First Strike

First Strike

Christopher G. Nuttall

For Aisha,

The love of my life.

First Strike copyright 2014 Henchman Press

Cover image copyright 2014 Henchman Press

http://www.henchmanpress.com

Cover art by Jack Giesen

Cover design by Jen Atkinson

Edited by Leo Champion

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

HENUCFS601-EBAM-01409

ISBN-10 1-941620-02-7

ISBN-13 978-1-941620-02-1

Published in the United States of America.

Also by Chris Nuttall:

The Empire’s Corps

The Empire’s Corps

No Worse Enemy

When the Bough Breaks

Semper Fi

The Outcast

To the Shores

Reality Check

Retreat Hell

The Thin Blue Line

Ark Royal

Ark Royal

The Nelson Touch

The Trafalgar Gambit

Royal Sorceress

The Royal Sorceress

The Great Game

Necropolis

Schooled in Magic

Schooled in Magic

Lessons in Etiquette

Study in Slaughter

Imperium Cicernus

On The Imperium’s Secret Service

Death to the Imperium

Rebels and Patriots

Ure Infectus

Bookworm

Bookworm

The Very Ugly Duckling

Outside Context Problem

Outside Context Problem

Under Foot

The Slightest Hope of Victory

Democracy’s Right

Democracy’s Right

Democracy’s Might

Martial Law

Patriotic Treason

Picking Up The Pieces

Standalone

Sufficiently Advanced Technology

Guardian Glass

Invasion

The Invasion of 1950

The Fall of Night

A Learning Experience

Their Darkest Hour

A Life Less Ordinary

Barbarians at the Gates

Knight’s Move

Storming Heaven

The Living Will Envy The Dead

Science and Sorcery

The Coward’s Way of War

The Cross-Time Road Trip

The Black Knife

Alone

It was a clear day over North America.

The President of the United States stared down at his country and felt despair. He’d felt little else since the first message had intruded its way into the United States Secure Communications Network, a network that hundreds of experts had claimed to be completely secure. The message had reached him and the leaders of the four other permanent members of the United Nations Security Council, inviting them to come to a remote location and meet with representatives from another world. He’d decided to go, even though the Secret Service had been horrified at the thought. The President of the United States would be going alone into the alien landing craft and flying to orbit.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sight. Earth was beautiful from orbit, a blue-green globe; if he stared, he fancied that he could make out the New Jersey coastline. And yet it seemed so vulnerable, a vulnerability that their host had demonstrated by his mere presence. The alien craft – one of their freighters, apparently – had remained undetected until its owner had chosen to make his presence known. It spoke volumes about humanity’s vulnerability to an alien threat.

“My civilization is in decline,” their host had said. He’d called himself Mentor, which suggested to the President – a keen science-fiction reader in his teens – that the aliens had spent literally
 
years
 
studying Earth. The thought of alien anthropologists watching humanity was horrifying – God alone knew what the aliens had made of humanity’s inhumanity to its own kind – but if their host was to be believed, there were people out among the stars with less friendly motives. “The barbarians are at the gates. Your people do not have long to prepare.”

The President, away from the network of analysts and briefers who prepared him for diplomatic meetings on Earth, wasn't sure that he had followed the explanation. Their host, who looked rather like a humanoid cat, complete with fur, had apparently broken the rules of his own society by coming to Earth. He’d offered humanity technology that would solve many of Earth’s problems, if they had time to put it into production. And if they didn't, he’d warned, Earth was in the way of at least one expanding civilization. The kindest outcome would be humanity being locked out of space forever. He didn’t want to
 
think
 
about the other possibilities.

He looked over at his counterparts, the leaders of Britain, France, Russia and China. They shared the same stunned expression he knew dominated his own face. A week ago, they’d been confident that they knew their place in the world; now, the entire universe had turned upside down. There was a deadly threat out there and they had to prepare, but none of them really trusted the others, not when there was so much at stake. The nation that first put the alien technology to use would have an unbeatable advantage. For all of the idealism the President allowed himself in the privacy of his own thoughts, he knew that the idea of toppling the United States from the position of global superpower would be very attractive to his peers.

And as long as we’re scrabbling like children who have been thrown a handful of dollars
, he thought sourly,
 
the millionaires will draw their plans against us
.

He cleared his throat. “I think that we have to face facts,” he said. But in truth he didn't know what the facts really were. Was their alien visitor telling the truth? There was no independent verification of everything he’d said. The President had looked into Roswell and other reported UFO contacts when he’d taken office, but the Air Force had assured him that the stories were nothing, but fabrications. Earth’s first contact with alien life was standing right in front of him. “Our petty conflicts mean nothing in the face of what is bearing down on us.”

There was no argument. A different issue, less momentous, would have caused bitter – if polite – scrabbling. “We have to make use of this gift,” the President continued. Mentor had demanded nothing in return, but the President was too experienced a politician to take that at face value. “We have to prepare for more formal contact.”

Years ago, he recalled from a history briefing he’d had before a diplomatic trip abroad, an American officer called Commodore Perry had forced the isolated state of Japan to open up and establish unequal treaties with the West. The British and other Europeans had done the same to China, but where the Japanese had managed to defend themselves and stave off Western aggression – and indulged some aggression of their own – the Chinese had never managed to adapt before they were overwhelmed. And the Native Americans had never stood a chance. The political and military disparity had simply been insurmountable.

“You have ten of your years at most,” Mentor informed the small group. “By then, Earth will certainly be noticed by the expanding powers. If you cannot defend yourselves by then, you will be lost.”

“Well,” the President said, finally. “It’s time to begin.”

15 years later

“Ambassador,” a voice said from behind her.

Ambassador Li Shan turned to see a Cat emerging from the shadows. She had to fight to keep the surprise off her face. The message summoning her had been urgent, specific – and unsigned. It had bidden her to come to a certain location on Center’s immense flying city, using a channel that was only open to Ambassadors from the Galactics. She’d heard stories about how the Ambassadors to the Association’s Commune used the system to strike secret deals that affected the fates of thousands of star systems, but she’d never been invited to take part. Why should she? Earth was a tiny planet and the human race only laid claim to eight systems – nine if one counted Terra Nova. The entire human race would vanish like a drop of water in milk if placed against the trillions of aliens that inhabited the galaxy. Earth was nothing to them.

The Cats – the founders of the Association - were roughly humanoid, with faces that reminded humans of felines from Earth, but they were covered in fur that changed colour to reflect their mood. No one knew much about their biology, but they’d made themselves immortal hundreds – perhaps thousands – of years ago. Since then, they’d had almost no children at all. And many of the other senior races were in the same boat. The previous Ambassador had joked that the boat was the
 
Titanic
. Shan found it hard to disagree with him.

“Your Excellency,” Shan said. The Cats were the senior partners in the Association – everyone knew it, until the day came that the Association collapsed under its own weight. “I received your message.”

Inwardly, she was thinking fast. It was rare for any Cat to talk directly to any of the younger races – Mentor had been a criminal by their laws, after all. Even the Cats who moderated in the Commune rarely interacted with anyone outside the colossal building that served as the Association’s debating chamber and parliament. Shan had always assumed that, like the Emperors of Imperial China, they’d simply been too important to talk to mere barbarians from a minor world on the other side of the galaxy. Why should they have cared about Earth?

The Cat produced a datachip from his fur and passed it over to her. “Take this,” he said. “It contains vital information. Warn your world.”

Shan stared down at the chip. “Warn my world about what?”

The Cat started to turn and walk away. “About the oncoming storm,” he said. “You may have a chance to save your world.”

Shan watched him step into one of the side corridors and vanish, before she pocketed the chip and headed back to her office. It was rare – practically unprecedented – for the Cats to interfere directly in politics. Mentor had been an exception, but no-one knew what had happened to him. What did the Cats do to criminals anyway? In all her time on Center, Shan had never been able to find out the answer.

When she’d first arrived on Center, the capital of the Association, Shan had been awed by the view from the embassy. The Association had been exploring space and laying the groundwork for the quantum gate network since before humanity had learned to produce fire on demand and it showed. Hundreds of tall spindly buildings reached up towards the sky, testament to an alien aesthetic that turned creation into an act of joy, while thousands of starships glided through the skies overhead. The capital city floated on antigravity generators that cost more than twenty times Earth’s combined GNP to maintain. It looked as if the Association was still powerful, still in the grip of the uncanny self-confidence that had led its founder race to the stars. Earth – poor primitive Earth, only aware of the existence of alien races for the last fifteen years – could not have hoped to match what the Association had built over the centuries.

And yet, the Association was dying. It seemed absurd – the Association’s founder race had developed a form of biological immortality – but it was true. Theirs was a civilization in decline, burning up its resources and slowly becoming dependent on other races to maintain its infrastructure. The low birth-rate only contributed to the slow collapse into senility as the aging population, unable to die, lost interest in the universe around them. A society that could have rolled over Earth any time it chose was finding it harder and harder to care about the rest of the galaxy. They were already abandoning hundreds of colony worlds and migrating inwards towards Center. And the power vacuum they left behind was slowly being filled by other races, races more interested in seizing power for themselves than terminal navel-gazing. One day, the Association would look up and see those races landing on their homeworld, claiming their technology and their population. The Association was going to fall and fall hard.

Shan was Chinese, a veteran of diplomacy on Earth and Communist Party infighting in China in the chaos that had followed First Contact. Human sociologists had claimed that the Association bore some resemblance to Manchu China, back before the Communist Party had seized the reins of power, something that China had used to win the post of Ambassador for her. Personally, Shan wasn't so sure. Unlike the China of the Boxer Rebellion, the Association could have smashed all of its potential enemies within a few months, if they worked up the nerve to impose their will on the universe once again. The mighty dreadnoughts orbiting high overhead might have been hundreds of years old, but they were still formidable. But they didn't have the will to accept casualties any longer. They preferred to close their eyes and pretend that the universe no longer mattered to them.

But all the denial in the universe wouldn't change the fundamental truth. Throughout the thousands of worlds settled by the Association, hundreds of millions of guest workers supplied services that the Association could no longer be bothered to do for itself. Those workers, including humans, were raising families and claiming rights, even as the Association became increasingly dependent upon them. The Association was slowly losing control over its infrastructure – and those who were aware that there was a problem, such as Mentor, were isolated. One day, they’d realise... but by then it would be too late.

It was hard to care about the Association – even the most benevolent Oligarch was utterly convinced of his own superiority over members of the younger races – but Shan knew that if the Association fell, humanity would be caught up in the chaos. There were a dozen races out there that would love to lay claim to Earth, if only to nip another potential competitor in the bud. The Hegemony – who had pushed humanity out of its first colony on an Earth-like world, Terra Nova – wanted humans firmly under their thumb. Humans were good at making otherwise inhospitable worlds habitable, creating new territory for the ruling Empress. And Earth’s tiny sphere was blocking the Hegemony’s line of advance towards the Rim. They had good reasons for wanting to suppress humanity before Earth became too powerful.

And maybe Earth’s time had just run out.

* * *

Admiral Tobias Sampson, Chief of Naval Operations, was a tall, powerfully-built man with short brown hair and a reputation for not suffering fools gladly. His family had served in the United States Navy ever since there had
 
been
 
a United States Navy and there had never been any question of what Tobias would do with his life – until Mentor arrived and turned Earth upside down. Tobias, already marked down as a captain to watch, had transferred to the Federation Navy – humanity’s combined space force – almost as soon as it was created. He’d risen to the top through a mixture of supreme competence and canny politicking, even though he still regretted never having had a chance to command a starship in action.

The Federation – Earth’s semi-united world government – was a hodgepodge that puzzled the Galactics, who seemed to have assumed that humanity would gladly create a world government once it knew that there were other intelligent races in the universe. Humans being humans, unity didn't come that easily; the Federation, unlike the United Nations, was dominated by the nations that paid the bills. None of them were prepared to give up more than a little independence, leaving the Federation heavily dependent on consensus-building in order to function. If there hadn't been a consensus, particularly after Terra Nova, that the Federation had to be strong enough to stand up to the Galactics, Tobias wouldn't have given a rusty dollar for its chances.

But Terra Nova had rubbed humanity’s collective face in its own inferiority. It had been the first Earth-like world to be settled by humanity – and, unlike the other colonies, it had been settled by colonists from all over the globe. Americans had rubbed shoulders with Iranians, Russians had lived next to Chinese… some of the sociologists had claimed that that was a recipe for disaster, but they’d never had the chance to find out. Five years after the planet had been settled, with over three hundred thousand humans living on the surface, the Hegemony – the Funks, as humans called them - had bullied the Association into ceding the planet to them. Terra Nova was now governed by a Hegemony Governor, ruling over a sizable human population. The reports of conditions on the surface – including some from Tobias’ daughter and son-in-law – were not good.

He looked around the table, meeting the eyes of the thirteen most powerful men and women in the world. They’d come to Iceland secretly, ensuring that the media didn't catch wind of what was going on until the national governments could decide how to handle the new crisis. Critics claimed that the rest of the world was excluded, but Tobias found it hard to care. Not every nation actually wanted to pay for its own defence, yet they all thought they should have a vote on the Federation Council. Anyone could play, if they paid. The Federation Navy alone cost billions every year, as well as pretty much all of Earth’s limited trade balance with the Galactics.

“The message from Ambassador Li makes our position quite clear,” he said. The world leaders had already had time to digest the message. “The Hegemony has found a fig leaf to claim our territory for themselves. We expect that they will demand that we surrender peacefully to them – and if we refuse, they will bring their forces to bear against us and crush our resistance.”

“My God,” the French President said. “And there’s no hope that the Association can be convinced to change its mind?”

“Li was not hopeful,” Tobias said. “Unfortunately, there are limits to the ways we can influence the Association ourselves. The Oligarchs are richer than the combined human race, so we cannot bribe even one of them. And even if we did, committing the Association to war against the Hegemony would be hugely unpopular on Center. It would mean political suicide for those who proposed it.”

“But they can't just give away our territory like that,” the American President protested. “We own it; we developed it...”

“I think your Native Americans might have felt the same way,” the Russian President pointed out. “They could never understand how white men signing papers on the other side of the sea meant that their territories could be taken away and their populations destroyed. The Association is convinced that it owns us and they have precedent on their side.”

“Might makes right,” the British Prime Minister said, in disgust.

“Historically, treaties and international law only work as long as someone is willing to uphold them by force,” Tobias said grimly. “When they discovered Earth, we certainly didn't have the ability to dispute their ownership – we didn’t even know that we
 
had
 
been discovered and claimed. The Hegemony will use the fig leaf they have to justify taking control of us. Our independence will come to an end.”

He met the eyes of the American President, willing him to believe. “The best case is that they will leave us with limited autonomy on Earth, provided we kiss their behinds loudly and often,” he added. “Humans have a reputation as hard workers, good soldiers and excellent technicians. They could certainly make use of us, but we’d never see the benefits of our own labour. The worst case...

“The worst case is that they wipe us out. Humanity will be exterminated from the universe. There may be some humans left alive in the Association’s territory, but the Hegemony could presumably bring pressure to bear on the Association to expel them. The human race would come to an end.”

“Jesus,” the American President said. “They’re that determined?”

“The Hegemony is dominated by a race that has a historical urge – almost a genetic compulsion – to reach out and take as much in the way of resources as it can,” Tobias said, gently. “All of their other borders are occupied by powers that could put up more of a fight than ourselves – and a lost war would be a political disaster for the ruling Empress. So would holding what they have and refusing to expand any further. The only real target for expansion is us.”

“I see,” the Russian President said. “We will fight, of course.”

“If we wait for them to attack us, we will lose,” Tobias said, flatly. He felt his heart starting to race as they looked at him. There was a very real possibility that he was committing career suicide himself merely by bringing the proposal to their attention. Only five people knew about the plan; himself and four tactical analysts. “We have to strike first.”

There was a long pause. “You just told us that we would lose a war,” the French President said, coldly. “Why do you assume that we can win by starting one?”

Tobias tapped a key and a holographic star chart appeared above the table, the Nine Stars – Earth and its colonies – in the center. Terra Nova, occupied by enemy forces, was blinking orange, while the stars claimed by the Hegemony were blinking red. Space was a three-dimensional combat environment, something that confused many civilians who didn't understand why the Federation Navy couldn't guarantee safety.