The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) (22 page)

Someone must have downloaded a perceptual reality
, he thought, as he strode through the lobby and into the restaurant. 
I wonder what it looks like to other races
.

He pushed the thought aside as he stopped in front of the counter, where a human waitress in a long black gown checked his ID for the second time, then led him towards a table in the corner.  There was something odd about the way she moved, something that made him wonder if her humanity was as illusionary as the lobby, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  Maybe she’d just spent so long on Amstar, among aliens, that she’d forgotten how to relate to her fellow humans.  He’d read an article, while he’d been at the Academy, that talked about humans raised on alien worlds, even if they hadn't been adopted by alien parents.  They’d tended to be different, in many ways, to either Solarians or Earthers.

But they grew up in a different environment
, he thought.  He’d seen plenty of differences between Solarians and Earthers too. 
Surely, they’d have a different mindset from the rest of us
.

He shook his head, dismissing the thought, and looked around the giant room.  It was a strange mixture of open and closed dining compartments, some sealed closed so no one could see their occupants.  A large alien resembling a giant spider was sitting in one of the open compartments, casually devouring an animal than looked like a dog.  Thomas couldn't help feeling sick when he realised it was still alive.  The spider sat next to another alien, a creature that reminded Thomas of a tree.  It didn't look to be eating, but it was sitting in a flower pot ...

“The human-compatible menu is here,” the waitress said briskly, tapping a switch to bring up a hologram.  “If you wish to stick with human dishes, they’re listed in set one.  Non-human dishes are listed in set two.”

Thomas nodded, watched the waitress walk away and then turned his attention to the menu as it flickered in front of him.  Set one was surprisingly long, although with fabbers and food processors it probably wouldn’t be hard to produce almost anything quickly; set two was longer, but included hundreds of dishes that sounded disgusting or looked inedible.  He was tempted to try something new, yet he had no idea what he could eat.  It was considered bad manners to order food and then reject it.

“I’d try the Glazed Topsham Beast, myself,” a voice said, in oddly-accented Gal-Standard One.  “You’re human, are you not?”

“Yes,” Thomas said, looking up.  The speaker was human, a tall girl with black skin, long red hair and a face that bore a number of scars.  “And you?”

“Human too,” the girl said.  She sat down facing him.  “Most non-human dishes are inedible, for all sorts of reasons, but Glazed Topsham Beast is reasonably tasty.”

Thomas nodded, feeling awkward.  “My name is Thomas,” he said, as he placed his order and banished the hologram.  “And you are?”

“Marie,” the girl said.  “My ancestors were taken from Earth centuries ago.  Some of us genuinely believed our homeworld to be a legend before we heard of you.”

“We’re real,” Thomas said.

“So I hear,” Marie said.  “I was actually hoping to ask you about Earth.  What’s it like?”

Thomas hesitated.  On one hand, strange girls
didn't
just come up to him and make random conversion, not in the Solar Union.  Marie wanted something, but what?  It wasn't as if they were the only two humans on the surface.  But, on the other hand, all she seemed to want to do was talk.  He ordered his implants to record the entire conversation, then tried to answer her question.

“Right now, it’s a nightmare,” he said.  He had no interest in discussing the dispute between Solarians and Earthers, but he didn't really want to lie.  “The smart people are fleeing the planet, while the dumbasses are fighting a civil war over lots of little nothings.”

Marie looked stricken.  “Is that true?”

“More or less,” Thomas said.  “But those of us who live in space are doing very well.”

He looked up as a waiter arrived, carrying two plates of food.  His eyes narrowed - he hadn't seen Marie order anything - as the plate was placed in front of him.  The Glazed Topsham Beast didn't smell like
anything
he’d smelled before, but he took a bite and decided it tasted like a combination of chicken and ham.  He made a mental note to try and get the pattern for the autochef and tucked in, fielding Marie’s questions as he ate.

“Some of us would like to go to Earth,” she confessed, as they finished.  “Just to see what it’s like.”

“The Solar Union would take you in,” Thomas said.  “What’s life like
here
for humans?”

“We’re ... homeless,” Marie said, after a moment.  “Very few races are interested in looking out for us, or anyone who isn't one of them.  Finding Earth ... it seems like a dream come true.”

“You would be welcome in the Solar Union,” Thomas said.  “But Earth itself is a nightmare.”

Marie thanked him, paid for the dinner and left the restaurant before he could ask for her contact code or anything else.  Thomas watched her go, suspecting that he was missing something, then carefully saved a copy of the whole discussion in his implants.  The intelligence staff would need to see it ...

... And perhaps they could tell him what it meant.

Chapter Twenty-One

The Lieutenant Governor of Texas was reported dead yesterday in an explosion that destroyed his residence.  Sources in Texas are uncertain what precisely happened, but the datanet is filling with speculation that the explosion was caused by a missile fired from a stealth drone, either from Mexico or the Federal Government.  The Governor has promised a full investigation and retaliation.

-Solar News Network, Year 54

“More warships,” Hoshiko said.  “
They’ll
be very useful.”

“And more supplies,” Commander Wilde agreed.  “They’ll be
more
useful.”

Hoshiko nodded in agreement as she stared at the display.  The new warships didn't show the polish of the older ships - she’d been drilling the fleet ever since it had arrived at Phoenix - but they represented a significant addition to both her fighting power and the Grand Alliance itself.  Convincing the rest of the sector that the Druavroks could and
would
be stopped would, in the long run, be worth more than
just
a handful of warships.  She was still dependent - far too dependent - on the converted freighters, but the fleet was growing stronger all the time.

“We got almost everything we asked for,” she said.  The gravity-wave generators, in particular, would allow her to give the Druavroks a
real
surprise.  “And we should be ready to take the offensive in a couple more days.”

“Assuming they take the bait,” Wilde noted.  “Are you sure they will?”

“I think I’m starting to get an idea of how these creatures think,” Hoshiko said, after a moment.  “They
don’t
think very highly of anyone, perhaps even themselves.  A challenge has to be accepted, not ignored.  We’ll be throwing down a gauntlet they’d be hard-pressed to ignore.”

She shrugged.  In truth, she had contingency plans.  It might not be possible to drive the Druavroks away from Dab-yam, but she could give them a bloody nose.  Given the fleet reported to be laying siege to the system, no one seriously expected her to challenge the Druavroks to a straight fight.  The Grand Alliance would be lost along with the fleet.

“I need you to take command of Task Force 6.1,” she said, instead.  Task Force 6.1 was a small formation, but it had a vitally important task.  “You’ll be covering the ambush.”

“Understood,” Wilde said.  “I assume Biscoe will be taking command of the ship?”

Hoshiko nodded, reluctantly.  She would have preferred to keep Wilde with her and place another officer in command of Task Force 6.1, but she needed someone completely reliable in place to spring the trap.  Besides, it was
important
to show she was prepared to put humans - Solarians - on the front lines.  Wilde could handle the mission and, at the same time, serve as a symbol of her resolve.  But it meant putting a largely-untried officer in command of the ship in a time of war.

“I’ll be ready to retake command myself, if necessary,” she said.  It wasn’t a perfect solution, but she’d parcelled out too many of her officers to alien ships for any other solution to be contemplated.  “I don’t intend to take the fleet
right
into the teeth of enemy fire.”

“They’ll know about us now,” Wilde told her, bluntly.  “They have to know we overwhelmed Malachi.”

“I know,” Hoshiko agreed.  The Druavroks should take her fleet seriously, after they’d blown the defences of one of their systems into scrap metal, but they might see the hundreds of converted freighters and dismiss the threat.  It wasn't as if she’d risked charging the fleet into the fire of a squadron of enemy battleships.  “But as long as they’re not abandoning the siege, we have to go to them.”

“And they’ll know that too,” Wilde said.

Hoshiko had her doubts.  Nothing she’d seen suggested the Druavroks had a concept of war like humanity’s - or the Tokomak, for that matter.  They’d just declared war in all directions, as if they were completely contemptuous of their opposition.  Perhaps they’d had a point - it had taken her squadron’s intervention to forge the Grand Alliance - but she was sure they would have outrun their logistics, sooner rather than later.  And yet, if their enemies hadn't managed to get together by then, they might well have overcome the problem and just kept going.

But the more space they need to control, the harder it will be
, she thought. 
Eventually, their grip will be so light it won’t be there at all
.

She shuddered.  It wouldn't matter, not with the Druavroks.  They intended to
exterminate
every other race in the galaxy, not set up their own empire and enslave the rest of the universe.  They’d just wipe the worlds they occupied clear of life and move on.  Hell, given how fast they seemed to breed, it wouldn't take them long to build up settlements that would need to be wiped out by their opponents or permanently surrendered to the Druavroks.  If they couldn’t be beaten quickly, their enemies would find themselves having to make a choice between committing genocide and being the
victims
of genocide.

And if we have to make that choice
, she thought,
better to commit genocide than allow it to be committed against us
.

It was a sickening thought.  She knew - she’d had it hammered into her head from a very early age - that Stuarts went into the military to
protect
their families, their friends, their nation ... not to crush their enemies or commit atrocities.  Her grandfather had talked about the need to uphold one’s own standards, even as one’s enemies gloried in turning empathy and compassion into weapons. 
He’d
had to deal with human shields, with shooters and bombers who were still children, with enemy populations that worshipped death and rejected the life offered to them by outsiders ... or, perhaps, were too scared to take a stand against the monsters that turned them into slaves and cannon fodder.  And
he
had never urged the mass slaughter of enemy combatants and civilians alike ...

But if we can’t convince the Druavroks to stop
, she told herself,
we might have to kill them all
.

“Captain?”

She blinked, coming back to herself.  “Yes, Commander?”

“I can teleport over to the task force later this afternoon,” Wilde said.  It took Hoshiko a moment to remember what he’d been saying.  “Biscoe should be properly briefed on his duties and the attack plan.”

“Understood,” Hoshiko said.  “Patrick will remain as my second, just in case something happens to
Fisher
.”

“They’ll certainly
try
to target her first,” Wilde agreed.

Hoshiko shrugged.  A
human
commander would almost certainly target the warships first, knowing they represented the only long-term threat.  But the Druavroks?  She wasn't so sure
what
they’d do.  They might not be capable of judging the correct level of threat posed by each and every one of her ships, not if they were all spewing out missiles.  She shook her head, dismissing the thought.  She’d find out soon enough.

“We’ll be well-protected by the datanet, if push comes to shove,” she said.  “But the idea is not to enter missile range if it can be avoided.”

“It might not be avoidable,” Wilde said.  He looked back at the display.  “The latest reports, Captain, make it clear that the planet is under heavy attack.”

“All the more reason to move quickly,” Hoshiko said.  “Brief Biscoe, if you please.  I’ll speak to him myself before we enter FTL.”

“Aye, Captain,” Wilde said.  “The task force will also need practice in deploying the mines, I think.  Time will not be on our side.”

Hoshiko nodded.  “Start running through the exercises as soon as you board the freighter,” she ordered, curtly.  “And let me know if you need more time.”

“Ask me for anything but time,” Wilde quoted, as he rose.  “I’ll let you know what happens.”

He left the cabin, the hatch hissing closed behind him.  Hoshiko ordered more coffee, then picked up the datapad and started to read through Captain Ryman’s latest reports.  Martina, it seemed, had
finally
patched together a government of sorts, although the local sub-governments were quick to explain that it
only
represented the planet to the rest of the Grand Alliance and had very little authority on the surface.  Hoshiko had to smile at how
human
it sounded, then read the final sections with growing relief.  Martina’s fabbers had been unlocked, as she’d hoped, and the planet was building up its defences as fast as possible, with some help from the naval base.  Given time, it would even start producing warships of its own.

Pity we can't just replicate warships
, she thought.  A fleet composed of thousands of warships like
Jackie Fisher
would make humanity the dominant power in the galaxy.
That would make life so much simpler
.

She shook her head, dismissing the thought.  It was theoretically possible, with AIs to handle the calculations, but the power requirements were staggeringly high.  She'd read studies where engineers had proposed using zero-width wormholes to tap a local star, yet they were years away from any kind of workable hardware.  Besides, even the Solar Union would hesitate at the thought of tampering with Sol.  A large flare - or a supernova - would wipe out seventy percent of the Solar Union and
all
of Earth.

And that hasn't stopped us from working on ways to trigger flares or supernovas
, she thought.  A chill ran down her spine as she considered what the Druavroks would do with such technology. 
They could wipe out trillions of lives in a heartbeat
.

The doorbell rang.  “Come in!”

She looked up as the hatch opened, revealing Max Kratzok.  The reporter was wearing a standard shipsuit, rather than the suit he normally wore; he walked forward as if his arms and legs were aching, although it didn't look as though he were in pain.  Hoshiko’s eyes narrowed, but she knew she couldn't ask.  Respecting the privacy of a fellow Solarian - too - had been drummed into her from a very early age.

Because there were too many busybodies on Earth
, she thought, as Kratzok took a seat facing her. 
They thought they had the right to poke their noses into everyone’s business.

“Captain,” Kratzok said.  There didn't seem to be anything wrong with his voice, at least.  “I completed the second set of interviews and features and uploaded them into the datanet.  I think they will be a hit back home.”

Hoshiko smiled.  She had a private subroutine running in her implants, counting down the days until her first reports reached Sol.  And, of course, until the first response could come back from her superiors.  No matter what she said in public, she knew fleet command could jump either way, when it came to deciding how to react to her actions.  They could approve them uncritically or order her back home to face a court martial ... or anything in-between.

“I certainly hope so,” she said.  “Did you get anything from Malachi itself?”

“They ignored my requests for interviews,” Kratzok said.  He smiled.  “I don’t think they were interested in explaining themselves to our media.”

“I suppose not,” Hoshiko said.  Her grandfather had gone on and on, at length, about media-savvy enemies and reporters who practically
worked
for the bad guys.  The Solar Union, at least, didn't have that problem.  “I don't even think they
have
a media.”

“Probably not,” Kratzok said.  He shifted, uncomfortably.  “I believe you promised me an interview, Captain.”

Hoshiko groaned inwardly, but there was no point in trying to deny it.  “I have an hour, roughly, before I have to go on duty,” she said, after checking her implants in the hopes an urgent message was waiting in her inbox.  “Is that enough time?”

“It depends on how you answer my questions,” Kratzok admitted.  “I have a list, Captain, but I will probably also want to ask follow-up questions.”