Justinian had disliked her smooth skull even as he’d used her intelligence. Like Premier Benz of Mars, the Egghead had used a mind-heightening machine. It had caused her to lose all her hair, but it had given her power.
Her real name was Alice Wurzburg. She now read the various reports highlighting the disappearance of the three cyberships.
Wurzburg set down the reports one by one. She did not smile. She did not gloat. She thought carefully. Soon, she opened a notepad and began to jot down notes. The squiggly symbols wouldn’t have made sense to anyone else, but they made sense to her.
“Finally,” she whispered, “it is time.”
Wurzburg had planned for this eventually. Now, she had to convince her timid Admiralty. Most of them were blowhards, tough talkers but frightened doers. Still, she had to make the move.
Wurzburg sighed.
She disliked staff meetings. She disliked convincing people of anything. She preferred to think alone or give orders. This…
She pressed a button. A woman appeared. Wurzburg gave the order to summon the Admiralty. Then, she sat back, wondering if she would have to kill them in order to make room for more aggressive people.
***
Wurzburg sat in an auditorium on a lit stage. The chief officers of the Admiralty sat with her at an immense table. Their operational staffs watched from the darkness as if observing a play. They were the aides who would have to implement the majority of the orders. They were the hands and feet. Those at the table were the so-called brain trust.
Wurzburg wanted the aides to listen to the briefing so they would understand why they needed to perform their duties with utmost diligence.
Wurzburg could order arbiters to murder people in order to light a fire under others. She did not like to do that, though. She wanted people to work hard because they believed in a cause. Thus, she used assassination and torture on a limited basis only.
If people took that as a sign of weakness, she would move more vigorously. First, she wanted to try this her way. Both Justinian and Benz had used the whip too liberally. People who believed in a cause worked harder and better than those driven to a task did.
One thing Wurzburg wanted above all else was to win, to beat the pretenders who had crippled the Solar League and thus threatened the greatest political system ever devise by humanity.
“The projection, please,” she said, using a microphone so everyone could hear her.
A holographic image of the Solar System appeared in the auditorium. Three big red triangles glowed like neon signs at the outer edge. Abruptly, the triangles disappeared.
“Those three cyberships represent eighty-three percent of the fleet strength of the Mars Unity and the so-called Solar Freedom Force,” Wurzburg said. “That leaves seventeen percent at home. Ten percent of that belongs to the Mars Unity. The other seven percent is divided between the Jupiter, Uranus and Saturn Systems of the SFF.
“In other words, boys and girls,” Wurzburg said, “the Solar League now possesses the greatest concentration of capital ships in the Solar System.”
Admiral Boris of Russia Sector stirred uneasily. He was a huge man with bristly hair. In Wurzburg’s view, he was a timid boaster, a man with a loud voice always shouting to do nothing. In that way, he protected his sinecure as Chief of Staff.
“Do you have a something to say, Admiral?” Wurzburg asked.
“I do,” Boris said in his blustery manner. “This is a trick, Excellency. Hawkins and Benz seek to draw out our battle fleet and annihilate it.”
“A trick how?” she asked.
“They can count our capital ships as easily as any other.”
“You’re wrong,” Wurzburg said. “That’s exactly what they haven’t done.”
Admiral Boris scowled at her. He did it well, too.
Wurzburg examined those around the table. Could they all be this dense? It was difficult to believe. Still, she was used to working with buffoons. Most people, even well trained people, were still donkeys underneath.
“Do none of you understand?” she asked. Wurzburg disliked playing this part. She would rather let them keep their self-respect. Yet, she had learned that intimidating them through her superior intellect usually made her tasks easier to achieve.
“We put up defense satellites,” Wurzburg said.
“Decoys,” Boris said, as if that was the end of the matter.
“Yes, decoys,” Wurzburg said, as she stared at the big man. “We put up defensive-satellite decoys while hiding our newly built capital ships. We have more than doubled the size of our former fleet.”
Boris met her gaze for a time. Then the admiral glanced around the table, possibly to ensure himself that the others still agreed with him.
“Decoys, Premier,” Boris said. “Surely, they fooled no one.”
“Why is that?” Wurzburg asked.
Boris sputtered before answering. “It was too obvious. Surely, our enemies could see it would limit us to a purely defensive strategy.”
“Yes…” she said.
“Premier,” Boris said, leaning toward her as if imparting wisdom. “The Solar League seeks unity and justice. We are like policemen, protecting those too weak to protect themselves from capitalist exploiters. How could we do that if we only built defensive satellites?”
“You do recall the Battle of Mars?” she asked.
Boris nodded uneasily.
“Even doubled as it is,” Wurzburg said, “could our fleet protect us from three cyberships?”
“Premier, Earth Fleet is the key to Social Dynamism. We would have fought like lions—”
“Admiral,” Wurzburg said softly, interrupting his bluster.
Admiral Boris fell silent as he licked his lips, the first sign of real nervousness.
“In light of three attacking cyberships,” Wurzburg said, “numberless defensive satellites made perfect sense. We made a fortress of Earth. Given that the decoys were real…”
“I do not understand,” Boris said.
“The others—Hawkins and Benz in particular—took the decoys at face value,” Wurzburg said. “The decoys were anything but a waste of time. It ensured that Hawkins and Benz would believe that Earth Fleet could not act aggressively in their absence. In their view, we had put too many resources into defense. That is why the three cyberships left the Solar System.”
“Premier,” Boris said. “We have already detected fleet movements from Uranus, Saturn and Jupiter Systems. Those warships appear to be headed for Mars. They are reinforcing the traitors.”
“Let us consider the numbers and tonnage,” Wurzburg said into her microphone.
Holographic fleet graphs soon appeared in the air.
“As you can see,” Wurzburg said, “Earth Fleet has slightly more than double their combined mobile units.”
“The graph does not take into account Martian defensive satellites and planetary missile silos,” Boris said.
“More than double the enemy’s fleet strength at the point of decision,” Wurzburg said, ignoring the admiral’s worry. “It is time to attack. It is time to make use of their misjudgment. If we are lucky, after destroying the reinforced Mars Fleet, the SL Armada can strike for Jupiter before the cyberships return.”
Silence filled the auditorium.
Into the hush, Boris cleared his throat. “Premier, isn’t that the point, though? When the cyberships return, they will route our Armada.”
Wurzburg shook her head.
“We have taken the measure of Benz and Hawkins,” she said. “Social Dynamic theory is clear. They are adventurers, opportunists. They seek glory and little else. They do not understand social justice as we do. Once we destroy the enemy’s mobile fleets, we can begin to send the transports.”
“Premier?” asked Boris.
“We will send hundreds of thousands of enforcers to Mars. If we capture the moons of Jupiter, we will do likewise there. We will also rig the Red Planet with huge emergency fail-safes.”
“I am unf
amiliar with the last term,” Boris said.
“We will rig Mars with underground bombs, Admiral. Those nuclear devices will go under every city dome. If the cyberships return, if the adventurers attack our planetary positions, we will annihilate the traitors.”
“Mass murder of the entire Martian population?” Boris whispered.
Wurzburg stared at the pale Russian.
“Perhaps, for the record, you would like to rephrase your final statement,” the Premier said in a silky voice.
Boris nodded eagerly.
“Yes, Premier,” Boris said. “The emergency fail-safes will stiffen Martian morale. At that point, the Martians will obviously understand the futility of siding with the enemies of social justice.”
“Well said,” Wurzburg told him. “We will also acquire these fabled robo-builders. Imagine what our Earth industries could do if we had the AI technology.”
“Ah…” Boris said. “I begin to perceive the brunt of your strategy.”
“Good,” Wurzburg said. “We must ready the Solar League Armada and begin acceleration to Mars as soon as possible. We will strike before all the SFF reinforcements reach the Red Planet.”
One of the other admirals cleared her throat, staring hard at Admiral Boris. Boris nodded at the woman. She slid a paper to him. Boris picked it up, scanning the contents.
“Premier…” Boris said.
“What is it now?” Wurzburg asked.
“Ah…there might be a few…unavoidable problems,” Boris said. “We did not anticipate such an order. Not all our capital ships are ready for immediate acceleration.”
Wurzburg wasn’t surprised, but the knowledge made her tired. It was one of those things she’d forgotten to check. She studied each admiral and rear admiral sitting at the table. Finally, she fixed her stare on Admiral Boris.
“Tell me,” she said. “Who is responsible for this sad state of affairs?”
“It doesn’t rest on any one individual,” Boris said.
“Ah…” Wurzburg said. “So, you take group responsibility for this disaster?”
Something about the way the Premier asked that clearly warned Admiral Boris.
“I would not say that, Premier,” the Russian admiral said.
“You’d better say something useful fast,” Wurzburg said. “Otherwise…”
“I understand,” Boris said sadly, as he turned to the woman who had slid him the paper. “Rear Admiral Shaniqua was responsible for ship readiness.”
“No!” Rear Admiral Shaniqua said, as sweat appeared on her face. “That’s not true.”
Wurzburg made a subtle motion with her right hand.
“No!” Rear Admiral Shaniqua said again. “It’s him, Premier.” She pointed at Boris. “It was his fault! He told me—”
“Silence!” Boris thundered, as the big Russian shot to his feet. “You have failed us and failed the State. Do not compound your error by trying to shift the blame.”
Before Rear Admiral Shaniqua could reply to that, three big arbiters appeared behind her seat. One of them put a hand on her right shoulder.
“No!” Shaniqua shouted. “Please, Premier, you have to believe me.”
“I don’t have to,” Wurzburg said coldly. “I trust those whom I empower. If Admiral Boris says you are to blame, then you will suffer the consequences of faulty preparation. Take her away.”
The Premier made an ancient gesture, slicing her left hand across her throat.
“No!” the rear admiral shouted.
One of the arbiters pressed an agonizer to her neck. Shaniqua stiffened in agony and her eyes rolled up into her head. The three arbiters hauled her limp body from her seat at the table and dragged her away into the darkness.
Grim silence filled the auditorium.
“This is a serious matter,” Wurzburg said. “I expect maximum effort from each of you. We must destroy the reinforced Mars Fleet. We must install our people on the planet before the cyberships return. We must gain the robo-builder technology. Only in this way can Social Dynamism prosper as humanity fights for its existence.”
Premier Wurzburg studied the Admiralty.
“Are there are any more questions?” she asked.
There weren’t. Thus, Wurzburg adjourned the meeting, setting into motion the next move for the soul of humanity.
PART III
THE BATTLE
-1-
The Nathan Graham hurtled through hyperspace at a constant rate, traveling one light-year every 24 hours. That meant they should reach the Allamu System in 17.2 days.
Each of the cyberships—the Nathan Graham, the Sergeant Stark and the Gilgamesh—had built up a tremendous velocity before entering hyperspace. They would exit hyperspace at the same velocity.
They would use a similar tactic to the one used by the three AI cyberships when they had invaded the Solar System almost two years ago. It hadn’t worked for the enemy. Would it work for humanity’s first interstellar attack?
Jon Hawkins thought about it constantly. For quite some time now, he, Gloria, Bast Banbeck, Benz and Vela Shaw had been exchanging opinions and ideas.
It came down to this: the attack was a gamble. If the AI virus did not work, they were going to be in serious trouble. One thing the Battle of Mars had taught them was that their window of opportunity once beaming the virus would be of short duration. That meant they wouldn’t find out if the virus was going to work or not until they had already engaged in battle.
The human-run cyberships brimmed with space marines. If Jon had to, he planned to do this the old-fashioned way by storming the battle station until they found the computer intelligence and destroyed it. As the cyberships traveled through hyperspace, Jon slept fitfully.
He got up after at time and went to the weight room. He did some squats, deadlifts and pull-ups on a bar until he was breathing hard and his heart was hammering. It felt good. He might be able to get some shuteye in two hours after his body wound down.
Jon took a shower, toweled off and headed for his quarters. His mind still whirled with plans and ideas, but he didn’t like the thought of taking sleeping pills.
Suddenly, the corridor shook. Intense groaning surrounded Hawkins. The lights flashed on and off and then died, throwing him into darkness.
On instinct, Jon went down onto his belly. He could feel the deck tremble underneath him and then shake as if the cybership was trying to burst apart.
What in the heck was happening? Was this a delayed trick from the stealth pods? Jon didn’t see how that could be.
The groaning worsened. Jon put his hands over his head as if he could protect himself from any falling metal.
The groaning, twisting sounds grew louder and louder. Ship klaxons began to wail.
The ship had to be under attack.
Yet that didn’t make any kind of sense. They’d been in hyperspace twelve days so far. Did the AIs have a way of fighting ship-versus-ship while in hyperspace?
At this point, that seemed more than possible.
Abruptly, the groaning stopped. The lights didn’t come on, but the deck no longer trembled under Jon.
Gingerly, he sat up, looking around. No one but him had been in the corridor before this started. Jon felt around on his belt. He didn’t have anything but his clothes. There was no flashlight, no gun, not even a knife. He’d gotten comfortable. That was a mistake.
“Commander Hawkins,” Gloria said from a wall speaker. “This is an emergency. I need you on the bridge.”
“I need some light first,” Jon complained.
He climbed to his feet nonetheless and felt along a bulkhead. He moved in what he believed was the direction to his quarters.
Some fifty odd steps later, he reached his hatch, opened it and moved to his desk. The room light did not work in here. The hatch had opened for him, though, so some of the ship functions appeared to be working.
He felt around on his desk, found a comm and clicked it on. To his relief, it glowed with power. A moment later, Glori
a stared at him from her post on the bridge. They had light over there fortunately.
“Thank goodness,” Gloria said. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Jon said. “What happened? Are we under attack?”
“Not yet,” Gloria said.
“Don’t play games with me, Mentalist. What just happened?”
“We dropped out of hyperspace. We know that much.”
“What?” Jon shouted. “What about the other two cyberships?”
“They dropped out of hyperspace with us.”
“Can you explain why?”
“Not yet,” Gloria said. “We’re working on it, though. I think you should get up here on the triple.”
“The lights are off in my area of the ship.”
“Dropping out of hyperspace damaged the ship,” Gloria said. “We’d better figure out why the ships did that, though. We’ve only traveled twelve light-years so far.”
Jon laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Gloria asked.
“We’re the first humans to leave the Solar System, and we’ve already become accustomed to traveling many light-years in a few days. We’ve already traveled twelve light-years. That would have taken us a lifetime using our old technology.”
“No doubt you are correct,” Gloria said. “That is not germane to our present dilemma, though.”
She had a point.
“I’m on my way,” Jon said. “See if you can figure out what happened by the time I get there.”
-2-
Jon sat in his command chair on the bridge, listening to one damage report after another.
According to the first data analysis, the Nathan Graham had taken heavy structural damage. It was as if the entire vessel had been in the grip of two colossal hands that had twisted it back and forth.
“There have been several hull ruptures,” Gloria told him. “Two gravitational cannons are presently inoperative. We sustained internal damage as well. The worst of it was to the main engine. We have volunteers going in. Their suits will protect them against some of the radiation but not enough of it.”
A.I. Battle Station (The A.I. Series Book 4) Page 17
