The Long-Range War

by Christopher Nuttall

  And there’s no one to present a counter-story, he thought. The Tokomak will control the narrative from beginning to end.

  He snorted. OCS had covered the many different ways that wars could be steered by the media, and public opinion, even in the Solar Union. The old sweats claimed that Martin and his generation had it lucky. Their reporters had practically been enemy combatants, taking the enemy’s lies for gospel truth while assuming that every word from a military spokesman was a flat-out lie. Martin wasn’t sure he believed all the stories, but OCS had confirmed that the media had a major influence on how a war might develop. The only upside to the whole situation, as far as he could tell, was that everyone knew the Tokomak media wasn’t free. It was just possible that no one would pay attention to horror stories about human atrocities.

  It isn’t as if anyone paid any attention to the media on Earth, he thought, sourly. Everyone knew the media lied about everything, no matter what it claimed.

  “I want to be ready to move in two weeks,” Major Griffin said. “Make sure your troops understand that this is to be carried out in total secrecy. I do not want to have to call off the operation because someone decided to blunder and tell the enemy we’re coming. Clear?”

  As crystal, Martin thought.

  He stood when they were dismissed, walking out of the chamber and heading down the corridor to the barracks. They were makeshift too - the marines had spread out a handful of bedrolls on the hard metal deck - but he knew better than to complain. A night in a foxhole would be far less comfortable. His men were, wisely, already catching up with their sleep. Who knew when they’d have a chance to sleep again?

  Sergeant Howe met him as he stepped into the barracks. “Sir?”

  “We’re going on the offensive,” Martin said. He wasn’t entirely sure he liked the idea, particularly given the number of question marks hanging over the exact location of the enemy fleet, but he had to admit that he was tired of constantly being on the defensive. “And we’re going to give them one hell of a bloody nose.”

  ***

  There was very little new about the human strategy, General Wooleen decided, although their approach to military tactics was often disturbingly innovative. They seemed bent on steadily wearing down his men by a combination of hit-and-run attacks and a handful of ambushes, the latter designed more to kill or injure his men than shove them back into space. General Wooleen had hundreds of thousands of troops under his command, most of which were rated as expendable, but the steady drain in lives and treasure was appalling. It didn’t help that he couldn’t repressurise the sections of the ring he’d secured. The Empress had been most clear that he was not to allow the enemy to sneak back and retake their positions.

  And now the fleet had departed.

  On the face of it, General Wooleen knew, his forces were not significantly hampered by the fleet’s absence. He couldn’t call down KEW strikes on the ring, not without risking utter disaster. And yet, he knew the enemy could hardly have failed to notice the fleet turning and leaving the system. What would they do, if they knew the fleet was gone? And, perhaps more importantly, how long would it be before he received reinforcements?

  The Empress wanted him to secure the ring. And he’d promised her he would. But ... the more he looked at it, the more he wondered if securing the ring was even possible. He simply didn’t have enough troops to press the attack, let alone keep smashing down airlocks and venting entire sections. The engineers who’d built the ring had done a very good job. It would take years to vent it all ...

  ... And the humans would keep fighting anyway.

  He sighed as, for the first time, he realised that the Empress had made a mistake. Apsidal was not that important. They could turn one of the other planets into a supply base, if they wished, or even start building a full-fledged fleet train. But the Empress was determined to recover Apsidal, just to teach the rebels a lesson. She was in danger of losing sight of her primary objective as she grappled with her secondary ones.

  And there’s no hope of talking her out of it, General Wooleen thought. He knew better than to assume that the Empress would listen. She’d already rejected a handful of practical solutions that would have saved them so much trouble. Merely coming to terms with the rebels, and treating them as trustees, would make it impossible for the humans to continue the fight. But it was not to be. All we can do is keep fighting.

  He tapped his console, calling up a map. His forces had seized vast amounts of territory, but - compared to the sheer immensity of the ring - it was tiny. And his control was more tenuous than he cared to admit. There was no way he could put a guard on every access tunnel or maintenance shaft within the occupied zone. The humans could get quite close to his main bases at any point, if they wished. And there was nothing he could do about it.

  Except keep fighting, he told himself. And hope for the best.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  As a general rule, Neola disliked second-guessing herself. Agonising over a plan was quite understandable, but once that plan was underway - and her plan was underway - there was nothing to be gained by fretting. She’d committed herself to recapturing N-Gann ten days ago and there was no point in worrying about it. There was certainly no way she could change her mind. And yet, that worried her more than she cared to admit. Her movements were depressingly predictable.

  They know what I have to do, she thought. And that means they have a chance to prepare for me.

  Neola asked herself, time and time again, what she’d do in their place. And the answer depended upon too many variables that were outside her control. Devastate the entire planet? Turn it into a fortress? Destroy the ring, cloudscoops and everything else that might be useful in the future? Or ... what? Set sail into deep space or set up an ambush?

  She studied the display, silently counting down the hours until the fleet dropped out of FTL and engaged the enemy. Not, she knew, that they could count on staying in FTL until they reached the emergence point. The humans had yanked her last fleet out of FTL and battered it to near-uselessness, something she’d known was impossible at the time. Now ... now she had to assume the worst. The humans knew she was coming - their long-range sensors would be picking her up - and they’d be ready for her. Unless they’d simply fled ...

  Her teeth widened into a snarl. The humans had held the system for nearly a month. They’d had more than enough time to do everything from stripping the defences bare to raiding further towards the core. Her empire might be tottering, her people utterly confused ... her admirals moving to take power for themselves. She had no way to know what she’d find when she entered the system and dropped out of FTL. She’d seriously considered seizing the gravity point first, just to discover what was happening on the far side. Only the grim awareness that the enemy might force her to lay siege to N-Gann had convinced her to focus on the planet first.

  “Your Excellency,” her aide said. “The analysts have sent you a report.”

  And they sent it via you, instead of directly to me, Neola thought. It must be bad news.

  She keyed her console, bringing up the report. It was bad news. The analysts believed that the wretched humans were breaking the taboos surrounding the development of any sort of artificial intelligence, to the point where they might be able to bring a ship out of FTL far closer to a planet than anyone else. Biological minds - and automated systems - couldn’t handle the sort of fine gravimetric control required to handle the gravity tides. Indeed, the report went on to say, the humans might have worked a degree of AI into their point defence systems too. They were simply too good to be basic automated targeting systems.

  That wasn’t good news, Neola knew. The humans - like the other younger races - had no idea why their elders and betters had installed the taboo in the first place. It had probably never occurred to them that there might be a good reason behind it. Neola was far too young to recall the nightmare that a handful of scientists had unleashed, when they’d developed the first true AI, but she�
��d heard the stories. AI was just too dangerous to be unleashed. And who knew how far the humans had gone?

  They’ll destroy themselves, if we don’t destroy them first, she thought. In hindsight, maybe it had been a mistake not to explain the reasoning behind the ban. But projecting an image of the Tokomak as all-knowing entities had been deemed more important than admitting to their failures. And they might take the rest of the galaxy with them.

  She put the report aside for later contemplation, even though every instinct was crying out for her to do something - anything - about the human developments. There was nothing she could do. The humans could not be stopped until she managed to get a fleet to Earth and that had been put back a year or two, perhaps longer. She needed to reopen her supply lines, push onwards to Earth and then destroy the human race once and for all.

  “Your Excellency,” her aide said. “We will reach the emergence point in thirty minutes.”

  Neola nodded. There was no point in issuing further orders. Her ships had gone to battle stations an hour ago. It would put a great deal of wear and tear on the equipment, to say nothing of the crews themselves, but at least the humans wouldn’t catch her by surprise. Her ships had orders to open fire if they found themselves yanked out of FTL. The humans would be the ones who got the surprise.

  Unless they have something else up their sleeves, she thought, eying the display. There had been no time to scout the system, even if she’d thought she would have been able to get a scout in and out without being detected. Who knows what’s waiting for us?

  She leaned back in her chair. There was no point in fretting about that either. She’d drawn up a whole string of contingency plans, from finding that the humans had abandoned the system to discovering that they’d repaired the planetary shield and were now hiding underneath it. That would be a surprise, she’d thought. If the humans could jump under the shield, why couldn’t the Tokomak figure out how the trick was done and duplicate it? The humans might not expect the taboo against AI to remain in place if it was suddenly vitally important to put AI to work.

  But it will, she thought. The consequences of undoing the ban will be too dangerous.

  “Contact all ships,” she ordered. If she was lucky, the humans would make a fight of it. They might think they could get away with a barrage of missiles and then a crash-jump into FTL, but they were in for a surprise. And if she could destroy their fleet, the war would be within shouting distance of being won. “Prepare to engage the enemy.”

  ***

  Hoshiko stirred as her intercom bleeped, loudly. Sitting upright in bed, she reached for the terminal and slapped it with one hand. She’d thought she wouldn't be able to get some rest, but she’d fallen asleep almost as soon as her head had hit the pillow. And Yolanda wouldn’t have interrupted her unless it was urgent.

  “Report,” she said.

  “Long-range sensors have detected the enemy fleet,” Yolanda said. “They’re on a least-time course from Winglet. Projections say they’ll be within the system in two hours.”

  “Time enough to finish the game and beat the Spanish too,” Hoshiko quoted. She wasn’t sure if Sir Francis Drake had actually said those words or not, but they fitted. “Bring the fleet to yellow alert, then pass the warning to the folks on the planet. They can take the remaining freighters and go.”

  “Aye, Admiral,” Yolanda said.

  Hoshiko closed the connection, then swung her legs over the side and stood. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep now. Her steward had already arrived, carrying a tray of coffee and biscuits. Hoshiko nodded her thanks, drank the coffee as quickly as she could and hurried into the shower. She wanted to be fresh for when the enemy arrived.

  And if they decide to drop out of FTL too soon, they may see my trap before the jaws slam closed, she thought. She’d spent a great deal of time trying to deduce where and when the enemy would drop out of FTL, but she’d had to concede that it was impossible. Too much depended on precisely what the alien CINC - the Empress herself, if Admiral Valadon was to be believed - knew about what had happened at N-Gann. She may assume that I’ve turned the planet into a fortress.

  It was a tempting thought, but - by the most optimistic estimate - it would take months to repair the planetary shield. Too many generators had been destroyed or disabled during the first engagement. She had repair crews drawing up plans, when they weren’t busy doing more important tasks, but it was very much a fifth-order priority right now. She’d consider turning N-Gann into an advance base if she managed to stop the alien fleet.

  She washed herself thoroughly, dried her body with a towel and pulled on her uniform before stepping back into her cabin. Her steward had already put a tray of bacon, eggs and bread on her desk, waiting for her. Hoshiko felt a flicker of guilt - her crews wouldn’t have anything like as good a meal - before she sat down and started to eat. There was nothing to be gained by starving herself. Besides, her subordinates knew to make sure their crews had plenty to eat before a battle. It was unlikely they’d have time to fill up during the engagement.

  Her terminal bleeped, showing a cluster of enemy icons racing towards the system. Hoshiko felt cold, even though nothing on the display really surprised her. The Tokomak had massed five starships for every one of hers, enough firepower to do a great deal of damage to her fleet even with her tech advantage. And her ships simply didn’t have enough missiles left to go toe-to-toe with the aliens.

  They don’t know that, she thought. And they don’t know what else is waiting for them here.

  She studied the reports as she finished her breakfast, then rose and strode into the CIC. Her staff were already working hard, trying to tease out exact numbers of ships from the haze on the display. The Tokomak were flying in close formation, the same trick Hoshiko herself had used to conceal her full strength. Not, she supposed, that it mattered. She knew there were at least two thousand starships bearing down on her. And there could easily be more.

  “Yolanda.” Hoshiko sat down. “Status report?”

  “Force Able is in position, all ships report ready,” Yolanda said. “Force Baker and Force Charlie are moving into position now. They should be in place before the enemy arrive.”

  “Let us hope so,” Hoshiko said. She had a feeling she knew where the enemy would choose to emerge - she suspected that the alien empress would want to be close to N-Gann, but not too close - yet there was no way to be sure. The aliens wouldn’t take the bait if they got a sniff of Force Baker or Force Charlie before it was too late. “Are we ready to retreat?”

  “Yes, Admiral,” Yolanda said. She hadn’t been too happy when that part of the plan had been discussed - nor had anyone else - but there was no alternative. The fleet could not afford a long engagement. Better to give the enemy a bloody nose and retreat than fly too close to the guns and get torn to shreds. “The FTL drives are already spooling up.”

  Hoshiko settled back into her chair, forcing herself to wait. The plan had looked good, on paper, but she knew from grim experience that no battle plan ever survived contact with the enemy. The bastard would have plans of his own, her instructors had taught her, and victory would go to the side that adapted first. Hoshiko hadn’t been too sure of that - history had taught her that most overwhelming victories came about because one side had overwhelming power - until she’d actually gained some experience. Too many brilliant plans had failed spectacularly when the enemy had counterattacked.

  “They’ll enter the projected emergence zone in ten minutes,” Yolanda said. “But they might sweep onwards to the planet.”

  “I doubt it,” Hoshiko said. The Tokomak Empress might be willing to take risks - Hoshiko rather admired the alien, although that wouldn't stop Hoshiko from killing the bitch if she had a chance - but some risks were just too close to suicide. An entire fleet, dropping out of FTL on the edge of a gravity shadow ... she’d be lucky if she only lost a few hundred ships to collisions. “They can’t go too close to the planet.”

  Particu
larly if they don’t know how much work we’ve done on the defences, she added, silently. We could have turned the planet into a fortress and they know it.

  She sobered as she watched the timer slowly tick down to zero. There was no way to know just how much the enemy knew about her preparations. She’d made sure to keep all ships out of the system - everything that poked its nose through the gravity point had been blown away without hesitation - yet there was no way to be entirely sure. She didn’t think the Tokomak had a stealth FTL drive yet, but there were plenty of ways to sneak a scoutship or two into the system. Her surprise might not be a surprise at all.

  We’ll find out soon, she told herself. The plan wasn’t as bold or as dashing as the plans she’d devised when she’d been a squadron commander, but it should work. And, even if it didn’t, she’d have room to retreat. The die is cast.

  ***

  The LinkShip hung in the centre of the fleet, waiting.