First Strike (12 page)

An explosion blew the rear section of the battlecruiser to pieces, leaving the remains cart-wheeling across space. Weapons fire fell away and finally stopped altogether. The ship no longer posed any threat and so Markus led the Grumbles away from their target. Once the gunboats had left the system, the commercial ships could pick up the lifepods and save the crews. Behind them, Ivan Squadron had destroyed one of the Funk destroyers while the other had fled into quantum space. That wasn't too surprising. Retreat had been the only logical course, even though the Funks weren't known for running from the battlefield. But they weren't as bad as the spider-like race on the other side of the galaxy, which regarded themselves as completely expendable, just like any other form of military technology. Even the Association had had problems communicating with them.

Garston Base was fighting back savagely. Unlike a starship, which had to devote large parts of its internal space to drives, orbital bases could cram extra weapons and shield generators into their hulls. The time they’d taken to destroy the battlecruiser had given the station’s crew a chance to adapt to the gunboats. Eagle Squadron had damaged the base, but seven of the gunboats had been blasted into space dust – including the one flown by the squadron commander. What little coordination still existed among the pilots wasn't enough to cripple the station.

“Ivans and Grumbles, target the station,” Markus ordered sharply. The shortage of real experience had thrown up another nasty problem, one they should have expected. There was no reason why the Funks couldn't pick off the squadron leaders. “Eagles; pull back and reform.”

The station grew rapidly in front of him as they closed in. It was larger than any superdreadnought, large enough to allow starships to dock
 
inside
 
the base’s hull, where they could be powered down and repaired. And it lacked a place that could be destroyed and set off a chain reaction that would destroy the base, unless they burned right through to the fusion plants. Doing that would require burning through the entire station. The gunboats swept out, targeting the station's point defence and picking the guns off, one by one. Several gunboats died before even realising that they were under attack. Someone on the other side had already managed to reprogram their tactical computers.

Good thing we’re going to kill her
, Markus thought, as he picked off another point defence weapon. With clear space, the gunboats were taking up positions and pouring fire directly into the station itself. Explosions billowed out in the darkness of space, none of them powerful enough to tear the station apart until one blast shattered the struts holding the ring together. Slowly, magnificently, the entire station began to disintegrate. Something exploded deep inside and kicked a mountain of debris out into the system. Markus allowed himself a moment of silence to appreciate what they’d done, and then barked an order to his gunboat crews. They turned and fled the dying station before it shattered completely. A few hundred lifepod beacons appeared on their displays, screaming for help. The commercial ships would have to rescue them.

Formidable
 
was already heading back towards the quantum gate when the gunboats formed up around her. She
 
could
 
slip into quantum space herself, but that would have revealed that she carried a quantum drive. Letting the Galactics think that she needed a gate to enter and leave quantum space might come in handy as the war raged on. None of the other ships tried to stop them leaving the system, leaving the Hegemony’s military reputation in tatters. A report would be transmitted to Earth as soon as they reached a safe distance.

The eerie lights of quantum space surrounded them as they passed through the gate. Gunboats
 
could
 
enter quantum space if a starship or a fixed installation opened a gate for them, allowing them to return to their carrier once they were safely away from the battle. And if they were lucky, the Galactics would assume that the opposite was true. Nowhere would be safe from gunboat attacks.

“Good work, everyone,” he said. “Time to return to the barn – and debriefing.”

He ignored the groans from his crewmates. They needed to analyze the battle carefully and work out what they’d done wrong – and right. Learning from success was harder than learning from defeat, but there was no choice. The next time the gunboats faced a Hegemony fleet, the Hegemony would know what to expect.

And then they would
 
really
 
test the gunboats to the limit.

But then, these are the problems of victory
, he reminded himself.
 
Just think how
 
they
 
must be feeling
.
 

The streets of Center’s floating city looked normal, even though the universe had just turned upside down. Hundreds of thousands of people, from a hundred different races, thronged the streets, coming together in an association supervised by
 
the
 
Association. The Cats had dreamed of a universe where every race worked together for the common good, but the way they’d gone about it had been largely counterproductive. And now they were losing interest in maintaining the edifice they’d created.

Ambassador Li Shan walked through the streets, badly shaken. She'd known, of course, that both Federation Intelligence and ONI operated out of the human embassy on Center. It was still the heart of the explored galaxy, still a place where humans could learn about the Galactics and dig through records that stretched back over thousands of years. But to be told that there was a set of intelligence operators that she’d never known about, until one of them had been ordered to reveal himself, was shocking – and the discovery that Earth was embarking on a war was terrifying. No one had told her, not until the first strikes had already been launched. Logic told her that they couldn't have sent a message until the war actually began, for fear of interception and decryption, but it was hard not to resent their decision.

Four men from the embassy walked behind her, all trained and experienced Federation Marines. The Cats didn't permit others to carry weapons on their world – it was meant to be a place of harmony – but the Marines had a few surprises up their sleeves. It was quite possible that the Funks would attempt to assassinate Earth’s Ambassador, once they realised that the war had begun. They’d probably have to disown the assassin and pay reparations – after all, they wouldn't want the Association to wake up until it was too late – but it would pay off handsomely. Earth wouldn't be able to get another accredited Ambassador out to Center for years and her deputy wouldn't be accepted by the Galactics. Just another convention that the Galactics couldn't be bothered to change.

The streets looked busy, with market sellers trying to sell their wares, but it was easy to see what was missing. There were no Cats within the crowd, and indeed few of them within the city itself. The terminal ennui that was wearing away at their determination to tame the universe and bend it to their will was slowly killing them, even though no Cat had died naturally for thousands of years. No one was entirely sure just how many were still inclined to take an interest in galactic affairs or were even
 
alive
, out of a population that once numbered in the hundreds of trillions. There was no demographic data available on their population these days. Shan was inclined to believe that some Cats realised the danger and were doing their best to hide their weakness from the rest of the galaxy, but there was no way to know for sure. Even her sources on Center couldn't find out everything.

She tensed as she saw a pair of Funks heading across the street. Neither of them seemed aware that they were at war with the human race, but it wouldn't be long before the news reached Center. Some of the hypothetical war plans she’d seen had suggested blowing up the relay stations, before the diplomats had seen the plans and vetoed them. The relay stations were linked to the quantum gates and
 
nothing
 
would be more likely to bring the entire galaxy down on Earth’s head. Destroying a gate was regarded as the ultimate crime, because it threatened the very foundations of civilization. Even mass-producing and deploying subversion nanites was less dangerous.

Like all races, the Hegemony maintained its own embassy on Center. It had been built in the style they’d used before they’d been contacted by the Association, a weird building that reminded her of a cross between a castle and a tent. Their homeworld had had few permanent cities, not unlike Earth in the years before humans had moved from hunter-gatherers to farmers. Indeed, the Funk culture – such as it was – had disdained the city-folk before they’d gained access to advanced technology. Maybe they would have evolved away from the demands of their homeworld if they’d been allowed to develop naturally. But the Association had never given them that chance.

And yet they’d adapted to the existence of more powerful races better than humanity…

By custom, any Ambassador could call upon another Ambassador at any time, without warning. The Association’s traditions for a declaration of war were rather less detailed, if only because the brushfire wars were really nothing more than minor skirmishes. When the Cats had been strong and determined, they'd been able to keep younger races from fighting each other. Now… even without humanity starting a war with the Hegemony, no one expected the uneasy peace to last more than a few decades. Scrabbling over the division of the Association’s space had already begun.

She stepped up in front of the forcefield and held up the pendant that certified that she was an accredited Ambassador, appointed by Earth and accepted by the Association Commune. The guard – an unarmored Funk, with no visible weapons – looked at it, make a motion that reminded her of a shrug, and pushed a button. Oddly, she realised as the forcefield flickered out of existence, the guard was female. It was rare to see Funk women in menial jobs, unless they were being punished. Of course, keeping one’s temper was essential on Center and a Funk male might have started a fight by now. Maybe it was a more important position than she’d realised.

The Funk’s voice was almost atonal, save for a hissing sound that seemed to underlie her Galactic Three. “The Ambassador is eating,” she said. Galactic Three wasn't a particularly polite language, reducing messages to their bare essentials. The guard didn't mean to be rude. Probably. “She will see you after she has dined.”

Shan smiled and pushed forward. “The Ambassador will see me now,” she said. She took a breath, puffing out her chest. The Funks didn't take males seriously, but if they recognised that she was female… of course, all humans looked alike to them, just as many humans had difficulties telling the difference between different Funks. “This matter is too important to be left to wait.”

There was one thing about the Funks that reminded her of her old tutor’s comment about the Russians. They saw the universe in terms of superiors and inferiors. Convince them that you were superior and they would genuflect and obey; fail to convince them and they would happily take advantage of you. But it was often harder than it sounded. The guard would have had her orders from a known superior and might not break them for another, particularly a human.

The Funk bowed her head, slowly. “I will escort you to the Ambassador,” she said. “Your guards may wait outside.”

“Of course,” Shan said, coolly. The thought of not having her bodyguards was terrifying, but she knew better than to let them see it. Besides, four guards might not be able to get her out safely if the Funks went against thousands of years of tradition and murdered an Ambassador in their own Embassy. That would seriously annoy all of their neighbours. “Lead the way.”

The guard scurried ahead of her as Shan strode into the Embassy as if she owned the place, passing through a security scanner that informed her hosts that she carried nothing more dangerous than a datapad, a single datachip and a secure terminal. Not that that would reassure them. There might be a general consensus that murdering Ambassadors was not civilised, but there was no law against spying – and plenty of ways to carry surveillance tools into a secure building. She could be carrying a handful of nanotech bugs with her, or something even smaller. But they had to see her. She was Earth’s Ambassador.

She’d never visited the Funk Embassy before and part of her was curious. The interior of the building smelt faintly of rotting meat, reminding her that the Funks liked to eat their meals raw. Rumour had it that they dined on alien flesh in a perverse form of cannibalism, although she doubted that that was true. Humanity had been quite prepared to believe the worst of them after they’d taken Terra Nova and stories of them devouring human children had spread widely. Who knew? Maybe they would convince one of the other Galactics to intervene.

In the dim light, she could make out the plain stone walls, decorated by remarkably fine carved letters. Like humanity, the Funks had kept their own languages after learning the various Galactic tongues, but they’d never had a written language until they’d adapted one from the Association. Reading it was tricky; some words were comprehensible, probably taken straight from Galactic Three, others were new to her. The Association would have been wiser to note what the Funks had done and realise that absorbing and dominating was part of their nature. But the Cats had probably just seen it as another primitive race copying technology from their betters.

A handful of other Funks glanced at her as they passed her in the corridor. Most were female, but a couple of males hissed at her when they saw her. They’d probably smelled her first – their noses were sharper than human noses – and recognised that she was alien. Her escort eyed the males until they were gone, almost as if she’d expected them to lose control and attack Shan. It would have been disastrous if they had, even if Shan survived without serious injury. The Hegemony’s reputation would have taken a terrible blow.

The Funk Ambassador was seated at a table that had been hastily cleared of raw animal flesh and the jugs of strong wine the Funks brewed and sold to the rest of the galaxy. Meeting her in the dining hall was a subtle insult, which she pretended to ignore. She
 
had
 
demanded an immediate meeting, after all, and could hardly complain when they pretended to take her at her word. The Ambassador was older than the average Funk, almost certainly – although it was hard to tell – a close relative of the Empress. Nepotism was how the Funks operated, which had the added bonus that anyone without family loyalty wouldn't be able to rise to a senior position they could use to mount a coup. The pendent around her neck glowed as it recognised the presence of Shan’s pendant. No-one else would be able to wear it until they received accreditation in their own right.

“Great Lady,” Shan said, with a slight bow. Galactic protocol could be very complex at times, with hundreds of different races adding their own spin on events. “I thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“I thank you for visiting,” Great Lady Vanla said. It was always difficult to read emotions behind alien words, but Shan was sure that she was lying through her sharp teeth. The Great Lady hadn't missed any opportunities to remind humanity of its lowly place in the galaxy, or to intimidate or bribe potential allies into staying away from Earth. “I am sure that your urgent request represents an urgent matter.”

Shan took a breath. “Over the past ten years, ever since our races first encountered each other, your race has pushed us hard,” she said. Part of her had wanted to simply deliver the declaration of war and get out, but her terminal was recording the entire meeting. It would be necessary to show it to the other Galactics when humanity started looking for allies… assuming that the war went as planned. She couldn't remember if any war had ever gone according to plan, but she doubted one had. “You have demanded concession after concession from us, impeded our efforts to move into the wider galaxy and taken a whole population of humans captive. Now you are attempting to claim our worlds, to end our independence. We can no longer tolerate your dishonourable interference in our affairs.”

The Great Lady cocked her head slightly, a Funk smile. “The world you call Terra Nova was transferred to us legally, from the race that originally claimed it,” she said, with some clear amusement. “The fact that a number of… squatters landed on the world, without permission from the owners, is of no consequence to us. We were happy to invite them to join the Hegemony, with the same rights and duties as any other client race.”

And those rights were very thin on the ground, Shan knew. The Association’s founders had patronised the younger races for years, but they hadn’t acted out of malice. But the Funks believed themselves superior to everyone who couldn't stand up for themselves. Humans would never be anything more than second-class citizens under their rule, denied even the hope of freedom.

The hell of it was that they
 
did
 
have a point, under Galactic law. Terra Nova
 
had
 
been claimed by the Association, although the Cats had never raised any objection to humans settling on the planet – or, for that matter, the countless other worlds in similar positions. But the Cats had never given up the settlement rights to humanity, and when the Association had convinced them to sign the rights over to the Hegemony, it had all been perfectly legal. It just hadn't been particularly
 
ethical
. Who would have thought that, among all the races humanity would encounter, there would be hundreds of fanatical lawyers?

But human visions of the universe outside Earth’s atmosphere had always been limited. Aliens had been depicted as unified cultures, either benevolent federations who would give humanity the keys to the stars or implacably hostile empires that would destroy humanity if humanity didn't destroy them first. But
 
real
 
aliens were people, even the ones so alien that holding a conversation was almost impossible. And in the snake pit the Association had accidentally created, the rules were more important than any concept of ethics, particularly human ethics. Might made right and the Hegemony simply had a bigger stick than Earth.

“And our homeworld?” Shan asked, meeting the bright red eyes. How could anyone escape realising that the Funks were
 
predators
 
first and foremost? Just because they were matriarchal rather than patriarchal didn't make them any less determined to cling onto their own culture than any number of human tribes on Earth. “What claim do you have on Earth?”