Hidden Empire - Kevin J. Anderson [139]
"It was only common sense," Admiral Stromo agreed. "A space-based fleet has the potential for outright obliteration of inhabited areas...but what good is a victory if you have to vaporize colony worlds in order to win a battle?"
"Gives a whole new meaning to 'scorched Earth' tactics," Frederick mumbled, but Basil ignored him. So did everyone else.
Basil opaqued the windows that looked out upon the arboretum and the nearby Whisper Palace. The glass transformed into a solid image projector that now showed views of large Roamer skymines, huge factories that cruised in the clouds on gas-giant worlds. Then, in silence, he played a recording of the fading signals sent from Oncier that Lanyan had captured. The spherical alien ships methodically annihilated moon after moon, then closed in on the helpless observation platform.
"This is what we face...whatever it is," Lanyan said. "We have been confronted by an entirely different kind of enemy and a completely new kind of war. My suggestion is a simple one, Mr. Chairman. Increase funding for weapons, ships, and materiel available to the EDF. Convert our industries, activate all shipyards, and begin producing as many vessels as our facilities can manage. Juggernauts, Mantas, Thunderheads, and Remoras. These enemies seem to have a preference for unannounced strikes of total destruction. It is folly to move slowly."
Basil agreed with a long, dry sigh. The operation would require a vast expenditure of Hansa resources. Profits would decline and so would the standard of living on some colony worlds. More important, though, he could not let humanity appear weak.
Throughout its existence, the Terran Hanseatic League had promised peace and protection for its colony worlds, and now those colonists would have to tighten their belts and join in. "King Frederick, you have an important duty in recruiting even more new soldiers, announcing austerity measures, rallying industries and workers. Issue yet another full-fledged plea to fire up all populations. They will make sacrifices, if you ask them to."
The old King smiled gravely, then bowed his head. "I will do whatever is best for my people."
Basil gave him a grim smile. "You will do whatever I tell you to do."
64 TASIA TAMBLYN
When the greenhorn military recruits were faced with a real-time emergency decompression drill, their panic was so palpable that Tasia Tamblyn had to laugh. Three stern drill sergeants hustled the new EDF trainees into a domed hangar bay in the lunar military base. Then the doors hissed shut, and a timer appeared on the wall, its numbers ticking inexorably down. Klaxons and rotating magenta lights heightened the sense of dire emergency.
Tasia was completely at ease with the standard decompression stuff, and she offered to help the wet-behind-the-ears Eddies, but they distrusted Roamers on general principles. So she stood back and watched their comically earnest efforts to do the things she had done all her life.
The soldiers, mostly young men, scrambled about, unaccustomed to the low lunar gravity, tripping and racing to the suit lockers. With the clock running down, they rummaged through the assortment of mismatched gloves, helmets, and silvery bodysuits. Many panicked recruits spent more time staring at the timer than securing their suit components.
After growing up as a Roamer, Tasia could slip on a spacesuit with her eyes closed, though these EDF models were unnecessarily thick and clunky, lacking the convenient streamlined Roamer modifications. She reminded herself that the Earth Defense Forces had other priorities beyond the comfort of their soldiers. Still, they should at least have been concerned with efficiency. Maybe she could modify her own equipment later; she knew a thousand ways to fix the things that bothered her about the design.
Two recruits squabbled over a single helmet