The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) (25 page)

***

“They’re coming at us like ... some very angry things,” Markham said.

Griffin smiled, never taking his eyes off the display.  “A swarm of hornets, mad at you because you were throwing rocks at their nest?”

“Or a swarm of Needle Bugs,” Markham commented.  “You wouldn’t want to be
caught
by a swarm of flying monsters that could strip the skin off your bones.”

“I’ve had exes like that,” Griffin said.  “And the Druavroks are likely to be madder than an ex-wife who thinks she has a right to half your salary.”

He smiled again, then checked the timer.  It was easy enough to separate the two swarms of starships, but there was so much gravimetric interference that it was difficult to get the timing absolutely perfect.  Starting the gravity-wave generator too late would be a dangerous move, yet starting it too early would be absolutely disastrous.

“It was much simpler,” he muttered, “when we did the same thing at the Battle of Earth.  And we brought more firepower to the party too.”

So did they
, he reminded himself, as the seconds ticked down to zero.  He would have sold his soul for a third of the Solar Navy, enough firepower to kick the Druavroks out of the sector without having to rely on alien allies. 
The Tokomak brought thousands of ships to the party
.

The final seconds ticked away as the Grand Alliance ships rocketed past his position.  Griffin watched, bracing himself, as the gravity wave generator went to work, broadcasting a stream of artificial gravity into space.  If everything worked as planned ...

He sighed in relief as the display lit up with red lights.  It had worked.

***

There was no warning at all before the deck heaved as the battleship crashed back into normal space.  Warlord Tomas found himself hurled across the bridge as the artificial gravity fluctuated wildly, slamming into the far bulkhead so hard he broke one of his legs before he fell to the deck.  The helmsman had been thrown into the ceiling, banging his head so hard he was either stunned or dead; the other officers looked to be injured or stunned.  Tomas pulled himself upright, despite the growing pain, and stared at the display.  It showed realspace.

He gathered himself, somehow.  “What happened?”

“The drive must have failed,” the sensor officer stammered.  He sounded shocked, but alive and breathing.  “I ...”

He hesitated as new icons appeared on the display.  “The entire
fleet
suffered a drive failure at the same moment?”

Tomas crawled towards the console, cursing savagely.  The entire fleet suffering the
same
failure at the
same
time?  It was unthinkable.  His engineers might not be as capable as those of the Tokomak, but they weren't
incompetent
!  He pulled himself up onto his knees and reset the console.  The command network was filling with cries of alarm and demands for answers, answers he couldn't give them ...

“Warlord,” the sensor officer said.  “There’s a number of ...
objects
nearby.”

“Show me,” Tomas ordered.

The display flickered and changed.  Now, the fleet was surrounded - no, infiltrated - by hundreds of tiny objects, each one no larger than a shuttle.  They were clearly designed to be stealthy, as the sensors were having problems tracking them.  And they looked oddly familiar ...

His scales shivered with sudden horror.  He
knew
what they were.

But it was already far too late.

***

“Blow the mines,” Griffin ordered.

The display went white as the antimatter containment chambers switched themselves off, allowing the antimatter to meet matter for the first time since it had been produced.  He mentally saluted the Captain for putting the enemy components to good use, even though he’d thought the plan was unlikely to work.  Mining interstellar space was normally a waste of time, but the Captain had lured the enemy right into the minefield she’d created, knowing the enemy wouldn’t expect to be yanked out of FTL.  And the plan had worked perfectly.

And we used a lot of antimatter
, he thought, as the display began to clear.  The Druavroks wouldn't appreciate the irony - they’d used civilian fabbers to construct both production plants
and
containment chambers - but even battleships couldn't hope to survive the furies he’d unleashed. 
Even if some of them survive, their self-confidence won’t
.

“Most of the enemy fleet is gone,” Markham said.  “There’s only a handful of survivors and they’re badly damaged.”

“Looks that way,” Griffin ordered.  Half of the surviving ships were streaming oxygen, which didn't bode well for the crews if they failed to seal the hatches.  “Do any of them look to have working FTL drives?”

“Unknown,” Markham said.  “The shock of being yanked out of FTL might have disabled them.”

Griffin nodded in agreement.  The Galactics - until recently - had assumed that starships in FTL were invulnerable, at least until humanity had taught them differently.  They certainly hadn't bothered to take precautions against the drive blowing, when the ship ran into an unexpected gravity field.  Chances were the remaining ships didn't have a hope in hell of jumping into FTL.  It was, he supposed, vaguely possible that the Druavroks would manage to limp back to Dab-Yam.  The Galactics had plenty of legends about starships that had lost FTL drives, but somehow managed to survive the long journey to safety. 

And yet, if they do, it will still take them months at best
, he thought. 
Years, if they want to go somewhere - anywhere - other than Dab-Yam
.

He looked at Markham.  “Are you avenged?”

“Hell, no,” Markham said.  He skinned back his teeth in a savage snarl.  “But at least I’ve made the bastards pay.”

Griffin nodded in agreement.  By any standards, they’d just won a battle they should have lost - and lost badly.  They’d been so badly outgunned that it wasn't remotely funny - and yet they’d prevailed.  The Captain and the Grand Alliance would have good reason to be pleased, while the Druavroks ... if they ever worked out what had happened to their fleet ... would be furious.  It was, he knew, a good sign, a sign the Druavroks could be beaten, a sign they could use to line up more alien allies ...

... And yet, he couldn't help feeling nervous.  Who knew
what
the Druavroks would do in response?

Chapter Twenty-Four

New Mexico and Arizona became the second and third states to sign up to the Texas-led Alliance for the Preservation of the United States, following a tidal wave of refugees from California into Arizona.  Both states have instituted draconian measures against illegal immigrants, terrorists and federal agents, arresting and expelling as many of the first two as they can catch.  (Federal agents are rarely taken alive.)  Washington has so far said nothing, but sources close to the President suggest that the government is currently looking at its options.

-Solar News Network, Year 54

They do look like oversized chickens
, Hoshiko thought, as she bowed politely to Matriarch Yah-Sin.  The Dab-Yam looked
very
much like a chicken, complete with feathers and beady eyes, although she had hands that, judging by the shape, might well have been wings, on her distant ancestors. 
But they did a very good job of defending themselves
.

She studied the Matriarch with interest.  The Dab-Yam, according to the files, were a female-dominated race, the males generally being smaller and weaker than the females.  Who knew what they’d make of nanotechnology that could change a person’s gender overnight, if they wanted, or give one person equal strength to another?  She pushed the thought aside - the Dab-Yam could make use of such technology or not, as they pleased - and bowed for the second time, as the protocol files insisted.  The Dab-Yam did not shake hands with anyone.

And their station is very hot
, she thought, feeling sweat prickling down her back.  The air was hot and smelled, faintly, of something unpleasant. 
Their world must be an uncomfortable place for humans
.

“We greet you to our world,” the Matriarch said, through a translator voder.  Her beak couldn't pronounce human words.  “But we ask you to speak bluntly.”

“I shall,” Hoshiko said.  “You may speak your mind.”

She would have preferred to send Captain Ryman, but who knew how the Dab-Yam would react to a
male
ambassador?  They might not be able to tell the difference between human males and females - human gender dimorphism was nowhere near as obvious as theirs - yet there was no point in taking chances.  Besides, he was fourteen days away by courier boat
and
very tied up in turning the Grand Alliance into a functional unit.

“We have little interest in the outside universe,” Matriarch Yah-Sin said.  Her voice was flat, the voder being unable to convoy emotion.  Hoshiko’s implants told her that the Dab-Yam had almost no expressions; the only way to read them was to listen to their voices, which were so high-pitched that they were hard for humans to hear.  “We do not understand why you wish us to join your Grand Alliance.”

Because I sacrificed over a thousand crewmen for your world
, Hoshiko thought, although she kept it to herself.  The Dab-Yam hadn't
asked
her to come to their rescue.  Their world had just been the closest target to Malachi. 
And because we need you
.

“The Druavroks are unlikely to leave you alone, Your Ladyship,” she said.  Her implants insisted that was the correct title for a Matriarch.  “They may have been knocked back, their fleet crushed, but they have many more fleets.  You joining us will make us stronger and more able to take the fight to them.”

“We have few warships, Lady Captain,” Matriarch Yah-Sin said.  “Those we did have are badly damaged.”

“Then allow us to use your world as a base and supply us with weapons,” Hoshiko said, seriously.  “Your world is closer to the enemy homeworlds than Amstar.”

“Our warriors will not fight outside our system,” Matriarch Yah-Sin insisted.  “You would have to do the fighting yourself.”

That
, Hoshiko had to admit, was a puzzling attitude.  Almost every other race known to exist had liked the idea of settling up colonies and enclaves, if only to make sure that all of their eggs were not kept in one basket.  The Dab-Yam didn't seem aware of the dangers their race faced, even without the Druavroks threatening their homeworld.  A supernova or asteroid strike could exterminate almost all of their race.  But they didn't seem inclined to set up colonies away from their homeworld.

“We have enough warriors,” she said, curtly.  “But we do need basing rights, weapons and supplies.”

There was a long pause.  Hoshiko waited, suspecting that Matriarch Yah-Sin was communing with her fellow nest-mothers.  The Dab-Yam would not be remotely pleased with the request for basing rights, but they had to admit they
needed
a powerful fleet presence based within their system, unless they
wanted
the Druavroks to return and resume grinding their defences to powder.  Assuming they had a month or two of grace, they could rebuild some of the fortifications orbiting their planet, but it wouldn't alter the final outcome.  Dab-Yam was doomed unless she joined the Grand Alliance and went on the offensive.

“We can supply you with weapons and other supplies, once we tend to our own defences,” Matriarch Yah-Sin said, finally.  “And while we
can
grant you basing rights, we must insist that your warriors do not set foot on our planet.  They will frighten the men.”

Or give them ideas
?  Hoshiko thought, cynically. 
Are you scared of us convincing them they can do more than stay home and look after the kids
?

She pushed the thought aside.  The Solar Union had been founded by a man who was a strong believer in voting with one’s feet.  If the residents of a canton found it unbearable, they had the right to move away ... and if they chose not to make use of it, it was their own stupid fault.  Given time, the spread of technology - unlocked fabbers, unlocked medical nanites - would bring change to Dab-Yam too.  Who knew where
that
would lead?

“That is acceptable,” she said.  “We would be willing to base the fleet on one of your moons, once we established a naval base.”

“We would prefer you to place the base in orbit around the gas giant so you could protect the new cloudscoop,” Matriarch Yah-Sin said.  “Our world is running short of fuel.”

“We are willing to offer improved fusion reactors as part of the deal,” Hoshiko offered, seriously.  “They’re considerably more efficient than the Tokomak designs.”

“We would accept those gratefully,” Matriarch Yah-Sin said.  “We would also accept assistance in securing raw materials for the fabbers.”

“We would be happy to provide it, as long as the fleet remains here,” Hoshiko said.  It wouldn't be
hard
to steer a couple of asteroids towards the planet, provided no one was shooting at them.  “However, the vast majority of our ships need to be rearmed.”

“That is understandable,” Matriarch Yah-Sin said.  She stood a little stiffer.  “And we thank you for your assistance.”

Hoshiko suspected she understood.  The Dab-Yam had never been a very sociable race, not even once they’d discovered the vast universe just beyond their atmosphere.  Matriarch Yah-Sin didn't seem to be uneasy, in her presence, but even
she
had to find contact with aliens difficult.  Humans had had similar problems, just after Contact ... and
humans
were more sociable than the Dab-Yam.  There would be time to break down the barriers later.

“I thank you too,” she said.  “With your permission, I will return to my ship.”

Matriarch Yah-Sin bowed.  Hoshiko bowed back, then keyed her wristcom and called for teleport.  The teleport field enveloped her a moment later and then faded away, revealing the teleport chamber.  Commander Wilde was standing there, waiting for her.  He looked tired, but pleased with himself.  And, as he’d destroyed a considerable amount of tonnage in a single ambush, he had good reason to be.

“Captain,” he said.  “Welcome back.”

“It was an interesting meeting,” Hoshiko said.  She returned the teleport officer’s salute, then allowed Wilde to lead her back towards her cabin.  “They’re grateful, but also concerned about the future.”

“They’re a profoundly conservative race, according to the files,” Wilde commented.  “I honestly wonder how they managed to invent the wheel.”

Hoshiko shrugged.  The Dab-Yam had a history that stretched back over millions of years, almost all of it profoundly boring.  Unlike humans, they didn't seem to pick many fights with their own kind; the only real wars they’d had in their history had been small skirmishes over resources and occasional mating rights.  It was almost as if they didn't have much of an aggressive instinct at all, unlike humanity - or the Druavroks.  They’d been lucky they’d managed to get into space when the Tokomak arrived.  That, at least, had won them some respect.

“I think our history was driven by war,” she said, although she wasn't entirely sure if that were true.  “Once we developed the concept of steadily improving our technology, we just kept trying to find new ways to do things.”

“When we didn't stagnate,” Wilde pointed out.  “How many of our cultures simply stopped innovating because they were satisfied, technologically speaking?”

Hoshiko shrugged.  “Neither Imperial China nor Imperial Rome had access to the kind of communications systems we enjoy,” she said, tartly.  “And neither of them dominated the world.”

“They were destroyed by outside forces,” Wilde said.  “The Dab-Yam could easily have gone the same way - still could, if they don’t build a more effective defence.”

“True,” Hoshiko agreed.  “And we will be helping them with that, as we prepare to take the war into their territory.”

“If they accept our help,” Wilde said, pessimistically.  “They’re not too keen on having us here.”

Hoshiko shrugged.  She’d requested copies of Matriarch Yah-Sin’s records when she’d returned to the system and, somewhat reluctantly, the Dab-Yam had provided.  Their defences had been formidable,
and
they’d stopped the first enemy attack so decisively that the Druavroks had chosen to wear down the defences rather than risk another major attack, but choosing to go permanently on the defensive had doomed them to defeat before her fleet had arrived.  The Dab-Yam
needed
her help if they wanted to survive the next few years.

She opened the hatch to her cabin and stepped inside, using her implants to send a request for coffee to her steward.  Her clothes felt sweaty, despite the cool air; she wondered, suddenly, just what else lurked in the planet’s atmosphere.  Nothing dangerous, she was sure - her implants would have taken care of it - but she couldn't help feeling uncomfortable.  She made a mental note to shower once the meeting was finished, then catch up on her sleep as soon as they returned to FTL.

“On other news, we shot all of the freighters dry,” Wilde added, as the steward appeared with a tray of coffee and biscuits.  Hoshiko took her mug and a chocolate chip cookie, then sat down on her sofa.  “We expended much of our stockpile of missiles in a single barrage.”

“At least it took out a number of their ships,” Hoshiko said.  “We’d have killed more if we’d taken down their datanet quicker.”

“Perhaps,” Wilde said.  “But we’re going to have to replenish our supplies before we can take the offensive once again.”

He paused.  “And there’s another problem.”

Hoshiko took a sip of her coffee, then lifted her eyebrows.  “There is?”

“Yes, Captain,” Wilde said.  “We cheated.  We lured the enemy into a trap, one set using a device they had no reason to anticipate.”

“They should have been paying more attention to the reports from Earth,” Hoshiko said, dipping her cookie in the coffee.  “It isn't as if we stopped a handful of Horde starships, is it?”

“They probably didn't know the details,” Wilde said.  “We didn’t share much and I doubt the Tokomak wanted to talk about their defeat.  Still ...

“Captain, we hit them with an outside context problem,” he said.  “But as far as much of the Grand Alliance is concerned, we kicked their ass with a handful of warships and a few dozen freighters.  They might start thinking the bastards are really nothing more than paper tigers.”