Christopher Nuttall: The Trafalgar Gambit

“As I understand it,” Goldsmith said, “in both wars it was primarily a matter of production. The resources available to the Americans and to the Federation far outstripped those available to their enemies. Once the victors had mobilized for war, their victory was certain. If that is the case, why were the battles so important?”

“ If that is the case, cadet?” Kratman asked dryly.

Goldsmith flushed, but said nothing. History, Military Strategy and Moral Philosophy was not a class to be unsure of one’s grounds.

“In one sense, you are quite right,” the Professor said. “The sheer weight of firepower and material available to the victors ensured that they would be victorious. In a different sense, you are wrong; firepower and material alone does not win wars. Wars are fought—and thought—by intelligent beings. You might as well ask why the losers chose to fight at all.”

He smiled. “In war, there are far more factors than just the material and armament. Is one side really committed to the war? If not, will they fight to the finish or will they abandon the war when the cost in men and material grows too high? The Japanese calculated that the Americans lacked the will to continue the war to the bitter end—oh yes, they knew about the disparity in long-term power. But America’s short-term weakness did not lead to long-term weakness or defeat, not least because the Japanese lacked the firepower to capture or destroy America’s industry.

“In the Blue Star War, the shock of the defeat forced the Federation Navy to clean house, while the political leaders who got the Federation into the war found themselves purged or marginalized. The defeat provoked fury among the high and mighty, who put aside their political struggles to unite and see the war through to victory. You may wish to consider what might have happened if the Senate hadn’t been so unified. The Blue Star War might have been abandoned and the Federation’s prestige would have been severely dented.”

Roman considered the scenario as the Professor summed up his final lecture, outlining its relevance to the cadets and the Federation Navy. The reason the Outsiders were pushing so hard along the Rim—where the Federation’s writ barely ran and outlaws and pirates hid themselves from Federation justice—was that the Federation Navy wasn’t showing the will to either protect the human population or hunt down the pirates and the aliens who were supporting them. He recalled, bitterly, how his parents had died. After that, he had thrown himself into his studies and eventually won a coveted scholarship to Luna Academy. And if he earned a First in the exams, he would be on the short list to command his own ship.

“I was on the Matterhorn ,” the Professor concluded.

Roman blinked in surprise. The Matterhorn was a legend, one of the most famous ships in the fleet. The superdreadnaught had led the assault force into Sapphire and right into the ambush that had shattered the attacking force. The Matterhorn had been the only starship to survive, her CO somehow managing to get his wounded and bleeding starship back through the Asimov Point, losing over two-thirds of his crew in the brief encounter. He found himself looking at Kratman with new respect. All of the Academy’s staff were supposed to have combat experience, but real combat experience was rare in the Federation Navy. The Blue Star War, the last significant conflict, was over sixty years ago.

“It was a nightmare,” Kratman said. “We flew right into a trap and were lucky to survive. Others—people I had known since I was a cadet—didn’t survive. You all have survived five years of the Academy, but your experience of the real universe is limited. And yet, if you pass the final exams, you will be on the track to command and, eventually, the Admiralty. If you survive…”

By long tradition—Luna Academy had been founded in 2161—the cadets were granted a free period after every class. It hadn’t taken long for Roman—and the other survivors of five years of brutal winnowing—to realize that falling for the temptations of Luna City was a good way to lose one’s place in the Academy. The cadets, after their first year, were expected to discipline themselves. Very few wasted their time partying when they had to study.

Roman nodded to Raistlin as the class broke up, some heading for the library and others for the simulators, where they would study the battles the Professor had outlined. A handful, who had been ordered to undergo extra EVA training or additional duties, looked downcast. Raistlin nodded back—despite his origins, he wasn’t actually stupid—and made a show of walking in the opposite direction. Picking fights outside class was another good way to lose one’s place.

“So,” Cadet Sultana Narayanan said, “how much trouble do you think the Professor is going to get into?”

Roman shrugged. “None, I suspect,” he said. The Blue Star War might have been forbidden territory, but studying the war was vital, if only to avoid making the same mistakes again. “I think there are times when he says things just to see how we will react.”

It made, he decided, a certain kind of sense. The cadets who bought the official line hook, line and sinker wouldn’t be showing the mental agility needed to command starships in battle. Besides, they were—or they would be, once they graduated—Federation Navy officers. They needed to think for themselves.

“Or maybe he wanted to tell us something without saying it outright,” he added. “Something we had to pick out for ourselves.”

“Maybe,” Sultana said. It was rare for her to talk to anyone outside classes, but in some ways they were both loners. Sultana had left her homeworld under a cloud and Roman was a RockRat, part of an asteroid-dwelling society that rarely interacted with the rest of humanity. “Do you think that…?”

At that moment, the emergency alarm went off. “ALL CADETS REPORT TO SAFE LOCKS,” the intercom bellowed. “I SAY AGAIN, ALL CADETS REPORT TO SAFE LOCKS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!”

Roman and Sultana exchanged glances—the emergency alarms were never sounded, outside scheduled drills—and then started to run. A Safe Lock was never far away.

Senate Hall, Earth, Sol System, 4092

“The Senate Committee on Outsider Incursions is now called to order,” the Speaker said. “As per the Senate Security Act of 3702, I declare the room sealed.”

Vice Admiral Marius Drake nodded impatiently. It had been a year since he had been recalled to Earth for “consultations,” and ten years since he had been assigned to the Rim and ordered to hunt down and destroy the Outsiders. But the mission had not been successful, as the Outsiders were good at hiding from the Federation Navy—they’d had plenty of practice—and the Senate hadn’t given him either the authority or resources to provide escorts to protect merchant shipping.

But as bad as that was, it was nothing compared to the last year’s worth of inactivity on Earth—a complete and utter waste of his time. At first, the Admiralty had refused to admit that there was a problem with the Outsiders. And then everything had got worse once the politicians had become involved.