Haraken (The Silver Ships Book 4)
Page 19
“A contest? What sort of contest, Judge Bunaldi?” Alex asked.
“Our ships carry fighters,” Theostin said. “Do you have any sort of craft to compete with them?”
“We might,” Alex replied carefully.
“Then we propose that three of our fighters compete against three of your fighters,” Theostin replied.
“And exactly what outcome decides the winner of the contest?” Tatia asked.
“The side with a pilot still alive, of course,” Theostin said, enjoying the opportunity to repay Tatia’s grin with one of her own.
“You propose an engagement of our fighters in a head-to-head combat contest?” Alex said.
“Precisely, President Racine,” Bunaldi replied. “The stakes of this contest are as real world as the futures of our two societies. Our people and your people will risk their lives to prove who should lead the human race. Do you agree?”
“We will consider your request, Judge Bunaldi. I thank you for your visit. It’s always valuable to meet one another personally to understand —”
“One’s enemies?” Bunaldi volunteered.
“The opinions of others,” Alex supplied.
When the Earthers entered the Rêveur’s airlock to take the ship’s traveler back to Le Jardin, Alex and Tatia stood in the corridor and stared at each other. “Can you believe what they proposed?” Tatia said incredulously.
“It does seem to underline their Earther history from what we’ve learned. Life appears cheap to them, and winning seems all important,” Alex replied.
“You know, Alex, there is every indication that our travelers can take their fighters, especially in a first-time contact. They won’t be prepared for our speed or our beams.”
“And once we win their contest, what do you think they will do?” Alex asked.
“My gut feeling is that if the Earthers lose, they won’t honor their agreement,” Tatia replied.
“I agree. If that’s so, what advantage have we gained by demonstrating our superiority?” Alex asked thoughtfully. He linked Tatia with Julien and Z.
Tatia looked into Alex’s eyes and was concerned for what she saw. His eyes didn’t have that confident focus she expected, leaned on in times of crisis. Instead, his gaze seemed uncertain, conflicted. She wanted to ask what he was thinking or what he planned to do but decided to refrain from disturbing him.
Alex saw a frown form on Tatia’s face and realized he wasn’t projecting much of a presidential persona, but, at the moment, he couldn’t find it in him to try. He reached out, patted Tatia’s broad shoulder, and walked away. Why is peace so hard to come by? Alex thought.
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“Mr. President, if you are unsure whether we will participate in this contest, then plan for the worst-case scenario until you make your decision,” Tatia volunteered. Alex’s people were gathered in his salon. The more he thought about the contest, the further conflicted he became.
“Logic dictates that we position our ships to gain maximum advantage and minimize any UE maneuvers that might follow the contest. There is a significant probability that the UE will use the opportunity to gain an advantage, regardless of the outcome,” Z said.
Z wore his banker avatar since his personal contact algorithms indicated it was the image that made humans most comfortable. But a subtle conflict was taking place within his hierarchical structure. The more data that was absorbed from the Miranda persona, the more he felt that his kernel was somehow inadequate. He tabled the disturbing revelation until the present crisis was past, but it was high on the list for review once time became a luxury.
“Okay, Admiral, suppose we follow Z’s advice. If we plan to engage in this absurd, sacrificial contest, how would we maximize the opportunity to win and minimize the UE response afterward?” Alex said.
Tatia leaned forward in her chair, placing her forearms on her thighs with hands clasped together. Soon afterward, she stood up and started pacing the room.
Renée smiled to herself. When word of the Earthers first arrived and Alex told her they would be taking the Rêveur to Méridien, she contacted Captain Cordova and requested a change in their salon’s furnishings. Typically, the furniture rested against bulkheads, situating a large conference table in the room’s center. However, that arrangement was totally unsuitable for Alex and his people.
Renée asked the captain to remove the conference table and place the holo-vid on a small stand. She added more chairs but pulled all furniture away from the bulkheads. This configuration allowed a complete circuit around the outside of the furnishings, which Tatia was busy utilizing, head down, hands clasped behind her back, communing with Julien and Z, who were projecting scenarios on the holo-vid for the others to observe. It was ironic that the individual in the center of this implant three-way was the New Terran who was most reticent to adopt her implant eleven years ago.
When Julien and Z signaled their agreement, Tatia walked over to the holo-vid. “To maximize our advantage and minimize the options for the UE ships afterward, we set up the contest here,” she said, zooming into the system until the outer planet, Bevroren, a massive ball of frozen gasses, occupied most of the display. We don’t know which UE ship will supply the fighters, but my suspicion is that they are expecting a duplicitous response from us, so they will put both ships into play. We stage the contest just inside the orbit of Bevroren, and we position the Last Stand just beyond the planet. Utilizing the planet and its collections of moons as gravity sources, our travelers will have plenty of power for maneuvering and recharging their beams.”
“So your plan is to use the planet to hide the Last Stand from the Earthers,” Alex recapped. “There are some issues with that idea, Tatia. If our ship arrives early, what’s to stop that battleship from circling the planet? It could start an all-out confrontation between our carrier and that battleship.”
“That’s why we arrive late, and by ‘we,’ I mean the Rêveur,” Tatia replied. “Once we choose to accept the contest, Julien and Z will communicate the coordinates to the Reunion. We let the Earthers start for Bevroren first. Then we follow them. It’s my opinion that once they see us following them, they will focus on us. We stage the Last Stand just outward of the system. Captain Manet keeps the carrier hidden out in the deep dark. He can utilize the Méridien’s telemetry data from the FTL comm stations to relay the positions of the UE vessels. As the Earthers close on Bevroren, the Last Stand does the same, but from the opposite side.”
“Okay, I like it,” Alex said. “Unfortunately, we are creating a severe time lag. We would have to wait until the Last Stand is close enough to Bevroren to launch the travelers so they can use the planet’s gravitational field. Then it will take time for the travelers to circle the planet and engage, especially since they will have to make a wide orbit around the planet’s moons and asteroid ring. That is many hours, during which the Earthers might get nervous.”
“It would be advantageous, Admiral,” Julien said, “to create a means of launching the travelers using the Last Stand’s velocity as it approaches the planet — a slingshot technique similar to the concept the Rainmaker used to send the ice water asteroids to Haraken.”
Tatia stopped behind Julien’s chair, and leaned over to place her mouth next to his ear. “You are a lovely and brilliant man, Julien,” Tatia whispered.
“It’s a pleasure to be of worth, Admiral,” Julien replied.
“The strategy works for me. Now, shall we discuss the fight itself?” Alex asked.
&nb
sp; “I would defer to Commodore Reynard for that part, Alex,” Tatia said.
“Julien,” Alex said.
Those in Alex’s cabin stared at Z.
“Shades of Miranda,” Tatia said under her breath.
Sheila sent, putting the discussion back on track as Alex requested.
Ellie glanced at Sheila, who was watching her carefully.
Ellie flashed back to the fight over New Terran skies when Dagger pilot Lieutenant Hatsuto Tanaka lost his life to Downing’s followers, as they did their best to kill Alex. She held the memory of Hatsuto’s sacrifice close and hardened her heart. We do what we must to keep our people safe, Hatsuto, she thought and returned to studying the strategy. Ellie said.
Alex and Tatia shared a grin. A SADE spent several moments to develop a plan. It meant that, despite the challenge, the probability of it working was extremely high.
Sheila replied.
The Commodore’s compliment was appreciated, but, for Julien, it was the grin on his friend’s face that he coveted. His life began almost two centuries ago in a box on a starship bridge, and seventy of those years were spent in utter isolation when the ship was disabled by an alien attack. Then in five brief years, after rescue by a New Terran captain, he was free, walking around — all due to the sensibilities of the man who smiled at him from across the room. That he could return the smile to his friend was a pleasure beyond measure.
* * *
In stark contrast to the dark mood in Alex’s meeting, Wombo was jubilant as he regaled his Reunion comrades with the events of the day aboard the Rêveur. Once again, the usual six friends were crowded into Wombo’s small cabin late in the evening.
“What I found most fascinating,” Olawale said to his audience, “was that the president indicated that my story would be recorded and shared for posterity, and he tapped his temple.”
“That supports your previous observations, Olawale,” Boris, whose background was medicine, said excitedly. “Imagine a technology that allows communication, mind to mind. There would be no reason that it couldn’t operate as a data-storage center for sensory input. Stories, exactly as related by the original storyteller, could be recorded and retrieved.”
“That would mean anything could be recorded,” Storen noted.
“I’m three decades too late,” Nema said, expressing her lament, “my husband was an exceptional lover. It would have been marvelous to have kept recordings of our trysts.” Her words sent all the minds in the room wondering what types of treasured events they would have wished to have recorded.
This group of scientists was onboard, not only because they were Wombo’s friends and because they excelled in their disciplines, but for many, this would be their last great adventure. All of them were well past their middle years and now found themselves alone, having never married or having lost spouses and families.
“I wonder just how accurately the sensations are recorded,” Nema added, and the others looked at her wistful face and broke out in laughter. Nema smiled sheepishly, realizing the intimate nature of the thoughts she just shared.
“I find their ritual endearing,” Priita said. She was Olawale’s closest friend. Her blonde hair had long ago turned a snowy white, and Olawale’s huge-dark was such a contrast to her thin-pale that comments and nicknames about the pair were inevitable. “That these people have developed such a level of technology without incurring the terrible wars we have suffered seems incredible.”
Wombo laughed briefly as he recalled something. “President Racine’s stature has all the earmarks of what I believe would have developed from generations lived on a heavy world … and he consumes food like a heavy worlder. You should have seen it. President Racine’s people acted like a conveyor system, but only small serving plates were available. So they constantly supplied him with fresh plates. I thought I ate a lot, but you should have seen that man shovel food.” Wombo paused, while his audience laughed and tittered at his singular observation.
“Plates that don’t suit the size of their president,” said Edward, who was the preeminent physicist and mathematician among the scientists. “Now there’s a story I’m curious to hear.”
“What about this contest?” Yoram asked. “It does not make sense for either side to participate.”
“We know the high judge’s eventual goal is domination of the Confederation, but there are too many unknowns about the Méridiens. Th
e contest is his way of approaching some of these unknowns with caution,” Olawale said. “We know the Méridiens possess enormous technological capability, and yet they have been extremely passive in response to our intrusions. I think the high judge doesn’t know whether the Méridiens are without military capability or whether their military is so superior that the Méridiens think they don’t need to prove it. He is worried that if he believes the former and launches a major assault, we might be wiped from space. So, the high judge is intent on testing the Méridiens’ capabilities with this contest. If President Racine produces no fighters or inferior fighters, the high judge will be fairly certain he can proceed with his plans with impunity.”
“By your logic, Olawale, the president should not participate,” Edward said. “If he has the capability, he need not prove it. Either way, I would reason that his fighters will be a no-show.”
“The president’s fighters will be there,” Priita said, and all heads turned toward her. Despite her credentialed academic background, Priita often made out-of-the-box predictions, which seemed unfounded in fact. To the consternation of her colleagues, they often came true. Her compatriots continued to stare at her, compelling Priita to explain. “The answer is clear, as Olawale has communicated to us.”
Now all heads turned to Olawale, who shrugged his massive shoulders and held up his hands in confusion.
“My friends,” Priita said, “we have already reasoned that President Racine is not a Méridien, and yet he has the allegiances of a diverse group of seemingly good people — people who come from his home world, from Méridien, and these wonderful artificial intelligences.
“SADEs,” Wombo volunteered.
“Yes, SADEs,” Priita echoed. “What type of man wields this degree of personal power? My answer is this: a man who does not let fate dictate the path of his people, but one who shapes his world to suit the needs of his people. That type of personality appears in great contrast to our contact with Méridien. President Racine might seek an alternative to the contest, but I believe he will realize that the high judge has backed him into a corner. His fighters will be there, and I am curious as to the type of advanced technology we will witness.”