“Aye, Captain,” Brown said. “It will take some time to compile the data - longer, if you want to include data from the rest of the fleet.”
“Just concentrate on our data,” Hoshiko ordered. “I ...”
She frowned as a message popped up in front of her from Commander Wilde, asking for a meeting in her cabin. Rising, she sent back a quick acknowledgement and strode out of the hatch, feeling sweat trickling down her back. She needed a shower, sleep and a fuck, perhaps not in that order, but only the shower would be forthcoming. There was no time to sleep until she knew just how badly the squadron had been pounded. And she was reluctant to draw a sexbot out of general supplies just for her own pleasure.
“Captain,” Commander Wilde said. He looked ... oddly reluctant to enter her cabin. “I need to talk to you.”
“Very well,” Hoshiko said, feeling her eyes narrow in suspicion. It was unlike Wilde to demand a meeting, particularly just after a battle when they both had a great deal of work to do. “What is it?”
“I’m formally requesting permission to call a Captain’s Board,” Wilde said. “This matter has gone far beyond the intent of our orders.”
Hoshiko stared at him, feeling a tidal wave of numb shock mixed with betrayal. He was her XO! How could he betray her? But if he felt that calling a Captain’s Board to judge her conduct was the only choice, it was his right - his duty - to call one.
“Very well,” she said, fighting to keep her voice level. She’d known Wilde had doubts, but she hadn’t expected him to move to actively opposing her. “We’ll hold the board as soon as we return to Amstar.”
“We can hold it now,” Wilde said. “According to regulations ...”
“I’m familiar with the regulations,” Hoshiko said, coldly. She glanced at her wristcom, then back at him. “We’ll hold the board in seven hours. That will give us time to shower, sleep and make repairs.”
“Agreed,” Wilde said. He looked as if he wanted to say something else, perhaps a pointless apology, but thought better of it. “I’ll see you in the conference room.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sit-down protesters in Oklahoma were violently dispersed by federal troops as they blocked the interstate leading towards Texas. The Governor of Oklahoma has called out the National Guard and publicly declared that he will not tolerate further federal bullying of his state’s inhabitants.
-Solar News Network, Year 54
Griffin Wilde couldn't help feeling like a betrayer.
He understood - he understood perfectly - why Captain Stuart had wanted to intervene. They were under orders to protect humans, after all, and a genocide was something that should be stopped on moral grounds alone. But the mission had blossomed out of control, becoming a multi-racial crusade against an alien race that might pose a clear and present threat to the Solar Union itself ... and a promise to the Grand Alliance that the rest of humanity might not be willing or able to keep. Hoshiko had stepped far beyond the limits of her orders.
Because no one ever expected us to be drawn into local politics, he thought, as he stepped into the conference room. And that was a mistake all along.
He took a breath as the hatch closed behind him. Hoshiko was sitting at the other end of the chamber, but the other commanding officers were represented by hologram. No doubt they, like Griffin, had spent the last two hours reviewing the regulations covering their current situation - and, perhaps, fretting over how their participation would be seen by Fleet Command. A full Captain’s Board had only been called twice in the last fifty years - and one of them had ended with the participants charged with mutiny. It was quite possible, Griffin knew, that he’d wind up charged with mutiny himself.
I knew the risks when I made the call, he reminded himself, firmly. He sat down and opened his implants to the room’s processors, allowing them to confirm his identity. And if I am sentenced to death, I will accept it as the price for making the wrong call.
“Captain Macpherson will assume control of the discussion,” Hoshiko said, flatly. Her voice was so atonal that Griffin was sure she was using her implants to keep all emotion out of her tone. “Commander Wilde and myself, of course, will abstain when the time comes for a vote, leaving us with six voters. Captain Macpherson will have the deciding vote if the voters are evenly split. I trust that is acceptable?”
Griffin nodded, along with the other participants. A formal Captain’s Board was an awkward affair at the best of times - they were generally only authorised when there was no hope of contacting higher authority within a reasonable space of time - but Hoshiko had put forward the best possible solution. He wasn't sure where Captain Macpherson stood, now two irreplaceable ships had been blown to atoms, yet he was the senior commanding officer in the squadron. There was no alternative to putting him in control of the discussion.
“I yield the floor to Captain Macpherson,” Hoshiko said.
“Thank you, Captain,” Macpherson said. He cleared his throat. “It is my duty to remind all of you that a full recording of this discussion, along with our shipboard and private logs, will be presented before Fleet Command when we return home and, perhaps, used in evidence against us. If any of you wish to record a dissent from the decision to hold a formal meeting, speak now or forever hold your tongue.”
Griffin didn't - quite - roll his eyes. Macpherson had always had a turn for the dramatic, but there were limits. The meeting was serious - even if the assembled captains voted to shut it down immediately, Fleet Command would review everything anyway - and there was no time for levity. But, at the same time, humour would defuse the tension they were all feeling, now they were committed. Their words and deeds would be studied with a fine-toothed comb when the remainder of the squadron returned home.
“No one has spoken,” Macpherson said, after a minute had passed in awkward silence. “We have very little in the way of precedent for these meetings, but I believe Commander Wilde should speak first.”
Griffin took a breath. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I will be brief.
“Our mission in this sector was to set up a naval base at Martina, nothing more. It was anticipated that the naval base would eventually turn into a full-fledged outpost, staffed with diplomats and traders who would establish links with the worlds and races within the sector and, ideally, seek out new allies and new civilisations. It was not anticipated - it was never anticipated - that we would be drawn into a multiracial war.
“I concede that our orders authorised us to take action to protect and defend human settlements throughout the sector, regardless of their origins. Taking the squadron to Amstar and engaging the Druavroks was justifiable, although there was a considerable element of risk. Doing what we could to ensure that the human settlements across the sector were also protected was, depending on how one looks at it, covered by our orders. That far, no serious objection can be raised.
“But since then, our involvement in local politics has skyrocketed. We have forged an alliance between fifteen different races and over two hundred star systems, an alliance directed against the Druavroks. We have invaded one of their systems, sent raiders deeper into their space to make their lives miserable and attacked their ships wherever we found them. Worse, perhaps, we have unlocked fabbers and shared human technology freely, creating a potential new threat to humanity.
“And now, two of our cruisers are gone, after the enemy set a successful ambush. We cannot replace those ships! The Druavroks lost more ships - far more ships - and yet they still hold the advantage in firepower.
“We have gone so far beyond our orders that it is just incomprehensible. We have made promises of alliance to alien races that the Solar Union may not choose to ratify. We have built an alliance that commits us to war against the Druavroks, a war that has already spread out of control. And now that we have taken heavy losses of our own, our ability to support our allies has been sharply limited. The Grand Alliance itself may come apart after we were ambushed and defeated.
“This h
as gone too far. We need to reconsider our position.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Macpherson said. “Captain Stuart. The floor is yours.”
***
Hoshiko took a moment to gather herself before speaking, a trick she’d learned at the Academy. Deliberately or otherwise - and she knew Commander Wilde was an experienced officer - she would be addressing a group whose feelings were running high, after losing over two hundred friends and comrades in an ambush. They would be more than human if, at some level, they didn't blame her for falling into the trap, although none of them had seen it coming either. She mentally saluted Commander Wilde - holding the meeting so quickly after the battle gave him the greatest chance of winning - and then leaned forward, choosing her words with care.
“I will not deny the problems we have with supplying the squadron, let alone the entire fleet,” she said. “And I will not deny that losing Harrington and Jellicoe cuts deep into our deployable firepower, although we did inflict considerable damage on their forces and bought the Grand Fleet time to withdraw and scatter. But the fact remains that our involvement in the war against the Druavroks is both legal and moral.
“Our orders, as Commander Wilde notes, authorise us to protect humans wherever we find them. The orders do not draw any distinction between Solarians or the descendents of Earthers, taken from the planet by the Tokomak. Indeed, one of our many tasks when we arrived on station was to attempt to forge links with the local humans, in hopes of turning them into allies or Solarians. Going to the rescue, when human settlements were threatened with being exterminated, turned them into allies.
“But it is not enough to merely drive the Druavroks away from Amstar. That world is not the only human settlement in the sector. Nor were the Druavroks likely to leave Amstar in peace, if we pulled out the squadron shortly after liberating the planet. How many problems in history became worse, far worse, because they were allowed to fester? The only hope of winning peace and security for the human settlers in this sector is to take the war to the Druavroks and defeat them. There is nothing about them that suggests they would be amenable to a negotiated settlement.”
She paused, wishing she could gauge their feelings, then pushed on. “We also have orders to take advantage of any opportunity to set up diplomatic links with as many races and worlds in this sector as we can,” she continued. “Liberating Amstar gave us a chance to forge an alliance with some of the most powerful races in the sector, a chance to recruit allies to take the war to the Druavroks. Their interests coincide with ours. They want the Druavroks defeated as much as we do. Giving them human technology only strengthens the alliance between us. It is the sign of respect, of equality, that they never received from the Tokomak.
“And it has paid off! They have sent thousands of ships to join our fleet! They have committed vast resources to the cause. They have fought beside us and died beside us!
“This war is more than just a crusade against a genocidal race. This war is an opportunity, an opportunity to build an alliance that will make the human race far more secure in a very hostile galaxy. How long will it be, I ask you, before the Tokomak return to Sol, with hundreds of thousands of warships and blood in their eye? This is an opportunity we cannot let pass, even if it weren't covered by our orders.
“The enemy have proved themselves more artful than we would have preferred,” she admitted. “They made no advances in technology, but they used what they had to make a canny ambush and cost us two cruisers. War is, after all, a democracy - the enemy gets a vote. But we have not lost the war. Our allies are turning out more warships, our fabbers are ringing our worlds in orbital defences and we are priming ourselves for taking the offensive further and further into enemy space.
“Losing Harrington and Jellicoe was a blow,” she concluded. “I mourn their loss as much as any of you. But we are all experienced personnel who understand the facts of life. A conflict - any conflict - risks lives, but we cannot allow the fear of losing our people to stop us. If we choose to abandon the conflict, if we choose to pull our ships back to Martina, the Grand Alliance will come apart, the Druavroks will resume the offensive and humanity’s name will be mud throughout the cosmos. We will be the race that abandoned its allies when it got a little bloody nose!
“Commander Wilde would have you believe that this war does not involve us. But it does! It involved us the moment the Druavroks started targeting human settlements on a dozen different worlds. Taking the war to the Druavroks is the only way to end the threat once and for all.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Macpherson said. “Commander Wilde, do you wish to respond?”
“No, sir,” Wilde said.
“Then we will debate the matter,” Macpherson said. “Please wait.”
The holographic images vanished. Hoshiko looked at where they’d been for a long moment, then activated her implants, calling up the latest set of reports from the engineering crews and skimming them rapidly. Fisher had taken a beating - there was no doubt about that - but she’d be ready for combat once again by the time they returned to Amstar. That, at least, was a relief. Hoshiko had no doubt the Druavroks would seek to reclaim the initiative as soon as possible, perhaps by launching an immediate attack on Amstar. It was what she would have done.
But they’ll have to reload their missile tubes before they depart, she thought, morbidly. And we need to reload too.
She sighed inwardly, then started considering future operations. She’d have to go back on the offensive herself as quickly as possible, if she could find something she could use to give the Druavroks a nasty surprise. The Grand Alliance would become unstable, she suspected, now the Grand Fleet had met its first real defeat. They’d have to do something to prove that the Druavroks hadn’t suddenly become invincible. But then, the Druavroks would probably anticipate that too ...
***
Griffin felt guilt gnawing at his soul as he watched Hoshiko meditate, waiting for the Captain’s Board to decide her fate. There was no way to avoid the fact that her career would take a major blow, no matter the outcome. Fleet Command knew that her subordinates wouldn't have called for a Captain’s Board if they hadn't lost faith in their commanding officer and forced her to submit to their judgement. But it had been necessary ...
He scowled to himself. Perhaps it had been a mistake calling the board. And yet, the affairs of a sector six months from Sol were none of their concern. Hoshiko had bent their orders into a pretzel. Forging links with alien races was one thing, but forming a full alliance was quite another. And giving up human technology ...
There are hundreds of civilian-grade fabbers in this sector, he thought, sourly. What does it mean for us if they are all switched to producing war material?
It wasn't a pleasant thought. Human history showed, time and time again, that the solution to yesterday’s problem led directly to tomorrow’s problem. Griffin was old enough to remember arming insurgents against one enemy, only to have the insurgents become the next enemy themselves. Forging a balance of power was incredibly difficult, even without ancient hatreds that had become habit by now. The Grand Alliance might not last past the hour the Druavrok homeworld died in antimatter fire ...
He looked up as the holograms snapped back into existence, using his implants to covertly check the time. Thirty-two minutes had passed since Macpherson had called for a private discussion. He’d expected longer, somehow. But then, the real question was just how far their actions could be justified, under the orders they’d been given.
“We have discussed the matter,” Macpherson said. “It took longer than I had expected to come to a decision.”
Get on with it,” Griffin thought, feeling the tension rise in the chamber. Please.
“We voted, four to two, that the mission was justifiable under our orders,” Macpherson said, carefully. “Captain-Commodore Stuart remains in command of the squadron.”
Griffin kept his face impassive with an effort. Six voters ... there had been no need, then, for Ma
cpherson to cast the deciding vote. He would get to keep his opinion to himself. The records would be sealed until the squadron returned to Sol, where Fleet Command would go over the entire discussion before assigning blame. God knew which way they’d jump when they had the advantage of hindsight.
“Thank you,” Hoshiko said, coolly. There was a very definite hint of relief in her voice. If she'd lost the vote, her career would have been beyond salvaging. “The squadron will continue to Amstar, whereupon we will make preparations to take the offensive again as soon as possible. Until then, see to the repairs. We’ll hold a formal remembrance ceremony for the dead the day before we drop out of FTL.”
Griffin watched, grimly, as the holograms vanished, leaving him alone with an understandably unhappy commanding officer. She had every right, if she wished, to relieve him of duty - or put him on a courier boat and dispatch him to Sol. The trust they’d shared had been broken the moment he’d called for the board. And his career was probably in ruins too.
“Commander,” Hoshiko said.
The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) Page 33
