The Orphan Alliance

by A. G. Claymore

  She nodded. “The theoretical work and prototype engines had already been sorted out beforehand, so it was merely a matter of rounding up enough people to vaccinate and train.” She looked forward. “Mr. Burke, get someone to look at that ventral powder monkey – you’ve got an orange light. Dammit, I shouldn’t have to be telling you.”

  She turned back to her monitors. “With all those pods on Petite Tortue Island, we can make a carbon spinner, steelworker or theoretical physicist in a matter of hours. We had the prototype yard back up and running in a few months.”

  “Taking some fire,” the sensor rating advised.

  “Very well. Helm, swing her around nose-on to the enemy and stabilize forward shields. “Mr. Burke, we’ll open with every battery, as well as a full salvo of Mosquitoes.”

  The ship swung quickly around, continuing along at its original velocity and trajectory, but sideways.

  “It’s the improved lensing,” she said, in answer to Harry’s look of wonder. “Once the brainiacs realized that pitch drives were exhibiting waveform properties, it was just a matter of tinkering. When they found a way to fine-tune the output, they were able to put two drives in tandem and reinforce the effects.”

  “We have multiple drives throughout the Pandora and they can create an augmented motive force in just about any direction.”

  They were coming around the back of the enemy formation now and the ship slowed. It wouldn’t be wise to get directly behind the troop ship due to the heavy amount of Alliance fire being directed at it.

  “Hit ‘em!” Shelby looked out the windows for only the second time since dropping out of distortion. The buzz of the Vulcans and the deep booming of the heavier guns sounded even louder than on the Völund, no doubt due to the fact that the Pandora was a third smaller.

  The rounds took a few seconds to reach the enemy shields. A haze of orange began to spread across the aft shields of the troop ship, peppered here and there with larger impact signatures from the main weapons.

  “There’s a seam, Mr. Burke,” Shelby said calmly as she drew a rough box on her monitor. A long orange line had appeared amidst the chaos, indicating a point where two shields met. “Concentrate fire on that line, just to starboard of the midships point.” A troop shuttle was held up, just inside the midships line of the mother ship shield and Shelby wanted a weak point for the Mosquitoes to target – a weak point that wouldn’t have a blocking shuttle behind it.

  “Taking heavy fire,” the shield coordinator reported. “Almost at design maximum, ma’am.”

  “Very well. Shipwide. All hands brace for lateral maneuver.” Shelby sounded mildly annoyed as she stabbed at the tactical display. “Helm, bring us around to second firing point. Two and a half pitch. Fire control, start sending bugs their way.”

  The acceleration from this maneuver was far stronger than Harry’s first experience. The Pandora jumped to the side with incredible agility, like a swordsman dodging a lunge, and the enemy weapon fire was left behind. We need to build more of these, Harry thought. Here they were, in the fleet’s smallest ship, facing the entire rear side of the enemy formation, and they had yet to take any damage. He felt the shudder as four mosquitoes were ejected from their launchers.

  The small ship was the perfect mix of speed, aggression and firepower. Unlike the older, heavier vessels of the fleet, the Pandora was like a rapier in Shelby’s hands.

  Weiran engineers had already taken her lines. Once Oaxes was firmly in the Alliance fold, their engineers would be given a chance to study her engines and systems.

  There were two brilliant flashes as they slowed to a quick halt below the enemy formation. The helmsman had kept the glazed ceiling of the bridge toward the enemy as they rotated around to a new firing position.

  Two of the Mosquito sub-munitions had made it past the enemy defensive fire. Of the four Mosquitoes fired, two had been destroyed before deploying their sub-munitions. From the remaining two weapons, only two of the fourteen warheads had reached the enemy’s shield where their own shield arrays could cycle through frequencies until they found the right configuration.

  The sub-munition that found the frequency passed it on to the second and, when both were sealed inside the enemy shield, they group-detonated, trapping two hundred kilotons of explosive power inside the shields.

  Even as Harry examined the damage to the troop ship, four more launches separated into twenty eight warheads. They jinked erratically as they swarmed toward the enemy vessel. Enemy fire was splitting almost evenly between the Pandora and the deadly weapons she was launching against the massive ship.

  Shelby updated one of her screens. “Shipwide. All hands, brace for lateral maneuver. Helm, bring us to the next point.”

  The incredible acceleration dragged everyone to the left. A blur flew past the windows – a near miss fired from a friendly ship. “Mr. Burke, it looks like her aft point defenses were destroyed by that last salvo. Time to lay eggs.”

  “Laying eggs, aye ma’am.”

  The next warheads to breach the already failing shields would scan for openings. The wide-open hole in the wreckage of the hangar door would serve as an excellent entry point. As the Pandora swung to starboard and backward to a new position, fourteen warheads penetrated the shield, some flying straight through a new opening in the shield seam.

  As the Pandora began to slow, almost one and a half megatons of force were released deep inside the troop ship. The new program refinement to the weapon controls had allowed them to reach almost to the exact center of mass before detonating. There was no hope for the enemy this time and, since her shields were already failing, her debris was blasted out into the surrounding warships, taking a final revenge on the vessels that had failed to protect her.

  Lothbrok took quick advantage of the chaos, pushing his troop-laden warships deep into the disordered enemy formation. Harry looked down at a tactical display and saw that eight Dactari ships had been designated for boarding. The remainder of the enemy fleet was either too damaged for salvage or simply useless for anything but cannon fodder.

  They were being eliminated by the second echelon of the cone-shaped swine formation, even as the first echelon rammed up against their prizes. Harry was pleased at how well the fight was going, but he was also unsettled at the difference in the two halves of the Alliance.

  The Human half would slowly shrink as they took combat losses while the Midgaard relied on battle to increase their forces. As Harry watched the screen, Midgaard were pouring out of their heavily-manned ships to engage the Dactari crews.

  Each Midgaard vessel carried several ‘prize masters’ as well as their boarding parties. Every prize master dreamed of taking an enemy vessel by boarding. Not only would he gain renown, but he would also become the captain of that vessel, turning its weapons against the enemy as soon as the original crew was dead.

  Harry couldn’t help but wonder what would happen as the balance of force began to shift. Though Lothbrok had lost one of his harrier class vessels in the attack, chances were good that he would add seven or eight Dactari frigates to his force.

  He didn’t begrudge his friend the extra ships, but he just couldn’t get his mind off the dilemma. Human ships didn’t carry prize crews.

  At almost the same time as the final cannon fodder ship was destroyed, the last of the eight boarded ships ceased firing at the Alliance. Harry let out a sigh of relief. Only one of his ships had taken any appreciable damage, and both carriers were still fully intact, having waited out the fight at the rear of the formation.

  “Signal from the Quiberon for Captain Young,” the radio operator announced, looking back at. A call from the current flagship made it likely that Commodore Lothbrok was on the other end.

  Harry pointed at a transparent monitor to his right and turned his seat to face it. Sure enough, Lothbrok’s face appeared.

  “That’s quite an impressive little ship you’ve got there. What do you call them – cricket class?” Lothbrok grinned, and then turn
ed to the side for a second, speaking to someone off screen. “We have contact with the insurgents on the ground.” He turned back to Harry. “We’re going to start landing operations.” He raised an eyebrow. “We’ll try not to wreck the place, this time.”

  “Yeah,” Harry answered with a dry tone. “Try to remember you’re liberating them, not pillaging.”

  “Time you were aboard the Salamis, my friend,” Lothbrok admonished. “I release you from my service,” he added with a touch of light-hearted pomposity. It had been agreed that Harry should actually keep his promise to serve as one of Lothbrok’s men until after taking Tauhento. It would silence any Midgaard who might want to call his performance at the Althing an empty gesture, and it was unwise to have two commanders in one force.

  Now that the time had come for Harry to take his squadron to Oaxes, he would hoist his own colors as commodore.

  “He was a good leader,” Harry intoned with mock solemnity. “Tough but fair, though lacking a bit with the personal hygiene…”

  Lothbrok roared with laughter. “I’ll have you know I bathed just before leaving Midgaard… How many years ago was that?”

  “Too many for my nose, my friend.” Harry grinned. “Good hunting.” The screen went blank and he turned to Shelby. “Captain, lay us alongside the Salamis.”

  It was time to take up command of the Oaxes Squadron.

  Finally, the Alliance was making concrete progress.

  Potemkin’s Peace

  Xo’Khov, Dactar

  Your projections are active.

  Tommy opened his eyes. It was hard to believe that his real body was still on the ship, somewhere inside the local sun’s corona. It was child’s play for Keeva to hide the Dark Defiance from sensors but she could still be seen by any low tech eyeball that might happen to glance her way. Hiding in the corona of the local sun was the simplest way of concealing the ship.

  “I expected to feel a lot shorter,” Kale said with mild surprise. They were standing on a sidewalk near the center of Xo’Khov, the Dactari capital. Needless to say, they were all speaking in Dheema.

  “Makes sense, though,” Tommy jumped in before Gelna could form an angry retort. “She’s projecting us in Dactari bodies, but the entire city was built for citizens of Dactari stature, so everything seems to be the right size to us.”

  It had been decided that appearing in their Human forms in the middle of a Dactari city would be disruptive in the extreme. Keeva had used Gelna as a template, layering on the personal characteristics of each individual after the fact. Kale even had the slight angle to his nose from a childhood softball accident.

  “You look better as a Dactari,” Tommy said with a grin.

  “Hah!” Gelna turned to look at Kale. “He does look better but he’s still ugly as hells.”

  “So this is the world that tried to subdue Earth,” Kale mused, studiously ignoring his friends. “Why no streets?” There was no pavement, only broad swathes of pale green grass running between the buildings, with sidewalks on each side.

  “There hasn’t been wheeled transportation on Dactar for thousands of years,” the only real Dactari replied. “Even ground transport never touches the surface, so why bother with paving?”

  “I like these sidewalks.” Tommy was lifting and lowering his feet on the light grey surface. “It has some give to it.”

  “Ergonomics is taken very seriously here.” Gelna’s pride in his capital was obvious. “The walking surfaces simulate natural turf. I used to walk a beat near here, before I was drafted and turned into a doctor.”

  “Why didn’t they just make you a military policeman?” Tommy asked, looking over at Kale’s sudden laugh.

  “You’re not really expecting their military to make any more sense than ours, are you?” Kale shook his head. “I graduated top of my class at culinary college and what happened when I joined the army?” He raised one eyebrow, waiting in a rhetorical pause. “Infantry.”

  “It really is a universal military truth,” Gelna agreed as he took in his surroundings. “Learn a new skill, whether it makes sense or not.” He pointed. “I’m pretty sure there were news readers just around that corner.”

  They rounded the corner and, sure enough, a ring of transparent screens circled the intersection. They walked into the middle and gazed at the various feeds.

  “Let’s try this one,” Gelna suggested. “It runs a continuous cycle of the top stories, so it should be a good place to find out if anything is left of your forces.” He didn’t mention it very often, but he clearly believed the Alliance was doomed. With Earth in ruins, he fully expected the fleet to fall apart.

  They walked into the green square before the screen and Tommy suddenly started to hear the announcer’s voice.

  “Fighting still rages on the outskirts of Moscow as one of the last vestiges of Human resistance makes a desperate stand.” The announcer was speaking over a video of Dactari troops amidst a pile of wreckage, each soldier firing on an unseen enemy.

  “I’m hearing it too,” Kale said in response to the quizzical look from Tommy.

  “We must have finally landed troops on Earth.” Gelna didn’t sound the least bit surprised. If anything, he sounded as though he had been waiting to hear news of this sort, and now felt as though his faith had been rewarded. “Your fleet must have disintegrated after hearing of the plague, or it may have been infected itself.”

  “Resistance is expected to fade in the coming year,” the announcer continued, “much to the relief of Human forces who have maintained their loyalty to the Republic through so many years of civil unrest.” The video changed to show a line of Dactari in front of a counter where military personnel were seated. “Remember, there is still a chance to serve the Republic, but you have to act quickly. Those Humans won’t keep fighting forever. Access the code now to find a recruiting center near you.”

  “Oh, now that’s funny,” Kale grinned at Tommy. “They really had me worried for a few minutes there – right up until they started talking about loyal Human forces.”

  Gelna was looking at them with an uncertain twitch to his tail.

  “Don’t you see?” Tommy paused. He really doesn’t. “This is just propaganda. There’re no Dactari troops on Earth.” He looked back at Kale, who was watching their Dactari companion intently.

  “They covered up the whole thing,” Kale managed to keep any amusement out of his voice. “I’d bet you anything that nobody here knows that you and your boys were defeated at Mars.”

  “Or that your second attempt was defeated as well,” Tommy added.

  “Probably explained the second attempt as reinforcements for the occupation,” Kale jumped back in. “That way, they would be able to explain combat losses. They conquered most of the planet, but there’s still some fighting going on…”

  “Our leaders wouldn’t lie about that,” Gelna flared, “and our media wouldn’t broadcast lies either.”

  “Think about it,” Kale countered, “your people believe they have a divine right to rule the rest of us. You still think it’s just dumb luck that we beat you – twice.”

  If Gelna’s eyes were weapons, Kale would have been bleeding to death on the ground.

  “What would happen to your rulers if they admitted the truth?” Tommy asked. “What would happen to the triumvirs who destroyed the myth of Dactari invincibility? What would happen on worlds that already chafe under Dactari rule?”

  “You’d have three dead Triumvirs,” Kale stated flatly, “and revolutionary wars breaking out on half a dozen worlds.”

  “No,” Gelna insisted, “you’re reading far too much into one vidcast. There has to be another reason.”

  “And that right there,” Kale answered with a slow nod, “is why it works. You want it to be true.” He waved his hand at the city that surrounded them. “Nobody here would want to believe the truth – not when the lie is so much more comfortable.”

  “He’s right, Gelna,” Tommy added gently. “If that broadcast we
re true, you’d be on Earth right now, patching up the troops around Moscow. This,” he nodded toward the screen, “this is just the Pax Potemkin.”

  “Huh?” Kale gave Tommy a blank look.

  “Russian guy,” Tommy explained. “Built a fake village to give Catherine the Great a false impression of prosperity. They called it Potemkin’s Village.” He waved a hand at the vid display above them. “This is Potemkin’s Peace.”

  “Yeah, well, quit showing off and let’s try to find out what’s really happening.” Kale turned to a slightly heavy-set citizen who was wandering over from the adjacent sound zone. “Thinking of joining up,” he said cheerfully. “Shoot some Humans before they all surrender…”

  The approaching Dactari was not nearly so cheerful. “Waste of time and money, all that fighting on Earth. We have enough problems right here in the Republic and you know what I’m talking about.” He touched a finger to his ear as he spoke, a gesture indicating a taboo subject.

  Tommy figured it was an unspoken rule. Talking openly about separatists and rebels meant a tacit admission of an imperfect system. “Can’t we do both?”

  “Maybe, but we’re not,” the other answered bluntly. “I should be out at Ufanges by now with a load of produce, but my ship is still sitting over at the loading yards. Her hold’s filled with conduits.” He looked around to see who might be listening. “I’m already defaulting on three contracts because they say I have a shielding problem in my lifters.” He employed a rude gesture of disagreement with his right hand.

  “There’s nothing wrong with those lifters, is there?” Kale spoke his question as a statement of fact as he leaned in, employing a conspiratorial tone. “But it’s believable enough to anyone you might complain to.”

  “It would be,” the angry Dactari answered, “if the yards weren’t doing half their normal business.” He looked around quickly. “That quarantine at Weirfall was supposed to end years ago and it’s still off limits, and I mean way off limits. The last run I made out to O’aro’que, I had to go almost twice as far, just to stay out of the exclusion zone for Weirfall.”