A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons (31 page)

“I would not ask you to surrender unconditionally,” Kevin said.  The Proxy War had been going on long enough that the original causes had been buried below a series of atrocities and betrayals.  “However, you would have to come to terms with the Coalition or the war will just splutter on, giving the Tokomak a chance to recover from their defeat.”

“This is all academic if the Tokomak are not defeated,” Number Two said.  “What do you want us to do?”

“Stay alert,” Kevin said.  “If you see a chance to liberate Varnar from their grasp, you can take it.  And we will do our best to help.”

There was a long chilling pause.  It was eventually broken by Number One.

“You have authority to issue such statements?”

Number One spoke after Number Two
, Kevin noted.  The pattern had changed – why?  A lifetime of intelligence work had taught him, more than once, that any unexpected change in a pattern could have a deeper meaning. 
Or did they change the subject and start again
?

“I can make certain promises on their behalf,” Kevin said.  He’d talked about the prospect of finding allies with the President.  “However, they may be unable to keep the promises.”

“You offer us no guarantees,” Number Two said.  His voice was atonal, but Kevin was sure he detected a hint of irritation.  “You offer us no promises.”

“I could offer you all the promises in the universe,” Kevin said.  “But I would be lying.”

Dark eyes bored into his.  He understood their position; they wanted to be free of the Tokomak, but they also knew the risks of jumping into rebellion too soon.  The Tokomak had a colossal fleet on the way, after all.  Was it big enough to crush the Varnar Navy, which had considerably more experience?  Kevin didn't know.  He had a feeling that no one knew for sure.

“We understand,” Number Three said.  “We will prepare our options.  But we will not intercede until we can do so and survive.”

“I understand,” Kevin said.  “Do you have anything I can take back to my superiors, as a gesture of good will?”

“Not yet,” Number Four said.  “What would you require?”

“Intelligence,” Kevin said.  “Anything we can use to plan our defence.”

“We will consider the matter,” Number One said.  “We thank you for coming.”

On that note, the meeting ended.  The four Varnar stepped through the door they’d entered, which closed behind them with an ominous thud.  Kevin shook his head in amused disbelief, then waited, as patiently as he could, for Sally to say they could leave.  It was nearly half an hour before she rose to her feet, replaced her mask over her face and led the way to the door.  Kevin donned his own mask and followed her out into the darkness.  Night had fallen while they'd been seated in the room, chatting to the Varnar.

“Stick close to me,” Sally said.  Her voice was very composed, despite a fight breaking out only a few short metres from the door.  “You don’t want to be noticed here.”

Kevin nodded.  Random chance had screwed up more operations than he cared to remember, if only through someone observant seeing something they shouldn't and calling the police.  It was quite helpful when an observant local stopped a terrorist attack, but it was rather less useful when he was the one carrying out the operation.  But they made it back to Sally’s apartment without running into any real trouble.  Kevin breathed a sigh of relief as he removed the mask, then hurried into the bathroom.  Implants or no implants, he wanted a shower to wash the smell off him.

“You’ll want to see this,” Sally called, as he climbed out of the shower.  There was an urgent tone in her voice that caught his attention.  “Grab a towel and come and look at the TV.”

“Coming,” Kevin called.  He scooped up a towel and hastened out the door.  “What is it?”

Sally nodded to the television.  It was showing starships – hundreds of starships – making their way out of the gravity point.  Normally, transits were one by one – and mostly freighters.  This time, there was an endless stream of warships.  Kevin knew what it was without having to ask, if only because he’d been dreading it for the last few days.  The Tokomak Navy had arrived.

“Two hundred battleships,” Sally said, slowly.  She sounded stunned.  It was one thing to hear about such numbers, but another to actually see them in real life.  “And a few dozen smaller ships.”

Kevin sucked in a breath.  The Tokomak weren't the only galactic power to build battleships, but theirs were twice the size of everyone else’s ships.  Giant cylinders, five kilometres long, bristling with energy weapons and missile launchers, just one of them was normally enough to keep a planet under firm control.  As far as anyone knew, the Tokomak hadn't lost a battleship ever since they’d established their empire.  The fleet looked completely invincible.

I bet the Varnar are having third thoughts by now
, he thought, darkly. 
Would they try to betray us to the Tokomak
?

“They should have more escorts,” he mused.  “I wonder why they don’t.”

Sally gave him a sharp look.  “More escorts?”

“Yeah,” Kevin said.  He hadn’t spent as long as Mongo studying the Galactic Way of War, but he’d picked up quite a bit.  “Everything from scouts to additional point defence platforms.”

He shook his head, dismissing the thought.  “And now all that matters is hoping the Solar Union is ready to meet them,” he said.  “Because if we don’t win the coming battle, we sure as hell won’t win the war.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Jennifer Bellows, the acclaimed writer of ‘The Fascist Party of Tolerance’ was granted asylum in the Solar Union, following an attempt to legally lynch her in London, United Kingdom.  Bellows, whose work challenges the underpinnings of multiculturalism, stated that her life was destroyed when the establishment could not actually undermine her arguments through logic and reason.  It is to be hoped that she will find the Solar Union a more congenial home.

-Solar News Network, Year 53

“Set course for the Rendezvous Point, Lieutenant,” Captain Singh ordered, “and take us there, best possible speed.”

“Aye, Captain,” Yolanda said. 

She allowed her fingers to dance across the console, bringing up the macro.  She’d had the course laid in for days, ever since the battle had been fought and won.  They’d expected to have to retreat, perhaps after exchanging a hail of shots, once the Tokomak responded to the attack on Hades.  Instead, they’d had ample time to strip the planet’s storage deports, commandeer freighters and then leave on the planned departure date.  It was worrying some of the senior officers, she’d heard.  The Tokomak weren't behaving as predicted.

A faint shudder ran through the ship as she dropped into FTL, leaving the Hades System far behind.  Yolanda smiled to herself, then keyed the stardrive into safe mode.  They would remain in FTL, safe and untouchable, until they reached the RV Point, whereupon they would join the rest of the fleet.  Or so she’d heard.  All hell was likely to break loose, sooner or later, and Hades was immaterial to the overall outcome of the war, now the supply dumps had been captured or destroyed.

“We’re under way,” she said, formally.  “ETA at RV Point One roughly four days, seventeen hours.”

“Then inform the crew to stand down and relax for a day,” the Captain ordered the XO.  “We will return to intensive drilling tomorrow.”

“Aye, Captain,” Commander Gregory said.  “The crew could do with a rest.”

Yolanda turned her attention back to her console and flicked on simulation mode.  There was nothing to do while a starship was in FTL, if only because the onboard computers were more than capable of handling the drives and ensuring that nothing went wrong.  She knew that civilian craft rarely bothered to man the bridge between the stars, but the Solar Navy insisted that military ships maintain a bridge crew at all times.  It did have its advantages – she could use the console for everything from simulations to playing games – and yet it was also boring as hell.

She plunged her mind into the simulators, but there wasn't anything new.  The captured Tokomak cruiser had managed to purge and destroy her computer banks before surrendering and even the best human technicians had been unable to draw anything useful from the remains.  Instead, there were endless scenarios pitting
Freedom
against any number of Galactic starships, ranging from pitiful Horde-controlled starships to Tokomak and Varnar warships.  The latter were always dangerous, even if the Tokomak had proved themselves to be less formidable than anyone had thought.  She had a feeling – and she knew the intelligence department shared it – that the Varnar would be ordered to take part in the drive on Earth.

But it would leave their homeworld uncovered
, she thought. 
They would be reluctant to risk themselves
.

She pushed the thought to one side – it was hardly her concern, as it was well above her pay grade – and concentrated on the simulation.  It was immersive, so immersive that it was a shock when Commander Gregory shook her lightly, disengaging Yolanda from the datanet and bringing her back to reality.  Yolanda jumped, then glanced around in shock.  It was always unpleasant to be yanked out of the datanet, no matter the situation.  Early versions of the neural link, she’d heard, actually caused brain damage if they disconnected too quickly.

“It’s the end of your shift,” Commander Gregory said, dryly.  “Much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, I don’t think you should push yourself too hard.”

Yolanda felt herself flushing with embarrassment.  It was a rookie mistake, all the more irritating because she’d thought she’d managed to overcome the problem in basic training, before she'd been allowed to serve on a starship.  Commander Gregory didn't seem angry – Sergeant Bass would have issued at least three demerits for her mistake – but it was still embarrassing.  And to think she'd only just been promoted!

“Go get some rest, then relax,” Commander Gregory ordered.  “I’ll see you in the tactical section tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Commander,” Yolanda said.

She gave her console one last check, out of habit, then stood and passed it to her replacement, Ensign Hammond.  The young man gave her an admiring look – it felt absurd to have anyone looking up to her – and then sat down.  Yolanda waited long enough to see if he had any questions – they were common when the starship was in normal space – and then left the bridge, stepping through the hatch into Officer Country.  Martin was on duty, just outside the hatch.

“I think there’s no danger of being boarded in FTL,” she said.  “Why are you even standing guard outside the bridge, anyway?”

“I think it's meant to get us out of Marine Country for a while,” Martin said, after a moment’s thought.  “Or maybe it’s just to make sure we don’t forget how to stand guard.”

Yolanda frowned.  “Stand guard?”

“If you fall asleep on watch you can be summarily demoted,” Martin admitted.  “But if there’s an enemy force creeping up on you, it can be much worse.”

“It makes sense,” Yolanda decided.  She gave him a smile.  “Join me in my quarters after your shift ends?”

“If your roommate isn't there,” Martin said.  He smiled back at her.  “I don’t want to shock the poor dear.”

“I don’t think anything could shock her,” Yolanda said.  Simone had been raised in the Solar Union, by a family that seemed to have multiple adults, both male and female.  She'd once tried to talk Yolanda into joining a group marriage that would have included at least ten people from each sex.  “But I’ll let you know if she arrives.”

“Thanks,” Martin said.  “but you’d better run along before the Lieutenant arrives.  She’s been checking up on us at random intervals.”

Yolanda nodded, then hurried on her way.

***

President Allen Ross knew he would never have been elected on Earth.  He was diplomatic, but he was also blunt and plain-spoken ... and the media, which made or destroyed candidates, would have ripped him apart.  It had been one of the reasons he had been so thoroughly sick of politics on Earth before the Solar Union had been founded – and one of the reasons he had emigrated as soon as he’d been able to convince himself the Solar Union would last.

He’d tried to get involved on politics on Earth, only to discover it was impossible to make a real difference.  But on one of the many asteroid Cantons, it
was
possible to have one’s say  and to make a difference.  By the time he’d run for President, he had a good reputation, by the Solar Union’s standards, as a mover and shaker.  He would never be photogenic, he would never fill every little demographic box, but it didn't matter.  All that mattered was being able to do the job.

But there were certain elements he would have preferred to leave to others, if it had been possible.

“You talk a bold case,” Ambassador Allis said.  “Are you sure you can win?”

“Yes,” Allen said, bluntly.  “The reports from Hades were quite clear.”

He studied the alien thoughtfully.  The blue-skinned race – humans tended to call them the Blues, because their real name was unpronounceable – was humanity’s oldest ally, the first to see the potential of free humans fighting alongside them.  Kevin Stuart himself had brokered the deal that had traded weapons and tech manuals for mercenaries, starting a working relationship that had lasted for over fifty years.  The Blues might be larger and more powerful than humanity by far – although
that
was in question, these days – but they were honest allies.

Until the end of the war
, he reminded himself. 
Alliances only last as long as they are convenient
.

“We expect the Tokomak to make a plunge for Earth soon,” he said.  The last report from Kevin Stuart, outdated by two weeks, had stated that the Tokomak fleet had yet to arrive.  “We intend to meet that fleet and destroy it.”

The Blue peered at him, doubtfully.  “Are you sure you can stop such a large fleet?”

“We don’t know,” Allen admitted.  “But we certainly intend to try.”

He paused.  “We ask you to join us,” he added.  “You have firepower that could make a decisive difference.”

There was a long pause.  “We would be risking much,” the Blue pointed out.  He held up a hand before Allen could say a word.  “We understand the dangers of allowing the Tokomak to run free, or the simple fact that they will come after us next.  However, if we send most of our forces to assist you, our own worlds will be uncovered.”

Allen sighed.  It was the old problem, even though it had probably saved Earth’s bacon more than once.  The Varnar could not send a fleet to hammer Earth into submission without leaving themselves wide open to the Coalition.  It was why they had called on the Tokomak in the first place.  But the Coalition had the same problem when it came to
defending
Earth ...

“There will never be a better chance to break the Tokomak,” he said.

“But the Varnar will still be active,” the Blue said.  “We might lose enough of our ships to guarantee our defeat in the war.”

The hell of it, Allen knew, was that the Blue was right.  If the Coalition won the battle at a high cost, the Varnar would have a chance to beat both humanity and the Coalition before they could recover.  The Varnar were the wild card; if they jumped one way, the war might be lost ... and if they jumped the other way, they might be destroyed by the Tokomak.

“I understand your point,” he said, finally.  “I trust you will make use of the tactical data we sent you.”

The Blue waved his long slender fingers, their version of a nod.  “It will be good for us all to know the Tokomak aren't invincible,” he said.  “We will spread it far and wide.”

“And prepare for an offensive,” Allen added.  “We may have a chance to win the war outright.”

“We shall see,” the Blue said.  “We will have a large fleet in place to take advantage of your victory, should you win.  But we dare not advance too far from our worlds.”

The tyranny of FTL sensors
, Allen thought. 
They would know if the Tokomak started to advance on their homeworlds ... but if they weren't in place to intercept the enemy ships it would be impossible to save their worlds.

“We wish you good hunting,” the alien said.  “And goodbye.”

The alien bowed – a human gesture he’d picked up – and retreated through the hatch.  Allen watched him go, feeling the cold weight of responsibility settling down around his shoulders, a cross he sometimes doubted his ability to bear.  The Solar Union called him President and granted him power, but it wasn't enough to reshape the universe to his will.  Not even the communal vote could change reality. 

He looked up as Admiral Stuart entered through the side hatch.  “You heard?”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Mongo Stuart said.  “They can't be faulted.”

“I know,” the President said.  “But we could do with their help.”

He sighed, then looked around the office.  It was bare; Steve Stuart had designed it personally, according to legend, and the voters would have been mortally offended if he’d added a single piece of decoration.  There was nothing in the room, save for a desk, a handful of chairs, a projector and a handful of portraits, showing the last nine Presidents of the Solar Union.  Allen wondered, with a trace of resentment, just how they would have handled the Tokomak, if the threat had come to fruition in their time.  They’d known it might happen ...

... But Allen was the one on the spot when the gods finally noticed the human race.