The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) (31 page)

“Hold position here,” she ordered, coldly.  “We will wait.”

She forced herself to concentrate, thinking through the list of possible alternatives for future operations.  Taking the offensive into enemy space risked bruising encounters with fixed defences, although her preliminary recon reports suggested that the Druavroks had concentrated on building up their fleet at the expense of their planetary defences.  The Solar Union had done the same, although - in their case - it had proved impossible to build fixed defences on Earth.  But she could raid enemy ships, hack away at their industry and eventually wear down their defences and invade their homeworld. 

But landing a military force on their homeworld might lead to a long and bloody conflict
, she thought. 
It won’t be easy to force them to surrender
.

“Captain,” Wilde said, an hour later.  “There has been no sign of movement.”

“No, there hasn’t,” Hoshiko said.  The enemy didn't have a fleet, then ... unless, of course, the enemy was being
very
cagey.  Or they’d seen her fleet drop
out
of FTL and thought it was a trap.  “I believe we can proceed to our destination.”

“Yes, Captain,” Wilde said.  He didn't sound pleased, but he offered no argument.  “I’ll order the fleet to proceed along the planned course.”

Hoshiko nodded.  Unless they were
very
unlucky, which was possible, the enemy would lose track of the fleet long before it altered course and headed to Palsies.  They’d
have
to assume she was heading straight into their territory, perhaps all the way to their homeworld.  And then ... what would they do?  If they understood the true nature of the alliance she’d built, they’d have no choice but to give chase.  There was no target in her alliance that could make up for the loss of their homeworld.

“Take us back into FTL,” she ordered.  There was no longer anything to be gained by waiting for the enemy.  “And make sure the crew gets plenty of rest.  They’re going to need it.”

“Aye, Captain,” Wilde said.  “I’ll make sure the alpha and beta crews go straight to sleep.”

Hoshiko winced, inwardly.  There was a hint of disapproval in his voice, despite his best attempts to keep it muted.  The crew was pushed to the limits because she’d sent a third of her personnel to the Grand Fleet and they both knew it.  She hadn’t
quite
broken the regulations concerning minimal numbers of personnel, but it was only a matter of time before something snapped.  When it did, she knew it was going to be bad.

But there’s no choice
, she told herself, as the fleet slipped back into FTL.  Her evasive course would ensure plenty of downtime for the crew, but it wouldn't be enough. 
We have to keep pushing at the enemy or they’ll have a chance to take the offensive themselves.

She rose, then ordered Brown to shut down the CIC and strode back to her cabin.  The only advantage to the fleet’s rag-tag nature was a shortage of paperwork, even though she had to trust alien captains to tell her if there was anything wrong with their ships.  In the long term, something would have to be done to put everyone on a common standard ... assuming, of course, that the Grand Alliance survived.  Thankfully, the Tokomak had already standardised as much as they could, from war material to operational protocols.

“Record a message,” she ordered, once she was back in her cabin and the steward had brought her a cup of coffee.  She couldn't go to sleep, not when her crew was badly overworked.  It would set a very bad example.  “Admiral Stuart.  In line with my overall objective to keep the Druavroks from launching a counterattack against the Grand Alliance, I have ordered a major attack on ...”

She spoke calmly, running through the entire report.  Technically, she should have sent it while they’d been orbiting Amstar, but she hadn't seen any real point.  No matter
what
she did, any response would be a year out of date by the time it reached her.  It was good, in many ways, that she was free of interference by people who had no idea just what it was like on the ground, but it was also frustrating.  There was no hope of getting support from the rest of the navy.

Not that they’d send it to us even if they did have instant FTL communications
, she thought, amused. 
This sector is far too far from Sol for them to be comfortable dispatching half of Home Fleet to back us up
.

She smiled wistfully at the thought.  She’d no longer be in command, if half of Home Fleet arrived in the Martina Sector, but it wouldn't matter.  All that would matter would be the simple fact they’d have enough firepower to carve though the Druavroks and march all the way to their homeworld.  The war would be over in less than a month.

But I don't have half of Home Fleet heading out here to support me
, she reminded herself, as she finished her coffee. 
All I have is nine cruisers and a handful of support ships.  The rest of the firepower has to come from the alien warships
.

Pushing the thought aside, she rose to her feet and headed for the bridge.  Commander Wilde needed rest too, before problems started to crop up with the crew.  She’d relieve him and let him get some sleep, along with the alpha and beta crews.  And then, finally, she could get some rest herself.

At least we’re on the move again
, she thought, as she stepped through the hatch.  The bridge, at least, was fully-manned, even though it felt more like Commander Wilde’s territory these days. 
The enemy won’t have time to take the offensive themselves
.

Chapter Thirty

Federal troops are reported to be heading to Texas, following the air strikes launched by the Texan-led Alliance for the Preservation of the United States against California.  However, the remains of the USAF have not attempted to intercept the Alliance aircraft or mount counter-strikes against Texas or any of the other states.  Anonymous reports on the datanet suggest that USAF pilots are walking off the job in large numbers - or, in at least two cases, deserting to Texas.

-Solar News Network, Year 54

Warlord Joist sat in the command perch, waiting.

Patience was not something that came naturally to the Druavroks.  Their evolutionary history, to say nothing of their experience since they’d been welcomed into galactic society, told them to spring on the prey as soon as possible, before it could get away.  The concept of prey that fought back was hard for them to grasp, let alone one that might prove dangerously intelligent and vindictive.  Hadn't every other race in the galaxy, all prey, taken their technology from the god-like Tokomak?  It boded ill for their intelligence, Warlord Joist had often considered, that none of the prey had ever improved on the technology of the gods.  But then, it
was
created by the gods.  If the Druavroks couldn't improve on it, how could any of their prey?

He kept his face impassive as he eyed his crew, all crouching forward in their perches as they maintained the siege.  They were impatient, he knew; he’d already seen off three challenges from younger officers who thought they were serving under a coward. 
That
, at least, wouldn't have been a problem, but they’d allowed their bloodlust to drive them forward, overriding prudence and caution.  They hadn't realised, of course, that
no one
survived being promoted to warlord without plenty of experience and skill, as well as the willingness to use it.  He’d licked their blood from his claws, knowing it would dissuade future challengers for a few weeks.  The siege would be maintained without a bloody attack on the planet that would leave his fleet in ruins.

And besides
, he reminded himself,
there is a plan
.

He wasn’t too surprised that his forces hadn't already been attacked, despite their proximity to Amstar.  Prey, even dangerous prey, simply didn't know how to fight.  But even prey would eventually cast their eyes on his force and rate it a suitable target.  This new species of prey - these
humans
- were strange, but there was no denying the damage they’d inflicted on the forces laying siege to Dab-Yam.  Only a handful of warships had survived the holocaust the humans had unleashed.  Charging madly into the teeth of their fire was a good way to get oneself impaled on the horns of a maddened animal.

“Warlord,” an officer said, approaching and baring her neck before him.  Her scent indicated it wouldn't be too long before she entered mating season, sparking off a frenzy among her male crewmembers for the right to mate with her.  “The picket ship has been detected returning to the planet.”

“They are coming,” Warlord Joist said, thoughtfully.  He’d put a handful of ships out on picket duty, extending his sensor range far enough to get some additional warning of the prey’s approach.  “Inform the fleet to prepare for the engagement as planned, then dispatch the courier boat to the homeworld.”

He allowed his mouth to loll open, showing his teeth.  It was possible, even probably, that the system was under covert observation.  His forces had been running convoys in and out of the system, as planned.  The enemy had had plenty of opportunity to sneak a ship into the system and set up a network of stealthed recon platforms, as called for by all the good tactical manuals.  But, if everything had gone according to plan, it wouldn't matter.  And if it hadn’t ... well, they were only prey, after all, even if they
were
dangerously
capable
prey.  He wouldn’t bet against his own forces in an even fight.

The crewwoman drew back.  “Yes, Warlord,” she said.  “It is my pleasure to serve.”

She backed off, never turning her back on him.  Warlord Joist watched her go, then turned his attention to the display.  The return of the picket ship was all the warning he needed, really; it told him that the enemy were approaching
and
their rough vector.  He would have all the time in the world to set up his side of the operation.  It had been frustrating, even for him, to hold back when he
knew
he could have taken the planet, but it
was
the bait in a trap.  Afterwards, he promised himself, his crews would feast on the planet’s inhabitants.  He might even secure the world as his family’s demesne.

And the prey will break before us
, he promised himself. 
And order will return to the universe
.

***

“We will be dropping out of FTL in thirty minutes, Captain,” Brown said.  “The fleet has moved to condition two.”

“Take the fleet to condition one in twenty minutes,” Hoshiko ordered, curtly.  “I want to be ready for anything.”

She sucked in her breath as the timer continued its long countdown to zero.  Palsies, according to the last set of reports, was only surrounded by two squadrons of enemy battleships and a handful of smaller vessels, but she refused to allow overconfidence to blind her.  The enemy battleships
should
be easy targets, particularly if they were handled poorly, yet the enemy
had
been acting oddly.  She was tempted to believe that they’d learned a few harsh lessons from her attacks, but she dared not take it for granted.  All she could do was handle her ships with confidence and brace herself for any surprises.

“The fleet signals that it is at full readiness,” Brown continued.  “I believe the beta and delta command networks are operational, ready to take over if necessary.”

“Good,” Hoshiko said.  “Run a final operational test at fifteen minutes, then keep both redundant command networks at standby.  They can take over if the shit hits the fan.”

She closed her eyes, hoping - praying - that wouldn't be necessary.  The aliens seemed willing to accept orders from human commanders, because humans weren't involved in their pre-war power struggles, but they were less willing to accept commands from their former rivals.  Somehow, she wasn't too surprised to discover that the Grand Alliance couldn't really do anything more than paper over the cracks as it struggled to keep the aliens going in the same direction.  But then, her grandfather’s stories of wars in the Crazy Years, as he’d called them, had made it clear she was far from the first commander to face the same problem.

Wilde’s face appeared in front of her.  “Captain,” he said.  “The squadron is fully at your command.”

“Very good,” Hoshiko said.  She sucked in a breath as the timer reached ten minutes to their destination.  “Sound red alert, Commander; set condition one throughout the fleet.”

Brown turned to face her as the display shifted to red.  “The fleet has checked in, Captain,” he said.  “They’re at red alert.”

Or whatever they use to signify condition one
, Hoshiko thought.  There were races that considered red to be a light,
friendly
colour and races that were completely colour-blind, unable to understand why other races made such a fuss about them.  Without AIs, keeping track of each race’s preferences was a minor nightmare. 
And even with it, we may find it harder to operate a much larger force.

“The reporter would like to join us,” Brown added.  “Captain?”

“Tell him he can enter the compartment, as long as he stays quiet,” Hoshiko ordered.  No doubt the reporter had realised that the observation blister wouldn't provide much of a view, let alone an awareness of what was actually going on.  “And then prepare for combat.”

She turned her attention back to the timer and watched as the final minutes faded away and the fleet dropped back into the normal universe.  Palsies appeared in front of her, a blue-green world surrounded by orbital battlestations and makeshift defences ... and nearly a hundred red icons, each one representing an enemy warship.  Oddly, the Druavroks didn't seem to have set up mass drivers or anything else that would wear the enemy down.  They were just sniping at the defences from just beyond their effective range.

Not that that won’t prove effective
, she reminded herself. 
They only need to get lucky once to score a hit on the planet, slaughtering thousands of natives.  The defenders need to be lucky all the time to keep them from committing genocide.

“No enemy ships within engagement range,” Brown reported.  He frowned.  “Captain, the enemy fleet has not assumed a defensive posture.”

Hoshiko’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the display.  The Druavroks were badly outnumbered - and they had to know it - but their fleet was scattered, instead of hurrying to form up into a formation that allowed for mutual support.  Could they have missed her fleet as it approached the system?  That wasn't possible, surely?  Every starship carried gravimetric sensors, even freighters that weren't supposed to be anywhere near the front lines.  No, the aliens
had
to have known she was on the way.  And yet they hadn't taken even basic precautions.

She studied the display, thinking fast.  It was tempting - very tempting - to simply lunge forward and obliterate the enemy ships before they had a chance to correct their blunder.  A battleship was a powerful vessel, but she could smother them in missiles if she wanted, overwhelming their defences in a single blow.  And yet, the enemy
had
to have something up their sleeves.  What?  Surely it was a trap of some kind ...

They didn't move reinforcements into the system
, she thought. 
We had it under observation for weeks.  They shipped in hundreds of freighters, presumably crammed with supplies, but no additional warships
.

“Task Forces 2.1 through 2.5 are to advance forward,” she ordered, slowly.  Had the enemy mined space, intending to dare her to impale herself on the mines?  “Launch probes - I want every last atom drifting through space noted and logged before we enter weapons range.”

“Aye, Captain,” Brown said.

Hoshiko sat back in her command chair, considering.  If it
was
a trap, how was it to be sprung?  And if it
wasn't
a trap, why weren’t the enemy attacking?  Or jumping into FTL and fleeing for their lives?  What were they
thinking
?

***

“Warlord,” the sensor officer said.  “The prey are sending a smaller force forward to engage us.”

Interesting
, Warlord Joist thought. 

He stroked his teeth in consideration.  The more aggressive species on his homeworld were inclined to take advantage of weakness - or perceived weakness.  Leaving his ships strung out, like goats to lure the tiger, had seemed
certain
to lure the enemy into the trap.  But instead, the prey were hesitating, as if they could
see
the jaws starting to spring shut.  And there was no time to let them overcome their doubts.  The longer they took, the greater the danger they’d see the trap while there was still time to make their escape.

“Order the fleet to assume defensive formation,” he ordered.  “And to launch probes towards the attacking fleet.”

The display updated slowly, very slowly.  There were so many enemy ships that it was impossible, even with the most advanced sensors, to count them all, but it was clear that only three hundred or so were actual
warships
. 
That
, at least, tallied with the earlier reports that the prey were dependent on freighters.  And everyone
knew
that freighters, no matter how many missiles or energy weapons were crammed into their hull, were not warships.  They’d be easy prey once the warships were gone.

They won’t have a better opportunity to kill my ships
, he thought.  Prey were dangerously unpredictable when they saw danger; some would move fast, hoping to defeat the danger before it could grow stronger, others merely retreated to safety. 
I have to offer them the chance to take my ships out before they form a defensive formation.