The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) (14 page)

“Sending one of my commanding officers to die because I desired his partner would be shitty,” Hoshiko said.

“There are races involved in your coalition that have disputes,” Griffin reminded her.  “If you were to send one race’s battleships to their doom, their rivals will grow relatively stronger and perhaps turn on their enemies once the war against the Druavroks is over.  Therefore, even while they fight beside us, they guard their backs against their rivals and prospective future enemies.  The only reason they trust us, I think, is because humanity isn't a particularly significant race in this sector - and I don’t expect it to last.”

Hoshiko raised her eyebrows.  “Why?”

“Because there
are
large settlements of humans here,” Griffin reminded her.  “We might end up using them as an excuse for
Anschluss
.”

“I wouldn't want to,” Hoshiko said.  “We’re not interested in annexing worlds.”

“They don’t understand our society,” Griffin said.  “And why should they?  The concept of a society that is primarily based on asteroids and small moons is alien to them.”

“Because the Tokomak were obsessed with worlds themselves,” Hoshiko said.  “They never made the transition to a spacefaring society.”

“And we only did for political reasons,” Griffin said.  He shrugged.  “Captain, if I may make a suggestion, get some sleep.”

“Soon,” Hoshiko said.

Griffin felt another stab of sympathy, despite his worries.  Hoshiko effectively wore three hats now: commanding officer of
Jackie Fisher
, commanding officer of the squadron and commanding officer of the coalition fleet.  She had placed dozens of people in positions where they could handle the immense problems facing them, but the buck still stopped with her.  And if the Solar Union chose to object to her approach to the problems facing the sector, she’d pay for it with her life ...

...
And there's no one she can truly confide in
, he thought.  It wasn't uncommon for junior officers or crewmen to form relationships - it wasn't against regulations, as long as they were at roughly the same rank - but there was literally no one who was either an equal or a civilian, not to Hoshiko. 
There’s no one she can relax around and just be herself
.

Hoshiko cleared her throat.  “I want to make some special preparations,” she said, leaning forward.  “First, I intend to command the exercises - and our first deployment - from the CIC, leaving you in command of the ship.  It’s
technically
a dereliction of duty, but I see no way around it.”

“Nor do I,” Griffin said.  The regulations that forbade captains from leaving their bridge during a combat situation hadn't been written to cover these circumstances.  Normally, there would be a captain on the bridge and an admiral in the CIC.  “How do you intend to set up a chain of command?”

“That will be tricky,” Hoshiko acknowledged.  “Captain Ryman is the most experienced person we have, when it comes to dealing with aliens, but his military experience is somewhat outdated.  If something happens to
Jackie Fisher
, Captain Macpherson will assume command of the fleet.  We can't risk appointing an alien because everyone who wasn't appointed will complain.”

“If this alliance turns into a permanent structure,” Griffin said, “we’re going to need to get around that somehow.”

“Maybe set up a joint space force,” Hoshiko said.  “It isn't as though we couldn’t have multiracial ships.”

“The logistics would be a pain,” Griffin said.  “Even if we insisted on only allowing humanoid races to join, Captain, it would still be a major headache.”

Hoshiko smirked.  “Wasn't that what they said about allowing women on combat ships back in the wet navy?”

“The problems would be an order of magnitude worse,” Griffin said, irked.  The wet navy had had problems integrating female crewmembers, but at least the women had been
human
and could use human facilities.  He tried to imagine a Hordesman using a human toilet and shuddered.  “Even for a bigger ship, even with modern technology, it would still be a struggle.”

“Perhaps,” Hoshiko said.  “But the only way to overcome distrust is to have officers serve together before they take roles in high command.”

She sighed.  “There’s one other thing I’ve been considering,” she added.  “I want you to prepare a couple of ships for a small crew.  A freighter, for preference, and a courier boat.”

Griffin frowned.  “Can I ask why?”

“The problem with approaching Malachi is that they’ll see us coming,” Hoshiko said.  “I think there’s a way to limit what they can see before it’s too late.”

She outlined what she wanted, piece by piece.  “It should be doable,” she concluded.  “And I will be commanding the ship myself.”

“You shouldn’t,” Griffin said.  The commander should not put herself in extra danger during wartime.  “You’re the glue holding this hodgepodge together.”

“That’s precisely why I have to take the risk, Commander,” Hoshiko said.  “Our allies may be nervous about being knifed in the back by our
other
allies, but they have to be worried about us too.  I need to prove to them that we’re going to be sharing the risks.”

“That’s ... not a smart choice,” Griffin objected.

“I know,” Hoshiko said.  “But I don’t think we
have
a choice.”

Chapter Thirteen

A radioactive ‘dirty bomb’ was triggered in Delhi yesterday, creating a cloud of radioactive particles that poisoned thousands of civilians.  The Indian Government declared it the work of Islamist terrorists and announced a major round-up of Islamists and everyone even remotely connected to them.

-Solar News Network, Year 54

Jackie Fisher
, Hoshiko had discovered when she’d first boarded her command, hadn't really been
designed
as a command vessel.  The Solar Union had been designing the
Admiral-
class heavy cruisers back when there had been little interest in mounting operations well away from Sol, where there were ample command vessels of other classes available.  Her CIC therefore doubled as her secondary bridge, while her flag deck was relatively small and there were only a handful of compartments for an admiral’s command staff.  But as long as it did the job, Hoshiko found it hard to care.  Her uncle had worked hard on reducing personal staffs in any case.

“It’s bad for an admiral to be surrounded by ass-kissers,” he’d said, back when Hoshiko had been preparing for the Academy.  “They tell him what they think he wants to hear and never tell him what he
needs
to hear.”

She pushed the thought out of her mind as she looked up at the holographic display, silently replaying the single live-fire exercise they’d completed.  Thankfully, they’d carried out a number of simulated exercises first or the Grand Alliance - as she’d dubbed it - would have come to a crashing halt there and then.  Accidentally shooting up their own ships was quite bad enough, but it was unlikely that half the races involved would have accepted it
was
an accident.  Commander Wilde’s assertion that some of the members would take advantage of the alliance to address their own concerns, even at the expense of the other members, was starting to look
very
well founded indeed.

At least we’re getting to the point where we can fly in rough formation
, she told herself, as the exercise came to an end.  The combat datanet had taken a week to set up, then another week of hard practice to operate, but they could fly and fight as a unit now.  And they’d worked so many redundancies into the system that it would be hard for the enemy to take it down. 
As long as everyone cooperates, at least ...

“Record,” she ordered, sending a command to her implants.  “Personal for Admiral Stuart, Fleet Command.  Admiral.  Live fire exercises have proved a success, but there is considerable room for improvement.  I intend to keep testing the crews during our flight to Malachi and hold a final set of exercises when we reach the RV point.  Unfortunately, there are limits to how much fire our modified freighters can take ...”

She droned on, carefully explaining her decisions and the rationale behind them.  Uncle Mongo would understand, she suspected, her decision to place her own life at risk, although it wouldn't stop him chewing her out afterwards - if she survived.  She was a Stuart, after all, and flinching from the sound of the guns was not in her blood.  Even Uncle Kevin, the spy her little brother had thought was impossibly cool during his early years, had never inched away from getting his hands dirty.  Some of the stories he’d told about his days in the service on Earth had fascinated her, even though she was sure they weren't entirely true.  How could one man have stopped a war by kidnapping a terrorist from his tent?

“I have weighed up the advantages as well as the disadvantages of my chosen course of action,” she concluded.  “There is a considerable risk in putting my life at stake.  However, for diplomatic reasons, I believe I have no choice.”

She stopped the recording and uploaded it to the datacore, along with copies of their records and personal messages from the crew to their loved ones.  They’d be on their way to Earth before the fleet left Amstar, the last testaments of her crew if something happened to
Jackie Fisher. 
Hoshiko knew there was a prospect of death - Stuarts had fallen in battle before over the years - but she feared losing the war more than she feared losing her life.  Building the Grand Alliance was important, yet stopping the Druavroks was rather more so.  The evil they represented could not be let loose on the galaxy.

Which means we have to pound the living daylights out of them
, she thought.  The doctor had finally found a female corpse to dissect, but any hopes Hoshiko might have had about Druavrok females being more rational had swiftly been lost.  They were just as bloody-minded as the males. 
We have to thump them until they’re begging for mercy
.

She pushed the thought aside as the recording of the exercise began to repeat itself.  The fleet was already working on correcting its weaknesses, although the crews would need real combat experience before they truly understood what they were doing.  But then, part of the reason she’d picked their target was that it shouldn't pose too great a challenge, allowing her ships to gain experience without any action risk.  Or so she hoped.  She knew, better than most, just what could happen when Murphy got a look-in.  Whatever could go wrong probably would, at the worst possible time.

The hatch opened with a hiss.  Hoshiko turned, just in time to see Ensign Howard peeking into the CIC.  “Captain?”

“Ensign,” Hoshiko said.  She’d left Howard with Captain Ryman as an aide, gofer and quiet supervisor.  The young man would have to grow up very quickly now the squadron was going to war.  “What can I do for you?”

Howard looked embarrassed.  “Captain, umm ...
Commodore
Ryman would like to speak with you, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“It’s not,” Hoshiko said, concealing her amusement with some effort.  “Send him to my office.  I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

She took one final look around the CIC as the ensign vanished and then walked through the hatch, back to her office.  Captain Ryman was waiting outside, looking surprisingly composed; Ensign Howard looked about as nervous as a schoolboy who’d been summoned to meet the principal.  Hoshiko kept her amusement under strict control as she opened the hatch - etiquette forbade anyone to enter without her - and led the way into her office.  Her steward materialised out of his compartment and shot her an inquiring look.

“Coffee for me and Commodore Ryman,” Hoshiko said.  She turned to look at Ensign Howard.  Keeping him in the cabin would be torture.  “You’re dismissed for the moment, ensign.  Go to the galley and request something to eat.”

“Aye, Captain,” Ensign Howard said, too young to hide his relief.  “I’ll remain there until summoned.”

He hurried out of the hatch before she could change her mind.  Hoshiko shook her head with genuine amusement - she’d probably been just as gauche as a young officer herself - and then looked at Captain Ryman, who shrugged.  The merchant spacers were less formal than the Solar Navy.  They had to be.

“Please, take a seat,” she said, as the steward returned with two mugs of coffee and a tray of sticky buns.  Someone, probably Commander Wilde or Doctor Carr, had told him to make sure Hoshiko ate over the last few days.  “I trust the recent courier boats brought good news?”

“The Gloudathua and the Tradresh signed up at once,” Captain Ryman said, taking one of the mugs of coffee and lifting it to his mouth.  “They’re deadly rivals, Captain, so neither of them would want to take the risk of allowing the other to gain an advantage.  The weapons tech and bypass codes we gave them only sweetened the deal.  They’d agreed to earmark a couple of battle squadrons for us apiece if we show them that we can win battles.”

“Understood,” Hoshiko said.  “And the Qluyt'yrti?”

“Still unsure what we can do for them,” Captain Ryman told her.  “Their representative here is convinced, but her homeworld is rather less concerned about Amstar than you might expect.  I suspect they will probably change their minds within the next couple of weeks, Captain, once they see what we’ve done for the others.”

He sighed.  “It will be at least another couple of weeks before we hear back from a handful of other homeworlds and races,” he added.  “I’m seriously thinking about setting up a permanent headquarters on Amstar.  It’s a multiracial world without a single dominate race, so it would serve as a sensible place to set up our base.  Martina might serve as a secondary base if necessary, but their ruling council is still arguing over the best course of action.”

“They’ll be in the firing line sooner or later,” Hoshiko pointed out.

“Amstar forced its inhabitants to work together,” Captain Ryman said.  “Martina doesn't have a real authority in control of the system.  I’m hoping that will change, but it will take time, time they may not have.”

Hoshiko nodded.  “Are you planning to remain behind on Amstar?”

“Unless you have someone else lined up to do the diplomatic work,” Captain Ryman said, bluntly.  “It also gives me a chance to expand the network of spies.  Just asking questions of merchant spacers as they come into port will tell us a great deal more about the enemy, Captain, and the rest of the sector.”

“And let you recruit more spacers,” Hoshiko agreed.  “Manpower is going to be a pain in the ass for a long time to come.”

“I’m afraid so,” Captain Ryman said.  “We can expand the trade schools now, if you like, even establish new ones, but it will be years before we see a major increase in engineers and other trained experts.  Much of what passed for engineering while the Tokomak were in power basically consisted of removing one item from the drives and replacing it with another drawn from spares.  If they lacked a spare part ... tough shit.”

“Crazy,” Hoshiko said.

Captain Ryman shrugged.  “How many of your officers know how to tear down and rebuild an FTL drive?”

“My engineers do,” Hoshiko said.  The Solar Navy paid a higher salary to anyone with a genuine working knowledge of GalTech, which didn't stop them being poached by merchant shippers and commercial concerns.  Someone who could modify a Galactic FTL drive, to say nothing of a fabber or orbital defence array, was worth his or her weight in just about anything, if not more.  “I’ve always been more interested in the tactical side of space combat, myself.”

“And without the engineers, your ships wouldn't function for long,” Captain Ryman said.  “I think the Tokomak didn't want their subjects actually repairing their ships.  They may even have been playing silly buggers with the fabbers.”

Hoshiko nodded, remembering one intelligence briefing.  There had been a suspicion - never confirmed - that the fabbers included programming to hardwire override codes into everything they produced, allowing the Tokomak to take over the systems at will.  The thought of having her command network suddenly stolen from under her was terrifying, given just how dependent she was on the computers.  But no amount of investigation had managed to find proof the codes actually existed.  Solar Intelligence had eventually concluded the suspicion was little more than a rumour, one intended to keep the subject races from rebelling.  What was the point of trying to launch an uprising when one’s ships could simply be deactivated at will?

“We can change that,” she said, simply.  Given time, who knew what alien minds would produce?  “And we will.”

“There are a number of other issues,” Captain Ryman said, “but all of them are only really important if we manage to defeat the Druavroks.  They want some trade deals, either with us or with the ITA, yet ...”

“There’s no point in worrying about that at the moment,” Hoshiko said.  They had a war to fight.  “Keep the Grand Alliance focused on military matters.”

“I shall certainly try,” Captain Ryman said.  He finished his coffee and returned the mug to the tray.  “I should tell you, Captain, that I’m very pleased with young Ensign Howard.  He handled himself very well in the endless series of meetings down on the planet.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Hoshiko said.  She hadn't had time to do more than glance at the reports, but no one had exploded with rage or demanded that the poor ensign be declared
persona non grata
.  “Do you wish him to remain with you or return to the ship for combat duty?”

“I have a small staff now,” Captain Ryman said.  “The Pan-Gal had a number of human employees who were willing to work for me.  If you want Thomas back, I won’t fight to keep him.”

Hoshiko considered the matter, briefly.  She needed every officer she could get on
Jackie Fisher
, even someone who’d been fresh out of the Academy when the squadron had been dispatched to Martina.  Ensign Howard showed promise, at least; a few months of combat duty would give him the practical experience he lacked.  But then, diplomatic experience would also be helpful, if he wanted to go into command or diplomatic tracks.