First Strike (11 page)

Another explosion tore through the complex, burning through walls and floors. The entire interior might collapse at any moment, he realised as the Marines activated their antigravity systems and flew over the holes. He saw a set of what had to be alien offices below them, empty of their occupants. The planners had believed that the Funks would order all non-combat personnel into bunkers under the garrison when it came under attack, but it was just possible that every one of the Funks was a combat soldier first. Conrad was silently relieved that the planners had been right. Killing Funks who were trying to fight was in the line of duty, but he didn't want to kill enemy civilians. Besides, intelligence could interrogate them and learn more about their opponents.

The enemy attacks became even more frantic as the Marines closed in on the force field generator. It was easy to detect now as it struggled to compensate for the bursts of human fire that brushed against the field, even though the incoming fire was nowhere near powerful enough to overload the system. Conrad picked off two of the final defenders, and then ordered several Marines to fire grenades into the generator room. There was no point in trying to turn the system off when they could just destroy it. The explosion ripped through the base and started the collapse; Conrad had to jump and scramble for safety as the remaining floors started to crash inwards. But the force field was gone. The Marines fell back to safety, ignoring the remaining defenders. They could surrender or the fleet would reduce the garrison to rubble from orbit. Marine datanets updated, rapidly redefining fire teams, platoons and combat leaders. Seventy-four Marines had perished in the assault; thirty-two were wounded, some badly enough to require immediate treatment. Their suits would do what they could, but anything that burned through the suit was certainly capable of inflicting horrific damage, if it didn't kill them outright. The odds were not good.

There was a long pause as the Marines fell back from the garrison while the fleet demanded that the enemy surrender, and then the Funks threw down their arms. Conrad wasn't too surprised. They would have known that the fight was hopeless as soon as they lost their force field. If they’d defended it better, there might have been a long siege – or worse. The Marines might have had to carry a tactical nuke inside the garrison and set it off, maybe more than once.

“Take them as prisoners,” he ordered his men. “And watch your backs. They may not all have given up.”
 

“We picked up the message,” Captain Walsh said. “We are good to go.”

Commander Markus Wilhelm nodded as
 
Formidable
 
slipped back into quantum space. Transmitting a tachyon-burst signal across hundreds of light years took a vast amount of power, but receiving one was a simple matter. The message
 
Formidable
 
had picked up would seem harmless to any Galactic listening posts, even though it was the instruction to head to Garston and commence the attack. There would be no warning until it was far too late.

He glanced over at his co-pilot – and wife – Carola, who smiled back at him. Gunboat crews had the shortest life-expectancy in the Federation Navy – a single direct hit from a Galactic weapon would blow the gunboat to atoms – and most of the normal regulations were relaxed for them. No one else really understood the stresses of piloting a gunboat, particularly when the crews were kept isolated from the rest of the Navy. The Galactics could not be allowed to know about the gunboats until they’d been deployed in action. It wouldn't be long before they came up with countermeasures to minimise their effectiveness, assuming that they were effective. No one had actually tested the theory outside simulations, until now.

Formidable
 
didn’t look very formidable, not from the outside. She was a simple bulk freighter, a design that Earth had copied and put into mass production, undercutting several Galactic consortiums in the process. The civilian versions of the design had no quantum drive and were completely dependent upon the quantum gates to move from star to star, like most commercial shipping. Inside, she was the first gunboat carrier in existence, transporting her parasite ships from world to world. The best of it, according to the briefing, was that when the Hegemony realised that seemingly-innocent freighters were carrying gunboats, they’d have to stop and search
 
every
 
freighter before they entered orbit. It would not please the other races when their traders were delayed by Hegemony security patrols.

The timer started to count down as
 
Formidable
 
made her slow way towards the quantum gate. It was possible for patrols to be flown through the areas of quantum space that corresponded to inhabited star systems, but rare for anyone to try it outside a quantum gate, where shipping was bottlenecked. An entire fleet could approach a star system and remain undetected until they emerged into normal space. Some of the tactics used by the raiders included lurking in quantum space near a gate until a likely target came along, and then moving in to capture the ship. Markus ran a hand over his console, checking and rechecking
 
Knife’s
 
systems. When the time came, the shit was really going to hit the fan.

“Here we go,” Carola said. The quantum gate opened up around
 
Formidable
, allowing her back into the inky darkness of normal space. Stars glowed in the distance, watching as the puny races lived and died like mayflies while they burned on. Some of the Galactics actually worshipped the stars, believing them to be gods. Others had no time for the entire concept of religion and regarded it as absurd. “Don’t forget to give the bastards hell.”

Garston sat on the nexus of no less than five trade routes, giving the Hegemony a chance to extract user fees from thousands of starships. The system’s gas giant had no less than four cloudscoops operating, drawing up HE3 for starships and fusion reactors, while there were hundreds of asteroid mining operations drawing raw materials for the industrial nodes orbiting the planet itself. Garston had been settled for over a thousand years, first by the Association and later several other races, before it had been ceded to the Hegemony. The sheer scale of activity in the system was impressive. Earth had worked desperately to build up its industry, but Garston had far more productive capability than Earth. The Hegemony’s iron grip on the planet hadn't changed that, even though they weren't fond of free enterprise.

But then they have to worry about Galactic opinion
, Markus thought, as
 
Formidable
 
inched towards the planet. Wallowing like a fully-loaded freighter might offend the captain’s dignity, but it was part of the act.
 
They can't crack down on most of the races here without pissing off Galactics with the ability to make the Hegemony pay.

He watched as Garston Base slowly came into view. By treaty, the Hegemony was the only power allowed to station armed forces in the system, which simplified the problem facing the gunboats considerably. Anything that shot back at them was Hegemony and could be destroyed without compunction. Accidentally killing other races, on the other hand, could result in a diplomatic disaster. The point had been hammered into their heads time and time again. Earth did not need more enemies.

Garston Base was a massive ring, positioned neatly at one of the Lagrange Points between Garston and one of its moons. Long struts expanded out into space, providing docking ports for military starships. The design was thousands of years old, produced by the Association during its first expansion into space. Markus couldn't understand why the Association – or one of the other Galactics – hadn't attempted to improve the design, but the briefers had said that the Cats stuck with what worked. And even though they were in decline, they still set the standard for the rest of the galaxy. Humans, on the other hand, looked constantly for ways to improve what they had. How long would it be before humanity raced ahead of the rest of the Galactics?

“We’re picking up a Hegemony battlecruiser near the station,” Captain Walsh said, “and a pair of destroyers on mobile patrol. Kill the battlecruiser first.”

“Yes, boss,” Markus muttered. The battlecruiser was a surprise, although they’d been warned that ship schedules couldn't be completely relied upon. Chances were that her arrival had surprised Garston Base as much as it had surprised the Federation Navy. “All systems online?”

“Of course,” Carola said. “We’re ready to launch.”

Humanity had dreamed of starfighters – fighter jets in space – long before obtaining the technology to reach the stars. In practice, the idea had proven impractical, even for the Association. Building a starfighter was easy, but designing a compensator that could fit into such a small craft was impossible, at least so far. Torpedoes pulled such high speeds because they didn't have frail pilots to be squashed by their acceleration. The gunboats were a compromise design, light attack craft that could harass enemy starships… and give them a very nasty surprise. There was another concept that the Galactics had deemed impractical, until human ingenuity had made it work.

“They’re challenging us,” Captain Walsh said. Ideally,
 
Formidable
 
would have inched closer to Garston Base before starting the attack, but they'd known that it wasn't likely to happen. The Hegemony bullied human ships frequently, along with ships from other races too weak to make a fuss.
 
Formidable
 
had transmitted an
 
official manifest as soon as she had cleared the quantum gate, one carefully crafted to avoid attracting officious customs officers, in the hopes it would prevent an inspection until it was too late. “Gunboats… launch!”

The hangar bay opened wide, tractor fields pushing the gunboats out into space. Sensor readings would be a little confused, making it harder for the Funks to react. It was quite possible that they’d think that
 
Formidable
 
had suffered a terrible accident and was coming apart at the seams. They’d probably launch a rescue shuttle and charge humanity through the nose for the service. Markus smiled as he activated the gunboat’s drives. They were about to get a very nasty surprise.

“All Grumbles form up on me,” he ordered, as the gunboats raced away from
 
Formidable
. The Funks would see them coming; they’d know that they were under attack. “Our target is the big brute. Eagles; concentrate on the station. Ivans; cover our backs from those destroyers. Good hunting.”

The Hegemony battlecruiser – her IFF transmitter identified her as something that translated loosely as
 
Manifest Destiny
 
– slowly came to life as the gunboats zoomed closer, bringing their weapons systems online. Her crew had probably been enjoying a little intercourse and intoxication on the planet, assuming that the Hegemony males were allowed to do either, but almost all space navies ensured that enough crew to operate and fight the ship remained onboard at all times. The battlecruiser might run, or she might fight; they’d certainly be a little contemptuous of the tiny gunboats. No one else had devised either the craft or a doctrine to use their advantages against enemy starships.

“Attention, all shipping,” the recorded message in Galactic Three stated.
 
Formidable
 
was pulsing the message right across the Garston System. “A state of war exists between Earth and the Hegemony. All civilian ships are advised to identify themselves to us and remain clear of military operations. Our attacks will only be directed against Hegemony starships; I say again, our attacks will only be directed against Hegemony starships. Remain clear of military operations for your own safety.”

Markus silently prayed that the Galactics would listen as the battlecruiser started to spit deadly fire toward the gunboats. The crews instantly abandoned their first formation and fell into the second, a chaotic pattern that shifted rapidly. It looked as if the force’s commander had lost control and his pilots were panicking, but it was a carefully-planned operation. The rapid and unpredictable motions made it extremely difficult for targeting sensors to track them and open fire. Some of Earth’s little improvements to the ECM systems developed by the Galactics would made targeting the gunboats even harder.

“Concentrate on the drive section,” he ordered, as the gunboats slipped into weapons range. They were so close to the battlecruiser that they could see it through the cockpits with the naked eye. “We don't want her getting away…”

A gunboat vanished in a puff of light as the Hegemony gunners scored a direct hit. Markus had known that there would be losses – pilots he had known and had trained beside for years – but it was still hard to accept. He wanted to stick his hand down on the firing key and blast away at the enemy ship until it bled. Instead, he forced himself to concentrate as the gunboats pulled out of their dive, skimming along the edge of the battlecruiser’s shields. One gunboat pilot misjudged the turn and slammed right into the shield. The Funks would find it a little reassuring, for a few more seconds. It would be clear that the gunboats weren't carrying antimatter.

“All right,” he ordered. “Fire at will.”

“Hey,” one of the other pilots said. “Which one of them is Will?”

Markus snorted as implosion bolts rained down on the enemy drive section. Implosion bolts, for reasons no one outside the engineering departments understood, went right through shields as if they weren't there. They seemed the perfect weapon, but the Galactics – who had devised the technology – had never made good use of it. Even for the Association, it was impossible to devise a way of projecting the bolt more than several hundred meters before it just came apart. Any starship armed with an implosion bolt weapon would have to close to suicidal range before opening fire, during which time their opponents would have shot the shit out of them. They simply weren't a very practical weapon…

…Unless they were mounted on small craft, ones considered expendable by the senior officers who had devised the concept and put it into production. Earth could trade a handful of gunboats for a Funk battlecruiser and come out ahead, a trade that couldn't be made with starships. The gunboats did have some limitations – they couldn’t carry quantum drives and their life support was very limited, even with extension packs – but none of the pilots worried about such details. It was enough that they could fight… and give humanity’s tormentors a bloody nose they’d never forget.

The battlecruiser seemed to jerk in shock as deadly blasts tore through her drive section. Her gunners kept firing, even as she tried to twist away from the tiny attackers. Markus grinned as the gunboats followed, still pouring fire down on the enemy ship. The gunboats, like most small craft, were far more manoeuvrable than any starship. And they could accelerate far faster than their target. The ship’s only real hope was to jump out into quantum space, but it was already too late. They’d lost their quantum drive within seconds.

They’ll be ready for us next time
, Markus thought. Reprogramming their tactical computers would be simple, once they knew what they were facing. Garston’s military presence wouldn't survive the attack, but most of the commercial starships would make recordings of the battle, hoping to sell them to interstellar news networks. The secret would be out the moment one of them sold their recording to the Funks.
 
And then it will be far harder
.

He twisted the gunboat through a complicated evasive pattern as the battlecruiser lashed out at its enemies, a lion being stung to death by tiny wasps. Two more gunboats were picked off, but it made no difference. A direct hit on one of their fusion plants took out most of their power, leaving the ship drifting in space. Lifepods were launched as the crew desperately tried to escape, far fewer than there should have been. Perhaps the lifepods had been ripped apart by the attack, or perhaps the Funk crewmen thought that the gunboats would simply pick them off one by one. Markus wouldn't have done it even if he’d been ordered to slaughter the helpless escapees. It would have been an atrocity.