First Strike

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Unfortunately, secrets have a habit of getting out,” Sampson said. Flying the gunboats to Garston or Heavenly Gate would have allowed the Galactics to get a good look at the new ships. “I needed the Hegemony to understand just how badly they were outmatched by our weaponry. They would certainly have picked up rumours from Terra Nova even if we did manage to prevent them from escaping, and kept all of the captured POWs in detention camps. And besides, we used some of the new weapons when we took Garston. The secret is out.”

  “But she was the enemy commander,” Adrienne protested. “Surely she knew too much. I couldn't find any incident in recent history where such an officer has simply been returned to their people, at least not without making a trade of equal value.”

  “It has happened in human history,” Sampson said. “One particularly interesting example was the decision by Julius Caesar to return Ptolemy of Egypt to his loyalists during his campaign in Egypt. The irony was that a eunuch without any military experience was doing an excellent job of prosecuting the siege when the boy was returned to his own lines. Some historians have claimed that Caesar was a fool, but it seems evident that returning Ptolemy divided the enemy command and made it easier for the Romans to win.”

  “But that was… old history,” Adrienne pointed out. Hardly anyone talked about Ancienthistory these days, not when the Association had been around for longer than all human civilization. “Surely it doesn't apply now?”

  “It has also been practiced among the Hegemony as a gesture of contempt,” Sampson said, seriously. “They don’t really have a tradition of total war as we understand the term. And besides, they’re not very kind to failures. It’s quite possible that they executed the unfortunate officer as soon as she returned home.”

  “Or that she might have deserted in the direction of the Galactics,” Adrienne said. “I don't think I would return home if I knew I was likely to be killed.”

  “Moral courage isn't just a human trait,” Sampson admitted. “We consider the Funks to be barbarians because they didn't develop their technology, merely obtained it from the Cats, and because they treat their client races like shit, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t be as brave, loyal and determined as ourselves. They’re individuals, just like us. I dare say that some Funks might even be good people.”

  “Not an attitude that will win you many friends on Earth,” Adrienne said. “Or Terra Nova, for that matter. What do you think of the trials?”

  “I think the settlers want revenge,” Sampson said. “Trying the collaborators for lesser crimes than treason may not be the ideal way to handle the situation, but no one could suggest a better way. The alternative was a long and complex legal struggle.”

  Adrienne stood up. “Thank you for the interview, Admiral,” she said. “Can I ask a question, completely off the record?”

  Sampson nodded, slowly. “The Federation’s limitations have been exposed by the campaign,” she said. “Do you feel that it needs to move towards becoming a proper world government?”

  “That’s another political issue,” Sampson said. “Practically speaking, none of the Federation’s member states will want to give up more independence to the Federation – and the nations that aren't members certainly won’t want to join unless they get a say in how the Federation operates. I don’t think that a world government is practical, at least not for a very long time.”

  He smiled. “But that’s just my opinion,” he added. “If we survive this war, who knows what might become possible?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “No sign they’ve detected us, boss,” Karla reported. “There’s so much activity in this system that they probably wouldn't notice if we charged in transmitting a list of Captain Haddock’s favourite curses.”

  “Don’t get overconfident,” Joshua warned. “We’re just here to have a look at the system, nothing else. If they realise that we’re watching the system, they might suspect what we have in mind.”

  The Tauscher System had been utterly undeveloped when the Funks had arrived, established their supremacy over the natives and then started to put them to work on behalf of the Hegemony. Over several hundred years, they’d built up a respectable orbital industry and a set of cloudscoops to provide fuel. Oddly, the system wasn't operated by a single clan, but several clans – and it was clear that they didn't get along, even though the natives were restless. Unlike Earth, or most of the Hegemony’s worlds, there was no unified command authority in the system, even in orbit around Tauscher. Hundreds of STL asteroid miners swarmed through the belt, while FTL freighters docked at the orbital installations or the cloudscoops. The Funks had been careful about just what technology was imported onto the planet, but the Gobbles had admitted that they had much more than their masters realised. It hadn't taken Joshua long to understand why. They served in thousands of minor roles in the system, doing the work the Funks considered beneath them. It was easy to evade most of their security, as long as they were careful.

  Joshua had to smile as Blackbeard drifted closer to the planet, all passive sensors online and pulling in data from all over the system. Officially, they were nothing more than a trading ship built on a light cruiser hull, an adaption that had proven popular with freighter commanders who had to fly through regions of space infested with pirates. Most pirates wouldn't be able to separate out the freighter variant from the light cruiser elements, and would rather let the ship go than chance attacking a warship.

  “They look paranoid,” Karla added. “Look at that formation.”

  Joshua studied the display, puzzled. Normally, there was little order to interstellar shipping, even among the races that made the Funks look like anarchists. Starships came and went almost at random. But now… hundreds of freighters waited well away from the planet, while Funk shuttles moved from freighter to freighter, inspecting them before they could slip into orbit. It made little sense to him, until he remembered the reports from Hammerfall. There was no way to be sure about their accuracy, but if the Federation really had used a freighter to ram a control fortress and take it out, the Funks had to be worried about the same thing happening elsewhere. They had so much interstellar shipping that inspecting it all would take days, delaying travel by weeks or months. It was hard to be sure, but that was bound to have an adverse effect on the Funk economy.

  He smiled, coldly. But they couldn't assume that only human or Funk freighters would be used in suicide attacks. They would have to search every freighter that entered orbit, something that would have a knock-on effect far outside the Hegemony. Freighter crews often lived on the margin – he’d been luckier than most, and even he had had to struggle – and a number were sure to go bankrupt, creating political trouble for their homeports. It was even possible that a number of the big combines would be adversely affected, perhaps even withdraw their freighters from the Hegemony. And that would have an unfortunate effect on the Hegemony’s economy.

  The Clunker Fleet and the pirates allied to it had taken out or captured over seventy freighters and warships in the Hegemony’s rear. Joshua had been careful to target only Hegemony ships – the pirates had been less restrained, which might give humanity some political cover if the shit hit the fan – and he’d confirmed that shipping insurance rates were going through the roof. The Hegemony might have a fine fleet – it did have a fine fleet – but how long could it operate the starships if the logistics behind them were falling apart?

  For want of a nail, a shoe was lost; for want of a shoe, a horse was lost…

  Joshua knew more about the economics of interstellar shipping than most and it was easy to understand just how much damage the attacks were doing. Starships needed a secure supply line just to keep operating, with freighters bringing everything from HE3 to replacement torpedoes to food. Military-grade components were tough, but action wore them down quickly to where they needed to be replaced. The Funks would have to make tough decisions fairly soon; abandon the shipping lanes and lose the revenue they brought in
, or divert freighters and escort ships from the war front. One way or another, the human race would benefit.

  All the more so if we keep profiting, he thought, coldly. Nothing succeeded like success; each of the freighters and cargos they captured bought in enough credits to fund the entire fleet. He’d even started buying up warships from shifty dealers, warships that could be crewed by the Gobble resistance or other rebels from the hidden colonies. The Funks could probably have destroyed them all if they’d managed to intercept them with a superdreadnought squadron, but the odds were massively against a successful interception. It was a shame one couldn't buy superdreadnoughts on the black market, although even if he had he wouldn’t have been able to crew them.

  But each successive purchase risked the danger that they would be betrayed...

  “Some of the ships are bugging out,” Karla said, breaking into his thoughts. “The Funks are screaming at them, but they’re not stopping.”

  Joshua nodded. Independent freighter commanders weren’t inclined to listen to anyone else, even military starships with weapons locked on their hulls. If the Funks were forcing them to waste time – and credits – they’d take their ships elsewhere, heading onwards to their next port of call. The Funks didn't have the numbers to chase them all down before they reached the quantum gate – and some of them even had quantum drives. Their departure from Tauscher was a neat way of giving the Funks the finger as they left.

  “We may as well bug out ourselves,” he said. “There’s no point in letting them have a good look at our hull.”

  Karla nodded and tapped commands into her console, bringing the drives online. “Do you think we have enough intelligence to proceed?”

  “Maybe,” Joshua said. The Gobbles wanted their homeworld liberated and were prepared to pay any price, readily supporting humanity’s war against the Funks. But even if they did manage to take the system intact, the Funks would certainly react harshly – and there were no less than three superdreadnought squadrons within five days of the system. They were supposed to be watching the Tarn – the Tarn had reinforced their borders, something that had forced the Funks to keep a sharp eye on them even as they waged war on humanity – but they’d certainly react to a rebellion that took the entire planet. Joshua had yet to think of a way to defeat those ships when they arrived at Tauscher, with blood in their eyes.

  The quantum gate opened up around them and they slid into the safety of quantum space. “Take us back to Shadow,” he ordered. By now, most of his operations were masterminded well away from the concealed colony, but it was still a good place to pick up intelligence and offload their stolen goods. “I need to think, carefully.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Karla said. “Your loyal subjects will be more than willing to help you think. Just remember that there’s no such thing as a garment that can only be seen by clever men.”

  Joshua snorted. “And since when did that stop anyone falling for something that looked too good to be true?”

  * * *

  Joshua would have preferred not to have to go onto Shadow in person – there was too great a chance of someone realising that he and his crew were human – but the fences refused to meet with an electronic personality. Shadow’s location was probably known to the Hegemony’s intelligence agents by now, if only by tracing back the smuggling routes. Every time Joshua entered the system, he half-worried that he would encounter a Hegemony fleet intent on revenge. Whatever benefit they gained from monitoring the smugglers had to be outweighed by the losses they were taking to the Clunkers.

  “Your crews have amassed much wealth,” the crab said. As always, the alien was within its water tank, beady eyes peering at Joshua through the gloom. “I am happy to help you dispose of it.”

  That was presumably a joke, although with some of the Galactics it was hard to tell. “And I am happy to accept your help,” Joshua said. The crab sat at the center of a spider’s web of contacts who passed on goods or gathered intelligence for the pirates. Not all of the intelligence dealers were trustworthy, but the crab had a good reputation for verifying everything before it passed the data on to people who could use it. “How might you assist me?”

  There was a rustling sound from the tank. “Intelligence has come my way about planned counter-piracy operations by the Hegemony’s rulers,” the crab said. Its voice, as always, was completely atonal, yet Joshua fancied that he could hear a note of amusement within the electronic voice. “You may find the information useful.”

  “Maybe,” Joshua agreed. The Hegemony was perfectly capable of inventing false data and passing it on to the pirate intelligence network. Hell, they might even have kept their own crews in the dark until they were in quantum space and could open their sealed orders. It never creased to astonish him that so many Funks were on the take. But then, the ones assigned to this part of the Hegemony were the ones without the connections that would assure them a glittering career. “I will certainly consider the offer.”

  He smiled at the crab, fighting down the urge to run. Joshua was no xenophobe, no racist who feared aliens simply because they were alien, yet the crab was truly alien, utterly inhuman. Even looking at its body provoked the arachnid reaction, the sense that something was deeply wrong. Intelligence could only go so far in countering feelings that lay deeply buried in the human mind.

  “I asked you to keep looking for other warships,” he said, changing the subject. “Have you located any more since we last spoke?”

  “Five,” the crab said. “Unfortunately, some have been worked hard by their previous owners, or have been largely disarmed. They may not be worth the money you will have to pay for them.”

  “Send me the details,” Joshua said. He’d made deals with a handful of hidden colonies, ones with space-based industries. They’d help repair damaged ships in exchange for vast sums of money and first call on supplies they desperately needed. “I’ll consider them and then get back to you.”

  “I have also verified the credentials of the Gobbles you liberated,” the crab added. “They are definitely listed as wanted terrorists by the Hegemony. The puppet government on Tauscher has sentenced them to death. If the Funks hadn't wanted to kill them in front of the Empress, they would be dead by now. As it is, they may not have realised that they were intercepted in transit.”

  “Let us hope not,” Joshua said. It should have taken weeks for the convoy to reach its destination, but it was quite likely that they’d intended to pause somewhere along the way. The Funks might well have realised that something had gone wrong by now, although they couldn't do much about it. Would they assume the worst, or would they conclude that the prison barge had been blown away on the grounds that it might be a disguised warship? “And the weapons I asked you to find?”

  “Have been located,” the crab said. “You should be well on your way to outfitting a small army.”

  “Good,” Joshua said. “Have them shipped to the RV point. We’ll meet them there and take them onwards to their final destination.”

  * * *

  In one sense, almost everything owned and operated by the Galactics was standardised, built using comparable technology developed by the Cats. Practically, there were differences in almost everything, particularly weapons. A plasma rifle designed for human hands couldn't be used by a Funk, or a Gobble, without considerable problems. They had to be refitted to suit alien hands, or whatever they had that passed for manipulating digits. Obtaining weapons suitable for Gobbles wasn't particularly easy. The Funks had never designed them and forbidden the Gobbles from designing their own. It hadn't stopped them for long.

  “Suitable,” Xinchub said, after testing the rifle. It had been redesigned on one of the hidden colonies, once they’d tested the Gobbles to find out what they needed. “How many of these can you produce?”

  “Thousands,” Joshua said, shortly. Arming a resistance movement was technically outside the letter of his orders, but it was a chance they couldn't allow to slip past. He hadn't hidden
the scope of the problem from Xinchub, or the fact that the Funks would certainly respond with overwhelming firepower when the shit hit the fan. “And plenty of other weapons as well. The problem lies in getting them to the surface.”

  The Gobble looked up at him, his mouth twisting into a smile that showed sharp teeth. “That will not be a problem,” he said, firmly. “There are plenty of shipping lines between the asteroids and the planet, ones we have used before to smuggle weapons and technology to the surface. Even with the new regulations, we can run rings around the Hegemony’s inspection teams, if we have not already managed to subvert them. They will suspect nothing until it is too late.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Joshua said. He’d picked up enough intelligence to suggest that the inspections were cursory, looking for nothing more dangerous than hulls crammed with antimatter. They had little choice – the time it would take to search each ship thoroughly would cause massive additional delays – but relying on it didn’t seem particularly safe. One nosy inspector and the whole secret would be blown open. “I will not commit myself to assisting you unless I am fairly confident of success.”

  “A wise attitude,” the Gobble agreed. “But we have been their slaves for far too long. If we are to fight and die, at least we will deny them our service for the rest of time.”

  “There are billions of you, scattered over the Hegemony and outside,” Joshua said, quietly. Such an attitude appalled him. “They might all be slaughtered by the Funks, if they realise that you have risen up in rebellion. Your people might be completely destroyed.”

  “We know the dangers,” Xinchub said. “But we cannot go on like this. Whatever the risk, we will be free.”

  It still bothered Joshua hours later, when they made the agreement to have thousands of modified weapons prepared for the resistance. He’d known the risks when he'd allowed Admiral Sampson to talk him into leading the operation, including the simple fact that they were all expendable. Earth would never know what had been done for her. But risking an entire planet of harmless aliens…? He couldn't accept that they might trigger off a genocide unmatched in galactic history; alien races had died out before, but never on such a scale. How could anyone be comfortable with it?