First Strike (30 page)

Shan watched her go, and then walked back into her office. Whatever else could be said of her, the Great Lady would not have come on such a mission without permission from her superiors. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to end the war before it was too late. Or maybe the Hegemony had been hurt badly enough that they couldn't settle for anything less than total victory. There was no way to know. She’d report it to Earth and hope that wiser minds than herself might be able to decide what to do next.

* * *

Hammerfall had once been a proud system, the linchpin of a defensive line intended to keep any aggressor away from the core worlds. Now… it had been crippled. After a frigate had struck a mine and had been almost destroyed, most of the remaining starships had had to withdraw to higher orbits where they would be reasonably safe. Or so Lady Dalsha hoped. It was impossible to say just how many mines the humans had laid, or precisely where they’d all gone as they drifted into orbit around Hammerfall. Some of them even seemed to have been rigged to explode when they picked up an active sensor sweep at close range. None of the fortresses could even risk dropping their shields, for fear that a mine would get through the shield boundary and detonate against their hulls. It was all a fearful mess.

The propaganda claimed that the Battle of Hammerfall had been a victory for the Hegemony, but the long list of destroyed or crippled starships told their own story. One way or another, the plans for a mighty counterattack would have to be put back weeks, perhaps months – and what if Earth was defended by similar missiles? The entire Hegemony Navy might be unable to break through the defences and range in on the planet. It was no help that most of the independent freighters travelling through the Hegemony had decided to go elsewhere, at the command of the Traders. If they couldn't find a way to crack through humanity’s network of mines, they might have to completely abandon the planet. And
 
that
 
would be difficult to justify to an increasingly angry population.

At least no one had questioned her command. The smarter ones probably reasoned that they didn't want to get the blame for the disaster; the stupider ones were probably too frightened to see the opportunity for advancement. But she needed to do
 
something
 
before the morale problem got out of hand. How long would it be before starship commanders started refusing to go up against human starships? Millions of rumours were spreading through the fleet, each one crazier than the last. The humans had built weapons that could take out a superdreadnought with a single shot, the humans had created a planet-killer that could eat an entire world and use the debris as fuel, the humans had created a form of rogue nanotech that could destroy an entire fleet in seconds. Each of the rumours had very little connection to the truth, but that didn't help. How could it?

The last update had stated that heavy reinforcements were still two weeks away from Hammerfall, if they didn't get diverted to inner defence lines. Apart from the homeworld itself, many of the inner worlds hadn't received updated defences before the war had begun, if only because fortifying the border had seemed more important. None of the planners had taken the humans seriously.

She stared down at the latest report and cursed under her breath. Sending a handful of smaller ships to raid Garston was – technically – exceeding her orders, but it might just win her some time. And if it didn't… at least the humans would be responding to her for a change. Anything that could slow down their offensive would be worth it.

And if the Empress disagreed, she’d lose her head.

Someone still had to take the blame, after all.

“The new guys are shaping up nicely.”

“Looks that way,” Markus agreed. He grinned over at his wife. “But how will we know until we actually see them in action?”

If there was one advantage of the pause at Garston, it was that Grumble Squadron had had a chance to get some downtime and integrate the new pilots and gunboats from Earth. Their mothership might have gone off to raid a Hegemony world with the other squadrons, but Grumble had been left behind at Garston. Part of Markus resented the fact that he’d been left behind to babysit the newcomers, yet he had to admit that the reformed squadron needed time to train. They’d never exercised with the newcomers before the war had begun.

Garston was slowly coming back to life, even if it
 
was
 
in the middle of a war. The various Galactic trading combines were still calling in and drawing HE3 from the gas giants, as well as making use of the facilities in orbit around the planet. Several of the freighters, Markus had heard, were almost certainly intelligence ships belonging to other interstellar powers, powers that had a keen interest in learning about the human weapons that had done so much to shatter entire Funk fleets. He’d asked if they should be training so publicly, but ONI had insisted – and ordered that the gunboats alter their IFF signatures on every flight, creating an impression of hundreds of gunboats ready to zoom into action. Privately Markus doubted that many of the Galactics would be fooled, yet the Hegemony could hardly take the chance of discovering the hard way that so many gunboats existed. They'd certainly be deterred from launching a counterattack until they worked out new tactics to deal with the gunboats.

“You were young once,” Carola gently reproved him. “You weren't born an ace pilot.”

“Of course I was,” Markus said mischievously. “My mother always said that I came out of the womb sporting a handlebar moustache.”

He shrugged. There had also been time for the Federation Council to approve the medals and promotions recommended by the post-battle assessment teams. The Federation didn't have its own medals for its crews, but both of them had been awarded the highest decorations of their homelands, as had a number of other pilots. And they’d given extensive interviews to the reporters, interviews that would encourage young cadets to try out for the gunboat training programs. The military hadn’t been so popular since the end of World War Two. Whatever doubts had fermented in the minds of civilians since the murky dawn of the War on Terror, they’d been blown away by the occupation of Terra Nova and the Hegemony’s ruthless pressure campaign against Earth. Now that Terra Nova had been liberated, humanity’s stock was rising high…

There was a chime from the console. “And now the drones are coming online,” he said. Four Funk ECM drones, captured when Garston fell to the Federation Navy, had been deployed to simulate Hegemony superdreadnoughts. They weren’t quite up to the standards of human technology, but they’d serve as targets for gunboat exercises. The pilots who got picked off by the – simulated – point defences would be buying the beer in Pilot Country afterwards.

“All Grumbles, form up on Grumble Five,” he ordered. He should have led the attack – and he would have, if it had been real – but all of the pilots needed to practice leading the charge. His luck would run out, sooner or later, as it had for Eagle’s CO, who’d died at Heavenly Gate. “Grumble Five...take us in as soon as you please.”

Grumble Five altered course and swooped down upon the simulated superdreadnoughts. Markus watched the chaotic formation with approval, even as the superdreadnoughts came to life and started to spit bursts of brilliant light towards the incoming gunboats. Their weapons systems had been upgraded by the simulation planners, who’d pointed out that – sooner or later – the Hegemony would find ways to improve its technology. Besides, if the gunboats practiced against tougher targets than they expected to encounter, it would make their operations much easier.

“Fire at will,” Grumble Fire ordered. “I say again; fire at will.”

Implosion bolts rained down on the lead superdreadnought, tearing into its hull. Unlike the ships the gunboats had targeted so far, superdreadnoughts were so heavily armored that it was difficult for the gunboats to inflict enough damage to destroy them quickly. But picking off their weapons and sensor blisters would cripple them, leaving their commanders forced to choose between withdrawing or becoming little more than sitting ducks for the human cruisers. Markus diverted part of his attention to check the overall exercise feed. The simulated superdreadnoughts were suffering, but not enough, not yet.

Their point defence was doing well too. A pair of gunboats had been blasted out of space in a moment of carelessness – one pilot was going to get chewed out when they got back to base – and another had narrowly avoided a burst of plasma fire that would have scorched the hull, if it had been real. Markus twisted his gunboat into an evasive pattern as they slashed closer to the lead superdreadnought, before pulling up and slipping into a new formation. The Hegemony had, so far, been content to ignore gunboats that were heading
 
away
 
from their targets, but it wouldn't be long before they realised that gunboat pilots had a tendency to fly predicable vectors while they were leaving and started programming their point defence to pick them off. Another gunboat died in a burst of simulated energy and Markus made a mental note to remind his pilots not to get cocky. A superdreadnought could soak up one hell of a lot of damage before exploding, but a gunboat could be wiped from existence by a single shot.

Still, the superdreadnoughts were starting to stagger under the weight of the gunboat attack. The rear superdreadnoughts started to drift closer to the lead ships, linking their point defence through the datanet into one entity. After what had happened at Hammerfall, the Hegemony would have plenty of incentive to tighten up their datanets and coordinate their fire against incoming ships. The point defence fire thickened until it seemed impossible that anything could survive, even something as small and nimble as a gunboat. Grumble Squadron pressed the attack, closing in to point blank range…

Markus cursed as his gunboat’s consoles flashed up a mocking message. He was dead. It rankled, even in a simulation. But it was preferable to being picked off in a real battle. In theory, gunboats were expendable compared to the heavier cruisers, yet the human race didn't have enough gunboats to swarm the entire Hegemony Navy. They’d have to hope that the new weapons and tactics that were already being rushed into development would even the odds. One gunboat – just one – survived the final assault.

“Well,” Markus said, as the exercise came to an end. “I hope we've all learned something from this…”

His radio buzzed. “Grumble Lead, this is System Command,” an unfamiliar voice said. “Long-range sensor platforms are picking up cloaking turbulence near your location. Request that you go active and ID the bandits.”

“Understood, System Command,” Markus said. The first order of business, once Garston’s high orbitals had been secure, had been to seed the system with stealthed sensor platforms, ones that were capable of picking up a quantum gate several light-days from the planet. Their passive sensors were remarkably capable – and they were almost undetectable unless someone happened to literally stumble across one of them. “We’re on our way.”

He switched back to the gunboat command channel. “All Grumbles, go active; I say again, go active. The exercise is terminated.”

Carola looked up from her console. “It’s a very minor contact,” she said. “It might be nothing more than a frigate trying to spy on us.”

“Or the sensor platform might just have picked up the tailing edge of an entire assault fleet,” Markus added. The Galactics had produced an impressive cloaking system for their starships, one that – as far as he knew – humanity hadn't managed to surpass. But a moving starship produced very faint turbulence that could be detected by a watching sensor platform, allowing the cloaked ships to be tracked to some degree. One way or another, they had to find out before the unknown ships got any closer to the planet. An attack fleet that managed to get into firing range was going to do a great deal of damage before it was destroyed. “Are you picking up anything on our own sensors?”

“No,” Carola admitted. The gunboat sensors were nowhere near as capable as the systems on the sensor platform. “But they have to know that we've seen them.”

Markus nodded. A squadron of gunboats flying directly towards the oncoming ship – or ships – would be hard to miss. He tossed possibilities around in his head as the distance closed, wondering just what was out there, trying to sneak in on Garston. A scout, or an attack fleet? They could be flying right into an ambush if the enemy commander had the nerve to wait until the gunboats entered attack range. Or… there were just too many possibilities, none of them good. There were only twelve gunboats in the system, after all – and the Hegemony would know it the moment the other gunboats failed to materialise. Maybe they’d be lucky and the unknown ship would be a simple destroyer.

“Picking up turbulence,” Carola snapped. “Datanet calls them targeting systems.”

“Evasive action,” Markus snapped. The icons for a dozen starships appeared in front of him, the heaviest a battlecruiser. Five battlecruisers and seven destroyers, enough to overwhelm many star systems – and there might be more waiting under cloak. A moment passed, and then the starships opened fire, trying to pick off the gunboats before they got too close. Their targeting systems had been improved, Markus noted; they’d had a chance to reprogram their computers after the first encounters at Garston and Heavenly Gate. “Prepare to attack.”

* * *

Tobias had been catching up on his sleep when the alarm rang, bringing
 
Nimitz
 
to general quarters. He threw himself out of his bunk, pulled on his trousers frantically and raced for the CIC, yanking his jacket off the hook and carrying it with him. It felt faintly absurd to be going into battle without any shoes on, but that would be the least of his worries if
 
Nimitz
 
was badly hit. Regulations stated that all crewmen were supposed to wear protective clothing if the ship was going into battle, yet Tobias had cancelled those orders. The protective shipsuits were simply too hot to wear for more than a few minutes.

“Report,” he barked, as he stepped into the CIC. The starship was coming to life around him, her systems flash-waking as she prepared for battle. Even human-designed technology couldn't be run at full power indefinitely, or wear and tear would grind the equipment down and eventually force the ship to return home for a full refitting. “What do we have?”

Commander Jake Lucas looked up from where he was filling in for Commander Sooraya Qadir, who’d been granted shore leave on Garston. Tobias had been allowing a handful of officers and men to take shore leave every day, giving them a chance to relax and explore an alien world. Now that some of the cities were reasonably peaceful, it had seemed safe enough.

“An inbound enemy attack fleet,” Lucas reported. “At least twelve starships, including five battlecruisers. The gunboat CAP is preparing to engage.”

“Call them back,” Tobias said, studying the display. The Hegemony ships had to have arrived several light-days from the star and made the rest of the transit in normal space. No one, not even the Cats or humanity, could open a quantum gate any closer to the star without being detected. And that suggested a degree of pre-planning that indicated that the Hegemony had finally recovered its balance. Hammerfall might have shocked some of them to the point where they were beginning to consider peace terms, at least according to Ambassador Li, but the Empress really needed a victory before she could end the war. “Twelve gunboats won’t make much of an impression on them.”

“No, sir,” Lucas agreed. “Admiral, all ships are reporting ready for action.”

“Good,” Tobias said. He’d been the attacker in every other battle fought by the Federation Navy; now he was the defender – and he didn't like it. Ideally, he would take his ships away from Garston and fight it out in open space – the Hegemony force
 
was
 
inferior to the First Strike Fleet – but that would mean leaving the planet’s orbital facilities open to attack. They had made some progress in pressing captured Hegemony automated weapons platforms into service, yet they wouldn't be enough to stand off an assault on Garston. And the uneasy peace on the planet below depended on the Federation Navy retaining control of the high orbitals.

In theory, the 1
st
 
Cruiser Squadron alone could handle the incoming fleet, but it would be tricky. Their shields might be more capable than the Hegemony shields, yet they’d be taking fire from several starships simultaneously, including torpedo fire. And every ship he lost hurt the Federation Navy more than every lost superdreadnought hurt the Hegemony...

And he couldn't afford to lose. “The 1
st
 
and 2
nd
 
Cruiser Squadrons are to form up on the flag and prepare to engage the enemy,” he ordered. “The 3
rd
 
Cruiser Squadron is to remain in orbit as a reserve.”

“Understood, Admiral,” Lucas said. His hands danced across his console. “Orders sent.”

“Take us out,” Tobias ordered. The Funks would see them coming, of course. One possibility was that they would simply jump back into quantum space and escape, without attempting to engage the human ships. The Funks might have been barbaric, but they were hardly stupid...and they'd know that Tobias’s fleet had smashed
 
superdreadnoughts
. “All units are to prepare to engage the enemy.”