The Orphan Alliance (The Black Ships Book 3) (18 page)

The
Salamis
, Oaxian
space

H
arry
forced himself to remain still at the trace table. Prouse was facing away from
him, looking out at the two Dactari ships left behind by their comrades. The fleet
captain had his hands clasped together behind his back and the fingers of his
right hand were white from the tight grip.

No doubt the captain was wishing the troop ship had escaped,
but the two frigates captured by the Marines had dropped out of distortion,
collapsing the radically-conceived cooperative distortion envelope that was
conveying the crippled ship to safety.

Now there were at least a hundred thousand enemy souls over
there and his commodore had just ordered him to kill them all in cold blood.

Both men realized that this was the kind of moment that
would be judged by history. It was also the kind of moment that put a squadron
commander’s position on the razor’s edge. If Prouse should refuse the order,
then Harry would likely be finished.

They had no way of managing that many prisoners, even if
they were willing to surrender. Even now, they were venting atmosphere in a
vain attempt to rotate the ship and bring their pitiful array of close in
weapon systems to bear on the Humans. The small-caliber CIWS could fire until
doomsday and never put a dent in the powerful shields of the
Salamis.

Prouse’s chin dropped a fraction. “Weapons officer,” he
spoke quietly. “Target tango tango-sierra-one and engage with a three-bug
spread. Go deep.”

“Aye sir,” the lieutenant replied. “Targeting tango
tango-sierra-one, three-bug spread, set for internal detonations… firing.”

Three lines of fire and vapor streaked past the bow of the
Salamis
,
arcing toward the ragged stern of the doomed enemy. At the halfway point, the
three missiles burst apart to become twenty-one sub-munitions, jinking
erratically to avoid defensive fire that never came.

They poured in through the gaping wound caused earlier by
the
Xi
, and through the open shuttle bays. When their onboard processors,
each estimating the position needed to cause maximum damage, reached a
consensus, they group-detonated.

The lightly-constructed troop carrier was gone in a
heartbeat, along with the even more lightly-constructed Dactari aboard her.

That left one crippled enemy frigate. A shot from one of the
Marine-captured frigates had hit her engines, knocking the fleeing enemy out of
their group distortion. No longer having enough ships to re-create the
innovative escape strategy, they had left the troop ship to its own fate.

“Board that frigate,” Harry ordered. “And signal the
Leetayo
– she’s to head back to the fleet at Weirfall.” He longed to return to his
quarters, to escape the glances being darted his way. He had just ordered the
death of tens of thousands of people who had no real chance of fighting back.
No matter how much his Oaxian experiences might make him hate the enemy, that
kind of slaughter took a piece of your soul.

He needed a moment away from the judgement.

“That prisoner,” Prouse began, but hesitated for a moment.
“Perhaps
guest
is a better word for the moment. The one from the station
at Tauhento – she was transferred here while we were on approach to the troop
ship. I didn’t want to throw her in the brig and it’s not like a carrier has a
waiting room for visitors…”

“So, where is she?” Harry demanded. It was obvious that
Prouse expected him to disapprove of her current whereabouts, but it was simply
foolish to compound the situation with this verbal meandering.

The captain nodded to the door at the back of the bridge.
“Your quarters, sir.”

The
Constant Vigil
,
Xo’Khov Sea, Dactar

T
ommy
shivered. Accustomed to seeing the void of space from the bridge of the
Dark
Defiance
, he was deeply unsettled by the equally lethal but unaccustomed
sight of water. With no gas giant to hide in, the
Constant Vigil
was
sitting at the bottom of the sea, only a few hundred kilometers from the
Dactari capital.

A tracery of coral-like growth impeded some of his view. It
was far too deep here for any kind of Earth coral, but he supposed the
creatures responsible for it must be drawing energy from the shield somehow.

A gigantic translucent creature swam past, massive teeth
carried by an undulating, glowing body.

He turned toward the door at the back of the bridge.
I’ll
go and take a look.
He walked to the door and waited for the system to read
the coding in his hand. The door slid open.

I think I see the problem,
he thought as he looked in
at the ceiling.
There’s been a collapse.

Don’t stay in there any longer than you need to,
Keeva
insisted.

Tommy stepped inside and moved around the center console. A
massive beam had broken loose from the ceiling. Beneath it lay a heap of bones
and dust. He walked back out to the main bridge.
Whoever that was, they died
a very long time ago.

 
Then this world has been alone.

Tommy shrugged.
They seemed to have done well enough on
their own.
He kept his gaze from the coral and water.
Can you move me to
where Gelna and Kale are?

When he opened his eyes, he was on the central interchange.
The five hull sections, each ten by forty kilometers, were separated by ten
kilometer gaps. The effect was something like a barrel with every second stave
missing. The streets running among the high-rises on the inner surfaces all
channelled toward the three sets of spokes that joined the massive sections
together. At the center of the forward spokes, a large area, roughly nineteen
thousand acres, was mostly parkland.

Tommy found his friends on a large rocky outcrop, high above
the broadleaf trees. The view was both magnificent and terrifying. The millions
of tons of water beyond the shields were no more lethal than the void of space
to which he had become accustomed, but he shivered in dread all the same.

He remarked on it to his friends, expecting them to laugh at
his folly.

“Of course it’s more dangerous,” Gelna snapped. “A spaceship
has to deal with a one atmosphere difference in pressure.” He nodded out at the
shimmering bands of water that pressed against the shields. “At this depth, the
pressure is more than a thousand times that amount.”

“What’s his problem?” Tommy asked Kale in surprise.

“If I had to guess,” Kale replied with mild amusement,
looking over at the sullen Dactari, “I’d say he’s had false hope dangled in
front of him.”  He turned to Tommy. “For a few minutes, back in Xo’Khov,
he was starting to believe his republic was beating us. Learning it’s the other
way around is bound to be a real bitch.”

“Oh, boo
hoo
.” Tommy rolled his
eyes. “So sorry we aren’t loyal subjects of your precious Triumvirs.”

“You would have been better off as citizens of the
Republic,” Gelna blurted. “We would have advanced your technology overnight.
Most of your diseases would have been wiped out within a handful of years…”

“Yeah, we found all that in the ships we took from you after
the fight at Mars,” Kale cut in with a negligent wave. “Win or lose, we’d have
got our hands on your technology, so why go your route, and give up on self
governance?”

“Self governance?” Gelna shook his head in disgust. “Most
Humans get one vote every few years, and then the rest of the decisions are
left to the rich elite, because they’re the only ones who can afford to run for
office.” He sneered. “And they keep getting richer. Explain that for me.”

“We didn’t have corrupt politicians in Canada…” Kale began.

“Five Canadian mayors were under investigation when we left
on the
Völund,”
Gelna retorted. “And three members of parliament were
being investigated for abuse of public office.” His tail twitched with
mischief. “I was a cop before they turned me into a medical officer,” he
reminded them. “Your criminal databases weren’t all that hard to hack into.”

“Fine.” Tommy sighed. “Our governments weren’t perfect,
but…”

“Perfect?” Gelna laughed. “I’ve seen wild animals that can
cooperate more efficiently. You’re practically wild yourselves.”

“Maybe.” Kale grinned. “So what if our economies and
governments are based on ‘survival of the fittest’; we still kicked
your
tiny little asses twice.”

“Three times,” Tommy corrected. “Now that we’ve taken some
of their worlds away from them.”

“That’s right.” Kale prodded Gelna. “Now you’re losing your
own
territory, and it’s all because you
still
think you belong at the top of
the food chain.”

Gelna glared off into the distance.

“As long as your people keep thinking that way,” Tommy said
quietly, “more are going to die on both sides.”

“And it won’t be mostly clones either,” Kale added. “The
Dactari who died in your last invasion, and the ones who’re dying now are all
someone’s family members.”

“It’s more than that,” Gelna groused. “But you’re right, the
fact that we’re losing and nobody seems to know… It does plant listening
devices on me.”

Kale scratched his head, looking askance at his alien
friend.

“I think,” Tommy began slowly, “that you mean ‘it bugs
you’.” A shake of the head. Dheema was a language in which idioms were more
about the image and less about the words conveying them. Gelna had obviously
heard someone say they were bugged by something and derived the wrong image
from it.

Kale snorted. “I keep telling you, English sayings don’t
paraphrase well. Just use the original words.”

“Wait,” Tommy looked at Gelna. “You just said that getting
your asses kicked wasn’t all that’s bothering you. What else is eating at you?”

Gelna sighed. “It’s these damned ships,” he said quietly, as
though trying to hide it from Keeva. “When ever I’m aboard, I feel like a
child. I don’t know why, but it… bugs me.”

Council Hall, Lychensee, Weirfall

A
dmiral Towers took a deep appreciative breath of fresh air as he stepped
across the narrow gap from shuttle to docking platform. He rarely set foot on
the planet, but he had ample reason today.

The Weiran
ruling council was demanding to know when they would see the kind of concrete
action that would help boost their strangled economy. They dragged him onto the
carpet every couple of months but, this time, he knew the meeting would go
well.

They had
two planets of strategic economic importance joining the fold.

Caul grabbed
Towers’ arm. “John, I’m getting a message from your Major Willsen.” He stood
there in silence for a few moments, nodding gravely as he read the sentences on
his retinas. “Turn on your wrist-pad.”

Can’t
have twenty minutes where everything is going our way,
Towers grumbled. He was dreading the
appointment he had made for later in the week, and this was an ill-timed
reminder that he would soon have tiny projectors inserted into his
own
eyes by a Midgaard surgeon.

Then he
forgot about the surgery.

Mickey’s
message advised that a fleet of almost sixty enemy warships was on its way to
Tauhento.

Ordinarily,
this would have been an excellent opportunity for Towers to practice some of
his favorite curse words, collected during a lifetime in the armed services,
but he had been expecting this.

An icon
began to pulse on his wrist pad.

“I’m
calling Hu Gao,” Caul advised as he started for the rear door to the council
chamber. They had anticipated a counter-attack and had a five carrier task
force in full readiness, under Admiral Hu, waiting to stop them.

The Chinese
admiral’s face appeared on the pad. “I’ve just read it,” he said simply. “We’ll
leave this evening and arrive just after the enemy commits. I’ve already sent a
small craft to warn Lothbrok.”

“Good hunting,
Admiral,” Towers replied before closing the connection. They walked through the
decidedly unimpressive door that sat twenty feet behind the council podium,
where a Weiran councilor was haranguing his colleagues.

The man
stopped in mid-phrase, turning with feigned surprise at the approach of the two
senior Alliance leaders. “Why, here they are now,” he declared, as though the
entire assembly hadn’t been waiting for them. “Perhaps they can explain why
they want us to give them tax revenue when they’re the single biggest reason
our tax-paying industries are shutting down!”

To the
councilor’s obvious surprise, Towers showed none of his usual reluctance to
take the podium. It was a reluctance that the appeasement faction had always
relied upon. Those in the council who advocated for a return to the Republic
could always rely on him for a few easy points. Every few days, one of them
would demand an answer to Weirfall’s economic woes, and fleet command would
have no answer.

Today
seemed to be different, and the councilor yielded the podium with some
reluctance. Still, he had just made the usual show of demanding a response and
he could hardly refuse to allow an answer without looking like a hypocrite.

Both Towers
and Caul mounted the podium to flank the sound receiver.

“Selfless
servants of the Weiran people,” Towers began with the standard form of council
address though it always threatened to bring out a sarcastic laugh, “we bear
the best of news.” He grinned at the alarm on the face of the councilor that he
had just displaced.

“The brave
people of Weirfall have kept the faith with us through incredible
difficulties.” He paused to let them acknowledge their own self-sacrifice,
though none of these men and women had shared the hardships of their
constituents.
They still had to deal with all the complaints,
he mused.
I
suppose that could be a hardship, for a politician.

“We can
tell you now that your time of suffering is at an end. As I speak, Alliance
troops are patrolling the cities of Tauhento, secure in the knowledge that our
ships control Tauhentan space. Fighting side by side with the local resistance,
we have put an end to centuries of Dactari rule.”

A moment of
stunned silence filled the huge chamber. Halfway up the rows of seats, a single
councilor began to clap and it quickly spread. Cheers sounded, and they began
to come to their feet, roaring with approval. 

Towers held
up a hand, asking for quiet and the assembly, long accustomed to respecting the
gesture, returned to their seats in surprisingly short order. “This, of course,
is not enough to allow ship production to resume.” He paused for a moment to
read the room. It was still up in the air, especially after his admission.

“A Dactari
revenge force was dispatched to Oaxes,” he continued, “to punish its citizens
for the uprisings that followed the heroic escape of one of our captains.”

There was
some grumbling from the appeasement councilors.
Let them think you’re
playing into their hands, Johnny boy, then yank the carpet out from under them.
Towers was starting to enjoy himself. It might just look like talking, but
this was combat. And he had the advantage.

“That same
officer has returned to Oaxes,” he said calmly. “At the head of an Alliance
task force. Of the twenty eight-enemy vessels engaged at Oaxes, only three
frigates managed to escape.” The room had fallen silent again.

“The
commodores of both fleets have agreed to remain at these two worlds,” Caul
jumped in as planned – a show of Alliance harmony, “at the request of local
resistance leaders. They will serve as the warlords of Tauhento and Oaxes in
accordance with ancient custom.” It was slightly premature, as far as Oaxes was
concerned, but they were reasonably sure of Harry’s chances and it was time to
throw the dice.

“Those two
worlds are now part of the Alliance,” Towers added loudly. “And we will defend
them to our last breath, as we do Weirfall.”
And there it is,
he
thought.
If this were Oaxes, I’d be the warlord. I’ve just added two worlds
that can revive your economy. You only have three worlds where you can sell
ships, but you have a lock on those three markets.

This time,
he let the cheering run on for several minutes. For the first time in three
years, these people could finally see proof that they hadn’t committed a
serious blunder in accepting the Alliance presence.

Finally, he
raised his hands. “We ask only for half of the revenue that used to flow to the
Republic,” he stated. “Admittedly, that is currently a very small amount,” he
added with a grin, earning a few chuckles. “But it will grow quickly as your
people return to the finishing yards. It will grow as the citizens and forces
of Weirfall, Tauhento and Oaxes turn exclusively to you for ships.” He grinned.
“And it will grow as our share of your revenue is spent, right here, in
Weirfall.”

He tacked
that onto the end of his speech for emphasis. It was important to remind them
that the money that they were being asked to give the fleet would mostly come
straight back into the Weiran economy. Money was like blood – if it didn’t
flow, it was useless.

A
councilor, an appeaser, rose and held up his left hand.

Towers
nodded to him.

“What
happens, Admiral, when the Dactari decide to take back one of those worlds?” He
waved his right hand around the room. “Everyone knows that the forces you
dispatched from orbit are pitifully small.” The councilors near him nodded
gravely for the cameras.

“It might
interest you to know that a fleet of enemy vessels has been dispatched to Tauhento,”
Towers replied nonchalantly. “Intelligence reports indicate they will be
bringing mass drivers.” The Dactari were bringing nothing of the sort, but this
meeting would almost certainly be viewed by enemy intelligence officers and it
couldn’t hurt for them to think the Alliance was getting less than accurate
information.

And it
would scare the hell out of Alliance citizens everywhere. The bridges were
already burnt – there was no going back to the Republic.

“They will
be stopped,” Caul said bluntly. “We have promised our protection to the
Tauhentans. They shall have it.” He glared at the councilor, who shifted his
stance, bringing up a hand in a gesture that seemed to indicate a new question
was in the offing. He must have changed his mind, because the gesture turned
into a contemplative scratch of his chin and he sat back down.

“If there
are no further questions,” Towers added, eager to get back to work, “we have
some fighting to attend to.
” It was entirely in Hu Gao’s hands at this
point. There was nothing for them to do, but he
wanted to leave while the leaving was good, and
he knew Caul hated politicians even more than he did.

On their
way out of the chamber, they received another call.

Another
force was gathering, and it looked like Oaxes might be the target.