The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) (21 page)

“I don’t think they do,” Max said.  “They haven't done anything to attempt to
hide
the genocide.  Rumours are spreading through the sector as fast as courier boats can fly. I think they’re either proud of slaughtering so many innocent people or they just don’t give a damn about outside opinions.”

“Probably the latter,” Hilde suggested.  “They don’t seem to be shouting their work to the skies either.  They’re just ...
doing it
.”

Max nodded, slowly.  “Are you here for another interview?”

Hilde gave him a sharp look.  “Did you somehow call me here to attend an interview with the power of your mind?”

“No,” Max said, feeling his face heat.  “But I would have called you here sooner or later.”

“I just came to congratulate you,” Hilde said.  “Your recordings are not only going to Earth, but right across the sector.  You’ll be the most famous reporter in the galaxy by the time this is through.”

“Because telling the sector the Druavroks can be defeated is important,” Max said.  He wasn't sure if he believed her.  Hilde was the last person on the ship he'd have chosen as a messenger girl.  “Do
you
feel they can be defeated?”

“Everyone can be defeated,” Hilde said.  “It’s just a matter of knowing how to do it and actually
doing
it.”

Max smiled.  “Even the Solar Marines?”

“We like to think not,” Hilde said.  She shrugged.  “But we do need to understand our own limits too.”

She gave him a mischievous smile.  “Thinking of joining up?”

“I’m tiny compared to you - and the others,” Max protested.

“
That
wouldn't be a problem,” Hilde countered.  “There’s no reason why you couldn’t have a body like the major’s - or mine - through a long session in the bodyshop.  You’d have to keep it in shape, of course, but you could do that if you wanted.  It’s all about mental toughness, not physical toughness.  You have to have the urge to keep going no matter how much gets dumped on you from high above.  Even among the Solar Union, Max, that sort of urge is rare.”

She shrugged.  “For every marine who graduates, Max, there’s fifty who don’t make it through the final exercises and a hundred who quit during Hell Week.”

“I’m not sure what I’d do with a body like the major’s,” Max said.

Hilde winked.  “I can tell you what
he
does with it,” she said.  “Captain Sharpe was pissed at me for some reason and sent me to take a message to the major, while he was technically off duty.  Turned out I interrupted him in the middle of an orgy with three girls and he was not best pleased.”

“He wouldn't be,” Max said.  He’d spent plenty of time testing out the limits of sexual expression during his own adolescence, but the major had to be at least fifty.  “
Three
girls?”

“We know, every time we go out, that we might be the unlucky ones who buy the farm,” Hilde said, gently.  “
We
don’t have a million-ton starship wrapped around us and the suits, while tough, are not invulnerable.  A single lucky shot could wipe one of us from existence before we know we’re under fire ... and a rigged demolition charge could wipe out a whole platoon.  So yeah, we work hard and we play harder because the next mission could easily be our last.”

Max shuddered.  There was something about the marine lifestyle that was tempting to him, a sense of ...
camaraderie
he’d never felt in the Orbital Guard, but he doubted he’d be able to cope with the training.  Did he have it in him not to cut and run when the shit got too hot?  He’d managed to stay embedded with the marines, but he knew he could pull out at any moment before zero hour.  Hilde and her comrades didn't have that option.

He looked at her.  “And do you play hard too?”

Hilde met his eyes.  “Do you really want to find out?”

Max’s throat was suddenly very dry.  “Is it safe?”

“Life is rarely safe,” Hilde pointed out.  She rose, slowly.  Max was suddenly very aware of the sheer power of her body.  His heartbeat started to race as she took a step forward.  “Do you want to back out now?”

“... No,” Max said.  He was nervous, but he knew he’d hate himself afterwards if he turned her down.  “I don't.”

He raised a hand as she came closer, one hand removing her overalls with practiced ease, and gently pressed it against her skin.  It was warmer than he’d expected, despite the leathery feel; he lifted his head to meet her lips as she bent down and kissed him, her arms wrapping around him and holding him gently.  Resistance, he realised suddenly, was futile.  Her grip was too strong for him to fight.  If she’d wanted to hold him down and have her way with him, he couldn't have stopped her.  The thought was both terrifying and exciting. 

She broke the kiss and smiled down at him.  “Still want to find out?”

Max allowed his hands to trail over her chest.  Her breasts felt strange to his touch, warmer than the rest of her chest and yet practically non-existent.  She made no move to stop him, but he was very aware of her muscled arms holding him.  He heard her sigh, deep in her throat, as his finger traced her nipple.  Her hand moved down and started to unbutton his pants.  A sudden surge of excitement ran through him as she kissed him again, firmly.  She was very definitely in control.

He gathered himself.  “Are you going to carry me into the bedroom or are we going to do it here?”

Hilde grinned, then picked him up almost effortlessly and carried him towards the bedroom door.

Chapter Twenty

The price of food over the former United States of America has skyrocketed as farmers refuse to sell crops at affordable prices or simply walk off the land, in the wake of new demands by the federal government.  Insurgent activity - termed bandit activity - has trebled as the government attempts to enforce its control, while rogue states like Texas have flatly refused to accept the government’s orders.

-Solar News Network, Year 54

“The Grand Alliance is delighted, young man.”

“Thank you, sir,” Thomas said.  He hadn't enjoyed the flight from Malachi to Amstar, but he had to admit he was still the only real candidate to fly the courier boat.  The only upside was that he’d had time to review a number of manuals, catch up on some sleep and play games while the courier had been in FTL.  “I believe the Captain is delighted too.”

Captain Ryman smiled.  He’d greeted Thomas in person, when he’d teleported down to the Pan-Gal, then told Thomas to go into one of the human-compatible suites and have a few hours of sleep.  Thomas had been astonished at just how compatible the suites actually were, now most of the staff had been put back to work.  They’d even offered to find him a girl for the night, which he’d declined hastily.  The mere
concept
was embarrassing, even though he’d been raised in the Solar Union.

“I’m sure she has good reason to be pleased,” Captain Ryman said, peering down at the datapad.  “Did she ... do you know what she’s requested?”

“I wasn't made privy to her private message, sir,” Thomas said.  The idea of the captain confiding in
him
was ludicrous.  “I’m just the messenger boy.”

“We can get her most of what she wants, particularly if we tell everyone what she wants it
for
,” Captain Ryman said.  “Giving up so much antimatter will worry people, though.  They think they need it to defend Amstar.”

Thomas frowned.  It had only been twenty days since the fleet had left Amstar, but it had been clear, the moment he arrived, that the planet’s defenders hadn't wasted their time.  A ring of new-built orbital weapons platforms surrounded the planet, backed up by shoals of mines and remote single-shot buoys.  Behind them, dozens of freighters and a handful of warships were waiting, ready to give the Druavroks a bloody nose if they came back to Amstar.  But even Thomas’s limited experience was enough to tell him the Druavroks probably
could
retake Amstar, if they were willing to soak up the casualties.

“I can't speak for the Captain,” he said, carefully, “but surely keeping the Druavroks reeling is a good idea.”

“I think so, too,” Captain Ryman said.  “But everyone here is terrified of the Druavroks coming
back
.”

He scowled.  “And a couple of the items she requested will take at least ten days to produce,” he added.  “The engineers she left here are great, but they say they’ll have to reprogram one of the fabbers to produce the components and then put it together themselves.”

“I believe the Captain is prepared to wait,” Thomas said.  He hoped he was right.  “But we do need to go on the offensive again as soon as possible.”

“So we do,” Captain Ryman agreed.

He put the datapad down on the desk and looked up at Thomas.  “Are you recording a sensory for your commander?”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.  He’d taken the earlier orders to heart.  “A full sensory.”

“Very good,” Captain Ryman said.  He cleared his throat.  “Production of missiles and orbital defence weaponry proceeds as planned, Captain.  Full figures will be sent along with your” - his lips twitched - “messenger boy, but I have no doubt that the Druavroks will get an unpleasant surprise when they come calling.  In addition, we’ve received reports from several Grand Alliance members that they have successfully unlocked their fabbers.  Production rates should skyrocket over the whole sector.

“Several other races and worlds have also signed up with the Grand Alliance, including two that have volunteered to dispatch warships to take part in the offensive.  I’ve asked them to send the ships to Amstar first, where they will be given Grand Alliance communications and datanet protocols before being forwarded to the fleet.  News of your success will, I’m sure, increase the willingness of the rest of the sector to join us, although many of the more developed worlds are nervous about their own defences.  We’ve also recruited several thousand additional private freighters, all of whom will be outfitted with modern weapons and defences.

“We’ve also been recruiting additional spacers from Amstar and nearby worlds,” he concluded.  “Training is something of a mixed bag, Captain, as they only had to pass the Tokomak exams to qualify for service in space.  I’ve started work on assembling a training facility on Amstar, but that’s pretty much a long-term project.  Mercenaries, on the other hand, we have in abundance, if we can pay them.  Amstar’s provisional government is willing to offer military-grade spare parts, as there’s a shortage of ready cash, but they have to look to their own defences first.  The only upside to this is that the Druavroks don’t seem to be interested in recruiting mercenaries.”

He paused, smiling thinly.  “Is there anything I’ve missed?”

“Martina,” Thomas said, after a moment.  “Have they signed up with us?”

“They’re still haggling over a planetary government, according to the last message,” Captain Ryman said.  His lips quirked.  “Just because there’s a horde of genocidal monsters moving through the sector is no excuse for not following the proper procedures for establishing a federal government.  I expect they’ll come to an agreement sooner rather than later, but they were kept divided by the Tokomak for a reason and old habits die hard.”

Thomas nodded.  There were so many gravity points in the Martina System that whoever controlled it would be in a position to influence and control economic development all over the sector.  The Tokomak might not have put the system under their direct control, but they’d definitely done the next best thing.  And yet now, with the Druavroks advancing steadily towards Martina, the planetary governments could hardly afford to ignore the threat.

“We have helped them to unlock their fabbers too, so the planet’s defences will be boosted,” Captain Ryman added.  “Putting additional defences around the gravity points, however, will be politically unacceptable.”

“Because the Tokomak banned it,” Thomas said.

He’d wondered, back when he’d been at the Academy, why there were so few fixed defences orbiting the gravity points.  The opportunity of catching the enemy ships as they came through one by one should have been irresistible.  But the Tokomak, when they’d cracked the secret of FTL and bypassed the gravity points, had banned all further fortifications.  Given how desperately they relied on the gravity points to move forces around their empire, it made a certain amount of sense.  They just hadn't bargained on losing a war and control of hundreds of sectors.

“And because it would give the planet a stranglehold on economics,” Captain Ryman added, dryly.  “I suspect there will be complaints from the systems on the other side of the gravity points if Martina starts establishing fortifications.  They’d see it as the first step towards levying higher transit tolls.”

“Politics,” Thomas said, in disgust.

“Economics,” Captain Ryman said.  He smirked.  “For nine out of ten Galactic races, Ensign, money talks and politics walk.”

“It doesn't talk to the Druavroks,” Thomas muttered.

“No, it doesn’t,” Captain Ryman agreed.  “There’s always someone who refuses to come to terms with you, if they can understand the concept of coming to terms in the first place.  They need to be fought because there’s no alternative.  Far too many of our problems stem from refusing to grasp that some people are simply unwilling to compromise.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.  “I was taught about the history of Earth at the Academy.”

“Now you have a chance to put some of it into practice,” Captain Ryman said.  “Of course, as my old history teacher was fond of saying, those who don’t study history are doomed to repeat it, while those who
do
study history are doomed to watch helplessly as
others
repeat it.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.  He’d been told the same thing.  “Why does no one ever
learn
?”

Captain Ryman snorted.  “Remind me to tell you, sometimes, about the trading missions to Tatton.  Rich world, very xenophobic; greets incoming aliens with hails of fire ... and at least one or two traders, every year, will attempt to make contact with the locals and get holes blown in their hulls.  They never learn.”

He shrugged.  “I’ll have the freighters loaded with the first set of supplies over the next two days and send them off to Phoenix with a handful of warships as escort,” he said, changing the subject.  “Do you have specific orders for yourself?”

“I’m to take your response back to Captain Stuart,” Thomas said.  “If you have any reports or messages you’d like to forward, I can take those too.”

“No messages from Sol yet, of course,” Captain Ryman said.  “There are a handful of messages marked for her attention, mainly from governments trying to seek out a better deal or one that can be twisted to their advantage.  I’ll forward those to her, but I’d be surprised if they weren't sent straight back to me.”

Thomas nodded in understanding. 
He
wouldn't have cared to open the Captain’s private mail either.  “I’ll probably be coming back soon too.”

“We
are
working to set up an improved courier network,” Captain Ryman offered.  “We’re just short of courier boats we can feed into a rota.”

“And pilots,” Thomas guessed. 
He’d
already decided he’d been quite right to turn down the offer of a permanent post to courier service, even if it
did
entail generous pay and fantastic retirement bonuses.  There was no prospect of anything, but remaining trapped on the ship for days on end.  “There's no way you can recruit more?”

“We can probably pass the task on to some of the spacers we’ve recruited,” Captain Ryman said.  “Actually, setting up a better postal service, one that replaces the Tokomak system, might help to put the Grand Alliance on a more solid footing.  But again, it will take some time to set up, even without the war.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.

“I’m going to try to copy the system the Solar Union developed, but there would be a great deal of duplication,” Captain Ryman added.  “And we’d really need more developed shipping lines.”

He shrugged.  “But that’s a problem for another time.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.

“I’d suggest you spent some time on the surface, while I prepare the messages for Captain Stuart,” Captain Ryman suggested, “but that’s really up to you.  Do you want to just teleport back to the courier?  Or grab something to eat in the Pan-Gal?  Or even go exploring the remains of the city?”

Thomas frowned.  “Is it safe?”

“It should be, as long as you don’t go near the Druavrok enclaves,” Captain Ryman said.  “I think we’ve rounded up most of the rogues now; most of them expended themselves in suicide attacks, rather than going to ground or creeping back to their fellows.  They’re probably just biding their time.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.

He considered it for a long moment.  There was nothing to be gained by teleporting back to the courier boat, not when he’d see far too much of its bulkheads during the flight from Amstar to Phoenix.  And he was curious to see more of Amstar ... but he doubted he had time to explore anything outside the city itself.

“I’ll go to the Pan-Gal,” he said.  “I could do with something good to eat.”

“It’s all on our tab,” Captain Ryman assured him.  “Just make sure they know you’re human when you order food.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.

He concealed his amusement as he walked out of the office and back towards the Pan-Gal.  It wasn't actually bad advice, even though it sounded absurd.  The workers at the hotel, used to serving guests from hundreds of different races, needed to be
sure
of his race before they fed him something that an alien race considered a delicacy and another considered deadly poison, something his implants and nanites wouldn’t be able to handle.  A pair of armed guards at the doors checked his ID, then waved him through into the lobby.  This time, with the projectors in full working order, it looked like a fancy hotel from Earth.