First Strike

by Christopher Nuttall

  In some ways, that would be the ideal solution. Few of the human weapons were really new, at least according to the Hegemony’s contacts among the Galactics. They were really applications that the Association had either never considered or never put into practice, something that made a certain kind of sense. The Cats had been the unquestioned masters of the universe for thousands of years. They wouldn't want a new weapons system coming online that threatened their dominance. What if someone did develop a weapon that could blow apart a superdreadnought with a single shot? Every navy in the galaxy would be instantly rendered obsolete.

  The study of human history hadn't found favour among the Hegemony, not when it was an article of faith that no other race had anything to teach the heirs to the galaxy. Human history was very short compared to the Cats, but a surprising amount had leaked out into the galaxy after the Galactics had realised that a rogue Cat had invited the humans to join the interstellar community. It was difficult to be sure – humans just didn't think like her people – yet it seemed that much of human history was based around developing new weapons that altered the balance of power. The steam-powered ironclad, the tank, the aircraft, the machine gun, the dreadnought, the aircraft carrier, the precision-guided missile… and even the atomic bomb. Even the human superpowers had been forced to press ahead with weapons development, if only because their competitors would certainly do the same, seeking something that would alter the balance of power in their favour.

  And the Hegemony clans had completely skipped that part of history. They’d never had to advance beyond mounted riders and spears; even basic metalworking had been limited before the Cats arrived. And like most of the Galactics, the Hegemony had accepted the myth that the Association had taken technology as far as it could go. But...what if the Cats, with the long-term perspective granted by immortality, had seeded that myth throughout the galaxy? They would never have to worry about being overthrown if everyone believed that they could never be matched, let alone surpassed.

  But what if the other Galactics didn't buy into the myth? The galaxy was a big place and even the Cats couldn't hope to watch it all. What if the other Galactics had been running their own research and development programs into surpassing the technology they’d received from the Cats? The thought was terrifying, for the Hegemony’s supremacy rested upon brute force and a willingness to do whatever it took to maintain their power. And yet, of all the major powers, the Hegemony was the least capable of operating its own independent research and development programs. It was quite possible that the other Galactic powers had already built their own advanced weapons long before humanity exploded onto the galactic stage.

  It didn't seem likely, viewed through bright red eyes. Given superiority over an outsider, the Hegemony’s first step would be to make sure that that outsider understood that the Hegemony was superior, that their mere survival would be only on the Hegemony’s terms. And yet it was true that other races didn’t think like her own people. What if one of the Galactics had developed superior weapons and merely decided to keep them to themselves? The long-term plan to replace the Cats as masters of the universe might be doomed from the start…

  She outlined her thoughts to the Empress, who didn't seem amused. Humanity simply didn't have the numbers to crush the Hegemony; they had a quantitative answer to qualitative superiority. But the Tarn, or the Melkot, or even the Yel-Throd… they could combine advanced technology with the numbers required to win a decisive victory. None of the brushfire wars had grown out of control because the combatants had known that victory would come at a staggeringly high cost, but with advanced weapons...that might change.

  And even if the Galactics hadn’t developed advanced weapons, there was no reason why the humans couldn't start selling their wares on the arms market.

  “There is little we can do about that at the moment,” the Empress said. “Our priority remains the defeat of the human race before some of the other Galactics decide to join the war on their side. Your planned operations are approved, but you will not be commanding them.”

  Lady Dalsha felt cold ice trickling down the back of her neck. The Empress might have decided that she needed a scapegoat immediately. Her position wasn't very strong, even if there had been a victory at Garston. Lady Dalsha had hoped that commanding the operations would give her a degree of protection, assuming that the humans didn't manage to kill her when they struck back. But there was one definite advantage for the Hegemony in humanity’s limited number of ships. Technologically superior they might be, but they couldn't be in two places at once.

  “I have given orders to withdraw three squadrons of superdreadnoughts and escorts from the Tarn border,” the Empress said. “They will travel to a position near Hammerfall, where you will assume command of the ships and take them directly to Earth. Once in orbit, you will force the humans to surrender or systematically destroy every last piece of military hardware and industry in the system. The humans do not have a secondary shipyard complex – destroying their industry will certainly cripple their war effort. They will be forced to surrender or we will force them into a war of attrition.”

  Lady Dalsha had devised that original plan, but now she hesitated. “The Tarn have been fortifying their border,” she warned. “They may take advantage of our weakness.”

  “Which is why we will not broadcast anything about this operation,” the Empress said. “Officially, the superdreadnoughts are on routine patrol. The remaining ships in the sector will switch their IFF signals routinely, disguising their absence until it is far too late. And the Tarn do not appear to have developed any new weapons. They will be bogged down if they try to invade our space, giving us time to beat the humans and then turn on the Tarn.”

  “It should work,” Lady Dalsha said, finally. “But what if it fails?”

  “Neither of us will see the end of the war,” the Empress said. She would throw Lady Dalsha to the wolves, but they wouldn't be satisfied with a mere outcast, not if three entire squadrons had been lost. It took two years to build a superdreadnought from scratch and the war had already destroyed or crippled twenty of the most powerful ships in the galaxy. Replacing what they’d lost would take decades. “I suggest you bear that in mind.”

  * * *

  Markus painted a smile on his face as he stopped in front of the armed Marines guarding the Admiral’s office. The summons to Nimitz had come during his rest period, after spending hours trying to put Grumble Squadron back together again and deflecting ‘suggestions’ from superior officers that perhaps it was time to disband the remains of Grumble and have her pilots and gunboats distributed to other squadrons. At least Admiral Sampson hadn't weighed in so far, but perhaps that was about to change. He could imagine no other reason for the Admiral to order him to report in person. Electronic communications worked perfectly for most discussions.

  The Marines nodded and stepped aside, allowing him to pass through the hatch and into the office. It was smaller than Markus had expected, even though he’d known that human-built starships simply didn't have the colossal interior space of Association-designed superdreadnoughts. Some of the reports from the post-battle assessment teams crawling over the captured ships had made entertaining reading; Hegemony superior officers, it seemed, had huge quarters, including what appeared to be private mud baths. It was hard to think of any human officer who would want the mud baths, but they’d probably take everything else if they could. The quarters for junior officers and enlisted crewmen were, as expected, tiny. Some things were universal.

  Admiral Sampson looked up at Markus as he saluted, returning the salute before waving him to a chair. They’d met several times before, but Markus couldn't have said that he knew the Admiral socially. He’d had to report on the progress of the gunboat program, receive one of the medals a grateful Earth had granted to her pilots, and commend a handful of the maggots who’d fought at Third Garston. The survivors would never be called maggots again.

  “Commander,” Admiral Sampson s
aid. “Captain Walsh is dead.”

  Markus looked up, sharply. He’d worked closely with Captain Walsh on Formidable; he’d been one of the few officers who had believed in the gunboats from the start. The program had now been amply justified, but losing him was still a blow. And if he was dead...

  “Formidable,” he said. He’d had friends on the ship. “Is she…”

  “Intact,” Sampson said. “The Funks managed to score a lucky hit that took out the main bridge. Commander Rogers took command and managed to pull the carrier out before we lost her, but he’s too inexperienced with the gunboats to retain command. I’d like you to take Captain Walsh’s position.”

  Markus stared at the Admiral. One rule he’d learned as a cadet was that if you declined promotion when it was offered to you, it was never offered to you again. An officer who considered himself unfit for higher position was likely to find his superiors agreeing with him. But command of Formidable would mean that he couldn't fly a gunboat any longer. The Captain had no business abandoning his ship to fight the enemy directly, not when his ship was the only way out of the target system for the gunboats. He would have to watch helplessly from a safe distance as the three squadrons went up against the enemy.

  But it hadn't been a safe distance for Captain Walsh, had it?

  “Grumble Squadron needs me,” he said, finally. “Surely Commander Rogers could remain in command.”

  “I’ve ordered him transferred to Pinafore,” Sampson said. “She needs a CO and Rogers has had considerable experience on destroyers. I think he’ll do fine as her commander, but whoever commands Formidable has to have experience with gunboats, experience that tells him what they can and cannot do. And Formidable has been placed to one side for a special operation. She needs you in command.”

  It wasn't really a choice, Markus realised. Take command… or see his naval career stagnate and eventually decline. “I will take command,” he said, finally. “But you do realise that my own command experience is limited to gunboats?”

  “I have to balance the options,” Sampson admitted. “Lieutenant-Commander Spinner is also being promoted and will take up the post of XO. He was earmarked for the position when Walsh or Rogers went to Lexington, once she finishes her trials and is declared ready to join the fleet. I think you’ll get along.”

  His voice hardened. “And if you have problems with each other, I expect you to button them up and do your duty,” he added. “This is war. I don’t have time for officers who let their personal issues get in the way of serving the navy.”

  “No, sir,” Markus said. He had no real problem with Spinner, although the young man had come up through a tactical career path rather than as a gunboat pilot. That would probably change when there were enough gunboats and carriers to allow officers to be selected with the ideal mix of experience. “You mentioned an operation for us?”

  Sampson nodded and tapped a key. “This remains in confidence,” he said. “You’ll be given sealed orders before you depart, but you are not to discuss this with anyone – including your wife – until you are safely in quantum space. If we can free up a handful of other ships to serve as an escort, I’ll brief their commanders personally.” He lifted one hand and pointed at a single red star floating in the midst of the star chart. “Your target: Hegemony Prime.”

  “Their homeworld?” Markus asked. “But they must have it heavily defended.”

  “They do,” Sampson said. “Most of our data comes from before we hit Terra Nova, so it is quite possible that some of it will be outdated, but they have at least forty orbital fortresses and a sizable fleet stationed in the system. Intelligence thinks that they will have scraped up every assault shuttle within fifty light years to give them some counter-gunboat capabilities. They could also have pulled in starships from their inner worlds…”

  He shrugged. “You’ll have to carry out reconnaissance before you launch the attack,” he added. “We’ll give you the latest recon drones we’ve produce, including some that haven’t been risked in action before now. Your overall objective is to destroy their primary industrial complex here” – an icon on the display started blinking – “and embarrass the Empress. It’s always difficult to untangle their politics, but we have good reason to believe that several clans would be financially destroyed if the complex went up in smoke. Added to the chaos caused by the Trader Alliance placing an embargo on the Hegemony and it’s quite possible that their entire economy would collapse and a civil war break out.

  “I won’t lie to you, Captain. It’s also quite possible that this is a suicide mission. Even if they haven’t reinforced the defences since the war began, you’ll still be facing their most complex network of sensor stations, backed up by their most formidable fleet. That’s one of the other reasons for hitting their homeworld; if they decide they can free up some of their defending starships and send them against us, it would tip the odds in their favour. The entire navy is counting on you.”

  “I understand,” Markus said, feeling a little dazed. Command of a starship was one thing, but a suicide mission right into the heart of enemy territory…? “I won’t let you down.”

  “I’m going to give you complete freedom in planning your operation,” Sampson said. “You will have access to the latest intelligence we possess, although they’ve been very good at sealing off their system since the war began. Don’t take anything for granted. What happened in the recent battle should remind us all that our enemy isn't stupid.”

  “Yes, sir,” Markus agreed. A thought had already crossed his mind. “With your permission, sir, I’d like to request a company of Marines. I’ve had an idea.”

  “I’ll cut them orders at once,” Sampson assured him. He smiled, as if he’d thought of something more pleasant than suicide missions. “And as for the matter of Grumble Squadron...”

  Markus hesitated. “Sir?”

  “I feel that the name has earned a chance to live on,” Sampson said. He smiled as Markus relaxed in obvious relief. “Some of the reporters have been telling tales about your heroism and kids back home are pretending to fly gunboats in mock battles. New pilots and gunboats are already on their way, but you’ll have to draw pilots from the other squadrons to replenish your losses. I need you on your way as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, sir,” Markus said. He'd have to check up on Formidable, but the ships had been designed for easy repair. It was possible that the carrier was already ready to return to active service. Any longer than a week and the Admiral would probably have assigned another carrier to the mission. “I’ll make sure we leave quickly.”

  He left the office, shaking his head. How was he going to explain it to Carola?

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Nimitz exploded out of quantum space in a blaze of light, heading right towards Hammerfall and the remaining Hegemony starships near the planet. Her consorts followed, not even trying to hide, as they spread out and slipped into formation. Behind the main body of the fleet, three carriers and a dozen freighters emerged through the quantum gate, which faded away after the final ships returned to normal space. Every Funk outpost in the system would have picked up their arrival and know that the Federation Navy had returned to Hammerfall.

  “Report,” Tobias ordered, as the fleet shook down. He'd considered coming out of quantum space closer to the planet, but the strange disruptions in quantum space near the system had dissuaded him. They’d just have to rely on their technology and skill to defeat their enemies. “What do we have?”

  “Two of the enemy squadrons appear to be missing,” Commander Sooraya Qadir reported. “The remainder are coming to life now.”

  Tobias nodded, unsurprised. They’d given the enemy plenty of warning before the two fleets entered engagement range. Even a half-crewed ship would have time to get ready to repel attack. Curiously, the sole remaining enemy superdreadnought in the system looked to have been completely powered down, even though she was on the front lines. Maybe the enemy had believed that she was beyon
d repair, or perhaps they intended to tow her through quantum space to a repair yard. Tobias’s last visit to the system had wrecked all of the shipyards and industrial nodes that would have normally supported the fleet. Judging from the state of the fixed defences, the mines he’d left behind had taken their toll on enemy installations.

  “They’re sweeping drones through low orbit,” Sooraya added. “I’m not entirely sure why.”

  “Probably trying to trigger the mines,” Tobias commented. It wasn't a bad idea, if someone on the other side had figured out that some of the mines were triggered by active sensor pulses at very close range. Losing a drone, no matter how expensive, had to be a bargain compared to losing an entire ship. But not all of the drones were programmed to expend themselves on enemy sensors. It was quite possible that the Hegemony would declare victory, only to discover that they’d only accounted for a third of the mines. “Mark the drones down for attention once we’ve dealt with the rest of the ships.”

  He studied the display as the two fleets converged. The Hegemony ships, some badly damaged after the Battle of Hammerfall or Third Garston, were forming into a simple defensive formation, linking their point defences together into a single coherent unit. Tobias had half-expected them to retreat into quantum space after taking stock of the fleet bearing down on them, but they probably had orders to fight to the death. After giving the Federation Navy a bloody nose at Third Garston, the Hegemony was pumping the victory for all it was worth. The last thing they wanted was another defeat, particularly of a seemingly superior force by an inferior.