The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) (12 page)

The spider made another rattling noise.  “How can we trust you to keep your word?”

“The weapons data will be handed over as soon as you agree to join us,” Captain Ryman said, calmly.  “We
would
ask you to be careful with it, as the Druavroks will want it too, but we will give it to you without restriction.  And afterwards ...”

He paused, marshalling his thoughts.  “As a very great man from our homeworld once said, Fellow Sentients, we must all hang together or hang separately.  The Druavroks threaten us all.”

“That makes no sense,” Sissle protested.

“It’s a play on words, in the language of the time,” Captain Ryman said.  “
Hang
refers to both staying with one’s allies and the standard method of executing people, which was to wrap a rope around their necks and strangle them to death, then leave their bodies hanging from the ropes.”

Thomas had a feeling, as the discussion raged backwards and forwards, that the Galactics
didn't
really understand.  How could they?  Benjamin Franklin’s pun made no sense in Gal-Standard One, which used precise terms for working together and had a single technical term for execution.  But then, it had a single pronoun for sentients too.  There was no attempt to draw a line between male and female, let alone anything else, on the basic level.  How could there be when there were so many different races, some of which had only one gender and others which had five or six?

“We will send word to our homeworlds,” Sissle said.  “Who is to be in command?”

“My commander is the one who took action against the Druavroks,” Captain Ryman said, carefully.  “We believe
she
should have tactical command, but there will be a council of war to decide matters of grand strategy.”

The spider clapped four of its legs together.  “And why,” it demanded, “should we place overall command in your hands?”

“First, we beat the Tokomak,” Captain Ryman said.  “And we have no long-term interest in this sector.  Our sole concern is eliminating the threat posed by the Druavroks.”

But there are humans in this sector
, Thomas thought. 
Don’t we have an interest in them?

He pushed the thought to one side as the discussion finally came to an end.  Captain Ryman remained seated as the representatives rose, then walked out of the door.  Thomas watched them go, wondering if they were truly convinced.  The agreement to join the growing resistance seemed awfully fragile to him.

“I trust you were keeping a recording,” Captain Ryman said.  “Your commander will want to see it.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.  The XO had told him, in no uncertain terms, to record
everything
.  “A full sensory ...”

He paused.  “Sir?”

“Spit it out,” Captain Ryman said.

Thomas looked at him.  “Can you trust them?”

“A word of advice for the future,” Captain Ryman said, standing up.  “The vast majority of sentients - human or alien - are not selfish, but they
are
self-interested.  Appeal to their self-interest and you’ll catch their attention.  You want them to ask the question ‘what’s in it for me?’ and come up with a satisfactory answer.”

He smiled.  “In this case, there are three things in it for them.  First, they get protection from the Druavroks.  Second, they join an alliance of races that will ensure they are not standing, facing the Druavroks, on their own.  Third, and perhaps most importantly, they won't be excluded from that alliance.”

“Because the Druavroks would target anyone who was excluded,” Thomas said.

“That’s part of it,” Captain Ryman agreed.  “Like I said, hang together or hang separately.”

He smirked at the pun, then leaned forward.  “But it’s more than that,” he added.  “The races that work together, as part of the alliance, will have access to human-level technology, which will make them stronger, individually and collectively, than anyone else in the sector.  We’re the race that stopped the Tokomak dead in their tracks!    If we build the alliance up, if we treat the members as equals, we’ll gain a
lot
of respect.  But everyone who doesn't join
now
, when the price for joining is relatively low, will find it harder to join later.”

Thomas frowned.  “Because ... because they didn't do any of the heavy lifting?”

“Precisely,” Captain Ryman agreed.  “The first set of members will demand a high price from anyone who wants to join after the war.  We won’t need to lift a finger to get more races and worlds trying to join up before the fighting truly starts, not after we showed the sector that the Druavroks could be beaten. 
That’s
what they needed to see.

“Todd’s race will join us - he would have objected if he’d disagreed with anything I’d said.  That will probably bring Sissle in as well, as she and Todd are old rivals, while John ... well, he’s human and we’re human and he’s not stupid enough to believe the Druavroks will leave Amstar alone just because they got their asses kicked.  And they’re not the only ones who are going to be sending messages to their homeworlds, begging for them to join.”

He smiled.  “Take a break, Ensign,” he added.  “The
next
set of meetings will begin three hours from now.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.  He wasn't sure where he could have a quick nap - the marines had probably set up cots somewhere on the spaceport - but he’d find somewhere.  “And thank you, sir.”

“Make sure you stream your full recording to the ship beforehand,” Captain Ryman warned, as he walked towards the door.  “Your commanding officer will want to see it.”

Chapter Eleven

There was a riot at a Solar Union immigrant processing centre in England after forces loyal to the new government threatened to push through the fences and arrest the prospective immigrants, who are fleeing the government’s tightening grip on their country.  Solar Marines have been deployed and a final warning has been issued to the government.

-Solar News Network, Year 54

“I wasn't expecting it to come together so quickly,” Max Kratzok commented, as they stood together in the observation blister.  “It’s really quite something.”

“It’s been two weeks,” Hoshiko said.  “I’m surprised more ships haven't shown up.”

She smiled as she saw the sidelong glance the reporter threw her.  There were over two thousand ships currently orbiting Amstar, being outfitted with weapons, sensors and human-grade defence systems.  Only two hundred were actual
warships
, admittedly, but it was still an immensely formidable force.  The only downside was patching up disputes between the various alien races involved in the coalition and trying to arrange matters so that races that disliked one another weren't forced to work
too
closely together.  Her crew was being run ragged just trying to keep up with everything.

“The fleet has its limitations,” she said.  “A single warship could take out the freighters without breaking a sweat, no matter how many weapons and defence systems we cram into their hulls.  Tokomak freighters aren't really designed for speedy conversion into warships, unlike our ships.  But in sheer numbers we should be able to give any rational foe pause.”

“But our enemies aren’t rational,” Kratzok commented.  “They threw mass wave attacks at the marines rather than standing off or trying to surrender.  There’s still fighting going on down on the ground.”

“That’s the problem,” Hoshiko conceded.  “You have to hit them hard enough to make them pay attention.”

She’d done more than just summon as many starships and spacers to her banner in the last two weeks.  She’d had her intelligence staff collect every last scrap of information they could, putting together a map of the sector that was more than just a list of stellar locations and a handful of planetary names.  They now knew more about the Druavroks than she’d ever wanted to know, including the vital piece of information about how the Tokomak had made them behave in the first place.  Apparently, they’d hammered the Druavroks so hard that the survivors had practically worshipped the Tokomak.  They hadn't rebelled in the years since, not once.  Somehow, Hoshiko couldn't imagine
humanity
being so submissive if the Solar Union had lost the war.

“Which leads to a simple question,” Kratzok said.  “
Can
we hit them hard enough to make them pay attention?”

“I think we’re going to find out,” Hoshiko said.  “We should be getting more starships soon, I hope.  But they’re unlikely to leave us in peace for long.  Word is already spreading through the sector.”

She closed her eyes, recalling the star chart.  Assuming the Druavroks had managed to get a message out, their forward bases would be hearing about the fall of Amstar about now.  Even if they hadn't, the Druavroks had plenty of contacts across the sector.  Hoshiko’s most optimistic calculations suggested the Druavroks would discover what had happened in two more weeks, although she wasn't banking on it.  She’d been trained to hope for the best, but assume the worst until she
knew
it hadn't come to pass.

And it will take them at least two weeks to dispatch a response, assuming they have a quick-reaction force on standby
, she thought.  They knew very little about enemy fleet dispositions; there was no way to know if the Druavroks had a fleet of battleships orbiting a nearby star or if their heavy warships were further away. 
But we can't sit here waiting to be hit
.

She turned to look at him.  “Did you enjoy your time on the surface?”

“It was ... hair-raising,” Kratzok said.  “I wasn't counting on being dropped straight into the war.”

“Think of the recordings you made,” Hoshiko said, wryly.  “The entire Solar Union will be accessing them.  Or is that a bad idea?”

“I didn’t run off screaming,” Kratzok said, reddening.  “But I think the public would prefer a sensory from one of the marines.”

“Which isn't an option, at the moment,” Hoshiko said.  She gave him a smile.  “I did read your report, Max.  It was very ... dramatic.”

“It should be,” Kratzok said.  “But it’s also accurate.”

Hoshiko nodded.  There was always a difficult balancing act between freedom of the press, subject to the limitations laid down in the Solar Constitution, and preventing the accidental release of information that would be used against the military.  Here, she suspected, it wouldn't matter.  By the time anyone in the Solar Union saw the reports they’d be six months out of date.  Still, she’d insisted on reviewing the full report before authorising its transfer to a courier boat.

“They’ll like it, back home,” she said.  “Where do you want to go now?”

“Unless we’re leaving within the next couple of days, I’d like to go from ship to ship, recording the crews at work,” Kratzok said.  “Is that acceptable?”

“Check with the alien captains first,” Hoshiko said.  “Some of them may object to being recorded, even for propaganda purposes.  And make sure you don’t get in their way.”

“Understood,” Kratzok said.

Hoshiko silently gave him points for being so understanding.  Aliens weren't
human
.  The triggers that offended them, that started fights, were often different to human triggers.  She knew a race that had sex everywhere, as casually as a human might take a breath of air, but regarded eating in public as an unbearably offensive act.  And another that was so obsessed with personal privacy that recording a conversation, with or without permission, was essentially a declaration of war.  It was unlikely Kratzok would encounter any aliens who weren't experienced in interracial communications, but it was something to bear in mind.

“I’m authorising the release of your recordings,” she added.  “Do you have anything you want to add?”

“No, Captain,” Kratzok said.  “I may do a follow-up, after checking the alien ships, but nothing as yet.”

“The courier boat will leave this afternoon,” Hoshiko told him.  “You have until then to change your mind.”

She smiled, although she couldn’t help feeling a little nervous.  Kratzok’s report would be accompanied by
her
report, reports from her captains and XO and personal messages from the crews to their friends and relatives back home.  God alone knew which way the Solar Union would choose to jump, once they heard what she was doing.  Everything she’d done so far could be technically justified, under their standing orders, but ...

The hatch opened behind her.  She turned to see Commander Wilde, looking tired.  Like the rest of her crew, he’d been worked to the bone over the last two weeks, struggling to build up a defence force that would give any attackers pause.  And he had every reason to be annoyed with her, for more than just politics and disagreements over their orders. 
He
hadn't been assigned one of the alien warships to command.  She needed him on
Jackie Fisher
.

“Captain,” Wilde said.

“I’ll go arrange transport now,” Kratzok said.  “Thank you, Captain.”

Hoshiko nodded and watched him go, then looked at Wilde.  “Success?”

“The final fabber has been unlocked,” Wilde said.  “There are some programming hiccups to be evened out, but we should be on the way to producing another fabber within the month.”

Hoshiko nodded as she turned back to the transparent bulkhead, seeking a particular point of light orbiting Amstar.  The commercial-grade fabber was a five-kilometre long structure, a gigantic orbital factory that took raw materials in at one end and churned out everything from starship components to farming tools at the other.  It was, in many ways, proof that high technology liberated men and women from endless drudgery, and yet ... there were some curious limitations worked into the design.  A commercial-grade fabber needed to be given the right instructions before it could produce weapons - the Tokomak hadn't been keen on the idea of their subjects using fabbers to churn out defences - and duplicating itself ...
that
had been right off the menu without some intensive reprogramming.  But humanity had solved that problem too ...

“As long as we keep supplying the raw materials,” she said.  “In a month, we’ll have two fabbers; in two months, we’ll have four.  And so on.”

“We’ve passed instructions on to the other races,” Wilde reminded her.  “They’ll
all
start churning out new fabbers of their own.”

“That should give us a great deal of additional firepower,” Hoshiko said.  She stared into the darkness, towards where she knew the fleet to be massing.  “And everything else we need to turn this hodgepodge into a real navy.”

“It will also have effects on the sector’s economy,” Wilde warned.  “And create potential new threats.”

Hoshiko smiled, remembering the history lessons she’d been forced to endure as a young girl.  The Stuarts had
always
been soldiers, she’d been told; they’d donned their armour and picked up their weapons when the call came, then marched off to war to defend their wives and children from the threat.  It was practically bred into them from a very early age, along with a ruthless pragmatism.  Sure, the methods used to solve
one
problem might easily create the
next
problem, but that didn't mean the first problem should be allowed to fester. 

But we were never leaders
, she thought, ruefully. 
Grandfather was the only one of us who held any real political office.  It was never a Stuart making the decisions.

“We have to deal with the current issue,” she said, gently.  “If our current crop of allies turn into the next generation of threats ... well, we’ll deal with it when the time comes.”

“There’s an awesome amount of untapped industrial potential in this sector,” Wilde pointed out.  “Giving them the bypass hacks might turn several different races into major powers in their own right.”

“They wouldn't have so much
need
for war,” Hoshiko said.  She shook her head in disbelief as she looked towards the distant fabber.  “Why didn't they ever
use
their technology?”

It was a galling thought.  The Tokomaks could do so
much
.  They had practically-infinite energy at their disposal, they could literally teleport someone from place to place, they could put together automated factories that could build almost anything, given time and raw materials, yet they hadn’t created a paradise.  It hadn't taken more than ten years for the Solar Union to build enough productive capability to feed and support itself indefinitely, then absorb hundreds of thousands of immigrants every year.  Surely, with a head start of thousands of years, the Tokomak could have done the same.  They could have built an interstellar civilisation that made the Solar Union look like a handful of primitive islands in the middle of an endless desert.

And all they did was build an empire that kept everyone else firmly under their thumb and slowed scientific progress to a crawl
, she thought. 
What would have happened to them if even one of their subject races made a major breakthrough and turned it against them?

Wilde stepped up next to her.  “I think they were
scared
.”

Hoshiko turned to look at him.  “Scared of
what
?”

“Scared of the potential of their own technology,” Wilde said.  “And the prospects for good and ill.”

Hoshiko shook her head, dismissively.  “Idiots,” she said.  “They could have built themselves a heaven and instead they built a hell for everyone else.”

Wilde frowned.  “Permission to speak freely, Captain?”