First Strike (42 page)

But with Admiral Sampson at Hammerfall, Admiral Sun was in command of the Earth Defence Fleet.

“Assuming that the reports are accurate,” Admiral Sun said, “we can expect a Hegemony battle force to reach Earth within one week to two months.”

The President watched the reactions of the other world leaders. Organising the conference at such short notice had been difficult, even though the Federation Council had been conferring regularly ever since the war had kicked off. The secret of politics was that it was often more important to seem to be doing something rather than actually doing something, even if you couldn't do anything more than get in the way. He’d told himself that he’d do things differently when he became President, only to discover that there was little choice. Politics often got in the way of politicking.

“But the Hegemony has just lost a major shipyard,” the Japanese Prime Minister said. He sounded worried, but then Japan had had plenty of experience with surprise attacks as a way to start a war. They always tended to be merciless. “Surely they cannot risk additional losses.”

“I have a different question,” the German Chancellor grunted. “How is it that we know about this?”

Sun hesitated. “Classified intelligence sources,” he said, finally. “I’m afraid we have to keep them strictly compartmentalised…”

“How dare you?” The French President demanded. “The Federation Council is above suspicion!”

The President would have sniggered if he hadn't had good control of his expressions. Trying to steer the Federation Council was rather like herding cats, with each member trying to get an advantage for his own country out of the system. At least they were all grown up enough not to bring down the Federation in their power games. The same couldn't be said for some of their countrymen. Despite Terra Nova, despite the endless threats from the Hegemony, there were plenty of Americans who saw the Federation as just another prototype world government, one that would swallow up America and destroy everything that made the country great. It had amused the hell out of him to discover that every other world leader had similar problems.

Admiral Sun didn't snicker either. “The Federation Councillors are supported by small armies of aides,” he said. “Are they all trustworthy? What about the secretaries? Or the interns? Or the guards? Are they all such paragons of virtue that secrets can be freely discussed in front of them?”

The President smiled. Bill Clinton should have been more careful about trusting the intern who’d given him oral sex, although he had no idea how Clinton had found the time. The President was always busy, mostly reading reports, listening to briefings and pressing the flesh. It was easy to believe that one of the people working for him reported to someone else without his permission. Information was power in the American government, particularly if you got it first.

“That isn't the issue at hand,” the President said, cutting into the discussion. Perhaps Sun wasn't such a bad guy after all. “We believe that we have an attack incoming. Do we declare a state of planetary emergency or do we take the chance that the reports are false?”

He looked from face to face. “This has to be a joint decision,” he said. “We cannot have one of us declaring a state of emergency and expect the media not to notice. There will be panic.”

“And if we
 
do
 
declare a state of emergency,” the French President pointed out, “the economy goes down the tubes. It's fragile right now, even with the loans from the Galactics.”

The President scowled at him. He would have bet good money that the Frenchman’s ugly wife, bratty teenage daughter and two preteen sons were already on their way to somewhere safe. The Secret Service had provided him with a dossier on their behaviour during a state visit to the White House that had made interesting reading. It was a pity that it probably couldn't be used for blackmail material.

“I don’t think that any of us would want to be in office when the survivors start asking questions,” he said, flatly. Maybe he could push the council in the right direction. “I’m going to declare a state of emergency. My very strong advice is that you all do the same. So far, the war has been far from our world. That may be about to change.”

He stood up. “We may not meet again,” he added, allowing himself a little melodrama. “But even if we lose this war, we gave them a lesson they won’t forget in a hurry. Maybe we will upset the Galactic apple cart so badly that the Hegemony won’t be able to keep up.”

“Status report?”

“
Voyager
 
transited back into quantum space,” Sooraya said. “So far, the Funks have not arrived in the solar system. Admiral Sun has uploaded a tactical sit-rep for you.”

Tobias nodded. Lurking in quantum space was an old tactic, well known to the Galactics, but assuming the Funks didn't know that he’d abandoned Hammerfall, they wouldn't be expecting it. By keeping his fleet hidden, it was just possible that he could induce the Funks to commit themselves to attacking Earth before realising that they were about to put themselves into a meatgrinder. If the Funks had realised just how many ships were waiting for them, they might have thought better of their plans.

But perhaps it wouldn't make any difference, he realised as he scrolled through the report. The strike on Hegemony Prime had succeeded beyond his wildest expectations, leaving the Funks tumbling down into civil war. None of their intelligence sources had even
 
seen
 
their Empress for the last three days. She might be dead, or in hiding, or attempting to rally her supporters for a counterattack… if she had any supporters left. Even the worst human dictators had been able to call upon considerable support when their positions were threatened, but the Funks seemed to do it differently. Some of their traditions even included the concept of honourable betrayal, abandoning a leader whose position had become untenable before civil war could devastate the entire system.

The Hegemony was going down; according to one report, units of the Hegemony Navy had even started firing at each other. They’d be too busy for the foreseeable future to worry about humanity, assuming that humanity survived the coming battle. But in its death agonies the Hegemony might just take Earth down with it. Perhaps that was why they’d launched a mighty fleet at Earth. Maybe they’d learned the concept of total war from the human race.

“Hold our position here,” Tobias ordered. He’d reorganised his squadrons as best as he could, although the losses from recent fighting had forced him to combine units that had never served together before the flight to Earth. They’d been training hard ever since, yet there were limits to how well simulations could teach lessons. But there was no time for proper exercises. “Admiral Sun will update us when the enemy fleet arrives.”

If it does arrive
, he added, in the privacy of his own thoughts. Knowing the Funks, it was quite possible that the enemy commander, realising that she was in command of the largest surviving segment of the Hegemony Navy, might make her own bid to become Empress. Or he might have been completely wrong and the Funks merely intended to hit Garston or even Terra Nova...although three entire squadrons of superdreadnoughts were massive overkill for any target, but Earth.

He shrugged. Coordinating operations between normal space and quantum space wasn't easy, but it was easier than trying to coordinate across interstellar distances. One lesson humanity
 
had
 
learned quickly – and so had the Funks – was that the simpler the plan, the better. He’d just have to hope that he wasn't being too clever for his own good. But the opportunity to deliver a final blow to the Hegemony was too good to allow to slip by without at least trying to take advantage of it.

“Back to training,” he said. There was nothing he could do now, but wait. “But tell the Alpha crews that I want them to get some rest. God knows how long it will be before the shit hits the fan.”

* * *

Admiral Sun knew himself to be more of an administrator than a fighter. His career in the People’s Liberation Army Navy had been devoted to building up a force that could challenge American dominance of the seas near China, a task that had forced him to concentrate on fighting paper wars with Communist Party planners rather than actually training and preparing for the actual fighting. He’d been rather amused to discover that his American counterparts envied his budget and access to the resources of China, apparently because they believed that a Communist state could simply order whatever resources it needed devoted to the military. Anyone who believed
 
that
 
had clearly never tried to operate within a Communist economy.

The Federation Navy had faced hundreds of very real limitations in building up a fleet that could challenge the Hegemony. Earth had had a pathetic space program before Mentor had arrived and gave the human race the technology it needed to burst out into the solar system. There was a staggering shortage of trained manpower, even after fifteen years of development, and dozens of production bottlenecks. And the Federation Navy hadn’t had first call on
 
all
 
of humanity’s resources. Earth’s growing space-based industry had needed manpower and spacecraft too.

He studied the fleet taking shape in orbit and scowled. It looked formidable, all right, but he knew its limitations. Five
 
Admiral
-class cruisers, the most advanced ships in the galaxy, had taken point, but they were tied to their comrades. A hundred military starships, all bought or begged from the Galactics, and fifty-seven modified freighters. He knew, better than anyone else on Earth, precisely what would happen if the older ships came to grips with Hegemony superdreadnoughts: they’d be slaughtered.

Fifty years
, he thought, sourly. Americans seemed to place more faith in planners than the Chinese, an irony that would have amused him under other circumstances, but he had no doubt about those figures. Fifty years of uninterrupted development would have made Earth invincible, at least until the Galactics duplicated Earth’s advances and installed them in their fleets. The Hegemony wouldn't have been able to even stay in the running. Perhaps that explained why they had brought so much pressure to bear on Earth. They’d understood, dimly, that human advancement was a deadly threat and acted to squash it before it was too late. But if they had really understood...

…They might have attacked Earth without warning.

He turned and looked at the viewscreen, which showed Earth rotating slowly under his fleet. The planet was panicking, law and order steadily breaking down; a mocking reminder of the pre-Contact days when most of human civilization had been reasonably safe and secure. Few civilians really comprehended the crushing power of the Galactics, but those who could read fleet lists would probably be able to work out that humanity was badly outnumbered. The results of the coming confrontation might be disastrous. Hundreds of thousands were fleeing for shelter; millions were scrambling to find a safe place to hide. A handful of politicians who had opposed building shelters for the population had been threatened with lynching as people sought someone to blame. The fact that the politicians had been right – antimatter weapons could crack the entire planet in half – would be meaningless to them. It was far better to spend that money on the Federation Navy.

“Admiral,” Commander Gustav Wallenberg said, “I have the latest update from the OWPs.”

Sun nodded, careful to keep his face immobile. “I presume that they have finished their work?”

“The engineers report that three of the five platforms are now operational,” Wallenberg said, “but I’m afraid that the other two need their components switched out before they can be activated. The dealers who sold them to us didn't take very good care of them.”

“Which explains why they were on the market in the first place,” Sun said. Galactic technology was tough, robust in a way that few human products could match, but even it wore down. And most military suppliers among the Galactics were not entirely trustworthy. ONI had speculated that the more powerful Galactics rigged the market to ensure that the weaker powers didn't get any stronger. “Make a note of the dealer. Maybe we can hunt him up for damages later.”

Back in China, the PLAN had had real problems with quality control. Sun had worried – endlessly – over state-sponsored factories that produced shoddy goods, even with everything they’d learned from the West. Even when they’d tracked down the source of the useless technology, they’d often found it difficult to punish the people responsible. Their political connections were always first-rate. But supersonic missiles intended to be fired at American aircraft carriers were more complex than AK-47s. At least the Federation Navy had had the clout to challenge defective factories. Maybe the
 
real
 
reason why he’d been denied the post of CNO was that he’d put too many noses out of joint while serving under Admiral Sampson.

“Yes, sir,” his aide said. “I’m afraid that Alan Beresford has been in contact again, demanding to speak with you personally.”

Sun wanted to order his aide to tell the British MP that he was busy, perhaps on a week-long EVA inspection trip, but he knew better. The politicians always wanted their hands held, even the ones who had the experience or insight to realise that it was a waste of time. Beresford had been a thorn in his flesh since Clarke had been occupied by the Hegemony, largely because he had vast investments on the planet which stood to make him very rich – assuming that the human race survived the war. He’d been demanding that the Federation Navy liberate Clarke yesterday, if possible. Sun, who agreed with his superior that Clarke was probably a feint to draw the Federation Navy away from Earth, had declined.

“I’ll speak to him in my office,” he said, tiredly. His body wanted sleep, but he had no time to rest. Too much needed to be done in too little time. At least Admiral Sampson was in position. They’d certainly give the Funks a bloody nose when they attacked. “Has there been any update from the IDG team?”

“Nothing since the last update,” his aide said, patiently. “They merely reported that they were in position and running test cycles on the generator.”

Sun nodded, slowly. He’d named the generator personally, pointing out that the Galactics probably weren't interested in the teachings of a military theorist from a society that hadn’t possessed gunpowder at the time. And besides, the name was fitting.

“Inform me at once if there are any changes,” he ordered.

He’d go talk to the politician. Maybe that would distract him from the endless waiting.

* * *

“Layabouts,” Ward thundered. “Look at them down there, screaming for help. Why didn't they think about the dangers before it was too late?”

Betty, his secretary, shrugged. She was an elderly woman, appointed to the post at the insistence of Ward’s wife, even though
 
he
 
would have preferred a young and charming girl just out of college. Not that he would have touched her, of course; he could hardly have afforded the scandal after years of making political enemies. It had been bad enough when the IRS had insisted on auditing their accounts, twice in a row.

“Young people these days have no sense of history,” Ward continued. “A whole universe of opportunity awaits them and they don’t even
 
care
.”

He’d been a grown man when the human race had been contacted by Mentor. The world had seemed to be entering a decline that might have resulted in anarchy, or so he’d feared. There were no longer any hopes and dreams for the young, no clear crusades against evil and politicians who were little more than crooks. An angry man had gone into journalism, fully expecting to spend his last days reporting on another seeming constant that had just turned upside down. And instead the Galactics had arrived and offered humanity the keys to the stars.

Terra Nova had seemed a blessing when it had first been settled. A new world, one that could be shaped by its first settlers...if they ever got the chance. Every nation on Earth had insisted on contributing colonists, creating ethnic and racial tensions that might have torn the planet’s fragile society apart. The Funks might have proved a blessing in disguise, at least according to some of the reporters on the ground. Uniting against a common foe had forced humanity to put its own conflicts on the backburner. And it helped that the Funks had managed to convince Earth to throw all the money it could at the Federation Navy.

But now the Funks were on their way to Earth.

He looked down at the screaming mob and snorted unpleasantly. Fifteen years of warning and yet relatively few people had done the smart thing and prepared an emergency plan to leave the cities and find shelter.
 
Ward
 
had purchased a ranch in Texas with his brother and made plans to move there as soon as necessary, once the shit really hit the fan. But he’d been reluctant to leave until it was clear that there was nothing more he could do to keep reporting the news. Maybe he’d already left it too late. The roads out of every city in America were jammed with terrified civilians trying to get out of Dodge before it was too late. Constant broadcasts from the President appealing for calm were having almost no effect at all. Everyone knew that the President and
 
his
 
family were going to be in a bunker when the Funks arrived, safe from everything apart from planet-crackers. But what about
 
their
 
family?

The police – what remained of them after nearly half of the NYPD had deserted – finally moved in to try to contain the riot. Ward watched emotionlessly as some rioters scattered, while others tried to fight – or carry on looting under cover of the riot. Some of the reports from the inner cities, where the police were too overstretched to go, were horrifying. He caught sight of a young man, blood streaming from a blow to the forehead, being carted away by a pair of police officers, just before the first gas canisters started to burst. God alone knew what would happen to the poor bastard. The police were generally good at taking care of injured civilians, even would-be rioters, but Ward had heard that the hospitals were overwhelmed and short-staffed. A blow to the head that would have been easy to handle in hospital might prove fatal if he didn’t receive medical treatment in time.