First Strike (8 page)

They’d been given very specific orders before they’d undocked from Jupiter Station.
 
Pelican
 
and her crew was to depart the normal shipping line to Earth once they’d cleared the ring and head instead to a point roughly a light-year from Terra Nova. Quantum space didn't quite map onto normal space perfectly, one of the reasons why early explorers had tended to get lost and never return home. The navigation beacons were all that made interstellar commerce possible. Once they reached the RV point, they were to wait. The orders puzzled him because they made little sense. Maybe the higher-ups knew what they were doing, but he wouldn't have put money on it.

He took the helm himself, allowing the pilot a chance to get a cup of coffee and a snack before returning to duty. Quantum space could shift from placid to dangerous very quickly, forcing any starship travelling within the dimension to be ready to change course at any moment. Even the merest energy storm could wipe out an entire unwary fleet. He’d been a young cadet when Earth had heard that seventeen starships built by an alien race had been caught up in a storm and vaporised. If even the Galactics couldn't master quantum space, what hope did humanity have of taming the alternate dimension?

It was rare to see another starship in quantum space away from the shipping lanes. Indeed, even on the shipping lanes commercial ships rarely saw other starships unless it was a deliberate interception. Pirates had been known to hover around the gates and engage unwary freighters, forcing them to surrender and looting their holds before casting them loose to be destroyed by quantum space’s energy storms. Some pirates were true sadists, torturing their victims before killing them; others took hostages and extracted ransoms from their relatives before returning them alive, if they bothered to keep their word.

He blinked in surprise as a handful of starships appeared on the display. They were
 
human
 
starships, small teardrop-shaped cruisers and bulky assault carriers, waiting for his ship. He stared, unable to quite believe his eyes, until he realised that they had to be planning a war. Or perhaps the war had already started and no one had bothered to inform him...no, that couldn't be right. The Hegemony would never have let him close to Terra Nova if they’d been at war with the human race. Maybe it was just the fleet exercise the media had been waffling about for the last month before he’d left Jupiter. But so close to Terra Nova...?

There was a brief pause as ID codes were exchanged and verified, and then the data dump began. William felt the first flash of excitement – and fear – as he realised what it meant. There was only one reason to want an up-to-date survey of any system; the fleet in front of him planned to
 
attack
 
Terra Nova – and the Hegemony starships in orbit around the human colony. It would be suicide… or would it? There was no shortage of rumours about human technological advances, even if the Galactics pooh-poohed the suggestion that a race as young as humanity could possibly have anything to teach them. The Association had stagnated, unable to develop further – or had the Cats simply lost interest in basic research? They were the richest and most powerful culture the galaxy had ever seen. What more did they need?

A face – Admiral Sampson – appeared on the display. “Good work,” he said gruffly. “I’m going to have to ask you to remain with the support ships now.”

“I understand,” William said. They’d be paranoid about someone warning the Hegemony before it was too late. It was insulting, but he understood. And there really wasn't any other choice. “Good luck, sir. Give the bastards hell.”
 

The humans who first set eyes on the Mer’fuk had immediately thought of them as lizards or snakes, even though their evolutionary path was very similar to humanity’s. Unlike Earth, their homeworld had been dry and resources were scarce, forcing the early Mer’fuk to compete savagely for resources. Their successful leaders were the ones who claimed and held the most territory, using it as the basis of their power and forcing lesser Mer’fuk to submit and serve them in exchange for food and water. It was a trend that drove them onwards even after the Association had given them spaceflight and the First Empress had united their world under her iron heel.

Lady Dalsha reclined on her command stool and studied the males working busily below her, feeling her gaze on the back of their necks. Males couldn't be trusted to do anything other than fight or breed – trying to get them to consider the long-term effects of their actions was impossible – and they would slack off, or start picking fights with each other, if she and her fellow females left them to their own devices. It was the females who had built and led the clans, who had masterminded the wars that had seized vast territories for exploitation and – finally – led them out into space. If males ruled the world – as they did with some of the lesser races – they would probably have destroyed themselves by now, either through a civil war or attacking one of the stronger races in the galaxy. The Association might be decadent, with no fire left in its blood, but it still had numbers. They could have crushed the Hegemony if they’d been willing to accept bloodshed.

The thought made her smile. Males were expendable – with four males for every female, the Mer’fuk could afford to lose a few million in a war without seriously threatening the existence of the race. It would have been acceptable if the war had brought vast new territories, or destroyed a formidable enemy; it might even have been considered cheap! She couldn't really comprehend why the Association seemed unwilling to bring the other Galactics to heel – they
 
had
 
to know that the lesser races were climbing towards the point where they would be able to fight the Association openly and win – but there was no need to push the issue. A few hundred more standard years and the Hegemony would be all-powerful, the new ruler of the galaxy. And
 
they
 
would not be so foolish as to allow the lesser races so much latitude. They could do as they were told or they would perish and vanish from the universe.

She looked up towards the holographic image of Terra Nova – such a strange name for a planet, but the human settlers had had the right to name it – and smiled again. The Empress, hallowed be her name, had forced the humans to surrender their colony on pain of war and total destruction. Once the Association had finally, cravenly, surrendered the rest of humanity to the Hegemony, the soft-skinned race would be taught their true place in the universe. Their clever little people would serve the master race or die, begging for mercy that would never come. There was no room in the universe for those who didn't have the will to do what needed to be done to safeguard their interests. The strong would survive; the weak would become slaves – or perish.

But humans were a strange species. Human culture was infecting the galaxy, even the Hegemony itself. Males
 
loved
 
many human entertainments, even though their plots were awful and their special effects laughable. The Empress had banned it, of course, but males defied the females whenever they thought they could get away with it – if they bothered to reason it out that far. Humans had the strange notion that the sexes should be equal and that the population should participate in the decision-making process. It was a seductive concept to the more thoughtful males – and even to females so lowly as to be only a bare step above the males. Of course they wanted a democracy! The concept of the strongest being the supreme ruler, the concept that had driven the Hegemony to the stars, was under threat from an assault they were ill-prepared to counter. It wouldn't be long before the Empress forced the final showdown and crushed the upstart human race. She would prove to the universe – and her own people – that human ideas were nothing compared to the united power of the Hegemony.

A male stepped towards her, bowing in submission. “Great Lady,” he said, “the soft-skins on the planet below have sent yet another petition for your attention.”

Lady Dalsha fluttered her crest in disdain. Even crushed, even beaten, humans were irritating. Why did they expect that pestering her would get her to give them what they wanted? Let them come up with something she wanted, or a way to threaten her, and
 
then
 
she would listen. Nothing would be allowed to detract from their role as a client race. They weren’t useful as fighters either. Some of the human mercenaries who had taken service with the Galactics had impressed the Empress’s advisors enough that they’d insisted on landing a larger garrison than normal, but the colonists hadn't put up an impressive resistance. Even when she’d ordered their religious buildings smashed they hadn't fought back. They were weak.

“Ignore it,” she ordered, bluntly. The foolish male should have known not to bother her, but males weren't known for reasoned understanding of orders. Too strong a rebuke and he’d probably keep
 
everything
 
from her, including something she needed to know. “Do not even bother to send a reply…”

An alarm hooted through the compartment, causing the males to hiss in alarm. “Report,” Lady Dalsha ordered, her tone calm and composed. Dominating males was easy as long as one refused to be flustered. “What is happening?”

“Multiple quantum gates, opening right on top of us,” the sensor officer reported. He was unusually clever for a male, and much less aggressive. It was a shame that he couldn't be used for breeding stock, but the Hegemony needed aggressive males much more than it needed ones who could count to nine without taking off their boots. “They’re far too close to the planet!”

Lady Dalsha, for a very brief second, experienced absolute disbelief. The Association was alarmingly cautious about risks that any lesser race would have taken in their stride. They never established a quantum gate in planetary orbit and warned of the dangers of opening a gateway too close to a planet’s gravity well. The Hegemony had risked coming in closer, but the unknown intruders were coming in closer still, alarmingly close to her fleet. Had one of the other Galactics decided to destroy her force before it could be reinforced from the main fleet?

“Battle stations,” she hissed. They’d kept their drives and weapons powered down – after all, who would dare attack them
 
here
? It might have been a mistake, even though doctrine was inflexible. “Raise shields. Prepare to engage the enemy.”

* * *

Tobias let out a breath he hadn't realised he’d been holding when
 
Nimitz
 
slipped back into normal space. Humanity’s scientists had claimed to prove that one
 
could
 
emerge from quantum space far closer to a gravity well than the Association believed possible, but no one had known for sure until they’d actually done it. Fifteen cruisers and their supporting destroyers had appeared from nowhere, heading right towards an unwary enemy fleet. The sensor take from active sensors – there was no point in trying to hide when the entire system would have detected their arrival – showed that the Hegemony ships were right where Captain Zeller’s report had indicated. They certainly weren't ready for a fight.

“Enemy is bringing up active sensors,” the sensor officer reported. The fleet was already launching recon drones towards the enemy, giving their crews additional sensor platforms to parse out the Hegemony’s defences. “I’m picking up energy signatures from their weapons and targeting systems. They’re flash-waking their defences.”

Tobias nodded. That wasn't unexpected. Even with their power plants stepped down, starships maintained at least one shield generator ready to shield the hull at all times, another gift from the Association. Space wasn't empty and even a tiny piece of junk could damage an unprotected hull. But how quickly could they bring their ships to full alert? ONI hadn't been able to give him anything other than informed guesses, ranging from five minutes to an hour. It depended on just how carefully the Hegemony maintained their ships.

No military force could remain on alert forever, whatever the politicians and armchair generals might think. Tobias knew that standing guard for day after day could induce a lethargy into the system, no matter what senior officers said or did. It was why sentries were regularly rotated on and off guard positions. The Hegemony had
 
known
 
that humanity didn't dare attack them. Was it too much to hope that they’d allowed their ships to slip into disrepair, their crews into idleness? They didn't dare assume the best.

“General signal to all ships,” he ordered. “They are to open fire with phase cannon as soon as we enter range.”

The distance between the two fleets closed with staggering speed. Humanity might not have been able to build superdreadnoughts – at least not yet – but the
 
Admiral
-class cruisers compensated by being faster than any other ship in space, as well as packing enough advanced weapons to make them a match for anyone else’s battlecruisers. It would take the Hegemony months, at least, to duplicate the weapons, assuming they figured out the basic principles or paid someone else to do it. But most of them were nothing more than variants on technology the Galactics had possessed longer than humanity had had fire. They’d probably deduce what humanity had done as soon as they saw the weapons in action.

Signals flashed between the ships, designating targets. The Hegemony kept its ships on a tight leash, with one flagship and little room for independent action on the part of subordinate commanders. They hadn't realised – at least not yet – that the sheer volume of signals from the flagship made it easy to identify. And once it was taken out – crippled or destroyed – it would be impossible for them to re-establish their command network. None of the junior commanders would have the authority to take command.

“Entering range,” Commander Jackson said, quietly. “Phase cannon online… and firing.”

Phase cannon were relatively simple weapons, designed by the Association and copied by all of the Galactics. They fired a phased beam of immensely destructive energy towards their targets, burning through iron or steel as if they were made of paper. Humanity had improved the weapons considerably, both enhancing their power and adding a second refinement. The simulations claimed that the second refinement would be a total surprise to the Galactics, but there was no way to know until now. Tobias leaned forward as the fleet opened fire, bright red beams of light lancing towards their targets.

Brilliant spheres appeared around the superdreadnoughts as the phase cannon hit the shields, which started to deflect the energy away from the ships. Normally, shields would have to be battered down before the cannon could start cutting into the hull, giving the Galactics time to respond to the attack. Now… the phase cannon started rotating their modulation, hunting for the frequency that would allow them to penetrate the shields instantly. The Galactics had to leave one frequency open or they wouldn’t be able to return fire. As he watched, several of the beams lanced
 
through
 
the shields and dug into enemy hulls. The fleet’s electronic servants, acting quicker than any human mind could follow, swiftly updated the other phase cannon, switching them to the correct frequency. Superdreadnoughts staggered as the powerful beams started to burn through their hulls. The hulls were tough, made from a synthetic compound developed by the Association, but not tough enough to stand up to phase cannon for long.

“Enemy is returning fire,” Commander Jackson reported. The Hegemony ships had started to fire back frantically, many of their shots going wild. Their targeting systems were having problems with so many of their sensor blisters – exposed on their hulls – wiped out by human weapons. “They’re trying to lock onto us.”

“Evasive action,” Captain Rupert ordered. Phase cannon were light-speed weapons. There would be no telling that they were under attack until the blast struck them.
 
Nimitz
 
and her sisters had far more powerful shields than anything else their size, but they didn't have the strength to stand up to a battering match at close range. “Continue firing.”

The fleet passed
 
through
 
the Hegemony formation, still firing, and spun around to reengage the enemy. Lumbering superdreadnoughts couldn't hope to match their speed and manoeuvrability. Sensors reported that all of the superdreadnoughts had been damaged, but none of their more important systems – their drives, power plants and command stations – had been destroyed. They were buried deep within the hull, heavily protected. Taking them out would be harder than merely scarring their hulls. Smaller Hegemony ships were taking up position around the superdreadnoughts, trying to shield their tougher consorts. They might even succeed if they were allowed time to prepare for the next attack run.

“Lock antimatter torpedoes on target,” he ordered. “Fire at will.”

Nimitz
 
shuddered as she unleashed a spread of antimatter torpedoes towards the enemy ships, each one powerful enough to wreck a planetary ecosystem if they detonated on the surface. The Association had devised a cheap method of producing antimatter centuries ago, but they’d always been reluctant to make full use of the incredibly dangerous substance. A single glitch in an antimatter containment pod and there would be a colossal explosion. Indeed, the Association Navy had forbidden their ships to carry antimatter warheads in peacetime, fearing the consequences of a single malfunction. The Hegemony – and humanity – had no such qualms. Antimatter was so powerful that it had to be used in war.