There Will Be War Volume X

by Jerry Pournelle

  It took us the better part of two days to collect it all and process it and get it transferred to the ship’s fuel tanks. Neptune’s atmosphere is pretty thin at that altitude. But we did it, under protest from our bellies the whole time.

  This time, though, we weren’t worried about saving fuel. We’d done the math—it was a lot faster to collect more fuel and waste it than it was to save it on the way back. And we didn’t care about the money at this point. We were too hungry.

  When we got to Triton Station they hadn’t even known what happened, but they broke out the quickest meal they could make us—black beans and rice. And then we just put our noses right back to the grindstone and went to work.

  But I’ll tell you what—I’ve never had a better meal in my life than those black beans and rice.

  - Simon Holt, speaking to the Virginia Entrepreneur’s Club

  The press conference set off shock waves across Earth and the colonies. When asked where they had found the resources for their construction, President Covington evaded. When asked how they had kept the whole operation secret he flat-out refused to answer. After he wowed them with the presentation, the reporters weren’t terribly interested in pressing the point anyway.

  The massive colony ships dwarfed even the Roosevelt-class carriers that had been assembled to ensure their safety—all four ships assembled at once around the formerly secret construction facility in the asteroid belt. Together the fleet became both the largest colonization effort ever organized by man and the greatest gathering of destructive force in history.

  Until, that is, the fleet began its mission. One by one the carrier ships escorted their larger sisters to Earth, Mars, and Luna. They met massive legions of volunteers, spurred by generous grants of land and government investments to start new lives in the outer systems. Each ship staffed up and crewed up, and then one by one the colony ships set off for their final destinations: Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune. And one by one, as they passed out of easy reach of the Chinese, Indian and Caliphate fleets, their carrier escorts broke off, with great fanfare, headed for alternate destinations.

  The departures were carefully choreographed for maximum publicity. The news outlets buzzed with the calculations that had been done so carefully to ensure that the ships all arrived at their destinations simultaneously. The entire effort was scripted to ensure that the publicity came back on as the colonists arrived, and the commentators spent some time talking about the President’s gift for public relations.

  The entire operation was highly publicized. The press was there every step of the way, the vid feeds on every channel. President Covington led the publicity campaign, even flying out to the asteroid belt himself to see the first batch of colonists off. It was the furthest from Earth a sitting president had ever journeyed, and the most watched video of all time.

  Naturally, it was all a lie.

  It’s funny how much work it takes to be an “overnight success.” Believe it or not, we still pulled a profit off the mission. And I’m not talking about book deals or speaking fees, either. That didn’t come until later. We didn’t even know we were famous until years later, when we finally came home.

  No, we’d mined some extra fuel to ensure that Triton Station wasn’t our final resting place instead of a low orbit over Neptune. We all wanted to make it back, but we knew the station didn’t have enough fuel to send us home. And we weren’t sure they had enough extra fuel to send us back out again. The worst part was, they relied on us for all of their spare. So if we came back completely empty-handed, they didn’t have anything to help us with.

  We over-estimated what we needed on purpose. As hungry as we were, we knew we could survive that. But we wouldn’t make it if we didn’t have enough fuel. So we toughed it out and mined a bit of extra, and then a bit of extra on top of that for a margin of error.

  We didn’t make a fortune—it was barely a profit. But we had enough to restock the ship without a loan, and just barely enough fuel to get back down to a mining orbit. Ordinarily we wouldn’t have gone out again like that, with no room for error. But we knew we could do it this time. We pared our stocks down to a minimum, floated down there, and sucked up every bit of that exotic atmosphere that we could. And then we did it again.

  A year or three later the colony ships arrived. And they all needed fuel—fuel for everything. Construction, maneuvering, transport, maintenance: you name it, they needed fuel for it. And for a while we were the only game in town. And that’s when we got totally, obscenely rich.

  - Matthew Holt, at the twentieth Holt Energy Industries annual shareholders meeting

  The Chinese were the first to detect that something was amiss, sending ripples up and down their space command. Their space observation array was top notch, perhaps even the best there was. It certainly gave the Americans and the Indians a run for their money. Like the Americans, they tracked everything. And the numbers didn’t add up.

  It started with a technician explaining masses, burn ratios and thermodynamics to his Major. The American colonization ships simply hadn’t put out enough thrust to accelerate the way they did. The Major explained it to his Colonel who explained it to his General. To nobody’s surprise, the information was quickly given maximum security classification.

  Chinese high command scrambled its engineers with one directive: figure out the new drive system that the Americans were using. Clearly they had a new thrust advantage, and that could not be allowed to stand. In the event of another space war, such an advantage would be devastating.

  The Indian observers took longer to figure it out. Strangely, the Indian government learned about the discrepancy via a well-placed spy in the Chinese observation program several days before their own observation team made the connection. They already had spies in the Chinese research program, but they took steps to get better intelligence from the Americans. They, too, designated the information with a maximum security classification.

  The Caliphate, operating with sub-standard observation systems and having recent difficulty with its intelligence departments, never made the connection at all. If they had, they very well might have leaked it to a certain group of freelance space scavengers that they sometimes leaked information to. Due to some dirty tricks of their own, that group would have very quickly figured out exactly what the Americans were up to and had months to prepare—plenty of time to flee the oncoming assault.

  Even the amateurs noticed the unusual deceleration burns, but this came days after President Covington’s very public announcement that the colony ships would each be taking a scenic approach to their destinations. The vessels were set to fly a wide sweep around, giving each of the colonists an expansive view of the planetary space they would soon be inhabiting. Some of the spectacular views as they passed moons, planets, and asteroids were livecast back to near-Earth space, and quickly became some of the most popular footage on the news nets.

  Well aware that nearly all of humanity was watching, Commodore MacGregor ordered the Roosevelt to shed the camouflage shell it had hidden within on the route to Neptune. He could feel their eyes on him as he ordered the space-based bombardment of the hidden pirate moon base on the moon Thalassa. He knew that billions of people could see perfect, high-resolution video of his drone fighters blowing the pirates straight to hell.

  Nearly four billion miles away the Harding instituted an almost identical assault in Uranian space. Almost simultaneously, their sister ships rained down death and destruction around Saturn and Jupiter. Four billion human beings watched as the United States Space Navy massacred the most notorious pirates in history down to the last man.

  When the slaughter was over Commodore MacGregor retired to his quarters, where he retrieved a very special bottle of Scotch that had chilled in his personal storage for years. The small bottle had cost him a fortune, and he knew that he’d be back on the firing line soon. But it was the most satisfying drink he’d ever had.

  My fellow Americans,

  For years
our citizens, and indeed all of humanity, have been dealing with vicious pirate attacks in deep space. These brutal outlaws have been murdering and ravaging their way through the outer solar system, taking what they want and leaving death and destruction in their wake. This band of pirates seemed to exhibit some unknown form of stealth transportation that allowed them to move undetected from target to target. They always appeared to be one step ahead of us.

  However, we recently learned that this stealth propulsion system was nothing more than a clever ruse. There was not just one band of pirates, but rather four distinct groups. Using an elaborate series of maneuvers and a system of expertly hidden bases, they were able to convince us that they were constantly on the move. In fact, each band has been operating out of a specific area of the solar system.

  Earlier this afternoon, the USS Theodore Roosevelt, the USS William Howard Taft, the USS Woodrow Wilson and the USS Warren G. Harding, utterly and completely demolished these operating bases. We have eliminated their forces entirely. There were no survivors, and we have taken no prisoners. The piracy threat to our citizens has been eliminated.

  To carry out this unprecedented operation, we disguised the carriers as colony ships using inflatable hulls coated in a special reflecting paint to fool scans by radar, lidar and other active sensors. A similar ruse was used to portray derelict freighters as the elite carrier groups we sent into deep space…

  - President Harrison Trajan Covington, video address to the American People

  The monstrous vessel drifted through space on a Hohman transfer orbit, leaving Deimos to enter a light orbit around Mars. The ship still broadcast a bogus identification code erroneously identifying it as the USS Theodore Roosevelt. A well-armed Chinese strike group circled Mars as well, on an orbit that would soon bring it within attack range. The remainder of the Fourth Fleet escorted the misidentified ship, but without a carrier in the center the fleet would have little chance against the oncoming attack.

  Onboard the vessel’s bridge, Commodore Reynolds and his crew stood at rigid attention. President Covington’s calm figure filled the large main forward display. The men listened, still and silent.

  “Your crew has carried out the deception flawlessly, Commodore. Your secrecy, discipline and professionalism is well noted—and will serve you well in the next phase.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  “Are your men ready for the attack?”

  “Yes, Mr. President. We are ready.” He hesitated a moment. “Are we certain that it’s coming?”

  “We have the communications intercepts. The Chinese fleet received their attack orders several hours ago. We’re expecting similar attacks against your sister ships. As expected, moving all of our carriers out to deep space proved too tempting a target for them.”

  “And the Indians, sir?”

  “They appear to be sitting this one out, Commodore. But we’ll see what happens over the next few hours.”

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  “Then I will leave you to your battle, Commodore. Godspeed.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  “Oh, and one more thing.” Covington paused. “I believe it’s time to fix that little transponder issue. There’s no reason to hide your true identity anymore.”

  Commodore Reynolds smiled.

  “Yes, Mr. President.” The screen went blank. Reynolds barked a few orders and his men immediately returned to stations. Frenetic activity commenced across the bridge.

  Amateur trackers across Mars noticed the change immediately. Forums across the networks lit up, first with a trickle and then an explosion of activity. A Chinese fleet had launched an attack on the bogus carrier in orbit. The Chinese and the Americans were once again at war. But that was no surprise. Given the realities of orbital mechanics, the amateurs had known the battle was coming for hours. The real shock came when the Americans finally updated the transponder code on their carrier.

  As the Chinese attack fleet came into range and began their assault, Commodore Reynolds stood on the bridge of the USS Harry Truman and ordered his drone fighters launched. The newest of the Roosevelt-class carriers, it had been built in secret with its three sister ships in preparation for this exact moment. The most powerful warship ever built by man advanced into the oncoming storm and opened fire.

  Editor’s Introduction to:

  CANNY

  by Brian J. Noggle

  Rudyard Kipling wrote a whole volume of barracks room ballads, all worth reading. One of the better known is “Tommy”, about Tommy Atkins, the common British squaddie.

  I went into a public-’ouse to get a pint o’ beer,

  The publican ’e up an’ sez, “We serve no red-coats here.”

  The girls be’ind the bar they laughed an’ giggled fit to die,

  I outs into the street again an’ to myself sez I:

  O it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, go away”;

  But it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play,

  The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,

  O it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play.

  I went into a theatre as sober as could be,

  They gave a drunk civilian room, but ’adn’t none for me;

  They sent me to the gallery or round the music-’alls,

  But when it comes to fightin’, Lord! they’ll shove me in the stalls!

  For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, wait outside”;

  But it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide,

  The troopship’s on the tide, my boys, the troopship’s on the tide,

  O it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide.

  Yes, makin’ mock o’ uniforms that guard you while you sleep

  Is cheaper than them uniforms, an’ they’re starvation cheap;

  An’ hustlin’ drunken soldiers when they’re goin’ large a bit

  Is five times better business than paradin’ in full kit.

  Then it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, ’ow’s yer soul?”

  But it’s “Thin red line of ’eroes” when the drums begin to roll,

  The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,

  O it’s “Thin red line of ’eroes” when the drums begin to roll.

  We aren’t no thin red ’eroes, nor we aren’t no blackguards too,

  But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;

  An’ if sometimes our conduck isn’t all your fancy paints,

  Why, single men in barricks don’t grow into plaster saints;

  While it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, fall be’ind”,

  But it’s “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there’s trouble in the wind,

  There’s trouble in the wind, my boys, there’s trouble in the wind,

  O it’s “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there’s trouble in the wind.

  You talk o’ better food for us, an’ schools, an’ fires, an’ all:

  We’ll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.

  Don’t mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face

  The Widow’s Uniform is not the soldier-man’s disgrace.

  For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Chuck him out, the brute!”

  But it’s “Saviour of ’is country” when the guns begin to shoot;

  An’ it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ anything you please;

  An’ Tommy ain’t a bloomin’ fool—you bet that Tommy sees!

  Brian Noggle gives us a grimmer version for the future. A nation that does not love her soldiers gets the soldiers she deserves.

  CANNY

  by Brian J. Noggle

  On Darus IV, we cleared the countryside of Sauran tanks.

  In Nask, the shopmen closed their commerce sites to us in thanks.

  They watch
ed with narrow eyes until we boarded outbound ships

  And only then exhaled relieved through whitened purséd lips.

  But it’s “Get ’em, canny; stop ’em, canny; canny, get your gun.”

  Then it’s back to sleep, the cryobunk, when battle’s lost or won.

  When battle’s lost or won, my boys, when battle’s lost or won.

  Then it’s back to sleep, the cyrobunk, when battle’s lost or won.

  On Kush, we watered jungle vines with rebel worker blood

  But couldn’t linger to observe the Goran flowers bud.

  The trooper ships were system out before the day could close.

  But when the Kushies call again, they’ll beg us to impose.

  But it’s “Get ’em, canny; stop ’em, canny; canny, be our friend.”

  And when the violence arises, they waken us again.

  They waken us again, my boys, they waken us again.

  And when the violence arises, they waken us again.

  They bottle breed us for our quickness, mold our minds to fight

  To keep the civvies’ hands all clean and keep their conscience light.

  Unlike the Outer Worlders, cannies aren’t the worst they find.

  We’re best beloved or least disliked when out of sight and out of mind.

  But it’s “Get ’em, canny; stop ’em, canny;” then packed away for years.