First Strike (19 page)

“We need some fucking riot foam,” a Marine with a German accent said. “Something that will get them away from us before it’s too late.”

“Half of the bastards are allergic to riot foam,” Lieutenant Piebald said, over the datanet. “We might as well spray them with nerve gas. And there are some races that think that nerve gas is a great afternoon tipple.”

“We have shuttles picking up water from the lake,” a senior Marine injected. “They’ll drench the crowds, maybe give them some incentive to disperse.”

Another shuttle took off from the Mud Palace as the walls finally collapsed. “Too late,” Conrad said, grimly. “All Marines… back, now!”

Augmented legs threw him back towards the Palace. He was sickeningly aware of what had happened to the aliens pressing against him, but there had been no other choice. The mob howled in victory and lunged forwards, charging right at the fragmented Marine line. Conrad snapped a second set of orders and the Marines leapt upwards, landing on the side of the Mud Palace and scrambling up towards the roof. The datanet claimed that all of the Funks had finally been evacuated, removed before the mob could get its hands on them. Conrad hoped that they were right as the shuttles came back for the Marines. At least most of the other buildings they’d needed to secure were safe. The rest of the rioting would have to be left to burn itself out, unless dropping water was enough to disperse the crowd.

The tractor beam caught him and whisked him up towards the shuttle, just as the mob broke out onto the roof. Another Marine was less lucky and was shoved over the edge by the mob, his antigravity systems saving him before he hit the ground. Some of the crowd were pushed over by their own people, falling down the side of the building and hitting the ground before anyone could save them. The remainder were busy looting the Mud Palace, looking for the vast taxes the Funks had collected from those unfortunate enough to live on their world.

“Well,” he said, as he was finally pulled into the shuttle, “that could have gone better.”

“Maybe,” his captain agreed, “but at least we got the Funks out.”

Conrad shrugged. Marines were taught to be aggressive and a retreat, no matter how necessary, didn't sit well with him. But orders were orders. And besides, they would have accomplished nothing if they’d remained at the palace.

And it should definitely get them some good press.

“Blimey,” Lieutenant Piers said. “Just look at all the industry in this system.”

Markus nodded in agreement as the first squadron of gunboats spread out from
 
Formidable
. Heavenly Gate had been home to a spacefaring race decades before the birth of Jesus Christ and every world in the system was inhabited. Massive cloudscoops orbited the gas giants, while worlds that had once been like Mars or Venus had been terraformed into something more habitable. They’d even started a long-term project to convert a gas giant into a second sun, although the report had suggested that the Canaries were having problems devising a way to do it without causing problems for the rest of the system. Even the Association had thought better of trying to create new suns.

But it might have made sense for the Canaries. They were an avian race, unique in that they could still fly after evolving into intelligence, giving them their own slant on the universe. Much of their theology was not shared with infidels, even the Cats, but from what they had allowed the rest of the galaxy to find out was that they couldn't leave the light from their star, which was called – roughly translated – the Light of God. They’d been the second race to make a theoretical breakthrough into quantum space, but unlike the Cats they’d never set out to colonise the rest of the galaxy. Maybe it was better for humanity that they hadn't wanted to spread their wings some, because they would certainly have discovered Earth long before the Association had made contact – and who knew how they would have reacted to the human race?

Instead, they’d settled their solar system and thoroughly developed their limited real estate. Massive orbital fortresses defended their planets, backed up by a fleet of starships that were none the less dangerous for lacking quantum drives. Indeed, where Association-designed starships had to include space for FTL drives, the Canaries had used that space to carry extra weapons and shield generators. Heavenly Gate could probably be taken by the Hegemony – or another power who wanted it badly enough – but the cost would be staggeringly high. One estimate from ONI had suggested that upwards of three-fourths of the Hegemony Navy would be required to take the system. And the Canaries themselves would fight like mad demons to repel any offensive into the Light of God. No one even remotely rational would try to take the system. They’d have to exterminate most of the population to win, destroying the infrastructure that made the system so valuable in the process.

Which raises the obvious question
, Markus thought, as the small force powered towards the fifth world in the system. Place of Meetings was another multiracial planet, although the Canaries were solidly in control. They didn't understand how other races could leave their own Lights of God, but they were happy to welcome anyone who came in peace.
 
What the hell are we doing here
?

The briefing had made that clear. There were two Hegemony capital ships in the system, visiting Place of Meetings for an unknown reason. Intelligence had put forward several possible theories, from wanting to trade with the Canaries to trying to intimidate them into supporting Hegemony proposals in the Commune, but it didn't really matter. All that mattered was intercepting those ships before they could leave Heavenly Gate and throw themselves into human shipping lanes. A single heavy cruiser in the right place could have a disproportionate impact on the war.

“Grumbles, remain on alert,” he ordered. There hadn’t been any time to get replacement gunboats and crews, which meant that they were still short several craft. “They might try something, but do
 
not
 
fire on anything unless it belongs to the Funks.”

Galactic law didn't have much to say about interstellar warfare – the Cats, who had established most of it, had tried to avoid even
 
thinking
 
about war – but there were some protocols agreed by most of the Galactics. Neutral races had certain obligations if they wanted to remain neutral, including not assisting either combatant in any way. The Canaries, at least in theory, should have no choice, but to either expel the Hegemony ships or intern them and their crews. But in practice…? No-one was quite sure which way they would jump.

Captain Walsh was already broadcasting to the Galactics. The Canaries were in charge of their system – no one doubted that – but there were other starships in orbit around Place of Meetings, including some from the other major Galactic powers. Markus suspected that the intelligence officer had deliberately understated the diplomatic nightmare that could result if they fucked up, perhaps by firing on the wrong ship. The Canaries had no real alliances with any of the other Galactic powers, but just about everyone thought well of them. And if they decided to refuse to cooperate, all hell could break loose.

The minutes ticked away as the Canaries debated what to do. There was a small community of humans on Place of Meetings, including a handful who apparently worked for ONI as well as for the network of human traders who visited the system. Each terse update made Markus more concerned, particularly when the Hegemony commander started urging the other Galactics to escort his ships out of the system if they refused to restrain the imprudent humans. But few of the Galactics were willing to intervene openly on the Hegemony’s side, not when the Hegemony was known to be extremely aggressive and expansionist. Most of them would view a bloody nose for the Hegemony as a good thing.

Eagle and Ivan Squadrons remained on the carrier, waiting for the order to launch. They’d scramble well before the Funks could reach a safe distance from the planet to open a quantum gate – and they had orders to follow the Funks into quantum space if possible. In their place, Markus suspected that he would go right for
 
Formidable
, trusting to his ship’s armor to protect them long enough to take out the only way home for the gunboats. If that happened, the gunboats would have no choice, but to surrender to the Canaries and accept internment.

The datanet crackled. “All right,” Captain Walsh said, “the Canaries have insisted that the Hegemony ships either disembark their crews or leave their system. I think that they’re preparing to leave now. Stand by.”

Markus frowned. He hadn't expected the Hegemony ships to surrender, but would they be escorted by the other Galactics? If so...

The datanet updated again. Both of the Hegemony ships, docked at a station that was over a thousand years old, were slowly powering up their drives and preparing to make a run for open space. A handful of cruisers belonging to the Canaries were advancing towards the station, ready to intervene if fighting spread into orbit. They had to be more worried than they wanted to admit, but Markus would worry about starships unleashing antimatter torpedoes in orbit too. And then there was the risk that the Hegemony would assume that the Canaries had deliberately warned the human race that the ships were there and take revenge at some future date. Raiding the system would be fairly easy, if not exactly risk-free.

Captain Walsh spoke again. “Ivan Squadron, launch to support Grumble,” he ordered. “Eagle Squadron will remain in reserve.”

“Oh, they’re going to hate that,” Carola commented. Markus chuckled. Fighter jet pilots had been hot dogs ever since fighters had been invented, an attitude that had transferred into the gunboat pilots. “Unless someone else decides to intervene…”

Both of the Hegemony ships had disconnected from the station and were moving past the other Galactic starships, blinking their running lights in salute. Markus caught himself tapping on the console in irritation as they waited, wondering just what the Funks were doing. Delaying their destruction as long as possible, or… hoping that the gunboat life support would run out before the Canaries started enforcing their orders with force. Gunboats were a new concept for the Galactics, but they didn't need their blueprints to calculate a rough estimate for how long their life support could endure.

A display appeared in front of them and he studied it thoughtfully. Most starships with a heavy cruiser mass needed to be some distance from the planet before they opened a gateway into quantum space. The Association’s safety regulations were overcautious – humanity hadn’t been the first the first race to realise that it was possible to shave a few ten-thousand kilometres off the safety line without risking serious consequences – but the Funks would still need to leave the protective cover of the Canary forts before they could escape, even if they attempted to leave at the minimum safe distance from Place of Meetings. There would be at least seven minutes between the forts and a safe distance, allowing the gunboats their chance to intercept the enemy ships. Captain Walsh was already broadcasting an offer to accept surrender, but if the Funks had been unwilling to be interned, they weren’t likely to surrender.

“Here we go,” he said, as the Grumbles formed up on his position. Both of the Hegemony ships were advancing past the forts, a pair of ugly blunt instruments studded with sensors and weapons blisters. The Association had termed a particular class of superdreadnoughts the
 
Blunt Instrument
-class, showing a wry sense of humour that was surprisingly human. Markus doubted that the Funks got the joke. “All Grumbles, your target is the heavy cruiser; Ivans, concentrate on the light cruiser.”

“These buggers have point defence,” Carola added, a moment later. The Association had designed the light cruiser to provide additional protection for superdreadnoughts, replacing torpedo launchers with additional phase cannon and particle beam generators. Markus suspected that similar ships would be pressed into the anti-gunboat role until the Hegemony produced a dedicated design or constructed gunboats of its own. Estimates of how long that would take ranged from a year to never. “Watch yourself.”

“Go,” Markus ordered.

The gunboats slipped forward, instantly accelerating to near-maximum speed. The distance between the two forces closed rapidly, pushing the Hegemony ships into opening fire as soon as the gunboats came into range. It was unlikely that they’d actually score any hits at such a range, but it forced the gunboats to break formation and evade long before they’d planned to slip into attack formation. Someone had studied the records from their first operation and drawn sensible conclusions, Markus noted sourly. By now, the entire galaxy would be aware of the war – and of some of the new weapons humanity had deployed. And not all of them were as poor as the Hegemony at developing their own technology.

“They’re firing as soon as they get a lock,” Carola observed, as the gunboats corkscrewed through space. “Not standard practice, but clever given what they’re facing. One hit and we’re screwed…”

A spread of white antimatter torpedoes launched from the heavy cruiser. Markus evaded desperately, seconds before the first torpedo exploded between two of his gunboats, wiping them both from existence.
 
That
 
hadn't been anticipated, an oversight that would cost his squadron dear. But what sort of madman would consider using antiship torpedoes against gunboats? Someone on the other side was clever, or desperate. The expense of replacing the torpedoes would be worthwhile if they managed to get out of the system intact.

“Closing into attack range,” he grunted. The enemy was shifting fire now, attempting to force the gunboats to separate and fly individual attack runs. It was a clever tactic too, he noted absently, although it wouldn't be as useful as they expected. The human weapons designers had improved upon the original implosion bolt to the point where even a single hit would do some damage. “Fire at will.”

The gunboats engaged, launching a spread of implosion bolts towards their targets while evading the increasingly desperate fire from the heavy cruiser. One of the gunboats was hit, either through luck or skill, but the remainder kept firing, pouring implosion bolts into the ship’s hull. No significant damage was done to the drives, but several of the weapons blisters were disabled, limiting the cruiser’s ability to hurt the gunboats as they swooped around and came back in for a second run.

Information flickering between the gunboats noted which enemy weapons had been taken out and how it could be used to reduce the losses on the next attack run. The Hegemony ship was twisting, trying to allow the rest of its weapons to engage the gunboats, but there was no way it could move fast enough to bring its weapons to bear. Ivan Squadron had disabled the light cruiser, which kept firing with a fanatical determination even though the crew had to know that they weren't going to leave the system alive. Markus could have respected their courage under other circumstances, but right now they were just in the way.

Another spread of antimatter torpedoes were launched, but this time the gunboats were ready and accelerated away before they could explode. The heavy cruiser staggered as implosion bolts cut deeply into her hull, yet somehow she kept going. Her comrade wasn't so lucky; less heavily-armored, she exploded when implosion bolts cut through into her drive rooms and her fusion plants blew. One of the Ivans was caught in the explosion; the others swooped around and fell upon the heavy cruiser.

“Shit,” Carola said.

Markus yanked the gunboat around as emergency icons flared up on the display. The Funks were still far from the minimum safe distance, but they were trying to open a quantum gate! They had to be insane – but then, they knew they were doomed if they remained in the system. The odds of dying when they opened the gate were higher than the odds of surviving the battle. Markus led the Grumbles towards the ship’s drive section, but it was too late. Space tore open and the quantum gate manifested, spilling out gravity waves that bounced the gunboats as if they were floating on a sea. He saw the gate with his naked eyes and knew instantly that something was badly wrong. Gates were normally spinning discs of light, shimmering into existence in front of the starships. This one was a spitting funnel of energy, ethereal tentacles reaching out for the heavy cruiser. Markus could almost have sworn that it was a living creature, just before the Funks started moving towards the vortex. They
 
had
 
to be insane. Nothing could enter that vortex and make it safely into quantum space. Sheets of energy were flashing through space, just waiting for them.