by John Carr
“Signal intercept, Dictator.”
“Speak.”
“Message scanning lasers interfacing all elements of Intruder Three, but...” the Communications Ranker frowned. “None between Intruder Three and other Imperial forces.”
“Your point?”
“Dictator, Intruders One and Two have maintained contact throughout the engagement, but no one has been, or is, talking to Intruder Three.”
The Communications Ranker was at a loss to explain the data, but in that moment, something passed between him and Diettinger that told them both there was something crucially important about the fact.
“Do you have any message fragments?” Diettinger asked, rising from his command couch and joining Communications at his station next to Cyborg Rank Koln. Second Rank turned uneasily in her own seat, apparently trying to maintain her view of the display on the other side of him.
Communications heaved a sigh. “Only that, Dictator; all coded and no progress on it yet with the cryptography programs. In addition, it is different from the codes being used to communicate between Intruders One and Two; those codes are modifications of older encrypts, relatively familiar, decipherable with some difficulty. But we are at least able to eavesdrop on those communications; whatever the ships of Intruder Three are telling one another, we cannot know.”
Second Rank frowned: “Why would they upgrade one fleet element to this new code and not the others?”
Diettinger knew the question had been addressed to him, but instead of answering immediately, he turned to the command station behind him. “Cyborg Rank Koln. What is your assessment of this information?”
Koln answered immediately, as much a function of lightning Cyborg reactions as to show that he had been eavesdropping all along, himself. “Outdated Imperial tactics; they believe that upgrading one system to a secure code confers some measurable advantage in terms of reserve tactical surprise, when statistically, our ability to monitor two-thirds of their force’s communications,” Koln lifted his head briefly to indicate the display, “provides us with the results we see before us.”
Diettinger nodded, a grim amusement confined to his remaining eye. “Yes. Statistically.” He began to enhance the display sector depicting Intruder Three. “Or, perhaps because the Imperials want us to listen to Intruders One and Two; and rely on our knowledge of them to convince us that - statistically - our then assured guaranteed victory over them will leave us sufficient surviving forces to destroy Intruder Three, as well.”
The detail enhancement on Intruder Three stopped when the Imperial fleet element was a glittering array of ship icons, headings and data. Originally arrayed as a sphere, there was now discernible shifting of vessels into a new formation, a lozenge shape which continued to elongate over the minutes of observation by the Fomoria’s bridge crew.
Ships at the rear maintained constant thrust, while those at the van increased speed slightly to draw ahead, maneuvering to close ranks. Within an hour, the formation had become a tight cylinder, roughly six ships around and twenty long, each vessel separated by a scant fifty kilometers, with a core of the twenty heaviest vessels traveling in-line down the center of the “tube.”
“I’ve never seen that formation,” Second Rank wondered aloud.”It would allow a rapid break-off; splitting down the long axis to engage both our element and that of TF Damaris...”
Diettinger granted the notion a half-nod. “And mask their intentions until absolutely necessary. Minimal vectoring would bring the formation in line with Landyn’s gravity well; that would allow - ” he stopped, frowned, and forgetting he could order enhancement of any aspect of the immersion display, left his acceleration couch and stepped directly into the simulacrum to confirm what he saw. “Sensors.”
“Dictator.”
“Confirm telemetry for this image.”
The Sensor Rank, charged with monitoring the immersion display computers and the accuracy of their projections, double-checked his station readout.”Display accuracy confirmed, Dictator.”
Diettinger swung back into his couch and strapped himself in. “Helm, all speed to intercept. Cyborg Rank Koln, raise alert status on all EVA Commando units to Level One. Communications, get me the Falkenberg”
“Falkenberg laser signal incoming, Dictator, seven minute lag time”
“Put it through.”
Hawksley’s image appeared in another sector of the immersion display; the Burgess privateer’s face sagged with the G-forces of Falkenberg’s acceleration.
“Flag, this is Falkenberg, on intercept with Intruder Three; by the time you get this signal, you’ll probably know what we know. Intruder Three is accelerating toward Sauron in a cylindrical formation. As of this message, the entire Imperial element has begun a constant one-half-gravity-per-hour-acceleration. As vessels comprising enemy element are among the fastest in Imperial service, we assume they will exceed maximum survivable acceleration of ten-Gs in approximately fourteen hours. We have signaled same data to the Coalition vessels Banshee and Ire of Eire, these being the fastest capital ships in our sector.
“We are increasing burn to six gravities in an attempt to engage Intruder Three before intercept, but our effectiveness will be greatly reduced after such extended periods at high-G thrust. Request you signal TF Damaris to detach some elements to aid us until you can arrive with TF Fomoria, Falkenberg out.”
“Intercept...” Second Rank breathed; she started abruptly, her fingers flying over her console. The immersion display brightened as it extrapolated Intruder Three’s path, drawing its brilliant green line down the center of the cylindrical formation, through the orbits of Barlowe, Freas and Ostia, just skirting the “upper” side of the asteroid belt, narrowly missing Sauron’s moon of Poictesme...
... and impacting Sauron, beginning with the main continent of Lebensraum.
“Second Rank,” Diettinger’s voice cut through her horror, “Extrapolate.”
Althene only nodded, all the while entering commands into her console. The immersion display computers began pouring out data: Over the course of the impacts, the Homeworld’s own rotation would expose seventy-percent of its surface to the steady flow of one hundred and forty capital ship spacecraft massing over 80,000 tonnes each, impacting the surface at speeds well in excess of fifteen hundred kilometers per second...
“Dictator, my calculations indicate impact energy in excess of hundreds of billions of megajoules; nearly one hundred million megatons per impacting vessel. ..”
“Yes,” Diettinger said quietly.”Status, TF Keegan?”
“Still heavily engaged with remaining elements of Intruder Two, Dictator. Break-off not feasible.” Whatever effect the revelation of Intruder Three’s intent was having on the Fomoria’s bridge crew, it did not extend to the erosion of Sauron discipline.
“TF Damaris”
“Intruder One at eighty-seven percent casualties, Dictator, still no attempts by Imperials to disengage. Evidence of Imperial ram attempts.”
“Signal Damaris: All speed to support Coalition interception of Intruder Three. Send planetary defense stations: Bring all fire to bear incoming units of Intruder Three. And Communications; impress upon them the extreme unlikelihood of any Imperial break-off due to infliction of casualties.”
“Dictator,” it was Second Rank.
“Speak.”
“Imperial elements Intruder Three now at seven gravities acceleration and still maintaining maximum burn.”
Diettinger nodded. The G-forces will be unbearable in a few hours, he thought. Doubtless they have only skeleton crews aboard, likely volunteers for what would undeniably be a suicide mission.
He wondered if they had made any provision whatsoever for evacuating the vessels before impact. That seemed unlikely, given the need to maintain course, an increasingly difficult proposition at the speeds they would soon reach.
“They must be unmanned, Dictator,” Second Rank assessed the threat. “On-board computers, perhaps a skeleton crew of hu
man norm volunteers.”
Diettinaer answered, “Remote piloting would render Intruder Three vulnerable to destruction of the controllers aboard Intruders One and Two.” Computer control had not been feasible for the mission profiles of the Dragons of Hourglasses North and South. Intruder Three, of course, had no need for course change capability; its maneuvering requirements were far more brutally simple. That explained the flurry of communications between the elements of Intruder Three; the effort would require the utmost precision in coordination, up to the last second.
He checked the helm readouts: Falkenberg would make intercept in four more hours; Banshee and Ire of Eire two hours after that, about the same time as TF Damaris, delayed only by the lag time of the communications lasers carrying Diettinger’s orders. The dagger thrust that was Imperial Intruder Three would still be ten hours from initial impact when they caught up to it, and even the slightest success against it might be enough to nudge its course away from the Homeworld.
“Dictator,” a soft, somehow grey voice at his elbow; Diettinger turned to see Cyborg Rank Koln standing beside him, an acceleration couch being unnecessary for the mere eleven gravities the Cyborg was standing against.
“Speak,” Diettinger answered; not a tone one usually took with the Super Soldiers, but that was the point of being Dictator, after all, wasn’t it?
“The Homeworld must be protected.”
“That is my earnest intent, Cyborg Rank Koln. Return to your station.”
Koln ignored the order, as Diettinger expected him to. “You have not ordered Task Force Keegan to join in the intercept of Intruder Three.”
“It cannot arrive in time,” Diettinger answered quietly. He was aware that they were attracting the attention of increasing numbers of the Fomoria’s bridge crew.
“Your assessment of TF Keegan’s intercept ability assumes a sustained thrust rate of eleven gravities.”
“It does.”
“This is the maximum safe sustainable acceleration only for Sauron norms; I remind you that every ship in TF Keegan carries reinforced EVA Commando squadrons - by your command - and that these squads, composed solely of Cyborgs, are capable of sustaining accelerations greatly in excess of twice that amount. They can assume command of the ships of TF Keegan and engage maximum acceleration to rendezvous with - ”
Diettinger cut him off. “And what of the Sauron norms aboard those ships? They will not survive such extended periods of maximum thrust.”
Koln hardly paused. “I anticipated your concern on this point: Those personnel with genetic preference ratings of A-4 and above could use the EVA Commando modules as escape pods for recovery after the battle is won; the rest may naturally be considered expendable.”
“Naturally,” Diettinger agreed dryly.
“I do not propose this action lightly. In balance against the mass of population on the Homeworld, it is simply a foregone conclusion.”
“I do not consider it so. Even leaving that aside, however, your battle plan is flawed.”
“In what detail?”
Diettinger shifted against the G-forces as much from anger as to square his view of Koln’s impassive features. “You fail to understand the importance of continued denial of Ostia to the Imperials as a refueling station. Intruder Two remains sufficiently strong to secure Ostia for refueling should Keegan and her elements disengage.”
“Secure,” Koln admitted, ”but not retain. Insufficient numbers remain of Intruder Two to warrant classifying it as any threat once the danger to the Homeworld is removed.”
“And what if the Imperials receive reinforcements?”
Diettinger was astonished at what happened next; for the first time in his life, he was actually sure he saw a perceptible emotional reaction cross a Cyborg’s features - contempt.
“The bulk of the remaining Imperial navy is comprised of a field of debris now scattered across Tanith and Sauron space. Your appointment as Dictator assumed your competency to deal with the tactical acumen of these cattle.” Koln’s voice dropped.”Was this assumption in error?”
Diettinger did not break Koln’s gaze as he answered quietly. “I will not know if I can defeat their plans until I have apprehended the whole of them.”
“You will not release TF Keegan to Cyborg command?”
“Correct.”
“You endanger the survival of the Homeworld by your fear of an enemy that is already, by any definition, defeated.”
Under different circumstances, it might have been Diettinger’s turn to be contemptuous, but he could not bring himself to do it. Instead, his tone was almost gentle. The Cyborgs were the personification of power; which, he suddenly realized, was exactly what made them so irredeemably naive.
“Don’t underestimate these people, Koln. Don’t make the mistake of equating “inferior” with “stupid.” The human norms have enough experience fighting us to have learned to seek every advantage when doing so. Inferior they may be, but they are well aware of that inferiority, and they take great pains to minimize its impact at every opportunity. That is why they avoided engaging us in ground combat whenever possible. In space, our only marked advantage over them has been our higher-G tolerance. A factor which is more than compensated by their much longer naval tradition and commensurately superior expertise in the space combat environment. You have evidently forgotten that this ‘defeated enemy’ is invading our Homeworld’s System, not the other way around.”
He shook his head.”The Imperials know that they operate against us at distinct disadvantages in every field, and so they base their entire strategy on compensating for that fact.” Diettinger favored Koln with a grim smile. “In effect, the Imperials have been playing into the hands of our own Breedmasters. By consciously adapting to oppose us, they are also taking human evolution into their own hands, bettering their own segment of the species day by day. And it is that determination to oppose us at every step that has made them sufficiently dangerous so as to be winning this war. They are, after all, as human as we are.”
Koln’s control was absolute once more, but he could not refrain from rejecting Diettinger’s assessment of the enemy. “The Imperials are weak, mercantile, disorganized, venal and petty.”
Diettinger nodded in agreement. “All true. However, they are not fools. I conclude by pointing out that these defects of character, in and of themselves, have never in human history prevented any one state afflicted with them from crushing another; even if it destroyed itself in doing so.”
Koln stood motionless as only a Cyborg could. Finally, he lowered his eyes and returned to his station. He looked briefly at Second Rank before strapping himself into the acceleration couch.
Second Rank let out a long breath; behind her, the bridge security troopers continued watching Koln - as they lay flattened against their own acceleration couches, hardly able to move against the eleven gravities generated by the Fomoria’s thrust.
They would have been as helpless as the rest of us, she finally admitted to herself. She looked back to the display. Let us be in time...
The Barlowe/Freas stations could prove to be of some help; they would have to wait until Intruder Three was very close to Sauron, and hopefully was much reduced by then from the predations of Task Forces Damaris, Fomoria and the three ships of the ad hoc TF Falkenberg. Still, the meson streams might yet turn the tide. The problem was that any one of Intruder Three’s vessels would, on impact, reduce a large portion of the heavily-populated Homeworld to ruin; the percentage which could be expected to get through could render Sauron uninhabitable for decades, perhaps centuries.
“TF Falkenberg engaging lead elements, Dictator,” Signals announced. “TF Damaris arriving fifty minutes.”
Emory’s people would pay dearly for the time they’d gained; TF Damaris couldn’t have gotten so far so quickly at less than eleven-Gs.
In the display, Falkenberg, Banshee and Ire of Eire were concentrating all their fire against the lead ships of Intruder Three; two Fields shot up
into orange, but the intercept speed was so great that their ships were soon out of the line-of-fire. Hawksley evidently decided to leave them for the incoming TF Damaris, hoping the larger, more numerous Sauron ships would finish what the Burgess privateer and its New Ireland cohorts had begun.
Diettinger began extrapolating figures in his head; it was possible, perhaps only barely, but possible that they could stop Intruder Three. They would need every planetary defense battery, every ship of TFs Damaris and Fomoria, all the remaining Dragons - those without missiles or functioning lasers would follow the Imperial lead and be remotely-piloted in for ram attacks - but Sauron could survive this battle. And then...
And then what? he thought abruptly. Then we rebuild; we reinforce, spread out, colonize in secret on a massive scale. Disperse so fast and so quietly that we never again risk extinction at the hands of human norms. Diettinger had no intention of relinquishing the mantle of Dictator before he had undone the damage of decades of Statistician Rankers’ domination of the High Council.
Despite everything, there remained in him a sense of sympathy for the human norms. They certainly showed no sign of reciprocating such sentiment; they despised the Saurons beyond capacity to express, but, he knew, not without good reason. Sauron was after all the future of the human race, Diettinger still believed that, and he felt that the human norms must know it at some level. Whether the Sauron people led the way or the rest of humanity stumbled blindly, slowly and painfully along to that destiny, in the end the result would be the same.
But no species willingly surrendered dominance to its heirs, and surely no intelligent species could tolerate the obvious presence of the next step in its own evolution - the one which would replace them. No living creature wanted to be rendered extinct, he knew; in fact, he could now understand that better than ever before. Along with such understanding came the certainty that the war would end - could only end when the last human norm gave birth to a Human norm-Sauron equivalent.
