All for All, page 4
part #3 of Cast Adrift Series
"We couldn't rely on them," Naomi finished. She studied the baleful red stars, her mind churning. The Pashtali had nearly two hundred stars under their control, which suggested they had one hell of a population and industrial base. The mere fact they'd produced Crossroads - and at least two other ships just like her - suggested they had the resources to expend on projects that could easily turn into boondoggles. "How long can they afford to wage war on us?"
"They do have other enemies," Evensong pointed out. "And they can't afford to weaken their border defences too much, or their enemies will jump on them."
Naomi nodded, sourly. The Pashtali were in a mess. They'd have gotten away with invading and annexing Earth and the rest of humanity's comparatively tiny handful of planets, if they'd carried out the operation quickly enough to ensure the other powers had no chance to intervene. Humanity just wasn't important enough to be worth saving. But instead, the Pashtali offensive had bogged down, making them look weak. They needed a victory - and fast, before someone else decided to take advantage. Naomi was mortally certain her counterparts were already planning how to win a decisive victory. It was what she'd do in their place.
"But they can still redirect enough ships towards us to cause real problems," she said. The Solar Navy had won the battle, but the cost had been terrifyingly high. "And perhaps even grind us down."
"Their best bet would be to launch a major offensive," Admiral Morrigan said. "They cannot afford to get bogged down."
"Admiral, they are already bogged down," Evensong said, quietly. "And if they launch a major offensive, they risk widening the war."
"They may be desperate," Admiral Morrigan countered. "Or they may even think the Alphans are bluffing."
Naomi nodded. The Alphans had dispatched nine warcruisers to protect Earth, but no one was sure what they'd do if push came to shove. Naomi wanted to think the Alphans would keep their word - they had sent ships, after all - yet it was hard to be sure. Humanity's former masters had been withdrawing into themselves for years, abandoning colonies and granting independence to a dozen client races. The only thing that had brought them out of their retirement was a chance to study Crossroads and even that wasn't enough to keep them involved. There was a very real chance the warcruisers had orders to withdraw if the Pashtali attacked in force. Earth had once been the key to the Alphan Empire. It wasn't any longer.
She keyed her console, bringing up the fleet lists. The raw numbers were impressive - she had nearly four thousand warships under her command - but the figures told a lie. Two-thirds of her fleet were primitive vessels, barely able to do more than launch missiles at their targets before they got blown away. A handful could do nothing more than draw enemy fire. She had hopes of ramming them into enemy targets, but it was unlikely the enemy would let them get close enough to ram. There weren't many modern warships in her fleet and those that were, she knew, would draw fire the moment they showed themselves. A smart enemy might discount the older ships completely, choosing to blow away the modern vessels. It was what she would have done.
Her heart clenched. They had enough combat power to hurt the Pashtali, if they came in fat and happy again, but not enough to win. They were bullies and she knew, from grim experience, that the only way to stop a bully was to convince him that he'd be hurt if he kept bullying. And yet, that wasn't easy. She doubted she could force the Pashtali to listen to reason.
They don't see any reason to listen to us, she thought. There had been peace talks, and they were still ongoing, but no one really expected them to get anywhere. The Pashtali had started by demanding humanity's complete surrender as a precondition, suggesting they weren't taking the talks seriously. We need to force them to listen.
She frowned, contemplating the problem. There was no hope of defeating and overrunning the enemy. Whatever victory they won would be limited in scope. And yet, that didn't mean victory was impossible. It just meant ... her eyes narrowed as a thought crossed her mind. The enemy didn't have to be defeated, just weakened. At some point, the Pashtali would either sue for peace or get attacked by everyone else. They'd know it, wouldn't they?
They don't look remotely like us, she reminded herself. She was no xenophobe - the Solar Navy wouldn't have tolerated it - but the Pashtali were very alien. They might not think like us.
"If we decided to go on the offensive," she said slowly, "how long would it take to prepare?"
"At least three weeks, assuming we didn't take a fleet train with us," Admiral Morrigan said thoughtfully. "Realistically, six weeks would be a more accurate assessment. But if we stab into enemy territory, we'll be widening the war."
"Admiral, they stabbed at our homeworld," Evensong said. "They can hardly complain if we stab at theirs."
"The Galactics won't see it that way," Admiral Morrigan said. Her lips twisted in disgust. "One law for them, another for the rest of us."
Naomi nodded. The Galactics had organised the laws of war to suit themselves, without bothering to set up an impartial power capable of even-handed enforcement. The powers that could get away with breaking the laws were allowed to break them, the powers that couldn't got harassed by everyone else. She rubbed her forehead in exasperation. It was just like her old hometown. The people in charge could do whatever they liked, but if someone fought back it was unfair.
"I've had an idea," Naomi said. "If we can force them to react to us, for a change ..."
She outlined her concept, piece by piece. The planning teams would have to take a look at it, to sort out the details and determine if it was feasible, then she'd have to take the updated plan to her political superiors and convince them to put it into action. If they refused ... she rubbed her forehead. The choice was theirs. She might be the highest-ranking uniformed officer in the navy, but she was still under civilian command.
"Commander Evensong, work with the planning teams," she ordered. "Admiral Morrigan, have your staff prepare plans for a long-range fleet deployment."
Admiral Morrigan looked unsure, but nodded. Naomi nodded back in understanding. She didn't blame Admiral Morrigan for having doubts, not when the survival of humanity was in the balance. They had too many enemies, from great powers eying colonies and workforce to scavenger races watching for new targets. The Solar Navy was too weak to endure a long, drawn-out war. They had to convince the enemy to back off now or lose everything.
Unless the plan to set up a very distant colony goes ahead, Naomi thought, as she dismissed her two officers. We might just survive long enough to rebuild and return to take the offensive ...
She shook her head. It wouldn't be hard to set up a colony - she'd heard whispers it had already been done, unofficially - but establishing one capable of rebuilding before galactic civilisation washed over it would be incredibly difficult. The colonists would have to build everything from scratch, unless they encountered a race willing and able to help. And that wasn't too likely. Anyone else they met would be more inclined to suck up to the Pashtali, rather than help a handful of runaway colonists.
The intercom bleeped, again. "Admiral, I have an updated intelligence report," Ensign Tasman said. "There was an encounter between one of our raiders and an enemy warship."
Naomi wished, not for the first time, that she was back on her command deck a very long way from Earth. It wasn't going to happen. She would never command another ship. The best she could do was fleet command, which wasn't quite the same. She wouldn't be in command of the ship ... a good thing too, she reflected. She'd had to wear both hats during the Battle of Earth and it had been a nightmare. She had no intention of doing it again.
"Forward the report to me," she said. It was insane that they had no shortage of manpower and yet she couldn't build herself a proper staff. But then, they were very short on trained manpower. She made a mental note to look into possible substitutes, then shook her head. An experienced officer would know what was important and what could wait for later. A civilian would be much less capable of drawing the line. "And then send in more coffee."
"Aye, Admiral."
Naomi's console bleeped. She glanced at the report, skimming it quickly to hit the high points. Trojan, a modified freighter, had spotted and killed an enemy warship ... Naomi's lips curved in dark amusement. The Pashtali had seen human burners in action, but they hadn't realised they could be mounted on freighters. Not yet ... the report waffled a little, towards the end, as if the writer was unwilling to commit themselves. Naomi sighed inwardly. She'd been a starship captain. She knew how hard it was to be sure they were unobserved. For all Trojan's CO knew, there'd been an entire fleet of cloaked ships watching from a safe distance.
But at least she scored a kill, Naomi told herself, as her steward wheeled in a tray of coffee and sandwiches. It hadn't been easy to accept, at first, how the staff babied her; until she'd come to realise there weren't anything like enough hours in a day. She barely had time to jam a sandwich or two in her mouth, between meetings, briefings and more meetings. We hurt the bastards.
The thought mocked her as she read the report for a second time, then a third to make sure she hit the high points. The Pashtali had lost a light cruiser ... big deal. They might not even notice the missing ship, not for a few weeks or months. When they did ... she shook her head. It was unlikely anyone would care. One small cruiser wouldn't change the balance of power, although ...
At least we know the overpowered burners can hurt their ships, she thought. The reverse-engineered weapons lacked the sheer power of the originals, which suggested the target might survive long enough to return fire even if fatally damaged. And they'll have no way to know which freighters are Q-ships until it's too late.
She switched the display back to the starchart and studied it thoughtfully. The encounter had taken place in the Occupied Zone, suggesting the enemy hadn't yet taken over every last inhabited star system. She supposed that wasn't really a surprise. Most of the systems were worthless, at least in the short term. The Pashtali wouldn't want to fritter away their strength by trying to hold them, not until they won the war. Besides, the Occupied Zone had been sliding into a full-scale civil war - several civil wars, between several different factions - when the real war had started. The Pashtali might be waiting, letting the wars burn themselves out, before they took control. Their enemies would be gravely weakened by the fighting.
Which is probably what they want, she reflected. The Alphans had done the same, when they'd invaded Earth. The more rebels who kill themselves off now, the fewer who'll remain to fight when the real enemy arrives.
"Admiral," Ensign Tasman said. "The First Speaker requests your presence at a meeting tomorrow morning. Should I clear your schedule?"
"Yes, please," Naomi said. She glared at the terminal - the paperwork was going to pile up while she was gone - then shrugged. It could be worse. Much worse. "Inform his office I will be pleased to attend."
"Aye, Admiral."
Chapter Four
Solar City, Earth
"I have the latest set of polls, sir," Rachel Grant said. She sounded as calm and professional as always. "Public opinion is still largely behind you, although there is a growing sense of concern about the ultimate outcome. The emergency measures are rubbing people the wrong way, sir, and they're probably alienating voters who will register their disgust at the election booths ..."
She shook her head. "Fortunately, emergency housing measures and suchlike for refugees haven't provoked too many problems," she added. "Given time, that will change."
"Yeah," Abraham said. "I wanted this job, didn't I?"
He sighed. He'd never understood how many problems the government faced until he'd become the head of the government. He'd always wondered why the old government couldn't do anything ... he groaned inwardly, reflecting he and his supporters now comprised much of the government and they were the ones who couldn't do anything. The war made it hard to lay anything more than very short-term plans, but still ... he shook his head. He was starting to think his party would need a new leader, when the next election rolled around. The emergency measures had never been popular and even though the war wasn't over, too many people wanted them lifted.
"I couldn't say, sir," Rachel said, her expression artfully bland. "Did you have a chance to review the notes prior to the meeting?"
"No." Abraham cursed under his breath. It was petty and selfish - and he knew it - to think Nancy Middleton had had it easy, when she'd been the elected head of government, but he still thought it. "And it's time to begin, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir," Rachel said. "Ambassador Middleton is already in the meeting room."
"I'll review the notes later," Abraham said, although he doubted he'd have time. Seven years ago, he'd lambasted the government for hiring too many flunkies. Now, he wished he could go back in time and kick his past self in the rear. His staff was too small for the sheer scale of the tasks they faced. "Coming?"
He composed himself, as best as he could, as they made their way down to the underground complex. It had never been exposed and destroyed by the Pashtali, during their brief invasion and occupation, although no one was quite sure why. Abraham suspected they'd intended to base their puppet government there once they crushed resistance and took formal control of Earth. He doubted they'd never guessed it was there. Earth had taken too many cues from the Alphans and one of them was a collection of underground bunkers, to ensure the government survived if the planet came under heavy attack. The Pashtali had to have guessed the bunker was there.
But I wasn't, he reflected. Perhaps they just wanted to play a waiting game.
He stepped into the meeting room and nodded to Ambassador Middleton. The ambassador looked disgustingly fresh. Abraham told himself not to take it too personally. They were no longer rivals. He couldn't afford to feel resentment, let alone anything else. If she'd stayed in office instead of him ...
We might be in the same mess, he reflected. Or an entirely different mess.
"Ambassador," he said, as Rachel poured them coffee. Abraham wanted something stronger, but he needed to keep his thoughts clear. "Did you finish speaking to the remaining ambassadors?"
"Yes, Mr Speaker," Nancy said. "My staff and I have spoken to them, trying to hammer out agreements. Not all of our possible allies are willing to talk too openly, even after we drove the Pashtali away from Earth, but ..."
She shrugged. "The bottom line is that we have seven minor powers willing to sign on with us, if the war continues, and five more that will provide limited logistics support as long as it doesn't provoke the Pashtali. They're offering a considerable amount of firepower ..."
"Yeah," Abraham said, quietly. Officially, he'd kept his distance from the negotiations. He couldn't afford to seem to be too interested if they blew up in humanity's collective face. Better to let the ambassador take the fall than risk the entire government. Unofficially, he'd kept abreast of them from the start. "And what do they want in exchange?"
"Long-term, they want us to win," Nancy said, curtly. "They want the Pashtali broken, Mr Speaker. They want to ensure the Pashtali don't pose a threat to them, or anyone, ever again."
"That may take some doing," Abraham commented.
"Short-term, they want us to do something about Terminus," Nancy said. She took a datachip out of her pocket and inserted it into an isolated projector. "As you can see ..."
Abraham leaned forward as the starchart materialised above him. "Terminus is a major shipping hub," Nancy explained. "The system holds no less than seven crossroads, each one leading to a different set of shipping lanes. The planets have no intelligent life forms, so they've been settled by a multitude of different races and ... well, they were allowed to remain reasonably independent as long as they didn't interfere with interstellar shipping. It's an entire system of free ports, sir, or at least it was. The Pashtali have placed the system under siege."
"I see," Abraham said. "And why do they want us to do something about it?"
"The shipping lanes link our prospective allies together," Nancy said. "As long as they have free access to Terminus, they can mass their forces and stand up to the Pashtali. Or so they say. If the Pashtali lay siege to the entire system, and block the crossroads, they can keep the other powers from massing. They need us to give the Pashtali the boot."
Abraham made a face. "And if we refuse, or fail, they pretend they don't even know us?"
"I think so." Nancy shook her head. "We proved the Pashtali can be beaten, but they still have most of their fleet. As long as they remain strong, and have unfettered access to Terminus, they can deter our prospective allies from doing anything to help us. They'll sell out for the best terms they can get, even if that means abandoning us. They'll have no choice."
"And if they're the ones holding Terminus, they can force the Pashtali to pay a high price for retaking the system," Abraham mused. He was no military man, but he knew the basics. "What's to stop them abandoning us the moment they get what they want?"
"The simple fact no one will ever trust them again," Nancy said. "None of our prospective allies are powerful enough to break their word on a whim, unlike the bigger powers. They can't afford to abandon us."
Abraham wasn't so sure. In his experience, there were times when people felt they had no choice but to break their word, even if it came at a price. What did honour and reputation matter, when the price of keeping the agreement was death and destruction? The Pashtali might be an overwhelming threat - they were - but they were also too strong to challenge openly, not unless there was no choice. He wondered, sourly, what he'd do if Earth had the option of staying out of the fighting. Would he abandon his allies to save his homeworld?
"I hope you're right," he said, finally. "Can they promise us anything now?"
"Not much," Nancy said. "They're too worried about Terminus."
"Don't they know the bastards don't need to use the crossroads any longer?" Abraham leaned forward. "They can generate their own now."
