Alliance members that they have successfully unlocked their fabbers. Production rates should skyrocket over the whole sector.
“Several other races and worlds have also signed up with the Grand Alliance, including two that have volunteered to dispatch warships to take part in the offensive. I’ve asked them to send the ships to Amstar first, where they will be given Grand Alliance communications and datanet protocols before being forwarded to the fleet. News of your success will, I’m sure, increase the willingness of the rest of the sector to join us, although many of the more developed worlds are nervous about their own defences. We’ve also recruited several thousand additional private freighters, all of whom will be outfitted with modern weapons and defences.
“We’ve also been recruiting additional spacers from Amstar and nearby worlds,” he concluded. “Training is something of a mixed bag, Captain, as they only had to pass the Tokomak exams to qualify for service in space. I’ve started work on assembling a training facility on Amstar, but that’s pretty much a long-term project. Mercenaries, on the other hand, we have in abundance, if we can pay them. Amstar’s provisional government is willing to offer military-grade spare parts, as there’s a shortage of ready cash, but they have to look to their own defences first. The only upside to this is that the Druavroks don’t seem to be interested in recruiting mercenaries.”
He paused, smiling thinly. “Is there anything I’ve missed?”
“Martina,” Thomas said, after a moment. “Have they signed up with us?”
“They’re still haggling over a planetary government, according to the last message,” Captain Ryman said. His lips quirked. “Just because there’s a horde of genocidal monsters moving through the sector is no excuse for not following the proper procedures for establishing a federal government. I expect they’ll come to an agreement sooner rather than later, but they were kept divided by the Tokomak for a reason and old habits die hard.”
Thomas nodded. There were so many gravity points in the Martina System that whoever controlled it would be in a position to influence and control economic development all over the sector. The Tokomak might not have put the system under their direct control, but they’d definitely done the next best thing. And yet now, with the Druavroks advancing steadily towards Martina, the planetary governments could hardly afford to ignore the threat.
“We have helped them to unlock their fabbers too, so the planet’s defences will be boosted,” Captain Ryman added. “Putting additional defences around the gravity points, however, will be politically unacceptable.”
“Because the Tokomak banned it,” Thomas said.
He’d wondered, back when he’d been at the Academy, why there were so few fixed defences orbiting the gravity points. The opportunity of catching the enemy ships as they came through one by one should have been irresistible. But the Tokomak, when they’d cracked the secret of FTL and bypassed the gravity points, had banned all further fortifications. Given how desperately they relied on the gravity points to move forces around their empire, it made a certain amount of sense. They just hadn't bargained on losing a war and control of hundreds of sectors.
“And because it would give the planet a stranglehold on economics,” Captain Ryman added, dryly. “I suspect there will be complaints from the systems on the other side of the gravity points if Martina starts establishing fortifications. They’d see it as the first step towards levying higher transit tolls.”
“Politics,” Thomas said, in disgust.
“Economics,” Captain Ryman said. He smirked. “For nine out of ten Galactic races, Ensign, money talks and politics walk.”
“It doesn't talk to the Druavroks,” Thomas muttered.
“No, it doesn’t,” Captain Ryman agreed. “There’s always someone who refuses to come to terms with you, if they can understand the concept of coming to terms in the first place. They need to be fought because there’s no alternative. Far too many of our problems stem from refusing to grasp that some people are simply unwilling to compromise.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. “I was taught about the history of Earth at the Academy.”
“Now you have a chance to put some of it into practice,” Captain Ryman said. “Of course, as my old history teacher was fond of saying, those who don’t study history are doomed to repeat it, while those who do study history are doomed to watch helplessly as others repeat it.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. He’d been told the same thing. “Why does no one ever learn?”
Captain Ryman snorted. “Remind me to tell you, sometimes, about the trading missions to Tatton. Rich world, very xenophobic; greets incoming aliens with hails of fire ... and at least one or two traders, every year, will attempt to make contact with the locals and get holes blown in their hulls. They never learn.”
He shrugged. “I’ll have the freighters loaded with the first set of supplies over the next two days and send them off to Phoenix with a handful of warships as escort,” he said, changing the subject. “Do you have specific orders for yourself?”
“I’m to take your response back to Captain Stuart,” Thomas said. “If you have any reports or messages you’d like to forward, I can take those too.”
“No messages from Sol yet, of course,” Captain Ryman said. “There are a handful of messages marked for her attention, mainly from governments trying to seek out a better deal or one that can be twisted to their advantage. I’ll forward those to her, but I’d be surprised if they weren't sent straight back to me.”
Thomas nodded in understanding. He wouldn't have cared to open the Captain’s private mail either. “I’ll probably be coming back soon too.”
“We are working to set up an improved courier network,” Captain Ryman offered. “We’re just short of courier boats we can feed into a rota.”
“And pilots,” Thomas guessed. He’d already decided he’d been quite right to turn down the offer of a permanent post to courier service, even if it di
d entail generous pay and fantastic retirement bonuses. There was no prospect of anything, but remaining trapped on the ship for days on end. “There's no way you can recruit more?”
“We can probably pass the task on to some of the spacers we’ve recruited,” Captain Ryman said. “Actually, setting up a better postal service, one that replaces the Tokomak system, might help to put the Grand Alliance on a more solid footing. But again, it will take some time to set up, even without the war.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.
“I’m going to try to copy the system the Solar Union developed, but there would be a great deal of duplication,” Captain Ryman added. “And we’d really need more developed shipping lines.”
He shrugged. “But that’s a problem for another time.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.
“I’d suggest you spent some time on the surface, while I prepare the messages for Captain Stuart,” Captain Ryman suggested, “but that’s really up to you. Do you want to just teleport back to the courier? Or grab something to eat in the Pan-Gal? Or even go exploring the remains of the city?”
Thomas frowned. “Is it safe?”
“It should be, as long as you don’t go near the Druavrok enclaves,” Captain Ryman said. “I think we’ve rounded up most of the rogues now; most of them expended themselves in suicide attacks, rather than going to ground or creeping back to their fellows. They’re probably just biding their time.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.
He considered it for a long moment. There was nothing to be gained by teleporting back to the courier boat, not when he’d see far too much of its bulkheads during the flight from Amstar to Phoenix. And he was curious to see more of Amstar ... but he doubted he had time to explore anything outside the city itself.
“I’ll go to the Pan-Gal,” he said. “I could do with something good to eat.”
“It’s all on our tab,” Captain Ryman assured him. “Just make sure they know you’re human when you order food.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.
He concealed his amusement as he walked out of the office and back towards the Pan-Gal. It wasn't actually bad advice, even though it sounded absurd. The workers at the hotel, used to serving guests from hundreds of different races, needed to be sure of his race before they fed him something that an alien race considered a delicacy and another considered deadly poison, something his implants and nanites wouldn’t be able to handle. A pair of armed guards at the doors checked his ID, then waved him through into the lobby. This time, with the projectors in full working order, it looked like a fancy hotel from Earth.
Someone must have downloaded a perceptual reality, he thought, as he strode through the lobby and into the restaurant. I wonder what it looks like to other races.
He pushed the thought aside as he stopped in front of the counter, where a human waitress in a long black gown checked his ID for the second time, then led him towards a table in the corner. There was something odd about the way she moved, something that made him wonder if her humanity was as illusionary as the lobby, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe she’d just spent so long on Amstar, among aliens, that she’d forgotten how to relate to her fellow humans. He’d read an article, while he’d been at the Academy, that talked about humans raised on alien worlds, even if they hadn't been adopted by alien parents. They’d tended to be different, in many ways, to either Solarians or Earthers.
But they grew up in a different environment, he thought. He’d seen plenty of differences between Solarians and Earthers too. Surely, they’d have a different mindset from the rest of us.
He shook his head, dismissing the thought, and looked around the giant room. It was a strange mixture of open and closed dining compartments, some sealed closed so no one could see their occupants. A large alien resembling a giant spider was sitting in one of the open compartments, casually devouring an animal than looked like a dog. Thomas couldn't help feeling sick when he realised it was still alive. The spider sat next to another alien, a creature that reminded Thomas of a tree. It didn't look to be eating, but it was sitting in a flower pot ...
“The human-compatible menu is here,” the waitress said briskly, tapping a switch to bring up a hologram. “If you wish to stick with human dishes, they’re listed in set one. Non-human dishes are listed in set two.”
Thomas nodded, watched the waitress walk away and then turned his attention to the menu as it flickered in front of him. Set one was surprisingly long, although with fabbers and food processors it probably wouldn’t be hard to produce almost anything quickly; set two was longer, but included hundreds of dishes that sounded disgusting or looked inedible. He was tempted to try something new, yet he had no idea what he could eat. It was considered bad manners to order food and then reject it.
“I’d try the Glazed Topsham Beast, myself,” a voice said, in oddly-accented Gal-Standard One. “You’re human, are you not?”
“Yes,” Thomas said, looking up. The speaker was human, a tall girl with black skin, long red hair and a face that bore a number of scars. “And you?”
“Human too,” the girl said. She sat down facing him. “Most non-human dishes are inedible, for all sorts of reasons, but Glazed Topsham Beast is reasonably tasty.”
Thomas nodded, feeling awkward. “My name is Thomas,” he said, as he placed his order and banished the hologram. “And you are?”
“Marie,” the girl said. “My ancestors were taken from Earth centuries ago. Some of us genuinely believed our homeworld to be a legend before we heard of you.”
“We’re real,” Thomas said.
“So I hear,” Marie said. “I was actually hoping to ask you about Earth. What’s it like?”
Thomas hesitated. On one hand, strange girls didn't just come up to him and make random conversion, not in the Solar Union. Marie wanted something, but what? It wasn't as if they were the only two humans on the surface. But, on the other hand, all she seemed to want to do was talk. He ordered his implants to record the entire conversation, then tried to answer her question.
“Right now, it’s a nightmare,” he said. He had no interest in discussing the dispute between Solarians and Earthers, but he didn't really want to lie. “The smart people are fleeing the planet, while the dumbasses are fighting a civil war over lots of little nothings.”
Marie looked stricken. “Is that true?”
“More or less,” Thomas said. “But those of us who live in space are doing very well.”
He looked up as a waiter arrived, carrying two plates of food. His eyes narrowed - he hadn't seen Marie order anything - as the plate was placed in front of him. The Glazed Topsham Beast didn't smell like anything he’d smelled before, but he took a bite and decided it tasted like a combination of chicken and ham. He made a mental note to try and get the pattern for the autochef and tucked in, fielding Marie’s questions as he ate.
“Some of us would like to go to Earth,” she confessed, as they finished. “Just to see what it’s like.”
“The Solar Union would take you in,” Thomas said. “What’s life like here for humans?”
“We’re ... homeless,” Marie said, after a moment. “Very few races are interested in looking out for us, or anyone who isn't one of them. Finding Earth ... it seems like a dream come true.”
“You would be welcome in the Solar Union,” Thomas said. “But Earth itself is a nightmare.”
Marie thanked him, paid for the dinner and left the restaurant before he could ask for her contact code or anything else. Thomas watched her go, suspecting that he was missing something, then carefully saved a copy of the whole discussion in his implants. The intelligence staff would need to see it ...
... And perhaps they could tell him what it meant.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Lieutenant Governor of Texas was reported dead yesterday in an explosion that destroyed his residence. Sources in Texas are uncertain what precisely happened, but the datanet is filling with spe
culation that the explosion was caused by a missile fired from a stealth drone, either from Mexico or the Federal Government. The Governor has promised a full investigation and retaliation.
-Solar News Network, Year 54
“More warships,” Hoshiko said. “They’ll be very useful.”
“And more supplies,” Commander Wilde agreed. “They’ll be more useful.”
Hoshiko nodded in agreement as she stared at the display. The new warships didn't show the polish of the older ships - she’d been drilling the fleet ever since it had arrived at Phoenix - but they represented a significant addition to both her fighting power and the Grand Alliance itself. Convincing the rest of the sector that the Druavroks could and would be stopped would, in the long run, be worth more than just a handful of warships. She was still dependent - far too dependent - on the converted freighters, but the fleet was growing stronger all the time.
The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) Page 21