The Long-Range War

by Christopher Nuttall

  Which doesn’t mean they all surrendered, Hoshiko reminded herself. Her ancestors had often refused to surrender, even when they were ordered to do so. Some of them had held out for years before they were finally rounded up and returned home. They might be hiding until we lower our guard.

  Her communicator pinged. “Admiral, we managed to hack their command network,” Yolanda said. “The techs swear blind that it should be possible to duplicate the feat, even when they’re fighting back.”

  “Very good,” Hoshiko said. She turned and started to walk back to the CIC. “How far can we go?”

  “It depends,” Yolanda said. “The techs weren’t entirely clear.”

  Hoshiko sighed, inwardly. If she had a credit for every wondrous idea that had worked perfectly under controlled conditions, but not in the heat of an unpredictable battle, she’d be the richest woman in the Solar Union. The idea was brilliant, she had to admit, and it would come in handy if - when - the enemy attacked the system, yet there was no way she could depend on it. The Tokomak weren’t stupid. They understood their weaknesses as well as their strengths.

  But it doesn't matter, she thought. If it works, it works; if it fails, I can back off and retreat into FTL.

  “Tell them I want to read a full report by the end of the day,” she said. “And I want the idea tested under combat conditions - or as close as we can come to them.”

  Her lips thinned as she walked into the CIC. The display was clear, save for a handful of freighters heading in from deep space. None of them looked to be coming from Winglet, but she wasn’t about to dismiss them as harmless. She’d learnt that lesson the hard way. Her ships would fire - automatically - on any freighter that dropped out of FTL too close for comfort. She wouldn’t let them fool her again.

  Her eyes swept over the planetary display, then she turned to Yolanda. “Call the LinkShip,” she ordered. “Inform Captain Hameeda that I want a word.”

  “Aye, Admiral.”

  ***

  Hameeda had been worried, more worried than she cared to admit, about her FTL drive system. The stardrive had managed to jump her into FTL, when she’d outstayed her welcome near N-Gann, but it had been damaged by the jump to N-Gann. She’d been lucky to escape, she knew. If the designers hadn’t built so many redundancies into the system, she would have had to flee in normal space.

  But at least the self-repair units can handle the damage, she thought. She hadn’t been looking forward to calling an outside engineer. The LinkShip might well be impossible to repair, at least until they met up with the fleet train again. I should be back at full efficiency within a couple of days.

  She closed her eyes, accessing the reports from her analysis subroutines. The brief engagement had been brilliant, from the point of view of the ship’s designers, although it had also shown a handful of weaknesses. In hindsight, if she’d been armed with hammers right from the start, she could have done a great deal more damage. But then, she’d have to tear out half her lower hull to make room for the missiles and their launch tubes. How long would it be, she asked herself, before they started turning cruisers into LinkShips? Or would that be considered a step too far?

  An alert flickered through the neural net. Admiral Stuart was calling. Hameeda felt a pang of disappointment - she’d hoped that Conner would call, although she knew it was unlikely - and allowed the call through. The Admiral’s image materialised in front of her.

  “Captain,” Admiral Stuart said. “Congratulations on your victory.”

  “Thank you, Admiral,” Hameeda said. “And congratulations on yours.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you.” Admiral Stuart smiled. It was oddly endearing. “And now we’ve congratulated each other, how is your ship?”

  “Intact,” Hameeda said. “My FTL drive should be fully repaired in a couple of days, but I’d prefer to take her back to the shop for some work. It’s the first time the self-repair functions have been really tested.”

  “They’d be useful on other ships,” Admiral Stuart observed. “Or do they have hidden flaws?”

  Hameeda smiled. “They’re better at fixing solid-state drives than the bigger, more modular units, Admiral. The designers traded an FTL drive that cannot be fixed easily for greater efficiency. But if the drive was kayoed, I’d be in deep shit.”

  “I can't argue that,” Admiral Stuart said. “Would you care to repeat your mission?”

  “Yes, Admiral,” Hameeda said. “I won’t deny it was chancy, and that it could have gone badly wrong, but it was the sort of mission this ship was designed to do. We have to use advanced tech as a force-multiplier and ...”

  “I believe I put that argument forward myself,” Admiral Stuart said, dryly. “Do you have any concerns?”

  “Only the unpredictable nature of the gravity shadow,” Hameeda told her. “The next LinkShip might slam straight into the planet itself and vanish. There’s always going to be an element of chance in such missions. I think I pushed my luck about as far as it would go.”

  “I see,” Admiral Stuart said. Her lips curved into an expression Hameeda couldn’t help thinking was a little predatory. “Your next mission will not involve flying straight into a planet.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Hameeda said, feeling a shiver running down her spine. “What does it involve?”

  Admiral Stuart told her.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  It was a major frustration, Empress Neola decided, that there were relatively few fleet bases - and none of them particularly large - between Apsidal and Earth. She could dispatch a raiding force to Sol, if she wished, and rely on freighters to support it, but there was no way she could send an entire fleet until she’d built up her logistics base. Recapturing Apsidal was a good start, yet she needed an entire string of bases leading all the way to Varner. And she doubted the humans would let her assemble a base in peace.

  She scowled in frustration as she sat in her office and read the latest set of reports from Apsidal. The fighting was still going on, with no end in sight. There would be an end eventually, of that she was sure, but when? The gerontocrats had had an advantage, she conceded sourly. They could afford to wait years, if not decades, for their operations to pan out. She didn’t have anything like that long.

  The intercom bleeped. “Your Excellency?”

  Neola looked up. “Yes?”

  “A courier boat just entered the system through the Mokpo Point,” her aide said. “N-Gann is under attack.”

  “What?” Neola shook her head, dismissing her surprise. “The human fleet?”

  “Yes,” her aide said. “We’re downloading the recordings now.”

  “Put them through to my console,” Neola ordered, putting the report aside. N-Gann was under attack? That was unexpected, although welcome. If the humans wanted to bleed their fleet white while grinding through the planet’s defences, who was she to stop them? N-Gann was heavily defended. “They may be trying to trick us.”

  Her mind raced. She’d expected the humans to try to cut her supply lines, perhaps in GS-3532 or Winglet, but N-Gann? A chill ran through her body as she realised it made no sense, as far as she could tell. The humans had nothing to gain and a great deal to lose by laying siege to N-Gann. It was embarrassing for her, true, but hardly fatal. The planet and its immense halo of orbital industries were protected by a massive planetary defensive shield powerful enough to resist even her fleet. N-Gann could afford to wait out any attacker.

  She brought up the starchart, considering her options. The humans could - and presumably would - cut her supply lines, simply by sitting on top of the gravity points in N-Gann and destroying anything that came through. It would be some time before Neola’s officers on Tokomak Prime realised that N-Gann had turned into a black hole for starships, let alone tried to do something about it. And what could they do? Neola had already rounded up every active starship short of the capital fleet itself. They’d need time to organise a counteroffensive and dispatch it down the gravity p
oint chain.

  We’ll have to go back, Neola thought. She wasn’t as angry about it as her subordinates might have expected. They couldn’t press on to Earth until Apsidal was secured. She could afford to double back and take out the human fleet. If nothing else, they’d be forced to expand ammunition and fuel they couldn’t afford to waste. And then they’ll have no choice, but to retreat into interstellar space.

  She was midway through drawing up a preliminary outline for her staff to turn into a detailed operational plan when the door buzzer rang. Neola frowned, then keyed the switch to open the hatch. Her aide stepped in, looking terrified. Neola’s eyes narrowed sharply. They’d been getting on better, now he’d finally managed to demonstrate a genuine degree of competence. But ... if he was terrified, what had happened? A presentiment of disaster ran through her. Perhaps, just perhaps, the humans had invented something that turned everything she knew about space combat on its head.

  “Your Excellency,” her aide said. “I ...”

  “Spit it out,” Neola snapped, impatiently. It was bad news. Of course it was bad news. “Tell me what has happened!”

  “N-Gann,” her aide said. “N-Gann has fallen!”

  For a moment, Neola could only stare at the younger male. N-Gann had fallen? N-Gann could not have fallen. The humans didn’t have the weapons or technology to knock down the shield and seize control of the high orbitals. N-Gann could not have fallen. She would sooner have believed in an alien fleet appearing out of nowhere and laying waste to Tokomak Prime than the human refugees taking N-Gann. Their fleet simply didn’t have the firepower to take the world ...

  She found her voice. “What happened?”

  Her aide flinched at her tone, as if she’d physically struck him. “They ... they found a way to bring down the shield,” he managed. “And then it was just a matter of time.”

  Impossible, Neola thought. The humans didn’t have a weapon that could bring down the shield. Even a hammer wouldn’t be able to punch through the forcefield. If they’d had such a weapon, they’d have used it before they were pressed against the wall. They couldn’t have taken down the shield.

  “Put the records on the display,” she ordered, savagely. “Now.”

  Her mind raced as she tried to grapple with the universe being turned upside down. She understood, now, why the gerontocrats had found it so hard to believe her report. They simply hadn’t been able to comprehend a younger race - an absurdly younger race - beating a fleet of fifty battleships and escorts. Now, Neola could barely comprehend N-Gann falling to the human fleet. It shouldn’t have happened.

  It could be a trick, she thought. But my staff would have already verified the authorisation codes.

  She took a deep breath, controlling her temper as the recording started to play. The human fleet arrived in N-Gann and deployed for battle, then ... a human ship appeared under the forcefield. She thought, just for a moment, that the humans had sneaked the ship into position before the planetary forcefield had been raised, but the sensor records were clear on that point. The enemy ship had dropped out of FTL under the planetary shield. It should have been impossible.

  Not as impossible as we’d thought, she told herself, firmly. The Tokomak had never tried to find ways to drop out of FTL within a planet’s gravity shadow. It had seemed too risky to try, particularly as the slightest mistake would crash the starship into the planet’s gravity well. No one would ever know what had happened to the ship. The humans clearly found some way to do it.

  She contemplated the possibilities for a long moment, none of them good. The Tokomak had prided themselves on their unquestioned mastery of gravimetric technology, but it was clear that the humans had jumped ahead. Who knew what else they might discover? The Tokomak had thought they’d discovered everything, but ... she shook her head, angrily. That assumption had clearly been wrong. Who knew what the humans would discover next?

  “Inform General Wooleen that I wish to speak with him immediately,” she said, stiffly. “And prepare the fleet for immediate departure.”

  “Your Excellency?”

  “We cannot leave them in place,” Neola snapped. “They’re not only sitting across our supply lines, they have control of the planet’s industries and warehouses. Given time, they can replenish everything they’ve lost. Go.”

  The aide scurried away, leaving Neola to her thoughts. There was no way to know if the humans knew what they’d done, but she knew. They’d done a great deal worse than merely cutting her off from her supply lines. They’d cut her off from her government. How long would it be, she asked herself, before one of her more ambitious officers decided to make a bid for power? She doubted it would be very long. She’d encouraged too many young officers to think they could jump right to the top.

  And that wasn’t the only major problem, Neola considered, as she mulled the possible implications. N-Gann led directly to a number of important worlds, some of which were on the verge of revolt. If N-Gann had fallen - if the populations found out that N-Gann had fallen - they might rise up against their masters. And even if they didn’t, the human fleet was large enough to move from system to system, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake. That would weaken her too, when the implications became clear. It was quite likely she’d have to return to Tokomak Prime to deal with troubles at home.

  She bit down a curse that damned the humans to the seven hells. She’d had no choice, but to take command of the fleet personally. There was no way she could put that much power in anyone else’s hands. A competent officer would be a threat, an incompetent officer would get himself killed and his ships destroyed. No, she’d had no choice. And yet, she was now thousands of light years from home. She needed to be back there to keep the situation under control.

  It wasn’t a complete disaster, she told herself firmly. Cold logic insisted that N-Gann was a very minor fleet base, compared to the giant industrial facilities surrounding the original core worlds. The empire would barely notice its loss. And yet, its fall was going to have massive repercussions. The Tokomak no longer looked invincible. There was no way they could avoid unrest, not now. She had no doubt the Galactics would start reconsidering their stance as soon as they realised what had happened.

  The situation is not under control, she thought, as General Wooleen’s image appeared in front of her. But it isn’t a complete disaster either.

  “Your Excellency,” General Wooleen said. He sounded calm and composed. “You wished to speak with me?”

  “N-Gann has fallen,” Neola said, flatly. “That is a major short-term problem.”

  General Wooleen looked irked. “We were training conscripts on N-Gann,” he said. “I assume they won’t be coming here?”

  “No,” Neola said. The conscripts would be executed, when N-Gann was recovered. Who knew what bad habits they would have picked up from the human occupiers? “It may be some time before you receive any reinforcements.”

  “That isn’t good,” General Wooleen told her. “The enemy is still fighting hard, despite our new policy of venting the ring as we proceed.”

  The humans have masks and spacesuits, Neola thought. They can keep going even as their allies die.

  She dismissed the thought with a shrug. “It is vitally important that you take control of the ring as quickly as possible,” she said, “but I have to return to N-Gann. I cannot leave the enemy in possession of the system.”

  General Wooleen looked pained, but understanding. Neola had no trouble guessing what he was thinking. If there were rogue human ships watching the system from a distance, hidden under a cloaking field, she’d be giving them a chance to strike the ring. They wouldn’t have any particular reluctance to bombard General Wooleen’s positions, would they? They’d been quite willing to damage the N-Gann Ring despite the risk of accidentally rendering the planet uninhabitable. Who knew what they’d do if - when - she pulled out of the system?

  But N-Gann was uninhabitable anyway, she thought, grimly. Would they really be willing to wi
pe out billions of innocent lives?

  “We will endeavour to have the ring in our possession by the time you return,” General Wooleen said. “And I look forward to receiving supplies and reinforcements.”

  Neola looked at the display. The humans had had nearly two weeks to search the N-Gann Ring, remove whatever they wanted to use and prime the rest for destruction. She had no doubt they’d destroy anything they couldn’t use. And that meant that it would take a long time to rebuild her supply lines. Even if the human fleet was wiped out, even if she didn’t lose a single ship in the engagement, there was no way she could resume the drive on Earth in a hurry. No, the humans had scored a major victory. They’d bought time for their researchers to invent something new and for their industrial base to start putting it into mass production. And there was nothing she could do about it.

  “You’ll have them as soon as I can send them to you,” she said, although she knew it might be a while. “Do whatever you see fit to secure the ring.”