His communicator buzzed. “Report back to the Command Post,” a voice ordered. “I say again, report back to the Command Post.”
“Understood,” Martin said. The communicators were supposed to be impossible to track or jam, but the sheer size of the ring played merry hell with communications. Martin had never been sure that their signals were undetectable, either. “We’re on our way.”
He took one last look at the garden, wondering what lay behind the distinctly-alien trees in the distance, then led his men back into the ring. There were no signs of any inhabitants in the corridors, but he was sure they were there. The ring was so large that searching all of it was an impossible task. Its former masters had installed a tracking and surveillance system that would have made Stalin, Castro and Hammond wet their pants, yet even the aggressively comprehensive network had blindspots. Reading between the lines, Martin had privately concluded that the system had been deliberately weakened in places. The operators probably hadn’t wanted their illicit activities to be recorded.
A surveillance state benefits two types of people, and those types only, he reminded himself, remembering lessons in History and Moral Philosophy. First, the shitheads who want to control their populations; second, the grafters who can profit by figuring out how to bend the system to their advantage.
“Captain Douglas,” Major Griffin said, when Martin reached the Command Post. A handful of other officers were taking chairs or pouring themselves coffee. “Do you have any further impressions of the ring?”
“Disturbing, but we’ll get used to it,” Martin thought. “It feels like ... it feels ... I don’t know how to put it into words.”
“You’re not the only one,” Major Griffin said. “Captain Higgs” - he nodded towards a dark woman in an infantry uniform, sitting on one of the chairs - “was the only one who did manage to put it into words. She said it was like being aware, truly aware, that the world was a sphere ... and that you might walk off it at any second.”
“Yes, sir,” Martin said. It wasn’t a bad description. “It might have been a mistake to see the ring from the outside. It confuses us.”
“It may be a new form of Asteroid Unease,” Major Griffin said. He shrugged. “Take a seat, Captain. The briefing is about to begin.”
Martin nodded - salutes were forbidden on the Apsidal Ring, even though the Command Post was secure - and took a seat near the front of the room. A couple of other officers sat down next to him, both looking as tired as Martin felt. The Apsidal Ring wore people down, even the ones who’d teleported onto the ring. But then, he supposed it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise. He’d had problems coping the first time he’d visited an asteroid colony too.
Colonel Jackson took the stand. “The bad news is that we’ve sighted the enemy fleet,” he said, crisply. “The navy will attempt to slow them down, of course, but the worst-case scenario is that they’ll be in Mokpo within two weeks and trying to punch their way to us shortly afterwards. Then ... best case, the navy kicks their collective ass and we discover we’ve wasted the last few weeks here. Worst case ... we have to prepare for invasion.”
He paused, just long enough to allow his words to sink in. “If the navy loses control of the system, this world will be invaded. And if that happens, we will have to fight to keep them from recovering the ring’s industries. It is our belief that they will attempt to recapture the ring intact. Destroying it would have serious impacts on both the planet and interstellar trade through this sector.”
Literally, Martin thought. The Apsidal Ring was huge. If it were to be destroyed, if chunks of it were to fall on the planet below, it would render Apsidal uninhabitable. No, the Tokomak would need to fight to recover it. They couldn't threaten orbital bombardment if they’d be shooting themselves in the foot as well. And we can't threaten to destroy it either.
“Accordingly, we will be deploying to fight a holding action,” Jackson said. “If they land, we will make their lives miserable for as long as possible. The local defence forces, such as they are, will be doing the same on the planet below. However, the real action will take place on the ring.”
An officer Martin didn’t recognise put up his hand. “Are they likely to even bother with the planet, sir?”
“We don’t know,” Jackson said. He adjusted his display, bringing up a holographic image of the planet, the ring and the four orbital towers. “They should, in theory, be able to repair the economic damage simply by recapturing the ring and the uppermost levels of the towers. The planet itself is largely immaterial to them. However, given how many of their people were killed in the uprisings on the surface, they may want revenge.”
Martin winced. He’d seen the local defence forces. They might become decent soldiers, given time and better training, but right now they were nothing more than cannon fodder. And the Tokomak wouldn’t have to worry about the side effects of bombarding the planet’s surface from orbit. Whoever controlled the Apsidal Ring controlled Apsidal itself.
“That would not be surprising,” Major Griffin said. “Revenge is a motive that they understand as well as us.”
“This raises another point,” a female voice said, bluntly. Martin turned his head to see the speaker. Captain Higgs. “If the navy loses control of the system ... what then?”
“That depends, very much, on precisely what happens,” Jackson said. “Ideally, the navy will rally, reassemble its formations and return to liberate the system for a second time. There are contingency plans to do that, if the Tokomak push the fleet away from the gravity point. That said” - he took a visible breath - “there is a good chance that we will be separated from the fleet, and the rest of the Solar Union, for years. We may never be relieved at all.”
Martin made a face. “You could just have lied to us, sir.”
A chuckle ran through the room. “You know the score,” Jackson said, when it had died down. “And you know the odds. There’s no point in trying to hide it from you. This could easily turn into a suicide mission.”
“But it won’t,” Major Griffin said. He took the stand. “We have only a short time to deploy, so we’re going to proceed as follows. I want ...”
Martin listened, silently making notes for his subordinates. It explained, he supposed, why they’d been moved around so much. His team might not be quite used to the alien environment, but at least they understood how to operate within it. And, if they were cut off from the rest of the unit, they could harass the enemy on their own. His lips twitched at the thought. It would be like playing a combat simulation in a truly massive environment, with only a handful of players.
Hell, we could run around all year and never run into the other side, he thought, wryly. The Tokomak would have the same problems, only worse. They couldn't count on any help from the locals, either. They’d have to do everything themselves. And they might never run into us too.
Chapter Seventeen
Captain-Commodore Sally Fredrick, SUS Freeman had been half-asleep when the alarms started to howl.
She rolled out of bed, cursing her luck. The scouts had made it clear that the Tokomak were moving towards the GS-3532 gravity point - and she hadn't been able to get a scout through the gravity point after they’d secured the far side - but there had been no way to predict when the enemy would mount its offensive. It was sheer bad luck that she’d been sleeping, although it could have been worse. She might have been lost in a VR sim instead.
Which is a court-martial offense, in a combat situation, she thought, as she slapped her control panel with one hand and reached for her trousers with the other. I’d be in real trouble.
“Report,” she snapped. “What’s happening?”
“The enemy started to push through the gravity point,” Commander Wiseman said. Her XO sounded revoltingly fresh. “The minefields are engaging now. Captain Hammond has put the Alpha platforms on alert.”
“Understood,” Sally said. She frantically pulled on her trousers, silently thanking all her ancestors t
hat she hadn't slept naked. “I’ll be on the bridge in a moment.”
She grabbed her jacket and pulled it on, then ran through the hatch and onto the bridge. The main display was flickering and flaring with light as enemy icons appeared through the gravity point, only to vanish seconds later as the mines took them out. She couldn't help thinking, as she took her chair, that it looked like the Eye of Sauron. The gravity point itself was invisible, at least to the naked eye, but the dying ships were all too clear.
“Inform Captain Hammond that I am assuming command,” she said, as she scanned the status reports. Their cloaking fields were holding. The enemy shouldn't have the slightest idea of their presence, let alone their exact location. “And then route control of the Alpha and Beta platforms through us.”
“Aye, Captain,” Commander Wiseman said. “The platforms are standing by.”
“Good,” Sally said. “Do not release them without my direct command.”
She leaned forward, hastily assessing the situation. The minefields were doing better than she’d expected, but the enemy was sweeping them by sheer weight of numbers. It was sickening, in a way. Years ago, human soldiers had driven sheep across minefields to clear them; now, the Tokomak were doing the same ... with sentient beings. They were casually expending ships crewed by their servants just to clear the way. The death toll had to be well over ten thousand already.
Sick, she thought. Did they never think to invent assault pods? Or did they just decide they didn’t need to think of a new way through a gravity point?
“Order two courier boats to head straight back to Apsidal,” she said. “They are to alert Admiral Stuart that the enemy offensive has begun.”
“Aye, Captain.”
A red icon materialised in the gravity point ... and remained intact. The enemy ship moved forward a second later, its weapons already spitting fire towards the nearest mines. Sally silently credited the ship’s CO with good judgement, even if he was on the wrong side. He was sweeping mines that would otherwise have killed his fellows. Two more ships appeared, moments later. They pushed outwards too. Sally gritted her teeth. She’d hoped to keep some of the platforms in reserve, for when the bigger ships started to come through the gravity point, but it was starting to look as if that wasn’t going to be possible. The platforms would have to be used before they were wiped out by the advancing alien ships.
“Clear the Alpha platforms to engage,” she ordered, shortly. “They may fire at will.”
“Aye, Captain.”
The first enemy ship vanished from the display. Its fellows followed a moment later, but not quickly enough to keep more enemy reinforcements from popping out of the gravity point. Sally scowled, remembering an ancestor who’d faced an entire stream of human wave attacks. The enemy had died in their hundreds, perhaps in their thousands, but they’d eventually punched through when the defenders had run out of bullets. It had been a textbook example of a pyrrhic victory, yet ... it had been a victory.
“They’re targeting the platforms,” Commander Wiseman said. “We’re losing them.”
“Keep engaging until there are no platforms left,” Sally said, curtly.
She reminded herself, sharply, that the automated weapons platforms were completely expendable. They’d bleed the enemy, even though they wouldn’t stop them. She was grimly aware that the Tokomak hadn’t lost more than a tiny fraction of their fleet, but they’d still be weakened. Who knew what would happen when they tried to force their way through the Apsidal Point?
There has to be a limit on how many ships they’re prepared to lose, she thought. What would it profit them, to kill every last human and bomb our worlds to rubble, if it weakens them so badly that their enemies tear them to shreds?
But the enemy ships just kept coming, one by one, systematically clearing the space around the gravity point with their deaths. More and more ships survived for longer, launching probes in all directions even as their sensors drew fire from the stealthed platforms. Sally felt cold, even though she’d known she wouldn’t be able to stop them. She’d seen the images from N-Gann, she’d watched her intelligence staff try to count the enemy ships, but she hadn’t really grasped just what was coming her way. The Tokomak could lose thousands of ships and maintain their advance. They were maintaining their advance.
“The Alpha and Beta platforms have been destroyed,” Commander Wiseman said. “They’re locking onto the Delta and Gamma platforms now.”
“Order them to engage,” Sally said. She didn’t hold out much hope - the weapons platforms were only of limited value against ships that knew they were there - but at least it would force the Tokomak to be careful. “And the mines?”
“They’re obliterating the last of them now,” Commander Wiseman said. “They’ll be gone soon.”
Sally nodded. Minefields were of limited value in space warfare, at least outside a gravity point. There was simply no way to lure the enemy ships onto a minefield without taking the risk of being targeted by one’s own mines. Now, she could see another weakness all too clearly. The enemy ships could see - and destroy - the mines before the mines could destroy them.
They didn’t cost us much, she reminded herself, dryly. Producing hundreds of thousands of mines was no big deal for a Galactic world like Apsidal. And they did hurt the enemy.
She shook her head, slowly. The mines had hurt the enemy, but it wasn't enough. They were massing their forces on the gravity point, bringing through larger ships to help them secure the system now the gravity point was clear. They’d start the slow march towards the next gravity point when they felt secure. And then ...
“Inform the squadron,” she said. “We will engage once they begin their advance.”
“Aye, Captain.”
***
“They’re trying to stop us,” her aide said. “Us!”
“Of course,” Neola said, dryly. “What did you expect?”
She ignored the younger male’s prattling about interstellar treaties as she turned her attention back to the display. She’d hoped he’d be capable of expanding his mind to comprehend that the universe had changed, but apparently not. The treaties about not barricading the gravity points had been ripped up long ago. Besides, why exactly would the humans refrain from defending the gravity points? It was their only way to force her to pay a heavy price for each system she took and they knew it.
And they never signed the treaties in the first place, she thought. They’re certainly not going to honour them.
“Order the next two squadrons to advance,” she said, dismissing the thought. “They are to concentrate on expanding our control of the gravity point instead of heading deeper into the system.”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” the aide said.
Neola eyed his back nastily - it was clear she was going to need a new aide fairly soon, someone who was capable of learning to think - and then silently totted up the losses. Thirty-seven starships, all expendable ... it could have been worse. The humans had set traps, but they hadn’t backed them up with mobile firepower. Not yet, anyway. That would change as the Tokomak kept forcing their way towards Earth.
The next set of reports flowed into the display. GS-3532 was as worthless as the files said, save for the presence of a second gravity point on the other side of the system primary. It wouldn’t be long before fast elements of her fleet took control of the gravity point and prepared for the next offensive. There didn’t look to be any real human presence within the system, but looks could be deceiving. A fleet twice the size of hers could hide within the immensity of an entire star system and remain undetected.
And if they had a fleet that size, with all the firepower that that would imply, the war would be over by now, she thought. And we would have lost.
It was a chilling thought. She’d given the Gerontocrats - the former Gerontocrats - several good reasons to wage war on humanity, but the real reason was the one they’d refused to accept. Humanity had taken the technology they’d stolen and improved up
on it. How long would it be, she’d asked herself, before the human race invented something that rendered her entire fleet so much scrap metal. The Gerontocrats had refused to even consider the possibility, even in the face of indisputable evidence. She, on the other hand, knew better. Giving the humans a chance to invent something truly devastating would be the last mistake her people would ever make.
“Continue the offensive,” she said, when the aide came scurrying back. “And keep funnelling ships through the gravity point. Once we have enough ships in position, they can secure the second gravity point.”
She made a discontented face as the aide bowed and hurried off to do her bidding. There was another gravity point assault to come before the fleet punched its way into Mokpo, then a third assault before they reached Apsidal. The plan had looked perfect, when she’d drawn it up, but now ... now she was all too aware of just how many things could go wrong. She’d done her best to minimise the risks, but ... she shook her head crossly. A human would take the risk. Of course a human would take the risk ...
The Long-Range War Page 17