The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) (11 page)

“No,” Griffin agreed.  Cracking Tokomak codes was tricky, but humanity had fifty years of experience in outsmarting an unimaginative alien race.  “Do you plan to give them human-level missile tech?”

“Among other things,” Hoshiko said.  She paused.  “Not Hammerheads, of course, but everything else.”

Griffin stared at her.  “I should remind you, Captain, that General Order Number Four clearly states ...”

“Which can be overridden by the demands of war,” Hoshiko pointed out.  “Besides, with the exception of Hammerheads, everything we have can be duplicated relatively easily, now the Galactics have seen them in action.  And even Hammerheads are unlikely to remain exclusive for long.  The Tokomak
invented
gravity-manipulation technology.”

“It won’t stop the Druavroks from copying what we pass to Amstar,” Griffin objected.

“They’ll still need time to duplicate our work,” Hoshiko said.  “We need to give our prospective allies
something
to prove we’re sincere.  Weapons technology may serve as a suitable incentive for them to join up.”

“Assuming we
do
find allies,” Griffin said.  A number of ships had taken off from the ground as soon as the blockade had broken, but no one knew who’d been flying them.  Druavroks, going to report on the disaster, or other races intent on returning to their homeworlds?  “Can we count on anyone here?”

“The industrial workers are willing to assist us, in exchange for protection,” Hoshiko said, seriously.  “We help them remove the limiters on their fabbers and they can start churning out defences, even if it never goes anywhere else.  Give them a few weeks and the Druavroks will find it hard to retake Amstar.”

“They’ll try,” Griffin said.  He outlined, briefly, what Shari had told him.  “They’re a very aggressive race, Captain.”

“I saw the recordings,” Hoshiko agreed.  “At least we managed to bombard most of their formations from orbit.”

Griffin shuddered.  A
rational
race might have sought terms, but the Druavroks clearly
still
had no intention of surrendering.  They’d dug into their enclaves, far too close to the other settlements to allow orbital bombardment, and started preparing for the final fight.  The various resistance groups on the surface, had surrounded them, but they were reluctant to actually launch an offensive.  Griffin found it hard to blame them.  A month of occupation had killed over a
billion
people, from hundreds of different races.  Amstar would never be the same, even if the Druavroks surrendered tomorrow.  The entire planet had been traumatised.

They were even eating the dead
, he thought. 
And they were keeping prisoners alive just so they were fresh when they were butchered
.

He understood the captain’s desire to intervene, to take a stand against genocide ... against a horror that defied description.  But, at the same time, he worried about the future.  One of their ships had already been damaged, even though her crews had it firmly under control; what would happen, he asked himself, when another ship was destroyed?  It would happen, sooner or later ... the Druavroks had already shown themselves willing to throw their own lives away, as long as it gave them a chance to close with the foe.  The squadron simply didn't have the resources for a long and bloody war.

“Tell me, captain,” he said.  “Tell me how this ends?”

“With us finding new allies and defeating the threat,” Hoshiko said, bluntly.  “Do you want these monsters getting anywhere near Earth?”

“They’re six months away, Captain,” Griffin insisted.  “Even sending a handful of ships to Sol would be difficult, if they are at war in this sector.”

“The Tokomak ruled a much larger empire,” Hoshiko reminded him.  “They put together a staggeringly powerful force to hit Sol, even though they must have believed they were going well over what would have been required for
overkill
.  The Druavroks might keep going until they run into us.”

Griffin had his doubts.  He’d studied the Tokomak extensively - it was a required course at the Academy - and their empire had always been more flimsy than they’d realised, dependent on both the FTL drive and their command of high technology.  Keeping their subjects ignorant had helped, but there had been plenty of cracks in the system before the Horde had stumbled across Earth.  He doubted the Druavroks had the skill to set up other races as bully-boys and enforcers, not when they wanted to purge everyone else ...

And they’d unite everyone against them
, he thought. 
Even races that fear and hate one another will combine their might against an overwhelmingly powerful foe.

“More to the point, we can make a difference,” Hoshiko added.  “If we can win more allies among the other races, humanity benefits, but merely stopping an attempt at genocide will be enough.”

“But it won’t,” Griffin said.  He leaned forward, trying to make her understand.  “We may have knocked them off one world, Captain, but they have others.  Many others.  We have to stop them completely before we’re withdrawn from the sector or they’ll just resume the genocide as soon as we look away.”

“We won’t look away,” Hoshiko said.

Griffin frowned.  Hoshiko’s family was powerful, but it was nowhere near powerful enough to keep the Solar Union involved in the Martina Sector if the public wanted to pull out and abandon Amstar.  The ITA would probably do what it could, yet ... it still wouldn't tip the balance.  Hoshiko was writing cheques the Solar Union might be unable or unwilling to cash.

“I hope you’re right, Captain,” he said.  Hoshiko was treading a very fine line.  Giving human tech to aliens, even allies, was a direct violation of standing orders, tempered only by her interpretation of
other
standing orders.  “Because, if you’re wrong, we may only be creating more trouble for ourselves.”

“I understand the risks, Commander,” Hoshiko said.  “But some risks just have to be borne.”

Chapter Ten

Reports from Texas, unconfirmed as yet, state that Mexican tanks are reportedly attempting to cross the Rio Grande into Texas after the Governor declared a flat ban on any further Mexican and South American immigration into the state.  A unit of the Texas National Guard engaged the Mexicans with antitank weapons and successfully fought a delaying action until helicopters and armoured units could respond.

-Solar News Network, Year 54

“There’s no ground fire,” the shuttle pilot called back, “but there are reports of rogue enemy units, so we’re going down quickly.”

Thomas nodded, bracing himself as the shuttle dropped like a stone.  His implants compensated as best as they could, but he couldn't help feeling scared as the shuttle swung from side to side, before hitting the ground with a loud
BANG
.  The hatch swung open a second later, revealing a trio of armoured marines, their faces hidden within their suits.  He scrambled to his feet as they beckoned him forward and ran out onto an alien world.  The smell, a strange combination of smoke, blood and something he couldn't identify, caught his nostrils at once.  It was hard, very hard, to resist the temptation to gag.

“The locale is reasonably safe, Ensign,” one of the marines said, as Captain Ryman followed him out of the shuttle.  “However, we would recommend not going beyond the spaceport without an armed escort.”

“We may have to leave,” Captain Ryman said.  “The spaceport is normally neutral territory, but things might well have changed.”

Thomas barely heard him.  He was staring at the skyline.  Hundreds of buildings - some towering up into the sky, others smaller and blockier - studded the city, all marred in some way by the bitter conflict.  One skyscraper looked to have taken a direct hit from a missile: the framework had survived, if barely, but the interior had been completely destroyed.  He couldn't help wondering why the upper layers hadn't collapsed onto the lower layers, although he guessed the upper interior had collapsed moments after the blast.  A number of aliens were dragging dead bodies out onto the spaceport and dumping them on the runaway ... he gagged in horror when he realised just how
many
humans and aliens had been killed during the fighting.

“The command tower was destroyed in the fighting,” the marine was saying.  Thomas forced himself to pay attention as they started to walk towards a smaller building.  “We’ve converted one of the Pan-Gal Hotels into a temporary meeting place, as you suggested.  I’m afraid the staff has buggered off sometime during the fighting.”

“It will do,” Captain Ryman said.  “Most of the facilities are robotic, anyway.”

Thomas looked up at the older man as the marines escorted them towards the hotel.  “A Pan-Gal Hotel?”

“They cater for every known race,” Captain Ryman commented.  His lips twisted, as if he were torn between amusement and disdain.  “Book a room in advance, send them your racial details, and everything will be prepared for you.  The food will be edible, the entertainment will be suitable and, if you should be meeting with other Galactics, the hotel will prepare a meeting room that will keep you all from being uncomfortable.  All at a cost, of course.”

Thomas frowned.  “They don’t use holograms?”

“Not if it can be avoided,” Captain Ryman said.  “Sending someone a hologram when you could meet them in person is considered rude, unless there’s a very good excuse.  No one will blame you for a virtual presence if you were meeting a Tas-pok, but a human?  You need to speak face to face.”

“I see,” Thomas said.  “Is it safe?”

“Probably,” Captain Ryman said.  “It isn't as if we didn't just save them from being killed and eaten.”

He said nothing else as they entered the Pan-Gal and looked around.  The lobby was curiously dark and empty, Thomas noted; it took him several minutes to realise it was a VR holographic chamber that, for whatever reason, had been deactivated.  He’d seen AI-run games and simulations before, but he rather doubted the restricted AIs permitted by the Tokomak could actually handle so many different VR perceptual realities at the same time.

“The main computer network needs to be booted up,” Captain Ryman commented.  He walked behind the counter and peered underneath it, then produced a small computer node and placed it on the desk.  “Let me see ...”

Thomas gave him an odd look as he poked at the node with a processor he must have taken from the ship.  There was a long moment, then the lights came on; Thomas covered his eyes, then opened them carefully as his implants adapted.  The lobby was suddenly washed in soothing colours that made him want to relax and let the world go by.  It was definitely a program optimised for human visitors.

“We'll need to recover the staff if we want to put the hotel back into shape,” Captain Ryman said, as he flicked through the control systems, “but we can get a meeting room without any problems.  It may be a little uncomfortable, but they’ll understand.”

“I thought diplomats spent weeks arguing over the shape of the table,” Thomas said.  He hadn't been given any classes on diplomacy at the Academy.  “Is that really true?”

“Only if one side is stalling and the other, for whatever reason, is willing to let it,” Captain Ryman said.  He led the way through a large door, easily big enough to handle five or six humans walking abreast, then paused.  “Have you ever attended a multiracial meeting before?”

“No, sir,” Thomas said.

“Some basic rules, then,” Captain Ryman said.  “You’re my aide, so you stand behind me and say nothing, unless I specifically ask for your comments.  If anyone other than myself tries to speak to you, say nothing unless I tell you to answer.  I assume you speak Gal-Standard One?”

“One and Three,” Thomas said, speaking in Gal-Standard One.  “My accent is a little poor, but I speak the language.”

“Poor, yes,” Captain Ryman agreed.  “Speak
only
in Gal-Standard One.  If you can't express yourself properly without switching to English, inform me first.  Speaking in a non-standard language is considered rude.  Don’t even
swear
in English.”

He sighed.  “I’d bet good money that one of the
reasons
the Galactics are so unchanging is because of Gal-Standard languages,” he added.  “English steals words from other languages with impunity.  Gal-Standard One is so precise that it admits of no flexibility or imprecision, let alone innovation.  The Tokomak knew Big Brother before George Orwell was a gleam in his great-great-grandfather’s eye.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.  “We studied it at the Academy.”

It was nearly an hour before the first set of alien representatives arrived at the Pen-Gal Hotel, followed by several more.  Thomas watched as Captain Ryman greeted them, displayed his new authority to his old contacts and introduced himself to new ones, then escorted the guests down to the meeting room.  A couple had brought their own servitors, he noted; the marines had to be told to leave the guests armed, despite their concerns.  It had taken two days of arguing, over what remained of the planet’s communications grid, to convince the guests to attend.  After the Druavroks had started to slaughter everyone else, Thomas was mildly surprised that so many had shown up at all.

He studied them as Captain Ryman walked to the head of the table.  The human delegate was a tall man, his face badly scarred by ...
something
.  Thomas couldn't help feeling a little uneasy at how it was impossible to draw anything from the man’s implants - assuming he had any - or from the surrounding datanet.  The man had been introduced as John Septum, but that meant nothing to Thomas.  He didn't even have a datanet social page!

He wouldn't
, he reminded himself. 
The Tokomak didn't hold with using the datanet for fun
.

The first alien - Captain Ryman called her Sissle - was weird, a strange cross between an orange humanoid and an octopus.  Her race had apparently been spacefarers before the Tokomak had contacted them and they’d been swift to spread through the sector, mainly as traders.  Beside her, a more humanoid representative sat, his face covered in dark hair that was braided into thorns.  His race preferred to farm; the Tokomak had used them to terraform a hundred Mars-like worlds until they could support life, then turned them into the first population.  He was introduced as Todd. 

Finally, a six-legged spider-like alien inched its way up to the table and, disdaining the seat, stood in its place.  Thomas felt a chill run down his spine, even though he’d been exposed to images of hundreds of different races at the Academy.  The creature was just too close to a spider for him to be completely comfortable, even though his implants assured him that the aliens were very civilised.  Their names were completely unpronounceable, but after a brief discussion Captain Ryman introduced the spider-like alien as Ambassador One of Six.  The alien seemed satisfied with that designation.

Unless he doesn’t really understand
, Thomas thought.  The spider - he mentally dubbed the unpronounceable aliens spiders - spoke Gal-Standard One, but did they really understand?  It was hard to imagine what such a creature could have in common with humanity. 
We could come to an agreement with them and then discover they thought they were agreeing to something else
.

“Fellow Sentients, I greet you,” Captain Ryman said.  One thing to say for the Tokomak version of Robert’s Rules of Order, at least, was that they didn't allow for small talk.  “I have called you here to discuss our mutual enemies.”

“The Druavroks have gone mad,” Sissle exclaimed.  “They have attacked dozens of worlds and settlements over the last month.  Their fleets are advancing in all directions.  Many worlds are under siege.”

And I hope to hell that’s an exaggeration
, Thomas thought. 
We might have bitten off far more than we can chew
.

Captain Ryman didn't seem daunted.  “When I left, I told you I intended to seek help,” he said, calmly.  Gal-Standard One encouraged calmness.  “I succeeded - I brought a fleet of warships to lift the siege and stop the Druavroks before it was too late.”

“For which we thank you,” One of Six rattled.  It didn't seem to be using a voder to speak, but there was something about its voice that chilled Thomas to the bone.  “The Druavroks are not yet defeated.”

“No, they are not,” Captain Ryman said.

“We will pull our people away from their settlements,” John Septum said.  “You can take them out from orbit.  The problem will be solved.”

“The problem is greater than that,” Captain Ryman said.  If the thought of committing genocide bothered him, he kept it to himself.  “This is not a small outbreak of violence on a single world, but a threat to the entire sector.  The Druavroks will be back.  Next time, they may just scorch every last settlement from orbit and then land ground troops to hunt down any survivors.”

There was a long pause.  It was broken, finally, by Sissle.

“Are your ships going to remain here to defend us?”

“My commander is unwilling to remain a passive defender,” Captain Ryman said.  “She wishes to wage war on the Druavroks.”

“Amstar is not a warlike world,” Sissle objected.

“We have no choice,” John Septum said.  “The Druavroks
will
be back.”

“We have few weapons,” Sissle said.

“My commander is prepared to assist you in unlocking the fabber codes,” Captain Ryman said.  “In addition, she is willing to offer you advanced weapons and defence systems that will even the odds against the Druavroks.”

The spider rattled two of its legs together.  “And the price?”

“Two things,” Captain Ryman said.  “First, you join us in war until the Druavrok threat is removed.  Call every ship you can, everything from full-fledged warships to garbage scows, so we can outfit them with weapons and turn them against the enemy.  Second, that you attempt to convince your homeworlds to join us too.  The Druavroks threaten us all.”

“My people are reluctant warriors,” Sissle said.

“Your people will end up dead,” John Septum snapped.  “I do not speak for all of my people, Captain, but I believe most of us will join the resistance.  There are plenty of humans on trading ships within this sector.”