Doom Star: Book 05 - Planet Wrecker

by Vaughn Heppner

  “You would lose the Earth then.”

  “Only temporarily,” said Cassius.

  “The factories would be destroyed,” said Hawthorne, becoming visibly agitated, “as well as the billions of workers needed to run them. Of what use would the hulk of the planet be to you then?”

  “Most of the important factories are automated,” said Cassius. “We could land afterward, begin the long-term cleansing of the air and rebuild the least-damaged factories.”

  Hawthorne blinked several times. “Are you saying the asteroid-strike doesn’t matter to you?”

  “He needs obedience training,” a Highborn in the background said.

  Cassius motioned the Highborn to silence. He felt likewise, but it was foolish to utter such words in their presence. That was one of the reasons why he was First. He could control his irritation, a point of personal strength. The preman had questioned him as if they were equals. That was terribly insulting. If a preman had spoken to him like this in his presence, Cassius would have killed him. Since, however, this preman represented the billions of unconquered under-men, he could contain his rage.

  “Naturally,” Cassius said, “I wish the Earth to remain intact.”

  “Intact?” asked Hawthorne. “What about the billions of human lives at risk?”

  “Do you cherish these lives?” asked Cassius.

  “Yes,” Hawthorne said in a clipped manner.

  “Then surrender immediately and I shall save you and the billions of pre…of Earthlings.”

  Hawthorne shook his head. “You’re not in a position to demand our surrender.”

  Cassius stiffened at the tone.

  “You’ve conquered the islands of Earth and North and South America.” Hawthorne stopped abruptly and took a deep breath. Then he took a second one and began to speak more slowly. “Billons of humans depend upon you. There are also millions of men in your FEC armies. Are you willing to flee Earth to save yourselves but let your slaves perish?”

  “Save your insults, Supreme Commander, and speak to the issue of your call. Remember, you asked to speak with me, not me to you.”

  “…You’re a brilliant strategist,” Hawthorne said shortly. “Your conquests prove that. It is therefore self-evident that you see the strategic ramifications of this attack. No. I cannot believe that you would willingly abandon Earth and let the cyborgs obliterate it. Your greatest industrial base would vanish in a moment. Over time, with the Outer Planets in their grip, the cyborgs would out-produce you and finally hunt you down like vermin.”

  “I have yet to hear any proposals,” Cassius said coldly. If the preman continued with this tone, he would track down the radio signal and send a Hellburner to it. Let them feel the raw power of the Highborn fist.

  Hawthorne stared at him. “My proposal is simple. We must pool our resources and deflect the asteroids from Earth.”

  “What resources can you possibly possess in the arena of space combat?” asked Cassius.

  “Our Fifth Fleet is intact, as well as the Mars Battlefleet. Those battleships are already accelerating,” said Hawthorne. “I am hours away from ordering a missile launch. So you are incorrect in implying Social Unity lacks space armaments.”

  Cassius closed his eyes and made some mental recalculations. “Hmm,” he said, opening his eyes. “It is possible the battleships can have a trifling effect on the asteroids.”

  “Jupiter has also sent reinforcements,” Hawthorne said.

  “We’ve tracked this single Jovian vessel,” said Cassius, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It is a Thales meteor-class warship. It can affect nothing.”

  “Grand Admiral, I understand Highborn arrogance. But the gravity of the situation means that you cannot indulge in your usual vice. We must work together to save the Earth. Anything else is obstinate lunacy.”

  Cassius felt the blood surge to his face. His thick fingers twitched. He wanted to rip this insulting preman limb from limb. With iron control, he sat motionless, willing the preman to continue speaking.

  “Social Unity will fight for humanity’s existence,” Hawthorne said. “What will the Highborn do? Are you merely killers and conquerors, or can you merge your seething emotions—”

  “Silence,” Cassius whispered, as he leaned toward the holoimage.

  Hawthorne smiled bleakly. “Together, we can possibly save the Earth. Divided, we shall both lose.”

  “Surrender to us,” said Cassius, “and we shall save your simple lives. Then you can survive under Highborn security.”

  “We will never surrender,” Hawthorne said with heat.

  “That is a proud boast for a commander who has lost in every front where we attacked.”

  “Have you forgotten the Mars Campaign?”

  “The cyborgs achieved the victory there, not you premen.”

  Hawthorne dipped his head. The holoimaging was good. Cassius witnessed the sheen of perspiration on the preman’s forehead. Was the preman cracking up before him? They were so weak. It was pitiful.

  “It is difficult for us to speak together,” Hawthorne said slowly. “On my side, I’ve seen you murder billions. On your side, well, my generalship has foiled you repeatedly. My psychologists tell me this will have caused you to hate me.”

  Cassius realized abruptly that Hawthorne wasn’t cracking up. The preman-genius had iron in him. Maybe it was time to maneuver the preman in a new manner. Yes, he would use the cyborg attack to lure the last SU spaceships into killing range. Hadn’t Hawthorne already told him the Mars-based fleet was accelerating toward a near-intercept course? That would open Mars to attack. It might be time to send a Doom Star there and conquer it. Yes, yes, he would destroy the asteroids and the SU warships at one blow.

  “For a…Homo sapien,” said Cassius, “you are strangely gifted in the strategic art.”

  Several Highborn on the bridge glanced at him sharply. Tall Scipio nodded, however, with his eyes half-lidded. In that instant, Cassius mentally marked Scipio for highest command.

  “I am amazed you would admit such a thing,” Hawthorne said.

  Cassius shook his head. “We Highborn view reality as it is. It is one of our powers, one of our genetic gifts. Another is the ability to make swift decisions.”

  “You have changed your mind and have now decided to work together?”

  “You are premature,” said Cassius. “I have listened to your proposal. I have seen the evidence of this asteroid strike. Now I will ponder the implications.”

  “Time has become our enemy,” said Hawthorne.

  Cassius smiled indulgently. “Time is an element, malleable to a strong will. I will asses the information, factoring in time.”

  “I’ll be waiting for your reply,” said Hawthorne. “Because I already know that you will be forced to work with me.”

  “Have a care,” said Cassius.

  “Your brilliant strategies these past years prove to me that logic governs your actions. Logically, you have no recourse other than to work together with us to save the planet.”

  “We shall see,” said Cassius, impressed by the preman’s calm assurance. “For now, Grand Admiral Cassius out.”

  The holoimage of Hawthorne nodded.

  Cassius pressed a switch, and the image faded. Around him, the other Highborn waited in tense expectation.

  Cassius took a calming breath. The preman—so that was Supreme Commander Hawthorne. He would have to replay the interview, discovering weakness that Hawthorne would have been unable to hide from a trained eye.

  “Hail the Genghis Khan,” said Cassius. “I wish to hold a conference with Admiral Gaius.”

  Scipio moved quickly, following Cassius’s orders.

  -38-

  Twenty-seven hours brought an abrupt change to Grand Admiral Cassius’s thinking. The change had occurred because of the data pouring in from the giant interferometer near the Sun. The vast sensor array was one of several secret Highborn weapons. The collapsium coating around the Julius Caesar was another. Th
ere was a third, but it was presently unfinished. When completed, it should give the Highborn the decided technological edge in the coming clinch with the cyborgs of Neptune.

  Situated between the Sun and Mercury’s orbital path, the giant sensor array of many kilometers turned with ponderous slowness as each component shifted and realigned with the new heading. Then it focused on the asteroid-cluster. Despite the distance, its focusing capability dwarfed anything else turned on the Saturn-launched strike. The Highborn technicians and their premen servitors made critical adjustments. The fuzzy image became clear, and outlines became visible.

  Soon, premen servitors counted laser-turret bunkers on individual asteroids. They highlighted massive, crater-sized exhaust ports. These matched known specs from Carme.

  The giant sensor array tracked with minute calibrations. Debris fields were counted. Spectrum analysis gave greater precision to the composition of the visible asteroids. The tonnage estimates grew.

  Harsh orders emanated from the Sensor-Commander. He wanted more information, complete data on each projectile.

  The nature of the cluster, however, foiled him. Too many asteroids blocked those behind them in relation to the giant scanning device.

  The Sensor-Commander aligned the laser lightguide system himself with a relay station between Venus and Earth. Then he pressed the transmit button, sending a surge of raw data to Grand Admiral Cassius.

  -39-

  Twenty-seven and-a-half hours after Cassius’s conversation with Hawthorne found him at his favorite viewing port.

  It was on the Julius Caesar. Ballistic glass protected him from the vacuum of space. The port was twice his height and four times as wide. The Sun blazed outside, auto-shading within the glass protecting Cassius from the radiation. A circular object floated nearby that was subjectively larger than the Sun. It was the Genghis Khan. Below them, but presently out-of-sight, was the Earth. A smaller object half the size of the Moon as seen from Earth floated closer in. It was a farm habitat, slowly rotating as it created centrifugal-gravity.

  A portable holoimaging dome sat in the middle of the recreation area. Technicians had set it up an hour ago, clearing away equipment. Heavy bags dangled from the ceiling in one area. In others, were exercise machines, while near the door were mats for wrestling, kickboxing and combat fighting.

  Cassius held a controller-unit for the holoimaging dome. He also wore a virtual reality (VR) monocle in his left eye as he studied the data gleaned by the giant interferometer near the Sun. The magnitude of the asteroid-strike awed him.

  Some of the asteroids were over thirty kilometers in diameter. Two debris fields were over fifty kilometers wide. The engineering feat of moving asteroid-sized moons out of their orbit around Saturn, bringing them near others like themselves and then whipping them around Saturn as they built up velocity—it was staggering. If this juggernaut of mass hit the Earth…everything living would die, even the cockroaches. Only microbes and viruses would survive, and even that was questionable. The kinetic energy of the strike would heat the Earth to intolerable levels.

  Cassius looked up as motion caught his eye.

  Tall Scipio entered the recreation area. He wore an immaculate brown uniform, with a First Class Rifle-Badge clipped to the front.

  “Come in here,” said Cassius.

  Scipio hesitated.

  “Is something wrong?” asked Cassius.

  “You greatly honor me, Your Excellency. I do not know why, and that troubles me.”

  “I have my own reasons for bestowing this honor, which should be good enough for you. Essentially, you are here to render opinions and tell me when you think one of my ideas is foolish.”

  “There are others higher-ranked than me who can do this.”

  “An obvious truth,” said Cassius. “Do not waste my time with it.”

  Scipio clicked his heels together, and he saluted sharply. “If I am here to render opinions, especially ones you do not want to hear, it is unwise of you to reprimand my first statement.”

  “Excellent,” said Cassius. “I knew I selected you for a reason. Come. Pick up a controller-unit.”

  Scipio’s hesitation lasted a moment longer. Then he strode to the holoimaging dome and picked up one of two other controllers.

  “Who else is joining us?” asked Scipio.

  “I am,” said Admiral Gaius, striding though another door.

  He was a classic Highborn, nine-feet tall, broad-shouldered and with a wide face. He moved with arrogant confidence, and was Cassius’s closest advisor. He had captained the Napoleon Bonaparte in the Third Battle for Mars. Since that Doom Star was presently at the Sun-Works Factory under repair, he ran the Genghis Khan. Gaius wore a white uniform, with a Red Galaxy Medal pinned to his chest and an Ultimate Star with its blue ribbon. The bill of his cap was low over his eyes. He had prominent knuckles, with scar tissue over each. Rumors had it that in their teenage years he had given Cassius his single defeat in a fistfight.

  Without being asked, Admiral Gaius picked up a controller-unit.

  Cassius began clicking his unit. The holoimaging dome hummed with life and began projecting holoimages in the air above it. Earth appeared, with tiny dots around it. Far away down the hall appeared a red cluster.

  “The asteroid-strike,” said Cassius.

  “The more we learn of it, the more daunting the attack appears,” said Gaius, as he viewed the red cluster.

  “This attack is a monumental effort,” said Cassius. “It demands an equally monumental effort on our part to defeat it.”

  “I suspect we lack the time to do so,” said Scipio.

  Gaius glanced at him sharply. “You are quick to admit defeat.”

  Scipio scowled at the deadly insult, but otherwise appeared to hold his temper. “I have poured over the new data,” he said. “Projecting it against what we know…the situation is more than grave. With respect, Your Excellency—”

  “You please me with your willingness to speak your mind,” said Cassius. “And you prove yet again that I am an excellent judge of character. I want you to remember, however that this is a strategy session. Here, you will drop honorifics and speak plainly.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Cassius scowled.

  “I mean…yes,” said Scipio. He examined the control-unit in his hand. He expanded his chest and glanced at Gaius. “I am the last Highborn who would admit defeat,” he said. “But it is also true that the parameters are grim. Consider these facts: an impact by a single ten-kilometer asteroid on the Earth would be an extinction-level strike. Given enough velocity, an impact by an object one hundred meters in diameter has been historically devastating. The mass of the Saturn-strike—it boggles the imagination. As I’m sure both of you are aware, for the atmosphere to shield the Earth, an object must be smaller than thirty-five meters. Those smaller objects burn up before impact. Many of the pieces in the debris fields, unfortunately, are much larger than that.”

  “This is our great test,” Cassius said, “the hour that will prove our superiority. The parameters, as you said, are clear and unequivocal. There are only a few tactical methods for stopping the strike. One is to break apart a larger object into many smaller pieces and blow those pieces outward with, say, a thermonuclear charge. That would likely cause the various pieces to change trajectory enough that they would miss the Earth. A second method is to explode several nuclear devices near an asteroid, moving the object with the force of the explosions.”

  “That would be nuclear pulse propulsion,” Scipio said.

  “Exactly,” said Cassius. “You see my point. The third possibility uses kinetic energy to change an asteroid’s course. A spaceship or other object of sufficient mass builds up speed and strikes the asteroid, knocking it off course like two billiard balls. Each of these methods could potentially achieve success.”

  “Unfortunately,” said Scipio, “the sheer mass of the strike suggests we lack the means to successfully achieving this in time.”

  “Wh
at then do you suggest?” Admiral Gaius asked angrily.

  Scipio toyed with his control-unit. “There is only one possibility. We go down fighting.”

  “No!” said Cassius. “To go down fighting means to lose. I don’t intend to lose to these cyborgs. We are superior to them and hold critical military assets. Let us enumerate them.” He began clicking his controller.

  The red dots around the holographic Earth began to pulse, as did another red dot around Venus. “We have three Doom Stars,” Cassius said. “These will head out to the asteroid-cluster and do battle with them. We also have the missile complex on Luna, together with the old boosters and shock-trooper equipment on the Sun-Works Factory.” With more clicks sounding, the Mercury Factory appeared in red, as did the launch facilities on Luna.

  “We’ll send a missile strike against the asteroids?” asked Gaius.

  “In time,” said Cassius.

  “We should hit them as far from the Earth as possible,” said Gaius. “If we strike the mass near Earth, the planet’s gravitational field might pull in some pieces that would otherwise deflect elsewhere.”

  Cassius hesitated as he lowered his controller-unit. Examining Mercury, Venus, Earth, the approaching red cluster of asteroids and then the admiral and the former com-officer, he grew uneasy.

  “You must see what I do,” said Gaius. “The farther away from Earth we strike the asteroids the smaller a nudge is needed to deflect them from the planet.”

  “Where will we find these missiles?” asked Scipio. He clicked his unit. The red cluster of asteroids moved before them as it grew in size. “The mass of projectiles is staggering. The cyborgs have clearly waited until they could build up an unbeatable force.”

  “I’ve grown weary of your cowardice,” said Gaius. “We are Highborn.”

  “And Highborn cannot view reality as it is?” asked Scipio.

  Gaius strode toward Scipio.

  Cassius watched with interest. The tall Highborn intrigued him. If they possessed one fault as super soldiers, it was their tendency toward rashness. Scipio had a rare trait for a Highborn, a touch of caution. On the bridge, it had allowed him to see Hawthorne as dangerous. What Cassius needed to know was if with his caution Scipio still had enough courage.