First Strike

by Christopher Nuttall

  “The Hegemony lost two superdreadnoughts outright, a third wrecked beyond hope of repair and two more that surrendered,” Sooraya added. “By any standards, it was the most one-sided victory in recent galactic history. We took over nine thousand prisoners from the superdreadnoughts alone and the spooks are already cooing over what they’ve managed to extract from their computers. We...”

  Tobias held up a hand. In one sense, she was right; it had been a one-sided victory. But losing Tirpitz inflicted more proportional damage to the Federation Navy than the loss of five superdreadnoughts to the Hegemony. The balance of power, at least on paper, favoured the Hegemony, something the other Galactics would consider when they started thinking about who to support. So far, there had been little reaction from anyone else apart from a bland statement condemning the violence from the Association Commune. No one knew how the Hegemony would react to the defeat they’d suffered.

  “Those are minor priorities, right now,” he said. Earth had no superdreadnoughts, but while he was tempted to repair one of the captured ships and add it to his fleet, he knew that it would be worse than useless. Superdreadnoughts were ponderous brutes while his cruisers were light, fast and armed with superior weapons. There was no way to justify the cost in resources it would take to repair the captured ships. They’d be better spent on the new construction in Earth’s orbital yards. “The priority is to advance on Garston.”

  The planners, those few who had known about Kryptonite, had been divided on the question of mounting further assaults. Some had pointed out that Earth had no claim – legal or moral – to Garston and that taking the planet would give the Hegemony a chance to score a major propaganda coup. Others had insisted that only hitting the Hegemony again and again would convince the Empress to back off, and that delaying the advance would give the Funks a chance to reinforce the threatened sectors. Tobias had clung to the middle ground until the decision actually had to be made. His fleet had won one battle and it was largely intact. They could advance before reinforcements were dispatched from the Hegemony.

  And there really wasn't any other choice.

  But there was a problem. The Hegemony was small compared to the Association, but it still held upwards of five hundred stars and trillions of Funks. There was little hope that humanity would be able to overrun and occupy it all, even if that didn’t provoke intervention from the other Galactics. They would have to come to peace terms eventually, or the Hegemony would eventually grind them down and push humanity all the way back to Earth. Pressing the offensive might guarantee that the Hegemony couldn’t discuss peace… and one of his private nightmares was his fleet advancing further and further, until it was cut off from Earth and trapped.

  “Contact the commanders,” he said, finally. “Inform them that I wish to depart no less than one week from today.”

  It would require superhuman effort to prepare the fleet in time, but it had to be done. Remaining static at Terra Nova, as the Hegemony might have done, was merely asking for defeat. They had to remain on the offensive...or risk losing the war.

  “And then have the Marines send up the enemy commander,” he added. “I want to have a word with her.”

  The psychologists swore blind that the Funks would recognise and understand their own ancient conventions. Sending a captured leader back to his – her – side was a gesture of contempt, a gesture that suggested that the enemy leader was of no value to either side. But he wasn't so sure. Anyone who had seen human weapons in action would at least know what was possible, even if she didn't know how. They could be giving the Funks a free gift, an intelligence bonanza, simply by sending her home.

  He shrugged. The alien wouldn't be released until the next battle. By then, some of humanity’s surprises would be known to the Galactics. And the others wouldn't have been shown to the Funks until they were deployed into combat.

  And, again, there really was no other choice.

  * * *

  How had the humans become so advanced?

  The question tormented her, overriding even her concern for her own safety. Lady Dalsha knew what would have happened to any important prisoners taken by the Hegemony; they’d be brain-sucked and whatever was left of them afterwards would be dumped into the nearest star. Most of the prisoners the humans had taken were nothing more than ordinary males, ones never trusted with any secrets, but she knew how much she knew. The armored humans who had taken her into custody would probably not hesitate to do whatever it took to dig information out of her mind.

  But even that might be a preferable fate to what would happen to her if she returned home. The hunt for a scapegoat was the Empress’ favourite choice of sport, if only to maintain her own position. After all, being ultimately responsible for the most disastrous defeat in the Hegemony’s history would weaken her position… and then the rest of the aristocracy would start sharpening their knives. The Empress would put the blame on the officer who’d been in command - Lady Dalsha – and then have her brain-wiped and thrown to the males. There was no worse punishment in the Hegemony.

  The humans had treated her reasonably well. They’d given her edible food – not always guaranteed when dealing with aliens – and enough water to keep her alive. The air was cooler and wetter than she preferred, but the human ships were so small that setting up a comfortable atmosphere in the brig would probably be impossible. Besides, the part of her that remembered the times when her ancestors had searched frantically for water knew that she should be grateful. Not all worlds were as harsh as the one that had given birth to her race.

  She looked up as two humans entered the brig and stopped in front of the forcefield holding her inside. They both wore armor, concealing their repulsive human features. It was impossible to tell if they were male or female; with humans, anything was possible. They believed in the equality of the sexes. It was an absurd concept to her, but humans were an alien race. Surprises had to be expected.

  The forcefield vanished with a crackling sound. “You will come with us,” one of the humans said. “Do not attempt to resist.”

  Lady Dalsha rose to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster and allowed the humans to lead her out of the cell. The interior of their starship was painted an uncomfortable shade of white, with data terminals and consoles everywhere. It was so unlike one of the Association-built ships that the sheer alien nature of the humans was brought home to her. No Hegemony-built ship would have scattered data terminals around for the crew. They might have found something that was not suited for junior eyes.

  She wanted to ask questions, but she had a feeling that the humans would refuse to answer her – assuming that they knew the answers. The Hegemony kept its juniors ignorant; many Galactic societies did the same, leaving the seniors in power to keep the system running. Instead, she kept silent and watched, hoping to see something that would unlock the secrets behind the alien ships. She saw nothing, but humans. If they’d obtained technology from another race, their unknown benefactors had not chosen to serve on their vessels. Perhaps they didn't want to be seen by the Hegemony, or perhaps the humans had stolen the technology from someone else. It seemed impossible that any race could advance so far, so quickly. Even the Cats had taken thousands of years to work out a gateway into quantum space.

  The guards halted outside a sealed hatch, which opened a second later. Lady Dalsha stepped into the room and stopped, looking around her in surprise. The human commanders were given smaller living spaces than Hegemony males on superdreadnoughts, something that puzzled her. How could the superior be superior if there weren't clear marks of her – his – status? The human seated behind the desk rose up and nodded to her escort, speaking to them in one on the human tongues. There were translation programs that could handle human languages, but she had none. They’d taken everything before they’d brought her onboard.

  “Welcome onboard the Nimitz,” the human said. The human naming conventions for their starships puzzled her. Why name starships after their ancestors wh
en there were so many ideals in the universe? “I am Admiral Tobias Sampson, commanding officer of this fleet.”

  Lady Dalsha felt her claws itch under her scales. She wanted to lunge forward and tear into the human, but she knew that his guards would stop her instantly with their suit-augmented strength. The results would be painful, and humiliating, at the very least.

  “I am Lady Dalsha,” she said, finally. “You have attacked my ships without provocation.”

  The human snorted. “I think we both know that there was ample justification,” he said. “The important detail is that we won and took you and your surviving crewmen prisoner.”

  “So you did,” Lady Dalsha agreed. The Association had tried to enforce certain rules when it came to dealing with prisoners, but she was uneasily aware that those rules were often flouted. “I should remind you that the Empress will not look kindly upon any mistreatment of my crewmen and myself.”

  The human smiled, barely showing his teeth. “Do you think that she would love us any better if we didn't mistreat you?”

  Lady Dalsha waved one hand in the air, absently. “I am your prisoner,” she said. “Why have you brought me here?”

  “I wish you to take a message back to the Hegemony,” the human said. “It is possible that your Empress will continue to fight the war, even after we have established our superiority in weapons systems. I want you to tell her that she can have peace, instead of getting her fleet slaughtered when it tries to counterattack. We don’t really want anything apart from Terra Nova – and it’s back in our hands. There can be peace.”

  Lady Dalsha stared at him. The human had to be insane – or ignorant. There was no way that the Empress would accept the loss of Terra Nova, not without trying to recover it. If human superiority wasn't clearly demonstrated – and it hadn't been – the Empress couldn't surrender Terra Nova without looking weak. The war would continue until the human race was crushed. Their new weapons, wherever they had come from, wouldn't be enough to even the odds. She’d seen enough to have a good idea how to counter their tricks.

  But the Empress wouldn’t know everything. She hadn't been able to get a signal out before the humans had forced her to surrender; everything she knew about the human tactics and technology would be useless, unless she managed to take the information back home. And if the humans were prepared to let her go…

  “I will certainly take your message to the Empress,” she said, slowly. “But you have attacked us savagely, striking from the shadows. We will not take that lightly.”

  “We didn't take Terra Nova lightly either,” the human said. “We will provide transport for you from here to Garston.” He smiled, as if there was a joke in his words she couldn't understand. “I’m afraid the military base there has suffered an… accident… but you should be able to find a civilian ship willing to take you the rest of the way home. Or you could pass on the message through the communications network. I dare say that one of the other Galactics in the system will agree to let you use their transmitter.”

  “Thank you,” Lady Dalsha said. Perhaps she could win back a little honour through her report, and her thoughts on how to combat the human technology. Maybe the Empress would even spare her life. “I will do as you wish.”

  * * *

  The President of the United States stared into the camera, putting every ounce of his experience into maintaining the solemn, grave and yet optimistic expression that the situation demanded. It wasn't easy. People said that the President was the most powerful man in the world, and there was a certain amount of truth in that saying, but he was hardly the most powerful man in the galaxy. The Empress of the Hegemony wielded more power than anyone on Earth could match, commanding fleets that could turn Earth’s surface into radioactive ash if she willed it to be done. Earth had never quite recovered from discovering that humanity wasn't alone in the universe. There were times when the President felt that humanity was sinking towards self-inflicted destruction even without the Hegemony.

  But then, humanity was really nothing more than a microstate to the Galactics. That realisation had stunned millions of humans. They weren't just unimportant, but insignificant, barely worthy of consideration. Fifteen years of effort had gone into changing that, into building humanity up into a minor galactic power, and yet the culture shock had never quite gone away. Earth had slipped into a siege mentality and a growing paranoia about the universe outside. Americans were stockpiling guns and building bomb shelters, shelters that would provide little protection if the planet was blown apart by antimatter torpedoes. And yet any politician who tried to get in the way was crushed. The panic was too strong to be easily controlled.

  “My fellow Americans,” he said. They’d cleared a slot for him on every television, radio and internet channel in America. Galactic-level computers had changed the internet beyond recognition, making it the most powerful medium for sharing ideas in history. They were far harder to censor or block than anything produced by mere humans. “I come to you with grave news. The long-expected war between humanity and the Hegemony has finally broken out.”

  His advisors had debated endlessly over the question of admitting that human ships had fired the first shots in the war. The President could understand their feelings; Americans liked wars to be honest and open, even though wars had never been either. Pearl Harbour and 9/11 had both been sneak attacks perpetrated against America and both had galvanised the country. But then, so had the loss of Terra Nova. A good third of the planet’s population was American.

  “Human ships have liberated Terra Nova from alien rule,” he continued. “The first battle was a stunning success. Humans have shown the Galactics that we cannot be taken lightly.”

  He paused. “But wars are not won by one victory alone. This will be a long hard struggle, a war that will define the future of both Earth and the Hegemony. I ask you all to pray for the success of the gallant Federation Navy, fighting to defend Earth, and for the American soldiers who will soon be joining the Federation Marines on alien planets. And I ask you to pray that we will emerge victorious from this war, secure in our place in the universe and confident that we will not be bullied and eventually enslaved by an alien race. God bless America.”

  The camera clicked off and the President relaxed, wiping his brow. God alone knew what would happen when the Hegemony responded to the attack, but he was sure that it would be bad – and if humanity wasn't ready, the devastation could be immense. He felt powerless to affect events, even though he was the President of the United States of America. No one truly realised just how much power the Federation Navy had, not until it had gone to war. The divided command structure gave the CNO remarkable latitude to fight the war as he saw fit.

  At least we have a good man in charge, he told himself, and hoped that he was right.

  He stepped into the briefing room and looked down at his public relations staff, the men and women who monitored public opinion and tried to urge him to surf the shifting tides through to win the next election. Half of them were already tapping away at laptops, reading internet forums and trying to put together a consensus on how the public was reacting to the news. The President was less impressed. The internet was a shifting maze of attitudes that seemed exaggerated through anonymity. No doubt there were already trolls sneering at his message online.

  “The first results are already in,” the youngest member of the group said. “People are scared, but also confident. They want victory and they believe that we can win it.”

  “Of course,” the President said dryly. It would be days before they had a real picture of how the country was feeling. “So do we.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “They used to take children away to the garrison,” Beverly Troy said. She was around forty years old, according to the colonist database Adrienne had downloaded before leaving Wellington, but she looked at least sixty. Many of the other colonists who had lived through five years of hell looked just as bad, if not worse. Some of them had fallen ill an
d died because they didn't have the right diet. “We all knew what they were doing with them, but we told ourselves that we didn’t, that the kids were just visiting… oh God!”

  She started to sob, noisily. “My little Eric went into the garrison,” she said, between sobs. “He was only seven years old when they took him and… and I prayed that he’d be fine, that he’d be untouched, but he was such a pretty boy. They’d love him! Where is he? Was he alive or dead or did you put him out of his misery… I need to know!”

  Adrienne shook her head tiredly as the woman kept sobbing. The Funks had been brutal, stamping down hard on any bursts of independences from their human captives, but they hadn't been outrageously cruel, at least not by their own standards. But the human collaborators, the ones who had served the Funks willingly, had indulged themselves in activities unthinkable to a sane mind. They’d preyed on men, women and – worst of all – children, to the point where the Funk troops were almost popular. No one had been able to tell if the Funks had allowed it on purpose or if it had been a simple oversight, but it hardly mattered. No wonder the colonists wanted to tear the collaborators limb from limb.

  Three days after the battle, the fires were finally out and workers were starting to repair some of the damaged buildings. Others were beyond repair and would have to be demolished and replaced by new construction. The colonists had set to work with a will, although the Navy hadn't tried to hide the fact that the Funks might slip back in and occupy Terra Nova for the second time. Barbie had been vague on precisely how many Federation Navy ships had been damaged or destroyed in the battle, but Adrienne didn't need precise figures to know that the combined navy was weaker than the Hegemony. That had been one insight that wouldn't be going into her reports. The Funks would no doubt listen to human broadcasts with as much interest as humans listened to theirs and it wouldn’t do to give them any idea of loss rates.