Cyborg Assault ds-4

by Vaughn Heppner

  As the missile-ship decelerated, the Praetor began to work on the malfunction, his welder’s blue arc the only hope against the glowing red that meant death.

  “Twenty-seven seconds until overload,” the voice said.

  “Sixty-two horsemen,” the Praetor whispered, “one hundred and two infantry, two cannons—”

  “Lord, are you well?” the voice asked.

  “One missile-ship,” the Praetor said, “that’s all I need to win the Jovian System.”

  “He’s raving,” Canus said.

  Perhaps Canus was right. The blue arc continued to burn as the seconds reached zero and beyond. Still, the blue arc glowed, and the red glow lessened by agonizing degrees.

  Finally, Canus said, “He did it.”

  The Praetor snapped off his welder and lurched to his feet. He wanted to claw and scratch at his skin. His guts felt awful, but he’d be damned if any of the crew would drag him to sickbay. He would walk there, and he would swallow the pills and take the chemical baths. He had a planetary system to win and enemies to trick. He was the Praetor, and he would endure until the Sun no longer shined on the worlds of men.

  -9-

  As the Highborn ship circled the mighty gas giant at terrific velocity, and as Jovian and cyborg warships converged toward their various destinations, Strategist Tan found herself involved at the highest level of strategic planning. It was a three-way conference via lightguide laser.

  Tan had scoured her pod for listening devices. Stick-tights, insect-crawlers, passive probing, she had studied all of these during her stint as arbiter while aboard the Kant, the premier dreadnaught of the Guardian Fleet. The Kant was presently at Ganymede, the flagship of the flotilla ready to bombard the wayward Secessionists. After scouring the pod and finding nothing, Tan had concluded that either Yakov was cleverer than she was or her pod was clean.

  Yakov could never have achieved his goals without Marten Kluge and his cyborg. They had tricked her regarding Arbiter Octagon.

  For hours, Tan had sat in the pod, in a lotus position, practicing her meditations. She’d defeated her grosser emotions of anger and disgust at her naiveté. She was a Strategist. She might even be the Chief Strategist of the Confederation. Therefore, she purged herself of unworthy feelings and filled her mind with syllogisms, logic formulas and pertinent axioms from the Dictates. These soothed her mind. She was honest enough with herself to admit to a stubborn core of… hard feelings against Force-Leader Yakov. Marten Kluge was a barbarian and therefore unworthy of her anger. Yakov on the other hand—

  Her musings ended then as she opened a secure channel with her cousin, Chief Controller Su-Shan. It proved the strength of their bloodline that both of them should stand high in military planning. It also proved their educational integrity and fierce drive to excel.

  Through the lightguide laser-link, Su-Shan outlined the situation to her. Two days had passed since the supply vessels had launched from Athena Station. Some seemingly insignificant data kept troubling certain quarters on Callisto. Now the Solon of Callisto, the highest wisdom of the Dictates, wished to confer on high strategy with Chief Controller Su-Shan and with Chief Strategist Tan. Finally and decisively, they would decide on the nature of the struggle and act accordingly.

  “But I’m only a Strategist,” said Tan, “a Strategist of the third class. Surely, there are others higher ranked than me to decide these things.”

  “I believe that is false,” Su-Shan said. “Events have likely propelled you into the highest slot of the War Council. You’ve also been rigorously trained in strategic matters, you have the required rank and you’ve witness an actual cyborg.”

  “Meaning what?” asked Tan.

  “That the Solon trusts you. Now clear your mind of clutter. Then fill it with the truths and axioms of the Dictates. We must possibly decide the Jupiter System’s fate.”

  Tan blinked at the vidscreen showing her cousin. She was still far away from her dreadnaught. This—Tan pressed her palms together and sought the inner peace of the Dictates.

  “Yes,” she said, “I await the three-way.”

  * * *

  2351 March 4, the three-way Strategy Conference of Guardian Fleet. The participants: The Solon of Callisto (identifying name submerged in his office), Chief Controller Su-Shan of Callisto Orbital Defense and Strategist Tan of the War Council. Reference symbols: Solon, Su-Shan and Tan. Conference committed via laser lightguide system.

  SOLON: We three have a solemn duty to perform concerning the future of the Dictates and our perfected system of life.

  Men, and in this I reference all humans, are born in a chaotic world of seething emotions. It causes endless grief and boundless misery. This we have alleviated by our intellect and rationally reasoned codes. I would like to say we have ended unproductive thought and hence, false actions. By false I mean to say mindless, useless actions, which are ultimately harmful to life. But such thoughts occur even in our idyllic system. This saddens me, a sadness I allow to color my hope but never my overarching reason.

  SU-SHAN: You are the Solon of the Confederation. You have achieved rarified rationality.

  SOLON: I would be false to the Dictates to dispute your statement. Yes, you speak the truth.

  TAN: I am humbled by it.

  SOLON: Social mechanisms force us to utter such statements. Perhaps what you say is true. However, rationality does not accept humility, because it hints at false modesty. My reason compels me to say, ‘Expunge this humility, Chief Strategist.’ Today, you must excel in rationality. I need your logic. I need your intellect. And in saying ‘I’, I quite naturally mean all the Confederation. I am the supreme mind. In me, I codify all that is best about the Dictates. If I am false, the system we have erected with such care is false. Because the system is true, it means that I must be true and my thoughts filled with penetrating insight.

  SU-SHAN: Have you arrived at a conclusion concerning our objective?

  SOLON: Your rigor is lacking, Chief Controller. I will not accept that today. A conference of this magnitude means that I have not reached a conclusion. Today, I will add your rational expertise to my incisive thinking to arrive at the needed conclusion. This united effort will achieve greater accuracy than my thoughts alone could do. Even though I am the supreme logician of the Confederation, I will gain by your references and insights unique to your perspectives. Therefore, let us lay out the subject and arrive at the truth through our united reason.

  SU-SHAN: Shall I state the problem?

  SOLON: As the wisest among us, I will state it, and I will state it aptly and precisely. Do I have your full attention?

  SU-SHAN: Yes.

  TAN: The Dictates guide me.

  SOLON: Our society has achieved near-perfection in regards to human potential. In this, naturally, I refer to reason. The wisest among us rule. The most spirited fight and the sensation-gluttons perform the laborious and onerous tasks. Since their minds are already dulled through the indulgence of their basic drives, it harms them little committing these repetitive jobs. Those who love battle, risk their lives fighting. We, who reason, think for the rest, as would benevolent parents. Now, however, a virus attacks paradise, an infestation of hostile organisms that cannot comprehend the damage they do.

  SU-SHAN: Pray forgive my interruption. Do you accept the evidence to mean that cyborgs exist in dangerous numbers within our system?

  SOLON: Chief Controller, Chief Controller, this hasty rush to assumption is entirely unwarranted. We are the strategic triumvirate. We must deliberate and cogitate with precision. Let barbarians rave and foolishly stumble into decisions. That is not how the Dictates teach us to proceed.

  SU-SHAN: You are the Solon.

  SOLON: A rational truth spoken with meaning that implies I can guide the three of us into strategic brilliance. I concur, and I know now that my choice in confiding in you two was correct.

  TAN: Are we under any time constraints?

  SOLON: That is subtle, Chief Strategist. If I h
ave a flaw, it is in waxing prolix. Yes, in war, in battle, time constrains the individual soldier and often the executive agent. I will now turn my intellect onto the first critical subject. Athena Station has launched supply vessels. Incoming data suggests these vessels had jumped to velocities that exceed human endurance levels.

  TAN: Our file on the shock troopers indicates that humans can endure tremendous Gs in special suits. The Guardian Fleet does not possess such suits, however.

  SOLON: Has the Guardian Fleet possibly built such suits in secret?

  SU-SHAN: I am unaware of it.

  TAN: No.

  SOLON: Can you be absolutely certain, Chief Strategist, that a hidden department in the Guardian Fleet didn’t authorize such tests?

  TAN: I am certain enough to risk my reputation on it.

  SOLON: We are not here for histrionics, Chief Strategist.

  TAN: The Dictates prohibit that. And such was not my intent. I feel I must add that in no way does my statement imply histrionics.

  SOLON: Hm…. I detect imprecision in your statement. We must study each possibility in turn to arrive at certain knowledge. I will also point out that your reputation does not correlate with possible, secret suit-testing.

  TAN: You are the Solon. Yet rationality… compels me to a different methodology.

  SOLON: (in a cool tone) Do you wish to instruct me?

  SU-SHAN: (hurriedly) Your intellect shines too brightly for either of us to hint at ‘instruction’.

  TAN: The Chief Controller verbalizes my own belief, sir. Perhaps this is a foolish thought. I will state it in the hope of instruction from the Solon. You, as the guidance of an entire world, of an entire planetary system, have a myriad of responsibilities. Each decision requires time and an iota of nervous energy and firing neurons. As a Strategist and intimately involved in the war—

  SOLON: We have not declared a state of war. Therefore, your final statement is false. I must insist that you apply a more rigorous use of the language. Truth is the watchword, our armor against barbarism and its accompanying ignorance.

  TAN: Naturally, I agree, sir. But isn’t it true that the Secessionists have foisted violent action upon us?

  SOLON: ‘Secessionist’ implies a higher level of sanction to their actions than is warranted. They are terrorists, and as such must be expunged with ruthless vigor as an exterminator sprays for fleas.

  TAN: Yes, I see your point. Ah. I wonder if you could clarify a point for me. In an emergency, can an enemy of my enemy act as my temporary ally?

  SOLON: Show me this enemy.

  TAN: I believe that the growing velocity of the supply vessels lends credence to the cyborg hypotheses.

  SOLON: Hm. I have examined this so-called ‘cyborg file’. The Mars barbarians or the terrorist Force-Leader staged it. The file shows a single cyborg committing acted sabotage. I find it completely unwarranted to base a strategy on a doctored file and am surprised you suggest it.

  TAN: I agree on the doctoring of the file. Still, data from the Rousseau, the missile attack on the Descartes and the advancing vessels all logically infer a stealth enemy of unique capabilities.

  SOLON: Or greater cleverness from the terrorists than we expected. Remember, they have benefited under our philosophical and educational systems. Their ploys could be deeply laid indeed.

  TAN: The law of simplicity implies a cyborg stealth-attack as the more probable explanation for these various occurrences.

  SU-SHAN: You overstep yourself, Chief Strategist. The Solon can reason all this—

  SOLON: There is no need to defend me, Chief Controller. I called for the three-way to add your minds to mine. I concur with the Chief Strategist’s analysis.

  SU-SHAN: (whispered) You believe that cyborgs are attacking Callisto?

  SOLON: Reason would suggest this, yes.

  SU-SHAN: I don’t understand. You just said—

  TAN: The Solon is right!

  SU-SHAN: But his preamble implied differently. All those words—

  TAN: Don’t matter in face of the cyborgs. We must act now to save our system.

  SU-SHAN: If the supply vessels are cyborg-controlled—Sir, we must summon the warships from Ganymede to help defend Callisto.

  SOLON: It is too late for warships to affect the Battle for Callisto.

  A seven-second period of silence ensues.

  TAN: (quietly) May I query you, sir?

  SOLON: I will indulge your curiosity by answering your question before you ask it. The Dictates have failed us versus the cyborgs. It is a galling truth to ingest. For hours, I have struggled internally with this truth. Now we must decide on the future. I have hesitated, and I hesitate still to arrive at the bitter conclusion.

  SU-SHAN: Orbital Defense will defeat whatever—

  SOLON: There is a high probability that Callisto will never recover from the coming attack. And by Callisto, I mean the paradise created by the Dictates.

  TAN: We must not surrender or give in to despair, sir.

  SOLON: (monotone) Who do we wish to succeed us? The terrorists have used this opportunity to do us harm. They lack mercy. The cyborgs… do they possess higher reason than we do?

  TAN: They’re trying to annihilate us. The Dictates show—

  SOLON: The cyborgs have reasoned more deeply than we have. Our coming destruction proves their superiority.

  TAN: Would such reasoning also imply that the Secessionists are our superiors?

  SOLON: (coldly) You are hereby relived of your station, Chief Strategist.

  TAN: Article twenty dash A3 states that only a quorum of the War Council can relieve a Strategist from his or her post.

  SOLON: You dare to quote articles to me?

  TAN: I have begun to wonder if you are well, sir. The strain of office—

  SOLON: I am the Solon, the wisest of Callisto. Emotive despair cannot shatter my reason. I am sending immediate orders to the ships at Ganymede to begin their bombardment. If we cannot survive the coming nightmare, neither shall the ingrates of Ganymede. With our death, the cyborgs will have proven our superiors. We can only hope they read the Dictates and see its value in the new order.

  TAN: Su-Shan, the Solon is sick. You must send your Orbital Defense arbiters down to the surface and relieve the Solon and his archons from office.

  SOLON: I have already relieved you, Chief Strategist.

  TAN: (to Su-Shan) I will contact the Ganymede Flotilla and instruct them to coordinate with the Secessionists. We must unite against the cyborgs. We must save our civilization from destruction. Do you hear me, Su-Shan?

  SOLON: I am the wisest. You will obey me or face extinction.

  SU-SHAN: (softly) I hear you, Chief Strategist.

  SOLON: (monotone) We are doomed, but we can decide and should decide on whom is the most worthy to succeed the Dictates. I relieve you both of office. I await the end now that I foresee it with such clarity. Humanity has lost. The New Order of melded-men is at hand.

  TAN: Reason implies that you fight until you’re dead, sir. We’re not dead yet. Therefore, we shall fight to survive and reinstate the Dictates in whatever remains after the war is won.

  SOLON: We are doomed. The cyborgs have achieved strategic surprise and superiority. I deem them worthy to replace us—and my voice is decisive. For none can see as well as me, as I am the supreme intellect of Jupiter.

  TAN: Send those arbiters at once, Su-Shan, and begin making priority targets. The Solon has said one thing I agree with. Those aren’t supply vessels heading for Callisto, but the first wave of the cyborg assault.

  End of the three-way Strategic Conference.

  -10-

  From her coasting pod, Chief Strategist Tan spoke urgently to the commandant of the Guardian Fleet flotilla in low-Ganymede orbit.

  She sat in the pilot’s chair as she wore her Strategist whites. It had taken some doctoring, but now she wore a Chief Strategist’s megastar pinned to her chest. A diamond glittered in a five-pointed, golden star.

  Tan st
rove for calm as she stared into the vidscreen. Serenity and authority mixed with assuredness is what she attempted to project.

  The flotilla commandant appeared in the screen. He was older, bald, with rejuvenated skin. He had chubby cheeks like a freakish baby. He rode aboard the Kant, an Aristotle-class dreadnaught.

  Static caused his image to waver. Ganymede was in the fierce Jovian magnetosphere, a flattened area or belt that included Io and Europa. Of the Galilean moons, Ganymede was the only one that had its own magnetosphere, which carved a small cavity inside Jupiter’s vast magnetic field. Jupiter also acted like a pulsar, a radio-emitting star. Those radio waves often interfered with Jovian communications the closer one approached the gas giant.

  As the commandant spoke, his words were drowned out in the static.

  Tan adjusted the controls. The chubby-cheeked image wavered worse than before, but finally stabilized. She raised gain, and shouted, “Could you say that again, Commandant?”

  “The Solon has instructed us.” The commandant had a deep voice. Behind him on the vidscreen, an officer floated past. “We are forbidden on pain of death from having further communications with you.”

  “If you will check article two of the Warship Code,” Tan said, “you’ll find that the Solon lacks the authority for such a military order.”

  The commandant scowled. “We have a war in progress, and—”

  “The Solon declared that there is no war.”

  “What nonsense is this?” the commandant said.

  “I have a file of our three-way conference. Prepare to receive it.”

  “Did you not hear me?” the commandant asked. “I am forbidden from doing so.”

  Tan gave him a serene stare. “On the possible eve of our destruction, is it rational to follow madness into oblivion?”

  “Obviously not,” he said. “But your query has no bearing on the situation.”