“Never tell me the odds,” someone said from the rear.
Sergeant Pickering cleared his throat. “How much will we stand out on Apsidal?”
“The planet does have a number of humans, according to the last census,” Major Griffin said. “But we must assume that we have all been targeted for extermination.”
Martin winced. He’d met enough aliens to know that they came in all shapes and sizes, but it would be a rare alien who mistook a human for a member of another race. It was vaguely possible, he supposed, that an alien might not know what a human looked like ... he shook his head. It wasn't something they dared count upon, when the shit hit the fan. The Tokomak probably would make sure that everyone knew what a human looked like. All humans probably looked alike to the aliens, but they still looked human.
“Maybe we should disguise ourselves as Klingons,” he offered. “It wouldn’t be as if anyone would be sure the Klingons don’t exist.”
“It might come to that,” Major Griffin said. “For the moment, we’ll hope for the best and prepare for the worst. I trust you have all brushed up on your Galactic Standard?”
Martin nodded. Languages had never been his talent, even though he’d grown up in a place where people spoke a mishmash of three different languages, but he’d learned hard lessons since joining the Solar Marines. Nearly everyone who wanted to work with aliens, or travel outside the Solar Union, spoke Galactic Standard. The Tokomak-created language was staggeringly inflexible - it didn’t allow its speakers to make up new words, let alone borrow them from other languages - but it was practically universal. Aliens who couldn't pronounce the words could still understand it.
“Very good,” Major Griffin said. He raised his voice, slightly. “Senior officers, report back here at 1800. Everyone else, prepare for transfer to the MEU. Bear in mind that we might be leaving in a hurry. Dismissed.”
Martin stood and hurried for the door. He was a senior officer, at least as Special Forces Recon reckoned it. He’d have to be back in an hour, when the clock reached 1800. He stepped through the hatch and walked down the corridor to the barracks, exchanging salutes with the guards as they passed. There was no reason to fear attack, not in the very heart of the Solar Union, but they’d been taught to be careful anyway. Martin had slept in places where there had been a very good chance he wouldn’t wake up, if his men hadn’t been on guard. He stepped through the hatch and nodded to the officer on watch. The remainder of the squad were catching up on their sleep.
“When they awake, tell them to prepare for deployment,” he ordered the officer. It would be cruel to wake his men now. They’d just completed an extensive series of exercises. “We may be leaving as soon as this evening.”
“Yes, sir.”
Martin nodded, then walked to his bunk. Rank didn't have many privileges, not in Special Forces Recon. The bunk was identical to the other bunks, right down to the bland sheet and blankets. He opened the drawer under the bunk and frowned, just for a second, as he realised just how little he really owned. A handful of datachips and a reader - he spent most of his off-duty time reading when he wasn't with Yolanda - and very little else. He’d been taught to travel light, but ... he reached for his carryall, placed the reader and the chips at the bottom and then started to find his clothes. He would be expected to carry at least two complete sets of everything with him, but experience had taught him that he needed to take more. It was astonishing how easily something could get messed up.
I’ll have to write to Yolanda, he told himself, as he finished packing. It had only taken a few minutes. Tell her I won’t be able to meet her this weekend.
The thought cost him a pang, even though he was used to it by now. Their relationship was a long-distance relationship - it could hardly be anything else - but there were times when he wished he could be closer to her. He was old enough to father children and responsible enough to bring them up ... wasn’t he? The Solar Union wasn't the ghetto. No one here would abandon a child they’d sired, not unless they gave the baby up for adoption. Martin had no idea who’d fathered him, so many years ago, but he was sure he’d do a better job at raising his children. He could hardly do a worse one ...
We have time, he told himself, firmly. We could have children a hundred years from now, if we wished.
He sighed. In truth, he didn't want to give up his career ... he didn't even want to take a break long enough to raise the children. And yet, Yolanda didn't want to give up her career either. She might reach flag rank, if she was offered a command of her own ... Martin didn't blame her for wanting to stick with it. He could take a break, if he wished, and then return to the military, but Yolanda would find it harder. Starship technology and tactics would advance in her absence, leaving her hopelessly out of date.
Shaking his head, he put the carryall on top of the bunk and reached for the military-issue reader. A warning about the lockdown blinked up, the moment he touched the screen. Martin rolled his eyes - there wasn't a man or woman on the base who’d risk the lives of his or her fellows by talking out of turn - and then accessed the files. Unsurprisingly, a detailed briefing on Apsidal was at the top. It didn't take long to realise that it had been drafted by a Tokomak. The writer never used one word when he could use a hundred. Martin smiled - he knew exactly what sort of reaction he’d get if he wrote his reports in such a verbose manner - and settled down to read. Apsidal sounded fascinating, despite the writer’s best efforts. He was almost looking forward to the deployment when the bleeper rang. It was time to go back to the briefing room.
He caught Sergeant Howe’s attention as he sat upright. “Get everyone packed and ready, once they awake,” he ordered. “And make sure they know about the lockdown.”
“Yes, sir.”
Martin felt his cheeks heat as he headed out the door, silently grateful that his dark skin concealed his embarrassment. Sergeant Howe had been in the military longer than Martin had been alive, first on Earth and then in the Solar Union. He’d outrank Martin if he’d decided to move to officer track, rather than stay as a sergeant. He knew what he was doing, but Martin had nagged him ... he sighed, again, as he walked down the corridor. There were times when he felt very young and very inexperienced, despite having been in the military for years. The old men had been serving for decades. Some had even been serving for centuries.
And would I want to stay in the military for centuries, he asked himself, or would I go looking for something else?
He pushed the thought aside as he walked into the briefing room. Major Griffin was at the front, talking to a portly officer in naval uniform. Martin didn’t recognise him. The other officers assembled quickly, chatting quietly amongst themselves. Martin joined in, sharing his impressions of Apsidal. Their destination might be a nice place to visit, but it was going to be utter hell if they had to fight. The megacities alone would be nightmares if they had to be stormed block by block.
We won’t have to do it, he told himself. Much of Apsidal, just like much of every other planet, was largely irrelevant to a spacefaring race. There was no need to fight their way across the entire surface, not when mere control of the high orbitals would be enough to keep Apsidal under firm control. All we have to do is capture the planetary defences - or destroy them.
“We’ll be transferring to the MEU tonight, at 2100,” Major Griffin said. “I trust your squads are ready?”
There was a brief murmur of assent. It would be a rush, particularly for the delta squads, but they’d cope. They’d been trained to expect the deployment order to arrive at any time. There would be some grumbling, of course, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Anyone who couldn't take the pace had transferred back to the regular forces long ago.
“Very good,” Major Griffin said. “Are there any questions before we proceed?”
“Just one,” Captain Hawke said. “Are we going to war against Apsidal - or the Tokomak? I heard a rumour ...”
“The rumour is true,” Major Griffin said, flatly. “The Tokomak
are coming.”
Martin swallowed. He’d been a newly-minted Solar Marine when the Tokomak had attacked the Solar System for the first time. They’d won, but at a staggering cost. It was chilling to realise that the Tokomak had barely noticed the losses. It reminded Martin of a brief deployment to some hellhole on Earth, where the locals had used human wave attacks in a desperate bid to shut down the spaceport. The marines had gunned them down in their thousands, but they’d just kept coming. Martin had had nightmares about that for months afterwards. How could anyone put so little value on their own lives that they’d charge gun emplacements with nothing but raw courage? And why would they keep following the leaders who hurled them into the fire?
I should have been paying more attention to rumours, he thought, grimly. I might have realised that we’d be deployed ...
“Our job is to stop them in their tracks,” Major Griffin added. “And we will be playing an important role in the operation.”
He paused for a moment, then started the briefing in earnest. Martin listened carefully, recording the discussion for future reference. Major Griffin was remarkably concise, but he had a lot of subjects to cover. Martin suspected that most of them were above his pay grade, yet it was hard to be sure. If he was unlucky, he might wind up in command of the forces deployed to Apsidal. It wouldn't be the first time a lower-ranking officer had found himself suddenly thrown into command when his superiors had been killed.
And the Tokomak have even less regard for the lives of their client races than ourselves, he reminded himself. They’ll throw millions of their slaves into the fire just to get at us.
“I expect each and every one of you to comport yourself in a manner befitting Special Forces Recon,” Major Griffin finished. “If we are lucky, we won’t have to fight ... but if we do have to fight, we’ll give them hell.”
“And try not to damage too much of the planet’s infrastructure while you’re at it,” the unnamed naval officer said. “Apsidal might be very useful in the right hands.”
“But very dangerous in the wrong hands,” Major Griffin said. “We have to prepare for the worst.”
Martin nodded to himself, feeling the same mixture of anticipation and trepidation before going on deployment. They were going to war, they were going to fight the enemy ... he knew better, these days, than to think that war was glorious, but he still felt a thrill when he considered the challenge. Going up against the Tokomak on their own ground ...
Not quite their own ground, he reminded himself, firmly. But close enough for the moment.
“Have your men ready for transfer at 2100,” Major Griffin said. “Dismissed.”
Chapter Four
“Welcome onboard, Admiral,” Captain Robin Lifar said. “Defiant is at your service.”
“Thank you,” Hoshiko said. “It's a pleasure to finally come onboard.”
She smiled as they shook hands. There was little ceremony for an admiral boarding her flagship, not in the Solar Navy. The officers who’d written the regulations had always been a little suspicious of superior officers, even though they’d become superior officers. Hoshiko understood their reasoning better than she cared to admit. The old wet-navies had had quite a problem with senior officers lacking practical experience of military affairs. That wasn't a problem in the Solar Navy. One simply couldn't progress past a certain level without genuine experience.
“Your staff have already arrived and are setting up in the CIC suite,” Lifar said, as he led Hoshiko down the corridor. “They’ve been preparing on the assumption that the people will vote for war.”
“They don’t have a choice,” Hoshiko said. Life amongst the asteroids had bred a hard degree of common sense into the population. They knew, at a very basic level, that even the most advanced technology in the galaxy couldn’t keep them safe forever. “The vote will take place soon.”
“Yes, Admiral,” Lifar said. “But what if they vote against war?”
Hoshiko considered it for a moment. The constitution was clear. War - active war - could only be declared with the consent of the people. She understood the logic, given how governments on Earth had used war-making powers to expand their post-war powers. But the constitution was not a suicide pact. If the people voted against war ...
They’ll get war anyway, when the enemy fleet enters the system, she thought, morbidly. But by then it might be too late.
She followed him into the CIC and looked up at the display. Defiant was surrounded by nearly five hundred starships, nearly all of them new-build warships. The remainder were heavily-modified Galactic starships or freighters, the latter crammed with supplies and prefabricated components. Logistics was going to be a nightmare, even with the AIs to help keep the situation under control. And yet ... she felt a thrill as she surveyed the fleet. It was already the most powerful fleet humanity had ever assembled, save for Home Fleet itself, and it was still growing.
And it’s mine, she thought. Command of an entire fleet was the very peak of her career. She might be promoted still further, but she’d never have so much direct authority again. Even Mongo Stuart himself, her great-uncle, didn't have so much power at his fingertips. This is all mine.
She sat down and nodded to Yolanda. “Status report?”
“A third of our strength has already arrived, Admiral, and the last update from Sparta claimed that the reminder will arrive within the next two days.” Yolanda spoke from memory, rather than checking a datapad. “I’ve had the command staff running tactical simulations, but I have to report that managing so many ships will not be easy. We don’t have time for proper exercises.”
“We’ll have to work our way through hundreds of simulations,” Hoshiko said. It was annoying. The simulations were good, but she knew that they couldn’t match real live-fire exercises. No matter how much care and attention the programmers invested in their creatures, they always left out something. “And we will have time to carry out some exercises if we get to Apsidal first.”
She considered it for a moment, cursing the enemy under her breath. There should have been more time, damn it! They should have had years to prepare, instead of a desperate rush to get forces to Apsidal before it was too late. She was uncomfortably aware that it might already be too late. If she was in command of the enemy fleet, she would have seized Apsidal by now and turned it into a fortress. Who knew what the enemy commander would do?
“Once the remainder of the fleet arrives, assign fleet control groups to the flagships and then run intensive datanet exercises,” she added. “We might as well do what we can to prevent disaster.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Yolanda said.
Hoshiko stood and started to pace. “Is there any other news?”
“Locally, the first LinkShip has been assigned to the fleet,” Yolanda said. “There’s a classified briefing waiting in your private datanode. The security level is too high for me to access. There have also been a number of freighter captains offering their services, above and beyond the requisitions. I’ve asked them to report to Sparta.”
“Good thinking,” Hoshiko said. “And internationally?”
“The ambassadors from the Galactic Alliance have volunteered to provide ships, but so far none of those ships have actually materialised,” Yolanda told her. “Their homeworlds might have other ideas.”
“Unsurprising,” Hoshiko said. She’d helped create the Galactic Alliance, but she was all too aware of its weaknesses. The Tokomak could simply intimidate most of the members into sullen submission. “We’ll plan on the assumption that they’re not going to send help.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Yolanda said. “And if they do send help?”
“We’ll slot them into our command network somewhere,” Hoshiko told her. Practically, it would be a headache, but diplomatically there was little choice. The Solar Union was first amongst equals, as far as the Galactic Alliance was concerned; it wasn’t in a position to simply order its alien allies to do as they were told. “We’ll deal with that when - if - it
happens.”
She turned to look at the display, silently assessing the fleet as it took shape. The most powerful fleet humanity had ever assembled, yet tiny compared to the juggernaut bearing down on Sol. Would it be enough to win? Or would humanity be finally doomed? Some remnants would survive, she knew, but nothing would ever be the same again. The Tokomak certainly wouldn’t let down their guard in a hurry.
And they’re more patient than us, she told herself. It might be centuries before they relax.
“Keep an eye on the vote,” she ordered, finally. “I want to know when the results are called.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Yolanda said.
“If there are any other issues, alert me at once,” Hoshiko said. “I’ll be in my cabin.”
“Aye, Admiral.”
Hoshiko nodded, then stepped through the hatch into her cabin. It felt uncomfortably large, even though it was tiny compared to her suite on the family asteroid. She could hold a private meeting in her sitting room, if she wished, or share her bed and bathroom with someone ... she shook her head in annoyance, dismissing the thought. There wasn't time for a romantic partner, not even a quick roll in the hay. She wouldn’t have time until the war was finally over.
The Long-Range War Page 4