The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) (13 page)

Hoshiko nodded, curtly.

“You're too young to understand,” Wilde said.

“You’re a babe in arms compared to ninety percent of the Tokomak,” Hoshiko pointed out, tartly.  She wasn't
that
young.  “The youngest prisoner we took during the battle was over a thousand years old.”

“Bear with me a little,” Wilde said.  “When I was a child, computers were gigantic calculators and very few people imagined the world would need more than a handful of them, while spaceflight consisted of rockets and a much-overrated space shuttle.  The world was changing even before Contact.  Suddenly, there was a computer in every home; suddenly, one could be exposed to all manner of material on the internet; suddenly, the world was no longer a certain place.  Every new development brought dangers as well as benefits.”

He shrugged.  “There were people who predicted nanotech would eventually free us from the curse of having to work,” he noted, “and people who predicted that one terrorist would eventually release a strain of grey goo that would melt the entire world like a sugar cube dropped into a mug of tea.  There were people who predicted that the internet, the precursor to the datanet, would destroy social morals once and for all ... and people who predicted that the internet would unleash a wave of innovation and social reform.”

“It did,” Hoshiko said.

“It did both,” Wilde said.  “You know what put the first pornographers out of business?”

Hoshiko shrugged.  She didn't see the point.

“The internet,” Wilde said.  “Why would someone pay for a filthy magazine or a video tape when they can just download porn from the internet?  But because it was harder to keep pornographic materials from teenagers, even
children
, it started to cause other social problems.  On one hand, teenagers were being corrupted by what they saw online; on the other, they were withdrawing from normal society because it didn't match up to their expectations.”

“I’m not sure that makes any kind of sense,” Hoshiko said.

“Every little technological change has unexpected side effects,” Wilde explained.  “For example, the internet broke the information stranglehold held by old media - what we used to call the mainstream media.  But, at the same time, it made everything
now
.  There was no longer any sense of perspective, no longer any time to come to a measured judgement.  The slightest mishap, during a war, would instantly become a defeat on an unprecedented scale.

“Reliable birth control technology liberated women from the tyranny of their bodies, from the social structures that controlled their sexuality.  That was a net gain because the former social structure had perpetrated countless injustices to keep women under control.  But it also destroyed marriage.  Young men were no longer committing themselves to marriage, because they could get sex without it, while on the other hand marriage was no longer regarded as sacred. 

He shrugged.  “If you happen to be old, and a little set in your ways, you find the pace of change disconcerting,” he added.  “I imagine the Tokomak felt the same way too.

“You grew up on an asteroid.  You worked with mature technology and learned to embrace it, for good or ill.  Your ancestors, however, didn't have that option.  For them, technology was a curse as much as a blessing.”

“But technology made their lives better,” Hoshiko objected.

“Not always,” Wilde said.  He waved a hand at the bulkhead.  “We already have AIs that can think and react faster than any biological life form.  What happens when they start putting AIs in ships permanently, as the sole commander?  It isn't as though it’s beyond us.  An AI core could handle everything from combat operations to repairs while under fire.  They might even do a better job.  What would you say when they came to you and said that your captaincy is no longer necessary?

“That’s what happened on Earth.  Every advancement brought gains to some and woes to others.  Spinning machines ruined the livelihoods of thousands of people; robotic cash machines and library counters cost the jobs of thousands more.   Captain, the
Solar Union
bears some responsibility for the crisis on Earth because we sucked away hundreds of thousands of people who might otherwise have saved civilisation! 

“If your job was under threat by some newfangled piece of technology, wouldn't you object?”

He shrugged.  “And there’s a more cynical point,” he concluded.  “For the Solar Union, making sure that everyone has enough to eat and drink - the bare minimum - isn't anything more than a tiny percentage of our GNP.  But if you expand the fabbers, if you cut the price of everything until giving someone a starship made of gold becomes nothing more than an exercise in logistics, you don’t
need
a system to control the distribution of resources any longer.  Why would you even need a
government
?”

“So their people were scared of reaching for a prosperous future,” Hoshiko said.  “That makes no sense.”

“Not to you,” Wilde said.  “To them ... I imagine it must have been terrifying.”

He smiled, rather tightly.  “Right now, putting together a genetically-engineered disease and unleashing it on Earth would be easy,” he warned.  “There’s no shortage of biological labs in the Solar Union that could do it.  Or building an antimatter production plant ... a single lone maniac with a murderous grudge against society could do
real
damage.  The more technology advances, the more risks as well as benefits.

“And it wasn't
us
who created the fabbers in the first place,” he concluded.  “Or FTL.  Or antigravity.  We stole the technology and reverse-engineered it, then started to make improvements.  The Tokomak might well have had good reasons to be scared.”

“I don’t believe that,” Hoshiko said.  “I
can’t
.”

“I know,” Wilde said.  “Back when I was young, there was a book about a race of super-Nazis, a twisted society that eventually split into two genetically-modified races: masters and slaves.  The slaves were genetically programmed to submit to the masters.  Their free will could be overridden at any time, if their masters commanded it.”

“It sounds horrific,” Hoshiko said.  “How did it even
work
?”

“The hell of it is that their society seems ideal, at first,” Wilde added.  “You have to look below the surface to realise just how twisted it is, just what an offense it is against everything we hold dear ...

“And we could make it real, using our technology.  And if
that
happens, freedom will become a distant memory.  Advanced technology could bring servitude instead of freedom.”

“My grandfather said the same,” Hoshiko said.

“And he was right,” Wilde finished.

Chapter Twelve

Reports of a disease that targets only white or mixed-race individuals have been coming in from Africa over the last two days.  Sources on the ground suggest that the disease is genetically-engineered to target those with European ancestry.  The Solar Union Health Commission has dispatched a team to Africa to investigate the threat, but notes that - so far - there is no evidence the disease can infect or kill anyone with even basic immune system biomods.

-Solar News Network, Year 54

Griffin Wilde had wondered just what the Captain had made of his little speech, but by the time the senior officers - and a handful of alien representatives - gathered via hologram to discuss their next move, the Captain had said nothing to him about it.  Perhaps she hadn't had the time to consider his words - or, perhaps, she’d simply dismissed them out of hand.  Finding the balance between advancing technology and protecting society wasn't easy and, over the years, far too much damage had been done in the name of the latter.  The stagnancy that bedevilled the Tokomak and the social exclusion that had urged so many to flee to the Solar Union had their root cases in conservatives who’d been afraid of the future.

Afraid of losing what they had
, he thought, as he took his seat.  The aliens, somewhat to his surprise, had enthusiastically agreed to attend via hologram, once the first set of face-to-face meetings had been concluded. 
And afraid of being rendered irrelevant by the future
.

He sighed inwardly at the thought.  Unlike Hoshiko, he felt a certain regard for Earth, the homeworld of the human race.  The thought of a collapse of civilisation, a fallback into barbarism, was horrifying.  And yet, he doubted the Solar Union could truly save Earth from itself, not without a major commitment that would turn the Solar Marines into an occupation force and open the gateways to a moral and ethical corruption that would risk everything the Solar Union had built. 

But at least we should try to support the civilised men
, he told himself. 
And perhaps, through them, Earth could be saved
.

“Welcome, Fellow Sentients,” Hoshiko said.  She’d clearly downloaded a Gal-Standard One interface module for her implants, although she would have learned Gal-Standard One at the Academy like everyone else.  “It is time to decide how to proceed.”

She leaned back in her chair, looking calm and composed.  It would be wasted on the aliens, Griffin thought; their ability to read human expressions and postures was as limited as humanity’s ability to read theirs.  Social etiquette in the Tokomak Empire was designed to limit friction and misunderstandings, but it couldn't eliminate them completely.  Unless, of course, the aliens had obtained a human interaction file from the squadron.  Griffin was fairly sure that at least one of them would have been included with the data packets they’d simply been giving away.

Their implants aren't as advanced as ours
, he reminded himself. 
They’d have problems keeping the file in primary mode.

“The Druavroks on the surface have been contained,” Hoshiko continued, “and the ones in the system itself have been eliminated.  There is no prospect of them successfully regaining the initiative, at least until reinforcements arrive from their forward bases.  Should they attempt to launch a second offensive, we will hammer them from orbit and exterminate their remaining enclaves.  Furthermore, the defences of Amstar are growing stronger all the time.”

She paused for effect.  Griffin frowned, inwardly.  Exterminating the Druavroks on the surface was a breach of standing orders, no matter what sort of threat they posed to everyone else on the surface.  The Solar Union’s regulations flatly prohibited genocide.  But it had been the only way to compromise between the planet's understandable desire to rid themselves of the threat, once and for all, and humanity’s moral qualms.  He hoped - prayed -- that the Druavroks had enough sense to remain in their enclaves and not come out.

And that our friends on the surface don’t take control of the orbital platforms and bombard the enclaves themselves,
he thought. 
What do we do if they succeed in committing genocide
?

It wasn't a pleasant thought.  The reports from the surface had made it clear that local militias and individual vigilantes were patrolling the edge of the Druavrok enclaves, while hunting down and slaughtering any Druavroks caught outside the enclaves.  Sniper fire from the enclaves was so intense, the marines had noted, that the other enclaves had been evacuated and the entire area was largely deserted.  If nothing else, it would make life easier if the Druavroks ever
did
come screaming out to restart their crusade.  The KEWs could be dropped without worrying about civilian casualties.

“We now need to decide how best to proceed to take the war to them,” Hoshiko said.  “As you can see, we have several options.”

Griffin dragged his attention back to her as she activated a large star chart, projecting it in front of them.  Red stars marked worlds known to be held by the Druavroks, green stars marked allies; green and red icons represented worlds that were currently disputed.  In most cases, the Druavroks had already been settled there in large numbers before the Tokomak had retreated from the sector.  They’d promptly declared war on everyone else and attacked. 

And there are a lot of red worlds
, he thought.  The Druavroks had held over twenty systems before the war had begun; now, they held thirty-two and seventeen other systems were battlegrounds. 
They're well on their way to becoming a major threat
.

He cursed inwardly as Hoshiko talked her audience through the map.  The bypasses and hacks humanity had developed for the fabbers would spread, of course.  Griffin would have happily bet half his yearly salary that the Druavroks would have their own hacks within a couple of months, no matter how careful the allies were to protect the data. 
Someone
could always be bribed, of course, or the information could simply be stolen.  And then the Druavroks would start turning out human-grade weapons and technology of their own.

“The obvious course of action is to attempt to relieve one of the disputed worlds,” Hoshiko said, once she’d finished explaining the map.  “However, that has its problems; the enemy will be in strength, expecting an attack.  They may not realise that we are forming a coalition, but they do know that some of their targets have allies.  Therefore, I intend to attack Malachi, here.  The Druavroks have been running supplies through the system ever since they captured it, turning the system into a base camp.  Hitting it and destroying their supply lines - stealing their fabbers and smashing their warehouses - would put a crimp in their operations.”

There was another reason, Griffin knew.  The massive fleet simply wasn't very agile at the best of times - and getting thousands of ships from seventeen different races to work together was sheer hell.  Hoshiko had freed up too many of her crew to serve as ‘liaison officers’ for Griffin’s comfort. 
Jackie Fisher
could, in theory, be operated by only twenty officers and men, but it wasn't something Griffin wanted to try in practice.  Cutting the crew to fifty was a major gamble. 

But we need them on the ships
, Griffin thought. 
And we need to blood the crews against a target that can’t fight back effectively
.

He scowled at the thought.  The coalition was fragile; humanity might have beaten the Tokomak and chased the Druavroks off Amstar, but the other members feared the Druavroks and worried for the safety of their homeworlds.  They needed to
believe
they could win, they needed to
believe
they could beat the Druavroks, or humanity would be stuck doing the heavy lifting for the rest of time.  And, with only nine cruisers and a handful of smaller ships, Hoshiko simply
couldn't
fight the Druavroks alone.

“We will spend the next three days working through tactical simulations, culminating with a live-fire exercise that will allow the crews a chance to get to grips with human-level technology,” Hoshiko continued.  “The planning staff is currently working on ways to get a peek into the enemy system without alerting them to our approach.  In the unlikely event of us running into more firepower than we can reasonably handle, we’ll divert the fleet to a secondary target.  This will also give us a chance to further expand the fixed defences surrounding Amstar.”

And make sure the system remains secure
, Griffin thought.  He had to admit that capturing the fabbers had been a lucky break, despite the long-term risks.  Their steady output would eventually make Amstar impregnable. 
But we don’t want to become too dependent on a single source of supply
.

“Once we have completed the operation, we will consider our next set of targets,” Hoshiko concluded.  “I ask all of you to request as many courier boats as possible, as we will need to move within our enemy’s decision-making loop as much as we can.  We also need hundreds of additional warships and freighters, both to add fighting power to our forces and to supply our ships as we strike into enemy territory.  This is warfare on an unprecedented scale and we need to be ready.”

And hope the enemy hasn't done as much planning as we have
, Griffin thought.  The Tokomaks rarely bothered with serious planning, not when they enjoyed such a vast advantage over any conceivable foes.  They just gathered an overwhelmingly powerful force, pointed it at the enemy ship and stomped it into rubble. 
The enemy might have taken lessons from their former masters
.

“I thank you for your time,” Hoshiko said.  “The floor is now open for discussions.”

Griffin listened, feeling a twinge of sympathy for his commander - and for some of his former superiors, back in the days of the wet navy.  Coalition warfare was never easy, not when each allied nation had its own agenda.  Some of them had sought political advantage, some had wanted a formal
quid pro quo
and some hadn't been particularly invested in the war at all.  Indeed, he recalled a handful of allies who had been playing both sides of the field and slipping information to the enemies of freedom.  The only real difference between coalition warfare on Earth and the growing alliance against the Druavroks was that the aliens understood that they were targets, no matter what they did.

Good thing the Druavroks never learned how to be diplomatic
, Griffin thought, as the discussion raged on. 
They could split the coalition in two just by making the right promises to the right people
.

“But getting into the system without being detected is impossible,” one alien insisted, loudly.  “They will see you coming!”

“Yes, they will,” Hoshiko agreed.  “But the fleet can actually get within a few hours of the system without being detected.  We hold position and send a single spy ship on ahead.”

Griffin sighed inwardly as the discussion finally came to an end.  Hoshiko had been more patient than he’d expected, but it had been easy for him to tell she was growing tired and ragged before finally calling a halt.  The argument had begun to go in circles, after all; too many alien races were afraid that their rivals would take advantage of their weaknesses and strike at their homeworlds while they were diverted.  Hoshiko had finally promised human retribution against anyone who broke their word, but Griffin was all too aware that she might not be able to
keep
that promise.  The Solar Union would certainly object to strikes against allied worlds.

“We will start the first formal exercise tomorrow,” Hoshiko said.  “And then the main body of the fleet will depart in three days.”

She sat back in her chair, looking tired and wan, as the holographic images vanished from the chamber.  Griffin watched her, feeling a sudden flicker of concern.  It was his job, as XO, to watch his commander’s health as well as her mental state and he had a nasty feeling that Hoshiko was pushing herself to the limits.  She might have been heavily enhanced - the Solarians had no compunctions about loading their bodies with technology - but she was still human. 

“Captain,” he said.  “I’d suggest a long nap.”

“There’s too much to do,” Hoshiko said.  She rubbed her forehead as she sat upright.  “It’s never that bad when we have our regular meetings.”

“Your commanding officers share the same general background and understanding of the universe,” Griffin said.  “They may be your subordinates, but they expect you to treat them as
people
and not to discard them without
very
good cause.  Even if they don’t like you, they know you have nothing to gain by throwing their lives away.  Pulling a Uriah Gambit would get you flung out an airlock after the inevitable court-martial.”