A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons (32 page)

“The fleet is in position,” Mongo assured him.  “We should be ready to give them one hell of a nasty surprise.”

“I know, Admiral,” Allen said.  “But will it be nasty enough?”

On Earth, he’d felt ... a
depression
sapping his strength, sapping the wills of his countrymen to stand up for their country.  It had been nothing he could have placed his finger on; a sense, perhaps, that resistance was not only futile, but
wrong
.  Or, perhaps, a sense that one simply couldn't fight City Hall, that even winning one battle would be a pointless victory.  The government would have its revenge.  And all the hotheads who had talked of gunning down federal agents or shooting the bureaucrats ... it had come to nothing.

There had been no challenges, he’d thought, no frontiers to cross.  No dreams for the young, no hope of anything, apart from a 9-5 job if they were lucky.  No wonder America and the West had become dependent on antidepressants, he'd thought at the time.  They had been taught to dream and yet their dreams were ruthlessly squashed. 

But the Solar Union had lacked that depression, he knew.  The children of the Solar Union were untouched by the shadows of the past.  They could build a society without the hang-ups that had damaged the United States to the point the country started to come apart at the seams.  It was the hope of the future, the rebirth of the human dream ... assuming, of course, they survived the coming war.

He shook his head.  There was no time to get pensive about the future.

“We will certainly give them a few surprises,” Mongo assured him.  “One way or the other, their complacency will end soon.”

“I got a complaint from Earth,” Allen said.  “They’re demanding that we exclude them from the Declaration of War.”

Mongo snorted.  Allen knew how he felt.  It wasn't funny, not really, but there was definitely a certain
something
about it.  The Galactics barely noticed Sol as a political entity in its own right.  They certainly didn't draw any distinction between the Solar Union and Earth, let alone America, France, Germany and Russia.  He had a feeling that trying to explain political divisions on a tiny planet on the edge of explored space to the Tokomak would be a waste of time.  They would probably only demand to know why humanity hadn't united itself under one rule yet.

They would probably have expected Steve Stuart to make himself ruler of the world
, he thought. 
The idea of a separate state would have stunned them
.

He looked up at Mongo.  Fame – true lasting fame – was rare in the Solar Union, but the Stuart Family were definitely famous.  What would Steve Stuart make of the Solar Union as it was now?  Or, for that matter, what would he make of the war?  Would he come up with something new or ...

“You’re thinking about my brother,” Mongo said.  “I could tell by the look on your face.”

Allen scowled at him, schooling his face into impassivity.  “What would your brother make of this?”

“George Washington kept slaves,” Mongo said.

Allen blinked.  “That makes no sense,” he protested.

“Steve used to say it, every so often,” Mongo said.  “He would come back home, without fanfare, and reporters would gather round him, ready to write down everything he said as if it were pearls of wisdom from a prophet.  And he would always remind them that George Washington kept slaves.”

“I don’t see the point,” Allen said.

“Steve’s point was that Washington, who was effectively deified by America, was only a man,” Mongo said.  “He was a good military leader, a great politician and a true patriot, but he was only a man.  Some of his acts, like keeping slaves or burning Indian townships, make him out to be a far darker character than the saint we were taught to revere.  He was just a man, without all the answers, let alone a modern sense of values.  Steve wouldn't be able to come here, sit down at your desk and hand out answers like glasses of beer at Oktoberfest.”

Mongo shrugged.  “Don’t look to me for your answers, I think he meant,” he added, after a moment.  “Find them for yourself.”

Allen smiled.  “Thank you for that clarification,” he said, dryly.  “But I’m not sure it was particularly helpful.”

“Neither is being spoon-fed the answers – right or wrong,” Mongo countered.  “And
that
was something Steve knew better than to do, even before he became our Founding Father.”

***

“The fleet is ready to depart?”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” the Admiral said.  “We have a direct course set for Earth.”

Neola clicked her fingers.  “And the new training programs?”

“They have been problematic,” the Admiral admitted.  “The crews are not used to them.”

“Then tell them to
get
used to them,” Neola snapped.  She would have preferred to wait longer, to get her ships and crews ready for the coming fight, but time wasn't on her side, not when word was already spreading through the empire.  The Old Ones would hear about it soon and relieve her of command.  “The humans are unlikely to play by the rules.”

The Admiral bowed, then retreated, leaving her in the CIC.

“The new exercises are having a devastating effect on morale,” He’cht observed, from the shadows.  “Your crews are not prepared for scenarios that aren't scripted right down to the last detail.”

“So I have heard,” Neola said.  The Admiral had complained loudly.  So had every commanding officer of every ship, without exception.  Complaints about the new regime were probably also winging their way up the gravity points too.  “But can we beat the humans?”

“It depends,” He’cht said.  “Do you have more firepower than the humans?  Probably.  Do you have more flexibility than the humans?  Probably not.  You will just have to hope that you have enough firepower to make their flexibility immaterial.”

Neola sighed, bitterly.

One hour later, the fleet dropped into FTL and started the crawl towards Earth.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The Japanese Government finally passed the long-awaited law forcing all Japanese women to have at least four children before reaching the age of thirty.  This law, which is intended to replenish the ethnic Japanese population (which has been in decline for the last seventy years) has been hotly opposed by protesters both in and out of Japan.  However, with the Conservative Government in firm control, it is unlikely the act will not be enforced.  It is as yet unclear what penalties will be assigned to women who fail to comply with the law.

-Solar News Network, Year 53

“Captain,” Yolanda said.  “We will return to normal space in five minutes.”

“Take us out as planned,” Captain Singh ordered, calmly.  “And give me a full tactical report the moment we come out of FTL.”

“Aye, sir,” Yolanda said.  It had been a long flight, with rumours spreading that the Tokomak had ignored Hades and launched an immediate attack on Earth instead.  She had no idea what the squadron would have done if it had returned home to find a devastated solar system, but she doubted it would have been pretty.  “We will return to normal space in one minute.”

She counted down the remaining seconds until the squadron slipped back into normal space, then plunged her mind into the sensor nodes.  The inky darkness of FTL was suddenly replaced by stars ... and icons representing unknown starships.  IFF signals started to come in seconds later, identifying them as the Solar Union Navy.  There were over four hundred starships waiting for them.

“Captain,” she said.  “The entire Solar Navy is here.”

“Shoot the Admiral a tactical download,” the Captain ordered.  “Everything from the moment we arrived at Hades to now.”

“Aye, Captain,” Commander Gregory said. 

Yolanda barely heard him.  She was staring at the starships, a multitude of human and alien designs.  Most of them were converted freighters or Galactic warships that had fallen into human hands, but a small number were identical to
Freedom
.  Humanity’s own design of warship, elegant and yet practical ... she felt a lump in her throat as she looked at the fleet, finally understanding why the Tokomak viewed her people as a threat.  Fifty years after gaining access to alien technology, the human race had put together a formidable force, enough to tip the balance in the endless Proxy War.

“There’s a private message from the Admiral for you, Captain,” Commander Gregory said, softly.  “You’re ordered to read it in private.”

“You have the bridge,” Captain Singh said.  “I’ll be in my ready room.”

Beyond the warships, there were a number of surprises.  Some objects weren't broadcasting an IFF, their purposes unknown; others were automated weapons platforms, a design copied from the Galactics years ago and endlessly refined.  It looked as though someone was planning an ambush, but how could they be sure where their enemy would appear?  Anyone with the right technology could detect a starship in flight, yet they couldn’t predict the exact emergence point.  How could they?

“We have picket ships out several light years in all directions,” Commander Gregory said, once the Captain had left the bridge. Clearly, she’d accessed a tactical download from the fleet datanet.  “We will know when they are coming and will move position, if necessary, to intercept.”

Yolanda frowned.  A glance at the navigation subroutine told her they were placed along a least-time course from Varnar to Earth, but it still didn't explain how they were going to intercept the Tokomak.  The Galactics were unlikely to drop out of FTL long enough to engage the human ships, if only because they wouldn't know they were there.  There was no point in mock-threatening the Varnar worlds if the threat wasn't visible.  It made no sense.

Think outside the box
, she told herself. 
What does the Admiral have in mind
?

“You will also review the tactical planning files,” Commander Gregory added, “then start drilling.  By the time they arrive, we need to be one united fleet.”

“Yes, Commander,” the bridge crew said.

Yolanda smiled.  Commander Gregory might be a hard-ass when it came to running endless drills, but her heart was in the right place – and besides, she was entirely correct.  Hard training, easy mission; easy training, hard mission.  Better to get all the mistakes out of the way before lives were actually placed at risk ...

She sighed, then accessed the tactical files and frowned.  They all seemed to believe that the aliens would appear right in front of the human fleet.  But why?

***

“I suppose,” Neola said, “that you have an explanation for this?”

She glowered at the holographic images, wishing she could reach through the datanet and strangle the commanding officers in person.  They hadn't listened to her, even though she’d taken the precaution of having the fleet fly in close enough formation to allow them to drill together, even in FTL.  And the latest set of simulated exercises had been an embarrassing disaster, worse than any of them thought.  They didn’t know – yet – that the enemy commander had been a Varnar, not any of her Tokomak subordinates.

“I told you to use your brains,” she said.  “I told you not to use predictable formations and flight paths.  I told you to actually
think
before you acted.  And what did you do?  You followed the same old routines, time and time again, until the enemy smashed your ships into rubble!”

“Your Excellency,” one of the commanders said, “these tactics have been laid down since the dawn of empire ...”

“Yes, they have,” Neola said.  “And the universe has changed since then!  Didn't you realise that Tactical Pattern ZZ-Alpha was leading you into a trap?  The Admirals who devised it didn't have to reckon with long-range energy weapons, did they?  You practically impaled yourselves on their weapons because you didn't bother to think!”

She took a long rasping breath.  “And you
then
fell back on an entirely predictable defensive formation,” she thundered.  “And you didn't even change it when you realised the enemy was taking
advantage
of your lack of thought!”

“This is the way things have been done since time out of mind,” one of the older commanders insisted.  He hated her for being younger than him and yet his superior, Neola knew.  It was understandable, in a way, but not after Hades.  “These tactics served our forefathers well.”

“Yes, they did,” Neola said.  “And charging while throwing spears
also
served our forefathers well, until they ran into machine guns and got killed.  The universe has changed since the days we built the empire!  We need to adapt or be slaughtered.”

She clenched her fists in irritation.  It was hard for her, so very hard, to adapt to the new universe.  Every conservative bone in her body called for her to stay with the old ways, the routines she’d been taught since she was a child.  There was no grounds for change, they insisted; the old ways were more than good enough.  Hadn't they built an entire empire?  But the universe was different now and they had to adapt too ...

The humans had obtained Galactic technology, somehow. 
That
was certain.  The last time the Varnar had looked at them, they had been barely capable of flight.  A fast rate of expansion, particularly as they’d been riding horses when the Tokomak had logged their world in the database, but not fast enough to propel them to spaceflight by now.  Or so she hoped.  If the humans really had developed spaceflight and FTL without help, in four hundred years, the Tokomak were doomed.  They had barely been able to adapt to changes wrought by far slower Galactics.  A race that progressed at breakneck speed would outstrip the empire before the empire knew there was a threat ...

There had been races that had advanced fast, she knew.  They’d tended to destroy themselves before they ever got into deep space.  But there were rumours that some had been exterminated by her superiors, just in case ...

She made a note of the thought for later contemplation, then glowered at her subordinates.

“You will run the exercise again,” she said.  “And this time you will use your brains.  Or I will dig out the old regulations and put them back to use.”

They blanched.  The
really
old regulations, dating back all the way to the pointless wars before FTL had been invented, gave her the power of life and death over her subordinates.  If she wanted, she could flog, maim or even kill them ... and no one would be able to complain, no matter how barbaric it seemed.  She was the supreme commander, after all, and the regulations had never been revised or removed from the book.  Given how conservative her race actually was, it was no surprise.

“Go,” she ordered.

The images blinked out of existence, to be replaced with the final image from the simulated battle.  A dozen battleships had been destroyed, along with thirty smaller ships ... it would have been an embarrassing defeat, in real life.  Instead, it was a learning experience – she hoped.  Coming up with new tactics on the fly wasn't something her crews did.

“That could have gone better,” she said.

“It could have gone worse,” the Varnar countered.  He’d been lurking in the shadows at the rear of her cabin, knowing that he couldn't be seen by the officers.  They would have protested his involvement.  “At least they listened to you.”

Neola clenched her teeth.  The fleet was four days from Earth and hadn't shown many signs of improvement.  Morale was in the pits, at least partly because she’d ordered the crews to remain on alert, even though they were in FTL and thus immune to the universe.  Normally, the crew would take FTL as a chance to relax and burnish the internal decoration; now, they were standing watches, running simulations of their own and practicing repair work.  It had chilled her to the bone, after the first drill, to realise just how poorly prepared they were for a real battle.  But the crew hadn't come to agree with her.

“They listened because I threatened them,” Neola said.  Other races had it easy.  To them, a six hundred year old officer was worthy of respect.  But to the Tokomak, she was little more than a child.  “What’s going to happen when we encounter the humans?”

“You’ll take heavy losses,” He’cht said.  The Varnar seemed unbothered by the thought.  “I don’t think your crews are prepared for damage control duties, so the damage will swiftly mount up and eventually doom your ships.  You have to hope you have enough firepower to absorb the losses and keep going.”

He paused.  “You should have accepted our offer of additional crewmen,” he added.  “They would have made your ships stronger, more able to fight.”

Neola would have accepted, if regulations had allowed it.  But she couldn't have, which was something of a blessing.  At least the Varnar wouldn't get a close look at just how unprepared her ships were for war, after all.  They were sitting on top of the gravity point leading further into the empire, allowing them to pose a real threat if they changed sides.  There was no point in giving them ideas.

She contemplated He’cht, coldly.  As useful as he was, he could not be allowed to go home after serving as her aide.  He had simply seen too much.

“Four days,” she mused.  “Four days to get the fleet ready for battle.”

The plan was simple enough.  Drop out of FTL near Earth and advance on the planet, firing long-range missiles as they approached.  There would be no attempt to occupy the planet, not after the humans had proved themselves so dangerous.  Instead, Earth would be destroyed, her population exterminated.  In the meantime, the fast little human ships would have no choice; they would have to come to her and fight, or watch helplessly as their homeworld died. 

And without their homeworld
, she thought,
the rest of their population will dwindle and die.

“You will need to run more simulations,” He’cht said, softly.  “Because the humans are many things, but they are not cowards.  And they will know you are coming.”

***

Martin wiped sweat from his brow as he exited the simulation and nodded to Lieutenant Robbins, who looked as tired as he felt.  Days of endless simulations, of running through every possible contingency plan they could imagine, had left a toll on them all.  If they hadn't been heavily augmented, he had a feeling they would have collapsed by now.