First Strike

by Christopher Nuttall

  He looked around the table, meeting the eyes of the thirteen most powerful men and women in the world. They’d come to Iceland secretly, ensuring that the media didn't catch wind of what was going on until the national governments could decide how to handle the new crisis. Critics claimed that the rest of the world was excluded, but Tobias found it hard to care. Not every nation actually wanted to pay for its own defence, yet they all thought they should have a vote on the Federation Council. Anyone could play, if they paid. The Federation Navy alone cost billions every year, as well as pretty much all of Earth’s limited trade balance with the Galactics.

  “The message from Ambassador Li makes our position quite clear,” he said. The world leaders had already had time to digest the message. “The Hegemony has found a fig leaf to claim our territory for themselves. We expect that they will demand that we surrender peacefully to them – and if we refuse, they will bring their forces to bear against us and crush our resistance.”

  “My God,” the French President said. “And there’s no hope that the Association can be convinced to change its mind?”

  “Li was not hopeful,” Tobias said. “Unfortunately, there are limits to the ways we can influence the Association ourselves. The Oligarchs are richer than the combined human race, so we cannot bribe even one of them. And even if we did, committing the Association to war against the Hegemony would be hugely unpopular on Center. It would mean political suicide for those who proposed it.”

  “But they can't just give away our territory like that,” the American President protested. “We own it; we developed it...”

  “I think your Native Americans might have felt the same way,” the Russian President pointed out. “They could never understand how white men signing papers on the other side of the sea meant that their territories could be taken away and their populations destroyed. The Association is convinced that it owns us and they have precedent on their side.”

  “Might makes right,” the British Prime Minister said, in disgust.

  “Historically, treaties and international law only work as long as someone is willing to uphold them by force,” Tobias said grimly. “When they discovered Earth, we certainly didn't have the ability to dispute their ownership – we didn’t even know that we had been discovered and claimed. The Hegemony will use the fig leaf they have to justify taking control of us. Our independence will come to an end.”

  He met the eyes of the American President, willing him to believe. “The best case is that they will leave us with limited autonomy on Earth, provided we kiss their behinds loudly and often,” he added. “Humans have a reputation as hard workers, good soldiers and excellent technicians. They could certainly make use of us, but we’d never see the benefits of our own labour. The worst case...

  “The worst case is that they wipe us out. Humanity will be exterminated from the universe. There may be some humans left alive in the Association’s territory, but the Hegemony could presumably bring pressure to bear on the Association to expel them. The human race would come to an end.”

  “Jesus,” the American President said. “They’re that determined?”

  “The Hegemony is dominated by a race that has a historical urge – almost a genetic compulsion – to reach out and take as much in the way of resources as it can,” Tobias said, gently. “All of their other borders are occupied by powers that could put up more of a fight than ourselves – and a lost war would be a political disaster for the ruling Empress. So would holding what they have and refusing to expand any further. The only real target for expansion is us.”

  “I see,” the Russian President said. “We will fight, of course.”

  “If we wait for them to attack us, we will lose,” Tobias said, flatly. He felt his heart starting to race as they looked at him. There was a very real possibility that he was committing career suicide himself merely by bringing the proposal to their attention. Only five people knew about the plan; himself and four tactical analysts. “We have to strike first.”

  There was a long pause. “You just told us that we would lose a war,” the French President said, coldly. “Why do you assume that we can win by starting one?”

  Tobias tapped a key and a holographic star chart appeared above the table, the Nine Stars – Earth and its colonies – in the center. Terra Nova, occupied by enemy forces, was blinking orange, while the stars claimed by the Hegemony were blinking red. Space was a three-dimensional combat environment, something that confused many civilians who didn't understand why the Federation Navy couldn't guarantee safety.

  “We have devoted much time and effort to setting up an intelligence network outside Earth,” Tobias said. The Galactics had their own factions and some of them were willing to slip information to humanity. Humans settled on alien worlds also provided intelligence, although what they could provide was limited. “We know that the Hegemony maintains five Association-designed superdreadnoughts in orbit around Terra Nova, a sizable chunk of its entire battle-line. There are a handful of smaller ships, but the superdreadnoughts alone are – on paper – enough to safeguard the planet from all threats. Their confidence would be fully justified, under normal circumstances.”

  He smiled. “But we have new weapons and tactics to deploy,” he added. “We can shatter that force before they have a chance to reinforce it – and liberate Terra Nova. At the same time, we will hit their base on Garston which provides support for their navy and capture the quantum gate in the system. That will impose massive delays on their response – and even when they do realise that they are at war, they will be unable to reinforce quickly. If they strip their entire border of mobile forces, one or all of their rivals will pounce on them. That would cost them the war – and even their independence.”

  The Japanese Prime Minister leaned forward. “My country has had its own experience with pre-emptive strikes,” he said. “Not all of them ended well.”

  “There are no guarantees in war,” Tobias admitted. “The sociologists claim that if we manage to bloody their nose and embarrass the Empress, her position will be seriously threatened and her clan will remove her before their dominance can be shattered and they have a civil war. In that case, there would be a long and bloody power struggle before a new leader emerges from the fighting, giving us time we can use to fortify the captured worlds and build new starships. But even if they don’t fall into civil war, they would still have problems fighting us if they lost heavily in the opening rounds. They would never be able to bring their full strength against us.

  “I have confidence that the Federation Navy can carry out this operation – can win this war – if we start it at a time and place of our own choosing,” he concluded. “I have no confidence that we can stop them if they are allowed to reinforce and then advance on Earth unimpeded. We do not have time to build the starships we’d need to hold them off and no one else is likely to raise a finger to help us. The choice is not between fighting or not fighting, but when and where the war starts. They are not going to allow us to remain independent.”

  The debate surged backwards and forwards. Some of the world leaders were worried about deliberately triggering a war with one of the Galactics, even the Hegemony. War was always a gamble at the best of times – and few battle plans ever survived contact with the enemy. Secrecy would have to be maintained until the war began, something that would upset local governments and the media. In the end, the vote was very close.

  “Admiral,” the American President said, “you have permission to plan and execute the strike on Terra Nova. Don’t fuck up.”

  “I will lead the fleet in person,” Tobias said. “Operation Kryptonite will remain secret until we’re ready to move. If the Galactics get one word of warning, we’ll be screwed.”

  Chapter Two

  Armstrong City had grown in the five years since Captain Joshua Wachter had last visited Luna. Like all human colonies, it was a mixture of human and alien technologies, with antigravity lifters running next to gas-powered tracto
rs. The limited supply of Galactic technology meant that everything that could be done with human technology had to be done, despite claims that this would one day leave the workers operating the primitive technology hopelessly behind their fellows who had used the more advanced equipment. Joshua knew better. As long as there was a human race, there would be jobs for people who were willing to work on rocky worlds with little atmosphere. The long-term plan to terraform Luna would take centuries, at least, to come to fruition. Mars and Venus would be habitable sooner. One of Mentor’s many gifts to the human race had been engineered microbes that started the long task of turning a barren world into a garden.

  He strode through a series of endless corridors and finally reached the Naval HQ, positioned on the edge of Armstrong City. The Federation Navy had its own separate installations on Luna – the Federation Navy Academy had been established on the moon, away from nations and nationalist sentiments – but he would never have been invited to any of them. Half of the human race considered him little better than a traitor, while the rest considered him a hero. Anyone dealing with him would want to do so at arm’s length. He’d actually considered declining when he received the message inviting him to return to Luna, before deciding to go. If the rumours he’d picked up were true, Earth would need all the help it could get, even from one of its most controversial sons.

  The guards – three Federation Marines, carrying the latest in magnetic-accelerated rifles – checked his ID carefully, before detailing another set of Marines to escort him through the Naval HQ and into a small office. The last time he’d visited, he’d been extensively debriefed by both Federation Intelligence and the Office of Naval Intelligence, the civilian and military intelligence services studying the Galactics. This time, the officer who stepped through the other door was someone a great deal more senior. Admiral Tobias Sampson himself.

  Joshua lifted an eyebrow as Sampson sat down and studied him. He saw a man who looked inhumanly young, thanks to the wonders of Galactic medical technology, with an unkempt mop of hair covering a thin body that could never stay still. Outside of the Association’s founder race, there was no such thing as biological immortality, but nanites could do wonderful things for one’s lifespan. The richer segment of the human race were prepared to pay almost anything to get their hands on such technology, technology that was almost free on any Galactic world. Joshua had made billions smuggling it to Earth and selling nanites to the highest bidder. If he’d incorporated his business on Earth, taxes would have gobbled up over half of his profits. The donations he sent back in alien currency were his way of contributing to Earth’s desperate struggle to modernise itself before someone with more starships than humanity turned up and demanded surrender.

  “I am not here,” Sampson said, gruffly. “My appointment book says that I am meeting with two prospective commanding officers for new-build starships. I expect you to keep whatever you hear in this compartment to yourself, or there will be consequences.”

  Joshua smiled. Sampson was probably one of the officers who disapproved of him. Coming to Joshua for help had to rankle. “I understand,” he said. “I think I have assisted you enough over the years to prove my trustworthiness.”

  “No such thing,” Sampson growled. “Ideally, everyone connected with this would be in a secure environment for the next six months, where they wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone not already authorized to discuss the matter. There are already too many people in on the secret and some of them have flapping lips.”

  Joshua shrugged. “You seem to have me at a disadvantage,” he said. “Either tell me what you want from me or let me go back to my ship.”

  Sampson eyed him for a long moment. “You have contacts among the Galactics,” he said. “Have you heard anything...interesting lately?”

  “Rumours,” Joshua said. He looked back at Sampson. “Rumours concerning Earth and the Hegemony. I take it that those rumours are true?”

  “The Cats do love to chatter,” Sampson sighed. “From what we’ve heard, the Association is on the verge of selling us out to the Hegemony. They’ll come here, take our worlds and enslave the human race. We do not have much time to react.”

  He hesitated. “I assume you’ve heard nothing from Mentor...?”

  “No,” Joshua admitted. “Nothing. Not even a peep.”

  Mentor had been one of the few Association Oligarchs to realise that the Association was heading for disaster. His decision to take a small fleet to Earth and make humanity a present of advanced technology had been against most of the Association’s strongest laws, even though they’d been broken many times in the past. After Earth had started expanding, Mentor had been summoned home to Center to face his peers. No one knew what had happened to him after his trial. The Association considered itself too civilised to apply the death penalty to an immortal being, but there were plenty of lesser punishments they could have used. Or maybe Mentor had simply decided to join his fellows in retreating from the universe.

  It had also been Mentor who had started the young Joshua on his strange career. A group of human terrorists had tried to assassinate the alien, but Joshua had saved his life and – in return – Mentor had given him his own starship. The Oligarch was so rich that an entire starship, even one with its own gate generator, was pocket change to him. Joshua had ignored demands from the Federation Navy that he turn the starship over to them, instead setting out on an extended tour of the galaxy. Over the years, he had built up his own small trading empire, an empire that made him one of the richest men on Earth. And yet his entire fortune was still nothing more than pocket change to many Galactics. They tended to underestimate Joshua because he was poor by their standards.

  Earth’s technology didn't hold any attractions for the Galactics, at least not the races that had developed their own spacefaring technology before the Association had discovered them. The planet did, however, have many other resources they could trade, including artefacts and old movies. Independence Day had been surprisingly popular, although the Galactics who’d distributed it had branded the movie as a comedy. The sight of Galactics howling with laughter as giant flying saucers lowered themselves into Earth’s atmosphere was not for the faint-hearted. Why didn't they simply bombard the planet from orbit if they wanted it so badly?

  “The Hegemony intends to take Earth,” Sampson said, flatly. “And as far as I can see, we’re alone against the universe.”

  Joshua nodded. It tied in with his own experiences. Some races were friendlier than others, but as the Association’s power dwindled, the more advanced races were starting to assert their own domination. The free trading network he’d used had been created by the Association and would probably die as the borders started to slip backwards towards Center. No-one would help Earth, save perhaps only races with little to offer.

  “I see,” he said, finally. “I notice that one of the colonist-carriers is gone...?”

  “Classified,” Sampson said, shortly. Joshua grinned. Mentor had brought Earth four colonist-carrier starships, massive ships capable of carrying a hundred thousand humanoids in stasis between worlds. One of them could transport a select group of humans – and a complete genetic template – beyond the Rim, hundreds of light-years away from the Hegemony. Humanity would live on even if Earth was destroyed.

  “But we have only one option if we want to maintain our independence,” Sampson continued, ignoring Joshua’s grin. “We have to take the offensive and strike first.”

  Joshua stared at him. For a moment, he didn't believe his ears.

  “You want to start a war?” he asked. “Are you insane?”

  “I would prefer to fight now than fight when they have a chance to bring more of their power to bear against Earth,” Sampson said. He ran through the strategic rationale. “In your opinion, as someone with more experience of the Galactics than most, do you think the plan is workable?”

  Joshua paused, considering. “The Funks tend to bow down to those they consider their superiors,” h
e said, finally. “If we gave them enough of a bloody nose, they’d probably give up on trying to take our space.” He shrugged. “But it would have to be a very bloody nose to deter them from pressing on with the fight. Their Empress will be putting her own life at risk if she surrenders without their population being convinced of our superiority. Maybe less so if we start the war...”

  He looked up. “Are we so advanced that we can attack them even without superior numbers? I’ve heard rumours...”

  Sampson snorted. “Give us fifty years of uninterrupted development and we could roll over the Association any time we liked,” he said, dryly. “The Galactics don’t seem to have the same impulse we have to keep pushing the limits of technology. Most of them got their technology off the Association and never bothered to develop anything for themselves.”

  “But we don’t have fifty years,” Joshua said quietly. “Do we have enough to give them a bloody nose now?”

  “I think so,” Sampson admitted. “The technology we do have is enough to give them a handful of nasty surprises. But it won’t be enough to give us crushing superiority. I’d prefer to keep all of the new technology under wraps until we could deploy it against the entire Hegemony and smash it before it has a hope of developing its own technology, but we won’t have that time. After the first couple of battles... who knows?”

  A holographic chart appeared over the table. Joshua studied it thoughtfully, his mind instinctively mapping out the trade routes his small fleet used, moving from quantum gate to quantum gate. The economics of the gate network ensured that stars with their own gate received more traffic than stars without gates, but the network grew thinner out towards the Rim. Earth and the rest of the Nine Stars hadn’t received gates until they’d been constructed by human engineers. The Hegemony now owned Terra Nova’s gate, forcing human technicians to maintain it. It was quite possible that the Hegemony wouldn't be able to maintain the entire network if it did absorb large chunks of the Association.