She scrambled to her knees, using the solid fixing of the command seat to pull herself upright, conscious of a stab of pain from her left knee and a dull ache from the left side of her head. Her exploring fingers came away damp with blood. Tac screens were down. They were blind.
Around her the command crew was recovering, though two of the Littoranes had yet to move – unconscious or worse. She was glad to see Kreippil among the first to regain his station. Tough old fish, that one.
“Damage report!” she snapped, not specifically to Kreippil, to anyone. “Get medics in here, now! And someone kill those fragging alarms! They’re not telling us anything we don’t already know. You!” She pointed at the nearest Littorane. “Get my tac screen back up.”
Her rapid series of orders had the desired effect, reasserting purpose and a semblance of order, providing a behavioral framework that naval personnel could understand even in the middle of a crisis: hear an order, jump to it.
A screen – any sort of screen – that was the priority. They were crippled and blind, with a remorseless enemy bearing down on them, and she could do nothing to help either her ship or the rest of the flotilla. A sense of imminent doom weighed heavy upon her, the fear that at any minute lasers would scythe through the wound left by the shipkillers and finish the job they’d started.
“Where’s that chodding screen?” she roared. “Does anybody have eyes?”
Nobody did. Nobody could tell her where the enemy was or why it hadn’t struck again.
Life support was still online and the thrum of power hadn’t deserted bulkheads and floors – she took heart from that, at least. The Vengeance might be hurt but she wasn’t dead yet. A lucky strike from a single shipkiller could destroy even a capital ship if it hit the right spot – close to the engines, say. Five or six hits meant almost certain doom. Anything in between and the outcome was in the balance. They’d been lucky so far and she could only hope their luck held.
That didn’t apply to everyone aboard, though, as the damage reports proceeded to make clear. “Sections Seven and Eight open to vacuum. Point Defenses Two and Three disabled, and portside missile tubes damaged, though not irreparably.” Thank goodness all the eels were released, Indiya thought, or the damage could have been much worse. “Lasers Three and Four destroyed, with casualties heavy.”
“How heavy?” Indiya wanted to know.
“Still being assessed, Your Radiance.”
Typical; damage to equipment could be accurately reported in an instant, but to the crew, not so much. That was the Navy for you.
“The ship is otherwise structurally sound,” the report continued. “Power is being rerouted to restore ops as soon as possible.”
Despite this assurance it still took another shout of “somebody get me a fragging screen, now!” before she found a portable monitor thrust toward her. It was a long way short of the full tac screen, that luxurious overview suspended in the air that picked out every drone, every missile, but it was a start. What she saw enabled her to draw the first free breath since the missiles struck.
Their attacker was gone, the rest of the Khallini fleet destroyed or standing down. Finfth had been right: those seemingly magical shields had turned her own ship’s energies against her, but couldn’t cope with the explosive impact of shieldbusters. Thank goodness just the one vessel – presumably the flagship – had been equipped with the new shields. A new development most likely, yet to be rolled out to the rest of the Khallini fleet. She shuddered to think what might have happened if this engagement had taken place later, if they had faced an enemy all boasting this new defense. As it was, Vengeance was the only ship to have taken damage.
Indiya had been denied the satisfaction of seeing her apparently impervious nemesis obliterated, and had no idea whether it had been her own missiles or those from one of the other ships that dealt the fatal blow, but just then she didn’t care. She still breathed, her ship still lived, and the enemy didn’t.
She had no truck with remorse. It had been kill or be killed, and she had emerged the victor. That was war, and that was the only thing that mattered.
—— PART IV ——
THE OATH
Human Legion
— INFOPEDIA —
STRATEGY & TACTICS
– The death of the battleship
In the very earliest years of the Human Legion, warship classes had varied little since the invention of the bacteria bomb, thousands of years before. Two assets came to dominate fleet battles: Void Marines and AI drones.
At first, larger ships developed more lethal missile defenses, then upgraded their point defense systems, and finally produced the earliest shield technology – where the energy from enemy fire was channeled away into the local Klein-Manifold region, a primitive form of inter-dimensional transfer. Despite all these improvements to traditional battle line warships, they could still never compete with the mass-produced simplicity of mounting a weapon, an engine, and AI-run control systems onto a light frame. An 80,000 ton battleship is vastly superior to a single half-ton drone ship, but is no match for 160,000 drone ships, despite massing the same. In fact, even with missile destroyers and other picket ships in attendance, the battleship would have a hard time withstanding even 1,000 drone ships.
And the larger your warship, the more likely such a high-value target will attract the immediate attention of massed X-ray lasers, and bacteria bombs. The biggest capital ships in every war fleet packed their bags and retired; their day was done.
The other key fleet component that pushed aside the battleship was the flesh-and-blood analog of the AI-drone ship: the Void Marine. By amassing X-ray volleys from handheld weapons, such as the SA-71, and applying bacteria bombs to eat away the hulls of enemy ships (not to mention boarding actions) a determined close quarters assault by a regiment of Marines could overwhelm even the largest ship… unless that ship had its own regiment of Marines to defend it, of course.
Capital ships ceased to be battle winners and became, in part, carriers for the same drone ships and Marines that had usurped their dominant role. But they still had a role in dominating star systems after the drones and Marines had won void-superiority.
Drone ships and Marines dominated space warfare for thousands of years until the next step change in warfare was introduced by the greatest innovators of the age: the Human Legion.
— Chapter 26 —
“And you’re sure this will work?”
Furn favored Arun with a look that said he was testing the little man’s patience.
“I’m sorry,” Arun said quickly. “Humor me. I realize we’ve been over this before…”
“Several times.”
“Several times,” Arun admitted, “but it’s important.”
Furn relented, swallowing whatever withering retort he had been preparing. “I know,” he said instead. “If you mean am I sure this will root out all those with ingrained Old Empire sympathies and ensure we only keep those who will be staunchly loyal to the Legion, then no. If you mean will it separate those who can probably be trusted from those who definitely can’t be, then yes, I am.”
“That will have to do, then,” Arun said.
“Do…?” Furn looked exasperated. “Will have to do…? Have you any idea the amount of work that’s gone into devising this, or the amount of hours Finfth and I are going to have to put in going forward before this is over?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful,” Arun said quickly. He’d forgotten how touchy the freaks could be.
“I should think so. We’re going to be spelling each other in twelve hour shifts until we’re confident enough operators are trained up to a suitable level of competence. It’s not the asking of the questions that poses the problem, it’s analyzing the answers.”
“I know.”
“Do you, do you? There are thousands of these sleepers, and even with the seven question rooms operating round the clock it’ll take days to process them all.”
“I realize that
…”
“Assuming everything runs smoothly,” Furn continued, talking over Arun, “without any hitches at all, we’ll be able to physically process around 2,000 individuals every twenty-four hours. In practice, I anticipate the figure will be closer to 1,900. You do the math. And that’s assuming the analysis can keep pace with the physical turnaround. Even when – if – we decide that anyone else is competent enough to run the assessment unsupervised, Finfth and I will still have final sign-off on the human officers and anyone whose ‘pass’ is so marginal that it needs closer scrutiny. In some cases, that will almost certainly mean a further interview, conducted by one of us in person.” Furn threw his arms in the air, a dramatic gesture that left little doubt how worked up he was. “And that’s just for the humans, what about the Jotuns eh? Let’s not forget that of all the senior Naval and Marine officers, not one is human. The Reserve Captain has promised to help with that, something about a binding Jotun oath that is so secret even the White Knights never knew about it. But we all know how fragile her health is… However you cut it, Finfth and I are going to be exhausted by the time this is over!”
“I can see that. Thank you for all that you’re doing. I owe you one… the Legion owes you.”
That seemed to mollify Furn a little. “Yes, well just make sure you don’t forget it.”
Arun left the little man to his preparations. He was keen to be present when the first of the sleepers were brought round from cryo. Their discovery had come as a total surprise, though in retrospect it made sense, now that the interrogation of the Navy personnel and scientists on the planet was giving a clearer idea of what the Old Empire had been up to at Khallini. It was an ambitious undertaking, a multi-layered strategy intended to bloody the noses of the rebel’s 3rd Fleet in the short term while sowing the seeds of the rebellion’s failure in the long term.
Part of that strategy involved building ships, as the Legion had witnessed from space prior to capturing the base. In order to operate ships you needed personnel, and a lot of ships meant a lot of personnel; but why keep a large number of currently redundant people sitting around waiting – eating and drinking, consuming resources, growing restless, and bored to the point of being potentially disruptive – when you could stick them on ice and stow them away until needed?
The vast majority of the sleepers were human, but by no means all. A significant minority were Jotuns, and that presented a whole new level of problem. Khallini offered the opportunity to significantly strengthen the Legion. If they could finish building the ships already under construction and follow those up with more, they could leave Khallini with a far greater force than they arrived. Never in his wildest dreams had he envisaged they would capture a ship building facility here…
The first two ships were already well advanced, their completion a matter of weeks away rather than months, and the sooner the Legion could finish these ships and crew them, the sooner they could slip away from Khallini ahead of the 3rd Fleet’s arrival. That meant starting the process of waking up the sleeping personnel now, and they couldn’t afford to wake up thousands of potential enemies, press-ganged into service against their will. Crewing the ships with potential mutineers was the last thing the Legion needed. No, they had to recruit the sleepers to the Legion’s cause, win their loyalty and so avoid any simmering resentment that could lead to rebellion.
Arun had his part to play in this, as did Del-Marie. They would be the ones addressing the newly awoken personnel, who were bound to be disoriented, expecting to be brought round in a facility loyal to the Old Empire only to find themselves surrounded by an entirely new faction altogether. It was up to Arun and Del to explain the situation, to put the case for the Human Legion and convince the sleepers that they were the cause most deserving of their support.
That wasn’t enough though. They needed to know that their arguments had worked, whether each sleeper had been swayed to their cause or not, and that was where the freaks came in. Furn and Finfth had designed a set of questions, twelve in all, deceptively simple to start with but growing more challenging as the series progressed. It was the reaction of each sleeper when asked the same set of questions that would determine their fate.
Those who passed would be welcomed into the Legion. Those who failed would not be harmed but instead returned to cryo, where they would remain for the duration, or until someone else took possession of the base. That someone, in all likelihood, would be the rebel 3rd Fleet, but Arun had decreed that shouldn’t be emphasized. The last thing he wanted was anyone joining their cause due to fear of the alternative.
Madge was already at the cryo chamber ahead of him, along with a detachment of Marines hand-picked by Del to act as a welcoming party for the sleepers. No sign of Del himself as yet, but he wouldn’t be needed for a while.
“Remember to smile, Major,” Arun said.
Madge looked up to scowl in response, but then flashed him a sugar sweet grin that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
Arun’s smile was more heartfelt; he could still remember the friends they had been back in training, long before he became General McEwan and she Major Majanita. God, everything had been so much simpler back then, even if it hadn’t seemed so at the time.
Arun came back to the present and realized that the technicians were looking at him expectantly, waiting for his permission to start reviving the first batch of sleepers.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s get this under way.”
— Chapter 27 —
Arun monitored a few of the early interviews, but he had plenty of other things to occupy his time and the fascination of watching a procession of people answer the same twelve questions soon palled.
He understood the principle of a lie detector well enough, knew that a person’s unconscious responses were studied in meticulous detail: pulse, breathing rate, perspiration, blood pressure, eye movement, the slightest fidget of arm or leg, but the analysis of those responses and the conclusions drawn were a mystery, and he was happy for them to remain so.
Given the haste with which the interview rooms had been fitted out, he had to admit the technicians had done a surprisingly good job. There were no intrusive wires or head pads here, the apparently innocuous chairs each interviewee sat in were loaded with a variety of sensors. Along with the recordings from strategically hidden cameras, these provided all the readings Furn and Finfth required.
Early signs were encouraging. Arun had feared that they would have to run through virtually all the sleepers to recruit a full complement for the two ships whose construction had already resumed, but with nearly two thirds of the sleepers passing the test and willing to declare allegiance it soon became apparent they would have enough recruits for these first two and further ships as well. It seemed that loyalty to the White Knights might be a lot less ingrained than he had imagined.
Of course, they hadn’t started on the Jotuns yet. The first group was due to be processed later that evening. The Reserve Captain, who would be present, insisted that the same set of questions would be adequate with only minimal modification, other than the swearing of a binding oath for which she insisted the recording equipment must be turned off. Arun had no idea what to expect in terms of results, but the Reserve Captain expressed confidence.
He was catching up on the latest estimates for when construction of the first new ship would be completed – less than two standard weeks – when Furn and Finfth burst into the room.
“General, you have to see this, now!” Finfth said.
The fact that they had come in person rather than utilizing any other form of communication spoke volumes; the fact that Furn had come at all said even more.
“All right, Finfth, slow down,” Arun said. “Furn, what are you doing here? This should be your sleep period ahead of your next shift.”
“Sleep can go to hell. This is important. Finfth woke me to go over something. I have, and now we’re here, bringing it to you.”
“All right then, spill.”
They were still sifting through everything they had discovered at the Khallini-4 research facilities on the surface and in orbit. Already they’d uncovered enough concepts and ideas to excite even the freaks, all at varying degrees of development. They were taking their time so as not to miss anything and ensure that the potential of each new idea was fully appreciated. That meant progress was slow and many innovations were as yet unexplored, but it was better to be methodical, as Furn had emphasized more than once. The maxim bore repeating, especially to the Littoranes, who increasingly seemed to view the Legion’s undertaking as a holy war. They were all for stripping Khallini of what could be readily acquired and heading off to smite the enemy – though presumably not the 3rd Fleet, since that would be suicide. Again Del-Marie’s skills at diplomacy had come to the fore. He had been able to persuade the Littorane commanders that the many treasures hidden within Khallini’s database were ‘gifts from the goddess’ which would eventually secure their victory, and not to be spurned. As a result, the Littoranes had agreed to be patient, for now.
“You see, Orzil is a crack pilot, but not of starships,” Finfth continued. “He’s no experience at all with anything the size of the Beowulf; instead his expertise is with one man fliers, and he mentioned a specific research project he’d been sent here for. That set my neurons firing and I looked back at an earlier interview, one conducted on a junior scientist who was part of the research base personnel rather than one of the sleepers: Svenson, interview 339. She’d denied the existence of any such area of research. The two accounts didn’t tally, so I pulled Svenson in immediately for a second interrogation. She kept to her story without triggering the lie detector, but everywhere I pressed, I uncovered tiny inconsistencies.”
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