Gavin rubbed a bruise on his face. “So we won’t know if they got the transmission.”
“Right.”
“And we won’t know if they’re coming.”
“Right.”
“And the Qin, will they know?”
“Right, I mean yes, I think anyone with any radio ears is going to know. This isn’t a secure transmission. It’s just a big-ass ping with our names on it.”
“How long till you’re ready?”
Jack opened his mouth to talk and then snapped it shut. He held up one hand and looked at his fingers while mumbling at the same time. “Modulation…preamp…lowpass…demux…horn…”
“Just find me when you’re ready,” Gavin said.
Jack snapped out of his thoughts and nodded. “Right! I can do that. How about you? Find anything interesting? This place must be pretty weird, eh?”
Gavin pushed past Jack and walked down the hall.
Jack shrugged and made his way into the dorm. The heat was intoxicating, and the stress of the day sat on him like a warm blanket. He took a mug of emergency soup from Vince and plopped down on a pile of blankets. He rubbed his hand on the wool and yawned.
“So how’s that communications system coming?” Vince said.
Jack yawned once more, set the mug down, rolled onto his side, and fell asleep.
Onna looked at Vince. “Is that good or bad?”
“Fuck if I know.”
Gavin sat down in the admiral’s chair. His grandfather’s chair. Even though it was cold as a tomb, he had to read more. Had to read it all.
How could his grandfather do this? One part of him couldn’t bear to read any more. Another part demanded it. It was his heritage, his family, his blood.
This time he stood and closed the door. He felt guilt now, guilt about what was done.
He sat once again and started reading.
October 9, 2704
We have no idea what space is. The vastness is more than we can handle.
How could we have been so eager to escape from Earth and spread? Space seemed so empty, so dead, so ripe for our picking. Only the Qin stood in our way, but on the other side of them…
I saw a hundred different races of aliens. A hundred that sat on the borders of Qin space. None are friendly, xenophobia is rampant; the best they do is a tenuous peace. Everyone is trying to keep everyone else in check.
The day we beat the Qin, and I still know we can, is the day we have to face everyone else.
They took me first through their core worlds. Everything they do is to sustain the borders. Everything they have goes to their fleets. The Qin are masters of the blockade, the naval cordon, war in the stars.
The first planet we landed on was an industrial world. They refined ores, smelted steels, raised it all up into orbit, and spit out a raider faster than we could make a frigate.
When I inquired about crew, I learned that much was automated, that the knowledge passed down in command schools was uniquely targeted just for this ship. Success was rewarded. Innovation praised.
I’m frankly stunned that mankind has held out so long.
My host, A’Lok, is blunt with me. The Qin are horrible ground troops. Fragile. Physically weak. Clever in orbit, but on the ground they lack the ability to shift from a three-dimensional plane to two operational planes. They’ve fought so long in space, they forgot it or bred it out, and can’t take planets.
And that is when he lays out his point. Everyone fights in the stars. Ship-to-ship combat is a delicate dance, and one that the Qin excel at. They’ve grown as fast and far as they could, but sometimes blockades aren’t enough.
They want us to be their ground troops. Qin technology will make a human soldier the ultimate ground troop. They offer us protection, a Coalition of nations, and in return we supply ground troops.
I can’t commit. Not yet. Would the populace accept it? Would my military follow along?
I think so. In the time I’ve been gone, they’ve barely scraped by. Food is thin. The Terran Union is nowhere to be found.
If the end goal is our freedom, then we shall have it someday from both the Qin and the Terran Union. But for now, I believe we must toss in our lot with the Qin. We will learn. We will study. And eventually man will come out on top.
We always have. We always will.
October 14, 2704
I announced my intentions to the officer corps. About half of the officers, those with some foresight, took it as expected. The other half protested strongly, to put it politely.
Colonel Colby, my marine commander, shot me in the chest shortly after. They tell me that he turned his weapon on Captain Belanger, my XO, and then the marines took Colby down. Others drew weapons, but no more shots were fired.
Belanger didn’t survive, nor did Colby. The XO was one hell of a sailor. I’ll miss her sorely.
I should have been more discreet.
In the future, we are interviewing the cadre one at a time. Rebellion is a distinct possibility, but I feel that if we can make it through the short term, then we will be fine.
Already the Qin want to supply the machinery we need, but I asked them to hold back.
Word leaked to the Senate. I politely asked them to put the treaty to a vote. It of course failed.
That’s fine. I now have an excuse, and a scapegoat, when people start to starve in a few months.
I’ll wait until the time is right. Then we can “negotiate” the treaty and bring down the Qin machinery and supplies.
December 11, 2704
The food riots started sooner than I anticipated. What was left of the civilian government has been replaced with those sympathetic to our cause. Strangely enough, the population itself was the strongest supporter of all this. They feel abandoned by the Terran Union.
We still have pockets that wish to hold out for the TU. We are marginalizing them but still being inclusive. They can come into the fold if they’d like. It matters not.
The first of our troops have departed to fight with the Qin. I’ve instructed them all, personally, to study everything, every detail, every piece of technology. Our goal is bring that back here. Someday we will need it for ourselves
I’m still retaining this command system. It’s the core for our command group. The Qin have provided an exceptional system, but I’d like to keep our own.
What few engineers I have are now studying Qin technology. The goal is to merge it with our technology and create something amazing.
My officer corps is becoming an issue. About a third are unreliable. They’ve been moved to safe commands with subordinates that can keep a close watch. They are now harmless. But we simply don’t have enough.
I’ve come to terms with the idea that we will fight the Terran Union. Before, it seemed far off, not reality. But now I know it will come to blows. How can we win it as quickly as possible? What if mankind can come to grips with itself an ally with the Qin, as I have?
We could conquer the galaxy and our species together.
December 30, 2704
Our youth now go into command schools at the age of five. By ten, we will keep the brightest and move them up into officer school. At sixteen, they will serve with the Qin. By twenty-five, they will be the most experienced soldiers there are, all in perfect health. No longer will our brightest and best be on the decline.
Is it harsh? I picture Rob and Claire doing this and know they can do it. Gavin…I’m sure Gavin could, but he would be too old for our plan.
In the long term, they will be more than just soldiers, but also administrators, engineers, scientists, all built on a base of professional soldiers. The difficult part is the time scale. Our population is so small that the truly desirable genes are quite thin. Even if we could plan it out perfectly, the rate of growth is just too slow.
We must think in eons. This will be my legacy. Someday they will view this time of privation as where man came to terms with the galaxy.
I miss my son. I often think of hi
m and my grandchildren. Was it unfair of me to be gone away so often? I did it to protect them. I always did.
Will they understand?
All of mankind can judge me. None will understand, but I just hope my grandchildren understand someday. I do it for them.
I have an idea.
January 9, 2705
In one week, I will depart with a Qin strike force.
War is inevitable with the Terran Union. The Summer system is to be the focal point, but we’re not ready. Not yet. Not until we get what we need.
But every day that we wait is a day they can build more. Mine more. Expand more. Eventually they can handle even the Qin. Then man will be done; the other races would topple him.
Now I walk the edge of a sword. If we strike too soon, then the TU will hammer us. But if we wait too long, then they will overwhelm us.
There is a solution that will solve two of our problems.
First, we will go and strike at the Terran Union leadership.
Strike. It sounds so plain. We start by assassinating leaders. This will be the start of a war of terror. We need to keep them focused on protecting their homes and not on attacking us.
Second, we will take their children. What better way to get the brilliance we need than to take those of proven stock.
I am a monster.
Kane wouldn’t understand. I hope he’s not there when I take my grandchildren.
Gavin stood up quickly. The chair slammed back and clattered to the floor. How could he? The man he’d dreamed about for so long, the man he’d seen as a hero, whom all of humanity saw as a hero, was the man responsible for the pain and wars they’d endured for so long.
“No. You fucking bastard.” The words came easy. How could he? Gavin couldn’t condone it. Never. It went against the oath they all took.
But beyond that, Gavin felt a deeper betrayal. His grandfather was the one who stole his youth. He stole his brother and sister. He killed his mother.
“Madness,” Gavin said. His hands were clenched tight, his fingers icy and cold. The rage he felt inside kept him warm.
####
“Send them in,” Admiral Hayabusa said.
Before him, the starscape unfolded. He twisted one hand, zoomed in on a wing of destroyers, and laid out the orders. Another flick of the wrist, and he laid out the course for the battle cruisers.
“Shall we deploy the North with them, sir?” Captain Fox said.
TUS North was a light carrier, a hybrid design tested years before in order to swiftly react to the Qin incursions. It had done well in its role as a quick hitter, but was too light to take a punch.
“Do it,” Hayabusa said. He leaned back and took in the display.
The Qin were expecting him to stay put, to rest in orbit. The TU had every advantage in orbit; the Qin none. Except Hayabusa needed to whittle down what was coming in. The A-44s did an exceptional job. They had punched a hole right in one flank. A dozen Qin heavy cruisers burned on that day.
Now they were wary, coming in slowly—too slow. Hayabusa had an idea.
They couldn’t break orbit and burn at the Qin. It would be suicide. So instead, a battle force waited in the shadow of the moon. In under an hour, the leading edge of the Qin fleet would be right on the edge of that moon.
Hayabusa pictured the engagement. His battle cruisers could reach out and hammer the lighter Qin screen. By the time they arced around the moon, the bulk of the Qin fleet would have to slow up; otherwise, more hidden ships might come out on their tail. With any luck, they’d swing clear and hit one of a few prepared minefields.
If the Qin screen came close, the fighters from the TUS North would shred them.
“Inform the Sky Marshall. The group will engage in just over an hour.”
Hiro Hayabusa leaned back and studied the display. There was one little surprise he had for the Qin.
####
“Gold One, launch is clear, tube is hot, ladies are lubed, gimme an edge!” Flight Commander Jakob Whistler hollered out on comms. He studied the gauges arrayed on the edge of his vision. All was well. All was good.
He sat at the center of a light bomber, Gladius class. It was an ugly bitch of a ship: a nose like a mushroom, bomb bay doors that looked like someone strapped a bathtub onto her, and the sleekness of a brick.
Jakob loved her.
“You’re on arc five,” North radioed back.
A second later, the battlescape came alive.
“Holy shit.”
Arc cannons flared in the distance. Massive clouds of burning debris tumbled away from the burning Qin wrecks. Even as far out as he was, Jakob could tell it was a slaughter. One of the Carthage-class battle cruisers sent out rounds of withering fire right into the Qin screen.
Another Qin frigate burst apart. One entire half slid off like someone had sliced it and tumbled away. In the insulating vacuum of space it would burn for days.
Jakob glanced at his wing of bombers. There was no reason for conversation. They all saw the same thing. Each was intimately linked and tied in, vectors overlaid from one to the next. Every bomber around him knew his every move and his exact route.
A single path drove right into the midst of the dying Qin fleet.
“False run. Repeat. False run,” TUS North called.
Jakob swore. “Motherfuckers.”
“False run” was a tactic that was nothing but bluff. His only job was to burn in, lay out for a bombing run, and then pull away once the hostiles turned tail. The Qin were deathly afraid of those close-range bombers. Jakob understood why, but hated doing it.
“You heard it, boys and girls. Stay hot, we might still go green,” Jakob called to his wing. He released the comms key. “Not fuckin’ likely.”
The line of bombers burned straight past a tumbling Qin destroyer. The entire rear flickered with discharging electricity. Only when they were past did they see the little alien corpses tumbling, frozen.
New lines of data came in. Vectors shifted. The battle cruisers were ending their rage across the surface of the moon. Behind them, those massive ships were locked in and accelerating. It was a race now.
Jakob could see what was happening. He zoomed out his battlescape and licked his lips. Instead of wavering, the Qin fleet was boring in on them. There was a tickle in his stomach, and suddenly he was very nervous. He knew the plan. The Qin were supposed to run.
They weren’t.
The screen updated with the vectors of the Qin fleet. Lines of force and possibility merged with the force of gravity. It was impossible for the Qin to break free now. The very moment that the Qin would pass the grubby little moon, they’d be broadside to the battle cruisers. Except there wasn’t enough of the Carthages to make a dent in that massive wall of Qin heavy cruisers.
One of the Carthages, the Normandie, opened up on the closest Qin heavy cruiser. The railgun flashed on the Normandie, and a few moments later explosions flared on the hull of the Qin ship. Then again and again.
Jakob watched the engagement as more of the Carthages opened up on the main Qin fleet. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
“Get ready!” Jakob yelled. The excitement was electric. His fingers tingled. The Qin fleet was coming close, and then they’d dance.
“Cancel false run. Engage egg drop,” TUS North radioed.
“Go, go, go, go, go, egg drop, egg drop egg drop.” Jakob slammed the thrusters and felt that soothing burst of acceleration. It was simple now. Get in. Engage. Get out.
Jakob’s bomber rolled to one side, dipped beneath the plane of battle, and rocketed upward.
A wall of explosive flak suddenly dropped around the Qin fleet. At the same moment, they opened fire on the Carthages. Lasers and fusion capsules whispered through the vacuum of space and shredded the light armored hulls of the Carthages.
First the Normandie fell. It burst apart and was gone in a massive explosion. One moment it was firing with everything it had, missiles spewing, railguns firing, and then it was gone.
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“Woah!” Jakob yelled. This shit was real now.
He rolled again. Alarms sounded on his console. He felt the flak hammer against one side of his ship.
“Come on. Come on.”
Every bit of him focused on his run. Past one burnt frigate. Under a destroyer that had no nose, and finally a Qin heavy raider.
The frigate fired an arc cannon that went wide. The massive blast of energy sizzled through empty space.
Jakob grinned. Behind him, one of his bombers launched and struck a supply ship.
The destroyer pounded out a line of flak.
Smoke poured from his control console. A second later, orange fire retardant flowed out from the gaps in the electrical cabinet.
“Hold on, baby.”
Then he was on it. The massive Qin ship was lumbering along. A turret as large as his ship spouted out a fusion pod. It was so close that his cockpit was filled with titanium-white light. Off the explosive charge went, right toward the North.
Jakob hammered his ship, bled as much velocity as he could, zipped around the ancient Qin hull, and finally laid his egg. The nuclear-tipped bomb followed an arc and struck the side of the massive ship.
Jakob was already on the far side when it went off, so he never had a chance to see the gouge it made in the hull nor the damage he created. The only thing he knew was that it was still firing.
Just as he cleared the destroyer, another pocket of flak shook him so hard that his teeth rattled. One engine died. The second was locked wide open. The bomber spun and the g-forces went so high that Jakob’s vision was just a shadow.
He reached out a finger, a single finger—it was all he needed. It was three millimeters away. It took every bit of focus, drive, and energy to finally tap the kill. The jet died, the rate stabilized, and slowly the thrusters halted his spin.
Jakob floated helplessly and watched as the Qin fleet tore into the battle cruisers. Broadsides from both sides landed epic blows. The Carthages closed to brawling range—they were stuck, they couldn’t escape. Their screen was long gone. Only a few wings of bombers and fighters darted about to keep the Qin interceptors off.
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