Their Last Full Measure Read online

  Perhaps I should have asked for a companion, she thought, ruefully. Or a sexbot.

  She snorted at the thought - she’d tried a sexbot when she’d reached her majority, only to discover that even the most humanoid robot wasn’t human - and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The floor grew warm under her naked feet. Hameeda didn’t bother to check her appearance in the mirror, let alone don her uniform, as she paced down the corridor and onto the bridge. She felt a twinge of the old disappointment as she stepped through the airlock - the chamber was really nothing more than a single command chair, surrounded by holographic displays she rarely used - and then pushed it aside. One day, all starships would be controlled by direct neural links and complex command bridges would be a thing of the past. She rather suspected that would be a long time in the future. A normal bridge might be less efficient, but it looked better.

  Her lips quirked as she sat down, the neural links activating automatically. Her awareness expanded, twinning itself time and time again with the starship’s processor nodes. She took a long breath as a string of status reports fell into her head, each assessed by her intellectual-shadow and classed as non-urgent. There was no reason to be concerned about anything, the network said. She checked anyway, just to be sure. The LinkShip was in perfect shape. It was more than ready to carry out the mission.

  Hameeda nodded to herself, then checked the FTL drive. The LinkShip was rocketing towards Yunnan, a major Tokomak fleet base a few hundred light years from N-Gann. If Solar Intelligence was correct - and Hameeda took everything the spooks said with a grain of salt - the Tokomak were massing ships there, preparing for ... something. Hameeda’s tactical computers offered a number of possibilities, listed in order of probability. They could launch a counterstroke at N-Gann, despite the presence of two-thirds of the Solar Navy; they could withdraw the ships to block a thrust towards Tokomak Prime; they might even be bracing themselves for a revolution, for a whole string of revolutions. Hameeda had read the reports from the inner worlds. There were literally hundreds of alien races that hated the Tokomak, but were too scared to rebel. That might have changed, now the Tokomak had taken a black eye. Their servants might be wondering if they could launch a successful revolt against their masters ...

  And they’d better pray they could get away with it, if they did, Hameeda told herself. The Tokomak won’t hesitate to burn entire planets to ash if that’s what they have to do to stop the rebels.

  She shuddered. She’d grown up in the Solar Union - she’d never set foot on Earth - but she’d heard the tales. Her grandmother had been born in the most barbaric region of the planet, a place that was up against some pretty stiff competition. She’d been aware, from birth until she’d escaped to space, that the strong did what they liked and the weak suffered what they must. Hameeda had found it hard to believe, when she’d listened to her grandmother’s stories of near-permanent starvation, warlords, religious fanatics and raving misogynists who hated and feared women. She believed it now. The Tokomak would do whatever it took to keep themselves in power, fearful of what would happen if - when - they lost it. They and their human enemies weren’t that different.

  A timer appeared in her vision, counting down the final seconds. Hameeda checked her weapons and shields again, bracing herself for the worst. The FTL baffles were supposed to keep the enemy from detecting a ship in FTL, but the Tokomak might be wise to that trick by now. They were unimaginative, not stupid. And they were the ones who’d developed FTL travel. The Solar Navy’s officers had spent years wondering just what, if anything, the Tokomak might have kept back for themselves. They didn’t have to share everything with their allies. Why should they?

  There might be an ambush lying in wait for me, she mused. Or they might be preparing to yank me out of FTL early and pound the hell out of me.

  The timer reached zero. The LinkShip hummed out of FTL. Hameeda allowed herself a sigh of relief as the near-space sensors drew a blank, then started to deploy a handful of passive sensor platforms. A torrent of information rushed into her sensor processors as the LinkShip coasted towards the planet, daring the local sensors to detect her. Hameeda snorted to herself, half-wishing she could kick whoever had issued her orders. She could have gotten a lot closer without any real risk of detection if she’d remained hidden under cloak, but the analysts wanted to know when - if - the locals spotted her when she wasn’t trying to hide. It wouldn’t be long. They might not have seen her coming - the lack of a welcoming committee suggested the locals hadn’t worked out how to track her yet - but they’d detect her drive emissions soon enough. She rather suspected it was too much to hope that some automated sensor would decide she couldn’t be there and dismiss her as nothing more than a sensor glitch. There was a war on. The Tokomak would probably investigate any sensor contacts that appeared on their screens.

  We could use that against them, she thought, wryly. A few hundred fake contacts and they’d be ready to ignore an entire battle fleet bearing down on them.

  She put the thought to one side as more and more data flowed into the sensors. Yunnan had been populated by spacefaring races for thousands of years and it showed. Four rocky worlds, three of them heavily developed; two gas giants, both surrounded by cloudscoops and hundreds of industrial nodes. Her eyes narrowed as she recalled the history datafiles, the ones that stated the Tokomak had raised the natives from the mud and given them the keys to the stars. Reading between the lines of flattery so cloying that even the most narcissistic human in existence would vomit in disgust, it was clear the Tokomak had enslaved the natives after discovering their world and its three gravity points. They might have the stars, but only as passengers on someone else’s ships. Their worlds were no longer theirs. And they might - just - want to rebel.

  Her lips tightened as her sensors picked out the signs of new construction around the gravity points. The Tokomak were hastily fortifying them, although she wasn’t sure who they thought they were fortifying them against. Admiral Stuart could take her fleet from N-Gann to Yunnan if she wished, but she’d prefer to take the long way through FTL rather than exhaust her fleet in punching through the gravity points. The fortresses would be expensive white elephants if Yunnan itself was attacked. They’d be unable to cover the planet and the gravity points. She shook her head, mentally. There might be other problems. The Harmonies were only three jumps away and they had a powerful fleet. They might be allies, as far as the Tokomak were concerned, but ... given a chance, who knew what they’d do?

  The Tokomak probably don’t know, she thought. And that might be why they’re building the fortresses.

  A flash of red light flared across her vision. The enemy had pinged her, active sensors sweeping her hull. She watched, feeling a twinge of amusement, as their entire defence network flash-woke. Her sensors drank it all in, noting the position of everything from active sensor platforms to orbital fortresses guarding the planets and their industrial nodes from enemy attack. The Tokomak hadn’t skimped on the defences, as a handful of enemy cruisers left orbit and barrelled straight for her. They’d clearly had some reason to fear attack.

  And they might have been right, she thought. They just didn’t expect it to come from us.

  She watched the cruisers draw near, then kicked her drives into high gear. The cruisers swept their sensors across her time and time again, the universal signal ordering the unlucky recipient to stop or be fired upon. Hameeda wondered if they actually expected her to stop or if they were mindlessly following orders that had been written thousands of years before humans had discovered fire. She swept closer, bracing herself for the moment they took the gloves off and opened fire. They’d have a solid lock on her hull, with or without active sensors. They might not give her any warning before they opened fire ...

  There! She sensed the flicker and threw the LinkShip into an evasive pattern, sweeping through a set of manoeuvres that would have been impossible for anything larger than a gunboat ten years ago. A handful of shots rocketed throu
gh where she’d been, missing her cleanly. She smirked as she darted near a cruiser, trying to dare the ship to fire ... knowing that if she missed, she might just hit one of her fellows. The Tokomak ships could take a few hits, but would they take the chance? She snorted as the enemy held their fire, then she altered course and headed directly towards Yunnan itself. The enemy ships were left eating her dust. They changed their course, following her, but it was too late. The only way they’d ever get back into weapons range was if she let them.

  The planet grew larger as she zoomed towards it. The enemy panicked, hundreds of freighters leaving orbit and dropping into FTL without even bothering to boost themselves into high orbit first. There’d be some trouble over that when the unlucky crews returned, she was sure. Human bureaucrats were mindless fools - she’d met too many, even in the Solar Union - but Tokomak bureaucrats were worse. The freighter crews would probably be stripped of their licences when the dust settled, if they were lucky. Who knew? Perhaps they’d make their way to N-Gann and join the Galactic Alliance instead. They would be welcome.

  She watched, grimly, as the planetary defences brought more and more weapons on line. The orbital battlestations would be a major threat if she got too close, while - oddly - the giant ring surrounding the planet was studded with tactical sensors too. She frowned, wondering if the ring had weapons mounted too. That was odd - the Galactics were normally careful not to do anything that might make the rings targets - but there was a war on. Perhaps they’d decided to gamble their human opponents wouldn’t risk an accidental genocide by destroying the ring and bombarding the planet with debris. Or maybe they simply didn’t care.

  They have to care, Hameeda thought. The alternative was unthinkable. The population below isn’t expendable.

  She accessed her communications array and uploaded a handful of commands into the system as she swept into firing range. The enemy CO was an idiot, as he opened fire the moment she flew into range ... extreme range. A full-sized battleship could have evaded his missiles, let alone the nimble LinkShip. Hameeda was tempted to hold her position and let him empty his magazines, if he was stupid enough to oblige her. But the risks were too great. A lucky hit - or an antimatter warhead - might do real damage. She had no illusions. The LinkShip was too small to soak up damage and keep going. If she lost her shields, she was doomed.

  The barrage of missiles grew stronger as she darted closer to the planet, evading them with almost effortless ease. She wondered, idly, if someone was screaming at the CO to stop wasting missiles, to stop throwing warheads around too close to the ring for comfort. A single nuclear warhead might not do much damage to a structure that literally surrounded an entire planet, but why take chances? She evaded another spread of missiles, then dropped below the ring. Thankfully, if there were any weapons on the ring, they held their fire. Either they didn’t exist, or whoever was in charge was smarter ...

  They could hardly be stupider, she thought. She opened the communications array, searching for enemy nodes. Here, so close to the planet, they couldn’t keep her from hacking the system without shutting down the entire network. The Tokomak system wasn’t badly designed, but it had its flaws. And humanity had had plenty of time to learn to take advantage of each and every one of them. And now ...

  She uploaded the hacking package, sending it into every communications node within reach. The message would spread rapidly, using codes they’d hacked from other Tokomak systems to stay ahead of any mass-wiping programs. It wouldn’t last forever, she’d been warned, but it would take them weeks to get rid of it ... weeks while the message, the call to war and revolution, would be seen by millions. If only a tiny percentage of them rose against their masters, the Tokomak would have a real fight on their hands. Who knew how much of their productive capability would be lost if they had to suppress a hundred revolts?

  And how many of their servants and slaves will be butchered to keep the revolt from spreading, she thought, sourly. The Tokomak had always reacted badly to any challenge, particularly from the younger races. We could be doing the wrong thing here.

  She put the thought away as new alerts flashed up in front of her. The enemy were launching gunboats, hoping they could chase her out of low orbit and back into missile range. She smiled, resisting the temptation to force them to play cat and mouse for the next few hours. It would be entertaining, but she couldn’t risk being hit. Not here. She’d completed her mission and now it was time to run. She altered course and dove towards the ring, flying into a giant starship repair yard. A transport ship, large enough to carry a hundred LinkShips within its hull, was drifting within the yard, open to space. Hameeda flew right through it, resisting the urge to fire off a handful of missiles at the repair facilities. It would hamper them - slightly - if they lost the yard, but the risk was unthinkable. She wasn’t prepared to risk genocide. Not now. Not ever.

  The enemy commander opened fire as she climbed into high orbit, his missiles sprinting towards her. She cancelled her drives, coming to an abrupt stop, then dropped a handful of decoys before vanishing into FTL. The combination of sensor static and gravity baffles should keep them from realising what she’d done ... she shook her head as she rocketed away from the system, all too aware that she’d never know. They might think they’d destroyed her. They might tell everyone they’d destroyed her. They might not even know they were lying. They might genuinely believe they’d destroyed her.

  But no one will believe them, she thought. They’ve lied so often that they won’t be believed even if they honestly think they’re telling the truth.

  She put the thought aside as she waited long enough to be sure she was clear, then slipped her mind out of the network and fell back into her own body. The experience wasn’t so disorienting now, thankfully ... she wiped sweat from her brow, her stomach grumbling angrily as it reminded her she hadn’t eaten anything for hours. She disconnected herself from the chair and stood, feeling her legs wobble threateningly. She’d have to force herself to exercise, during the flight to her next target. There were limits to what a combination of genetic modification and nanotech helpers could do.

  Not that it matters, she thought, as she headed to the galley. She couldn’t be bothered to cook, but there were plenty of food patterns stored within the processor. If we lose this war, there won’t be anything of us left. And our opponents won’t hesitate to commit genocide.

  Chapter Two

  There was an unfortunate truth of growing up a Stuart, Hoshiko had discovered a long time ago, that it was very hard to convince anyone, let alone everyone, that you’d earned something on your own merits. The Solar Union had no formal aristocracy, but anyone who could claim descent from the original Founders had to deal with both the advantages and disadvantages of having such illustrious relatives. And the simple fact that most of them were still alive and politically powerful made it even harder to defeat the charges of nepotism that were hurled about when one of their descendants reached a position of power.

  It was an ironic point, Hoshiko had always considered. She was hardly the black sheep of the family, not in any real sense, but she had openly disagreed with some of her illustrious relatives. She wouldn’t have been reassigned to Antarctica - in reality, the Martina Sector - if she hadn’t pissed off a bunch of powerful people. Openly disagreeing with the family was a capital crime, in the eyes of some of the oldsters. It never seemed to occur to them that the younger generation didn’t share their emotional attachments and saw no reason to shed blood and treasure for the sake of a world that had been driven into the dirt by its inhabitants. She didn’t regret what she’d done, but there were times when she wished the family wasn’t so rigid. The younger generation was growing larger all the time.

  She held herself at parade rest as the teleporter pad lit up, a beam of light materialising in front of her and condensing into the form of a man. Steve Stuart - Grandpa Steve, to her - looked utterly unchanged, his age frozen at roughly thirty years old. The oldsters didn’t care for the f
ads of the younger generation - they didn’t swap sexes or colour themselves like rainbows - but they had hang-ups of their own. Steve looked old enough to be mature and yet young enough to be handsome. It was hard for some of his peers to believe he was really in his second century. He looked no older than Hoshiko herself.

  “Grandpa.” Hoshiko saluted, even though - technically - her grandfather was neither in the military nor a government official. “Welcome to N-Gann.”

  “Hoshiko,” Steve said. He stepped off the pad and embraced her. “It’s good to see you again.”

  Hoshiko nodded as she hugged him back. He’d always been there for her, a friendly ear when she’d started to rebel against her parents and - later - when she’d openly quarrelled with the rest of her family. He hadn’t agreed with her - he’d made that clear - but he’d respected her right to have an opinion. Hoshiko supposed that came with maturity. It was just a shame her parents weren’t old enough to be trusted. She snorted at the thought. They were in their seventies and she was in her forties. The Solar Navy wasn’t in the habit of giving fleet commands to children.