First Strike (41 page)

His suit’s visor dimmed automatically as the antimatter charges detonated, sending colossal fireballs racing down the superstructure and into the half-constructed ships. They blew apart, throwing massive pieces of debris into the remaining parts of the shipyard. He found himself laughing as a Funk cruiser, caught docked to the shipyard, was destroyed before her crew could even begin to disengage and retreat. They probably hadn't realised what had hit them until it was already too late.

The devastation swallowed up the massive industry built to support the shipyard, certainly at least five to ten percent of the entire Funk space-based industry. Even
 
they
 
had to be hurt by so much destruction and the loss of a valuable investment; God alone knew how many clans had just seen their entire financial resources wiped out. The Funks weren’t even familiar with the concept of insurance! If they won the war, they were still going to be weakened compared to the other Galactics. Maybe the Tarn would work up the nerve to jump them while they were still reeling from the loss of one of their major shipyards.

Piece of debris were flying everywhere, some heading down towards the planet. Conrad hoped that they would burn up in the atmosphere, if the Funk defenders didn't blow them into more manageable chunks first. If pieces of Skylab could survive the passage through Earth’s atmosphere, he was sure that pieces of metal built to Galactic standards could come down hard on a planetary surface. The results might be devastating. But no one, not even the Empress, would be able to cover up what had happened.

His suit rocked suddenly as a tractor beam caught hold. With bloody-minded persistence, the Funks were
 
still
 
trying to capture the Marines, even though they might be better off recovering the remaining workforce before they all died in the vastness of space. The analysts had claimed that losing the workforce alone would cripple the Funk industries, forcing them to retrain workers from the planet and hire experienced personnel from the other Galactics. Who knew how many of them might be in the pay of humanity?

He looked up at the Funk shuttle and felt an odd calm sinking over him. There was no escape, not now. He remembered Cindy and felt a twinge of remorse, but there was no time to record a message for her. The one he’d left on
 
Formidable
 
would have to suffice.

As they pulled him into the shuttle’s hatch, he calmly deactivated the suit’s safety precautions and overloaded the plasma confinement chamber. The world vanished in a blinding flash.

* * *

“Gunboats have picked up two of the Marines,” Spinner reported. “We haven’t been able to pick up beacons from the others, but they might be lying low...”

Markus nodded. Two Hegemony battlecruisers were already playing catch with
 
Formidable
. He should have ordered the carrier to break off and withdraw ten minutes ago, but he wasn't going to abandon the Marines as long as there was a chance to get them out alive. And yet…. could he risk the entire ship for a handful of Marines? They'd known the risks going into the mission.

“Recall the remaining gunboats,” he ordered. The guilt would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life, but there was no other choice. It wouldn't take long for the Funks to get other ships out, once they realised that there was little hope of rescuing survivors from the shipyard or salvaging enough to make recovery worthwhile. “We’ll bug out as soon as they’re within gate range of us.”

He shook his head. By any standards, the mission had been a monumental success. The Funks hadn't just been embarrassed, they’d been humiliated. And their people would see just how badly their defenders had failed them. No amount of scapegoating could save the Empress now. Surely even the Funks would give up the war when they couldn't even guarantee the safety of their homeworld.

“And transmit the propaganda as we leave,” he added. “We might as well ensure that they know what we’ve done.”
 

Task Force Retribution was the single most powerful force assembled by the Hegemony outside of Home Fleet. Lady Dalsha was not blind to the implications of the Empress giving her the command, clearly calculating that an outcast who had been disowned by her clan wouldn't be able to seize the throne and declare herself Empress. Her trust had limits, as the presence of a number of Ghost Soldiers indicated; Ghosts were known for being completely loyal to the Empress and being ready to execute anyone at her merest whim. Lady Dalsha had orders to take her fleet to Earth and crush the human race. Any other direction would have signed her death warrant.

Fifteen superdreadnoughts made up the core of her fleet, backed by two squadrons of battlecruisers, three squadrons of heavy cruisers and seventy destroyers. It had been decided that there was no point in including a ground assault element, not when the human race had had years to prepare for an invasion. They’d either force Earth to surrender or systematically bombard the planet into radioactive debris. Even if they encountered Earth’s full strength, Lady Dalsha was confident of victory. Not being confident would also have signed her death warrant.

The Task Force had another advantage that hadn't been granted to other forces that faced the human race. Lady Dalsha had trained them hard, incorporating all the lessons learned through previous battles against human technology. The humans might be ridiculously inventive, but they weren't gods, a theme she had hammered into her personnel’s heads until they believed her. What the humans had done so far was shocking, yes, yet they weren't invincible. They could be beaten. And besides, most of their fleet was trying to hammer its way towards Hegemony Prime. They’d be surprised when their homeworld was captured or destroyed – and where would they go, if their worlds were lost to them? Their ships wouldn't be able to keep operating without supplies and no one would be helping them. Even the Tarn would give up the humans rather than face the Hegemony’s wrath.

She looked down at the display showing her fleet and smiled, coldly. Some of the fleet's officers whispered that she’d been beaten by the humans and returned, a gesture of contempt that echoed back to the days before the First Empress. Such people could never be trusted fully, not when they’d been pushed into submission. They might have moved against her if the Empress hadn't sent the Ghosts, allowing them to watch her back while she planned her war against Earth. But the Ghosts might have orders to remove her anyway once the battle was won. The Empress wouldn't want anyone else claiming the credit for the victory.

There was a hiss from the speaker. “My Lady, you have a priority call from Hegemony Prime,” the communications officer said. He was a male, oddly enough, serving as something of a mascot for the female officers on the ship. And a leman when they wanted to mate. Apparently the humans had similar problems, only reversed. “The Empress wishes to speak with you directly.”

“Put her through,” Lady Dalsha ordered. A direct call from the Empress could not be rejected, not if one wanted to keep one’s head on one’s shoulders. The Empress’s face appeared in front of her, looking tired and worn, almost defeated. “My Empress…”

“The humans have attacked Hegemony Prime,” the Empress said. Lady Dalsha stared at her mistress, her mind reeling. Had they been forced to surrender? “A raid, but one that inflicted staggering damage for minimal cost. The shipyards have been destroyed.”

Lady Dalsha felt her mouth drop open in shock. The human pirate who had led the attack on Tauscher had taken down two entire clans, both losing everything and entering permanent servitude as the only way to pay their debts. But both of those clans had been small, hardly significant compared to the other clans. The destruction of the shipyards would have crippled over a dozen other clans, including some of the ones who had backed the slow pressure on humanity that would have led to eventual annexation. And a few who hadn't cared one way or the other would probably go down too. It didn't take much imagination to visualise the slow collapse that would eventually lead to civil war...

…And the High Clan would go down as well. By law laid down by the First Empress herself, the High Clan maintained a stake in each and every space-based industry or facility built by the Hegemony. In the case of the shipyards, the High Clan had poured vast sums of money into the facility, unwilling to trust other clans with control over one of the most vital facilities in the entire Hegemony. The High Clan was the richest in the Hegemony by a very long way, but could even its resources survive the loss?

It might have been worse than the humans had anticipated when they’d struck at Hegemony-Prime. Lady Dalsha knew that
 
her
 
former clan had accepted loans from the High Clan, loans that helped keep them firmly under control. How many others had done the same? What would happen when those clans went under because they ran out of money to pay their debts? If there was only one clan, the entire population would be enslaved and sold off to help pay for their debts, but what if most of the clans went down? Some of the most powerful aristocrats in the Hegemony wouldn't accept slavery tamely. Why not take up arms against the Empress? They might just win.

And many of them had friends, family and allies among the military. The Empress had tried hard to keep the defences of Hegemony Prime under her direct control, but some of the female officers had probably been subverted. And males didn't have the imagination to realise that they were being ordered to wage war against the Empress or the independent mindset to refuse if they did. Outright civil war would turn bloody very quickly as the remains of the shipyard burned up in the planet’s atmosphere.

She found herself looking closely at the Empress. Was that
 
shooting
 
she could hear in the background? The Imperial Palace was the most heavily-defended building on the planet, but no building was invulnerable, even one that the attackers needed reasonably intact to support their claims to being the new Empress. And if the Empress fell...

The High Clan had survived because it allowed no strong rivals. That much was clear, even though many of the other clans had power enough to block the Empress if they united on a single issue. If the High Clan fell, there would be no single dominant power, no unifying leader. Without a strict dictator who could keep things in order...

…The entire Hegemony might collapse into chaos.

“My Empress,” she said, slowly, “do you need me to bring my fleet to Hegemony Prime and...?”

“No,” the Empress snapped. “You are ordered to depart at once for Earth, observing strict communications silence along the way. Once you arrive at their homeworld, you are to demand surrender – and if they refuse, you are to exterminate every last human within the solar system. Once you have cleansed their filthy system, you are to do the same to their other colonies. There will be no second chance to surrender.”

Lady Dalsha hesitated. She could understand the need to exterminate humanity before they reached a position that would allow them to crack the Hegemony like an eggshell, but it would enrage the Galactics, particularly the ones who already hated the Hegemony. If enough Galactics agreed, they could probably put together a fleet that would crush the Hegemony – or what remained of it. It would be the end of her people’s independence...

…But if the Empress lost her head, and the Hegemony had a civil war, her people were doomed anyway. At least humanity wouldn't be around to expand into a power vacuum caused by the civil war.

“I understand, My Empress,” Lady Dalsha said. She wanted to say something reassuring, but the code that bound her people together admitted of no reassurance from an inferior to a superior. The Empress was likely to die long before the fleet reached Earth on its final voyage. What could she do once she had carried out her final order? The remains of the Hegemony might need her, if the Galactics didn't intervene...

“Good luck,” the Empress said. She smiled, suddenly. “And thank you for carrying out your duty, even now. Not everyone is so loyal.”

Her face vanished from the display. Lady Dalsha stared at the blank screen for a long moment, and then tapped her communicator, issuing orders. At least activity would keep her busy long enough to keep her from brooding. There would be time for that later, once the fleet was as ready to attack as she could make it. And she had ensured that no one could communicate with the outside world until after the battle.

One hour later, the task force jumped into quantum space and started its voyage towards Earth.

* * *

What if I’m wrong
?

The question echoed through Tobias’s mind as the First Strike Fleet raced back towards Earth, desperately preparing for a final confrontation. He was the Admiral in command, yet he had little to do once he’d issued his orders apart from paperwork...and brooding. What if he was wrong? History was littered with commanders who had misjudged their enemies and ended up with egg on their faces – or dead. And
 
they
 
had been guessing at enemies who at least shared a same basic humanity. The Funks were very far from human.

Human commanders had cursed the development of radio – and satellite communications networks – because they made it easy for their superiors to intervene. Tobias was old enough to hear stories about how micromanaging politicians had issued orders from the safety of Washington to the troops on the ground, orders that often bore little resemblance to reality. At least the Federation Navy spent much of its time on deployment outside of easy communications range, allowing him latitude to make his own decisions – but then, the disunity of the Federation Council made it easier to run the war. They set the objective; Tobias and his subordinates concentrated on making it happen.

But right now, he would have sold his soul for a far more capable form of interstellar communications network. In quantum space, they were blind. It was impossible to tell if
 
Formidable
 
had succeeded in her mission, or if the Funks had realised what she was and destroyed her before she could launch her gunboats. And… what if the data they’d picked up from the pirate king was inaccurate. If the Funks had left a week earlier than reported, it was possible that they’d already reached Earth while the Federation Navy remained in quantum space. They might return home to discover that their world was a charred cinder, with the defence force burning in space. What would be left for them, but revenge?

He’d passed on a coded warning to Sun, who would command the fleet defending Earth, but he hadn't gone into details about his own plans. Once they reached Earth, he intended to keep the First Strike Fleet under cloak, well away from the shipping lanes. The Funks would probably have the system under observation and would report to their commanders if a fleet of cruisers arrived from Hammerfall. He suspected that smaller ships would soon recover the wrecked system in the name of the Hegemony, but it would be a pointless victory. The loss of Garston would be more serious.

And there was another danger. If the Federation Council declared a state of emergency, warning Earth’s population to get to the shelters, there would be panic – and enemy observation ships might pick up on it. The shipyards would have to be evacuated, the asteroid mining colonies would have to go dark… all precautions that were senseless, unless someone expected an attack. If the Funks realised that their arrival had been anticipated, they might change their plans. Or maybe they’d attack anyway. If
 
Formidable
 
had succeeded, the Hegemony was going to have a very rough time of it before it pulled back together. Taking out Earth would cripple the human race.

But that decision wasn't his, thankfully. He just had to assume the worst.

The Admiral had no one he could confide in, not even his aide. He was solely responsible for the First Strike Fleet, the man who ordered it into battle. No one could become close to him without violating regulations. Lower ranks might be allowed to fraternise provided they were careful about who they slept with – and gunboat pilots enjoyed a degree of freedom no other personnel could dream of – but the Admiral was alone. Some military officers in the past had enjoyed having their mistresses or even their wives with him, yet Tobias would never have been able to allow himself to fall so far. The Federation Navy
 
needed
 
a tradition where its officers didn't rub their advantages in the faces of the enlisted men.

Shaking his head, he headed for his bunk and sleep. His officers knew to wake him if there was a problem, such as an energy storm that forced them to alter course. And he needed rest before arriving at Earth, assuming they weren't too late.

And what if he was wrong?

Despite himself, he got very little sleep that night.

* * *

The President of the United States didn’t care for Admiral Sun and he suspected that the feeling was mutual. It had been the United States that had blocked Sun’s candidature for the Federation Navy’s Chief of Naval Operations, a political deal that had been planned with the Russians to ensure that General Chekov was named Supreme Allied Commander Extra-Solar Expeditionary Force, and Sun presumably suspected it. Even an officer from a state where it was unwise to dissent too openly with one’s superiors could resent his superiors; officers like that were often the best intelligence sources in the business.