Marphissa waited for the drop out of jump space. The only good part of the mental jolt that left humans unable to think or focus clearly for up to half a minute after leaving jump space was that no one was immune. Unlike most ailments in which some people were never affected, such as motion sickness, the jump-space jolt was endured by everyone. Nobody got a free ride by virtue of genetics or experience or training. The universe might be fundamentally unfair, but at least in this one way all humans operated on a level playing field.
All humans. Did the enigmas, the Kicks, or the Dancers suffer the same way? She wished that Bradamont was here to ask. Hell. I wish Honore was here for a lot of reasons. She has so much more experience than I do in just about everything.
“Departing jump in fifteen seconds,” Senior Watch Specialist Czilla warned.
Marphissa braced herself for the exit from jump space. Everyone did that, everyone always did that, even though it didn’t make any difference at all.
Manticore fell out of jump space.
A moment before, the heavy cruiser had been apparently alone except for the occasional inexplicable lights that were the only relief from the dull grayness of jump space. Abruptly, Manticore was surrounded by the other ships of the flotilla, while the stars once again looked down upon them all from the endless dark of the universe.
Manticore and the other warships, the heavy cruiser Gryphon, light cruisers Hawk and Eagle, and the small, swift Hunter-Killers Sentry, Sentinel, Scout, and Defender, all of them shepherding the twenty large, clumsy freighters carrying the two brigades of ground forces. The freighters normally looked awkward, but more so now with dozens of aerospace shuttles fastened to their exteriors like remoras clinging to whales.
Marphissa kept her eyes locked on her display, waiting for it to update with information on what was in Ulindi Star System. Certain things would definitely be here and unchanged, the things that had existed at Ulindi for untold years before humans came and gave the star a name, and would continue to be here when the last trace of humanity’s presence had crumbled into ancient dust. A star a bit cooler and a bit larger than Mother Sol, the standard against which all stars continued to be measured by humans. Ten orbiting objects large enough to qualify as planets, two of them swinging around less than two light-minutes from the star, far too close to it and far too hot by human standards. Another a bit farther out at four light-minutes, but still too close, so that its oceans had long since formed a permanent hothouse. Six more planets whose orbits ranged from ten light-minutes to nearly five light-hours from the star, too far out and too cold to be suitable for humans to walk around freely, getting progressively more frigid the farther they were from the sun, the middle three of them gas giants.
And one planet swinging around its star at seven and a half light-minutes’ distance. As planets went, it was just the sort of place humanity wanted. About sixty percent of the surface covered with water, a minor axial tilt so seasonal variations weren’t too extreme, and plenty of native vegetation and other forms of life that over millions of years had transformed a world of raw rock, water, and a heavily carbon dioxide atmosphere into a place of oxygen, dirt, and trees.
About a million humans made their homes at Ulindi, most of them on that planet. Some of the rest were in space, and some of those were on warships. “There’s the heavy cruiser and the light cruiser,” Kapitan Diaz said as the symbols appeared on his display. Both were orbiting the habitable planet, nearly six light-hours away from where the ships from Midway had arrived. Haris’s two warships would not know the attack on Ulindi had begun until they saw the light from the event reach them six hours from now.
The few other defenses that were visible at Ulindi all matched the descriptions Marphissa’s warships had received before leaving Midway. “That spy did good work,” she commented. “There’s nothing here that we didn’t expect to find, and no threats anywhere near us. As long as we keep those two cruisers away from the freighters carrying the ground forces, this shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Not compared to fighting off Syndicate flotillas,” Diaz agreed.
Marphissa gazed at the description of the habitable planet. “That’s a nice little world,” she said out loud.
Kapitan Diaz nodded and snorted at the same time. “Soon we’ll be dropping bombardment projectiles on that nice little world.”
“Not all that many compared to what a big flotilla could accomplish,” Marphissa said. “We’ll do some serious localized damage, but that’s it. A lot of nice little worlds like this were bombarded to hell and back during the war.”
“We’re not going to do that,” Diaz objected. “Like you said, just localized damage to military targets. And the snakes. We could never do what was done to Kane.”
“No. I hope not.” Marphissa looked over at Diaz. “I’ve talked to Honore Bradamont about that, about how horrified Black Jack was when he came back and found out the Alliance was bombarding cities and towns indiscriminately. Yes, that was true. Black Jack could not believe that his own people were doing that. Bradamont researched it afterward, trying to learn when the policy had changed, and found out there was never one big decision made. It was lots of little decisions, doing one thing, then another thing, each little thing justified when a big decision to just bombard cities never would have been approved. But before they knew it, there they were, and they didn’t even realize what had happened, what they were doing that would have horrified those ancestors they care about so much.”
“You believe her?” Diaz asked. “Maybe she was taught it happened that way, like we were taught that the Alliance started the war and everything else bad.”
“Oh, she was taught it was all the Syndicate’s fault,” Marphissa agreed. “But she researched it, using classified access to learn for sure what happened. And that’s important for us. For you and me. Between Black Jack’s time and not so long ago, the Alliance fleet gradually started doing things they never would have done. That could happen to us. We have to make sure it never does, and pass on to those who come after us that it must never happen.”
“We could never—” Diaz began, then stared at his display with a pained look. “I wonder how many people said that over the last century, then found themselves doing things. You’re right, Kommodor. It has to be something stronger than a rule or law that can be changed or ignored. It has to be something that no one would even imagine changing.”
“There, you see?” Marphissa said. “As long as you say you’re right, Kommodor, everything is fine. Remember that.”
Diaz grinned. “Yes, Kommodor. But what would be strong enough to ensure our people do not find themselves on such a road?”
“I don’t know. Maybe show those vids from Kane. We could do that once a year, on the anniversary. Kane Day, to remember what separates us from the Syndicate.” She could sense the reaction from the crew on the bridge, a feeling of approval, support, and determination. “But that is for the future. Now, let’s get to that planet and get rid of Supreme CEO Haris.”
Marphissa gave the orders that brought the warships and freighters around a bit and down, slowly accelerating. At an average velocity of point zero five light, which would push the lumbering freighters to the limits of their capabilities, it would take five days to reach the planet where Haris and his two warships awaited them. “All ships return to standard readiness conditions,” Marphissa ordered.