by B. V. Larson
“We can’t handle that many,” I announced. “Hansen, turn us over and accelerate again. Put us in a planetary orbit around Matterhorn 6, along the track I’ve plotted. We’ll swing back and try again.”
“What?” he demanded. “You’re crazy. If we do that, we’ll have to face a thousand fighters and ten thousand snowflakes instead of just a hundred and fifty!”
“I don’t have time to argue. Do it or we’re all dead!” I snarled, taking a heavy step toward him.
Hansen let out a stream of profanity and slammed the controls hard over, spinning the ship around and changing course away from the ice moon we’d nearly reached. Snowflakes that had almost latched onto us now fell back as we pulled away and blasted some of them with our naked engine exhaust. In this form, the Lithos didn’t have the speed to catch us, and a few moments later, we’d made it out of immediate danger.
As we curved away from the snowflakes, I saw that my choice had been the right one—at least in the short term. While the Litho fighters probably could have kept up with us, the snowflakes couldn’t. They were the equivalent of our marines, who could move around in space but couldn’t match a warship’s speed and maneuverability. In either case, boarders had to get close, and I’d goaded them into deploying too early. Unable to divert their course, they were soon falling into the freezing ocean of the icy moon below us.
“Hug the planet,” I told Hansen. “As huge and high-grav as it is, you should be able to keep our speed up in a tightly powered orbit, just skimming the edge of its atmosphere. We’ll make a complete circuit out of their view, altering course so we’ll come back at an unexpected angle. The Lithos won’t be able to see us until we crest the horizon.”
“We’ve lost a lot of speed,” Hansen said. “An orbit will take two hours. By that time they’ll all be waiting for us at the ice moon. We’ll have to run a gauntlet that might kill us.”
“I don’t think so.” I quickly set up a holotank replay of the last several hours using a handheld cursor to point at the relevant items as I spoke. “Look here. Those that didn’t splash down into the icy waters are following us. Whenever we turn, they keep dogging our tails. If they knew we were heading for the moon, they would have cut us off here.” I drew a glowing line along the shortest path. “But they didn’t. Whatever they know, they aren’t acting like they’re anticipating us. They don’t understand our plans. I think they just saw an opportunity and took it. If we’d been in open space, those fighters would have caught us one squadron at a time, and eventually worn us down. But as soon as they broke up into snowflakes, they lost their high mobility.”
Hansen rubbed his bare head with one hand. “All right—that seems to make sense. But the Lithos don’t make sense. Why give up their fighter maneuverability so early?”
“Because I suckered them, and they made a mistake. They’re too predictable. Present them with what looks like an optimum solution based on all the variables, and they’ll seize it. They don’t necessarily take second and third order possibilities into account. So when we slowed down and started killing them with our lasers, they calculated that they could do us more damage by launching the snowflakes.”
Hansen cocked his head as if finding this hard to believe. “But they’ve been so smart up until now. How could they be so stupid all of a sudden?”
“Don’t make the classic mistake of overestimating the enemy. Everyone makes mistakes. The Macros did during the wars. I studied all my father’s campaigns. Every race we’ve run into had its blind spots, strengths and weaknesses. The Lithos are no different.”
Hansen grunted, turning away and minding his helm in silence. I wondered what was going on in his head. Did he think I was cocky, a know-it-all, or a gambler?
My father had said that most military leaders grow risk-averse during peacetime. They were used to protecting their careers rather than sticking their necks out to attain their goals. He’d had to deal with that mindset during the Macro Wars. Now, twenty quiet years later, it seemed the same malaise had set in to Star Force.
The current crop of Fleet personnel played not to lose. Not me. I played to win. If we played it safe, we’d just get whittled down. I hoped Hansen see that my way was the right way.
“If the brainbox can fly the ship for a while, take a break,” I told him. “Rotate the watches, but be ready to fly again when we come over the horizon. You’re one shit-hot pilot, the best we have. If we’re lucky, you won’t have to prove it again.” With that, I walked off the bridge and back to the marine deck to get out of my armor.
Once I was back in utilities, I swung by the factory room. Every Star Force officer learned how to program a factory, but I had been relying on Adrienne and Sakura. I waved away the technician and sat down at the control console. I felt like doing a little work myself.
I spoke aloud. “Unit One, this is Cody Riggs.” All factories by convention were named “Unit” and then a number. It was something Dad had started and it had stuck.
“Command personnel recognized,” it replied. Factories, like most brainboxes, would reply in the manner in which they were addressed – voice or keyboard. “Unit One working.”
“Bring up the template on a breaching cutter.”
“Displayed.” It showed on the console screen.
I studied it for a moment. “Customization mode. Increase blade size by fifty percent.”
“Increased.”
“Add a second, opposing blade, like a pair scissors.”
“Specifics required.”
I worked with the factory brainbox on the template for a half hour until I had a device more suited to fighting snowflakes. With two blades, the wielder could use it as a double-bladed cutter or could configure it like huge chainsaw-snips. In that mode, all the user had to do was stick a crystal arm between the two, squeeze and sever the arm. I told the factory to make forty of them, left a message for Kwon to distribute them to the defense teams, then went for a meal.
I ran into Adrienne alone in the wardroom. Ravenous, I heated up a ration pack, opened a plastic envelope of fake fruit salad and sat down across from her. No one ever seemed to occupy that seat whenever I saw her eating, though that fact only just occurred to me. Was it because no one wanted to risk my wrath if I wanted to sit there or did she wave everyone else off?
“Great job with the weight dumping,” I said by way of an opener.
She nodded her thanks, gazing at me under hooded eyes that were not smiling.
I continued, “We’re going to loop around the planet and make another run at it. I’m hoping they haven’t figured out our goal, and we can shoot by them this time.”
“Sounds good,” she said, looking down at her food.
I sighed, overloud, without meaning to. I’d been trying to put on a cheerful, positive face, but I felt like Adrienne had shut me out completely. It wasn’t fair. I was only trying to maintain crew morale and discipline, and I didn’t understand why she couldn’t see that. Every manual, every textbook, every case study I’d read in the Academy had clearly shown how corrosive fraternization and personal favoritism was to a military organization. My father had experienced it firsthand. That didn’t mean we couldn’t be cordial and friendly. She’d remained more distant than Hansen or Sakura, and I barely even knew those two. It just made no sense to me.
“Adrienne, can we clear the air between us? I don’t understand what the problem is.”
Her face tightened and she looked at me. “Of course you don’t. You’re a typical male. No, strike that. You’re a spoiled male that’s never had to learn to deal with a real woman.”
My jaw tightened. “Oh, I’m spoiled, Countess Turnbull? I didn’t grow up on an estate. I worked on a farm getting my hands dirty.”
“Not spoiled by money. Emotionally spoiled. You’ve never had to consider any girl’s feelings before. They’ve all thrown themselves at you since you hit puberty.”
“Is that what this is about? Kalu? Nothing happened between us, but even if it ha
d, what business is it of yours? I’m your commanding officer, which is what you asked for. You wanted to join Star Force. She’s a civilian.”
“That’s no excuse. I didn’t ask for you to turn into such a jackass.”
That felt like she’d stabbed me in the gut, and I stood up. “Jackass or not, I have a job to do, and so do you.” Too bad she couldn't see that, and just get over whatever was upsetting her. I sure couldn't read her mind. Picking up my food, I carried it toward another table, fighting back unexpected fury.
As I moved, I noticed Sakura was in the wardroom with us. She was eating alone and quietly. I hadn’t even noticed her, but I felt a little embarrassed now. She had to have overheard my conversation. I glanced at her, but the woman remained expressionless and didn’t meet my eyes.
The embarrassment stung. What was wrong with me? I was Cody Riggs, dammit. I should be able to handle Adrienne. Dad had kept a lid on that crazy woman Sandra before Mom, and she was a hundred times more trouble than Adrienne.
I watched Adrienne while pretending not to and chewed my meal. I couldn’t figure her out. Olivia had been so much easier to get along with. Once again I found the devastation of her loss threatening to break through my professional demeanor.
Adrienne left less than a minute later. Apparently, she couldn’t take the pressure either. I glanced over at Sakura, who chewed robotically.
“Engineer Sakura,” I said, attempting to sound cheerful. “Mind if I join you?”
She looked startled, but nodded.
I moved to her side and sat down. “As I understand it, you’re a computer expert. Is that correct?”
Sakura studied me for a moment before replying. “My original studies were in computer engineering. But I’ve since become a generalist as is appropriate for a ship’s engineer.”
I nodded. “I see. Could I have you look into something for me?”
“Certainly, Captain.”
“Could you examine the software installation records in the ship’s database?”
She chewed mechanically for a moment. “To a point, yes.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“They were erased at some point during our voyage.”
Staring at her, I felt a cold sensation. Could this be significant? Marvin had said that someone must have taken his programming for the Yale ring and engaged it. If that had been done purposefully, the instigator might have wanted to cover their tracks by erasing the registry and logs. And that person might well have been the one who'd killed Olivia and marooned this ship on the wrong side of the Yale ring.
“We need to get that information,” I said. “I want to know who had access and how the data could have been altered.”
Sakura put down her fork with a tiny clicking sound. “Difficult,” she said thoughtfully. “But not impossible. It sounds as if you believe this act was performed deliberately.”
“I do.”
She cocked her head slightly and gave me a quizzical squint. “But why? I’d assumed there was a system fault of some kind. This ship has taken a beating—several of them, in fact.”
Nodding, I had to admit she was right. Could it be that I was grasping at straws?
“See what you can do—and report back to me soon.”
“I will do as you ask, Captain.”
I dumped my plate and left her then. Disturbed, I was glad to leave the wardroom. I went down the hall to the captain’s cabin and raided the liquor cabinet, brooding over a triple Scotch.
I couldn’t let the crew see me in this mood. My job was to get these people home, and to do that, they had to believe in me. It was a commander’s duty to bear more than his fair share of the load. If Adrienne wasn’t going to help out with that, then I’d have to ignore her. I’d forget her as a woman or a friend and just treat her like any other member of the crew.
Eyeing the empty glass, I capped the bottle and put it back in its padded slot. Then I went and armored up. This time I picked up one of the new cutters but no laser rifle. Soon, we would have to face the Lithos again.
Back on the bridge, I found Hansen had gotten there ahead of me. I’d taken an hour and a half so I knew he’d had an even shorter break. Still, he looked like he’d cleaned up and eaten and had a spill-proof cup of coffee in the holder at his elbow. He was a grownup. I wasn’t going to micromanage him.
“I have the watch, Hansen,” I said, announcing my presence.
“Yes, sir,” he said, keeping his eyes on his instruments. “There was a low-power laser transmission from Marvin. It’s encrypted text.”
“He’s taking every precaution he can,” I replied. “Pass it here.”
Hansen made a flicking motion, transferring the file from his screen to mine. I brought it up on one of the auxiliary screens beneath the holotank rather than displaying it for everyone.
99%+ probability #11 moon Matterhorn 7 contains ring. Holding at long range and studying Lithos. Good luck on ice moon.
Except for the sensor data on the ring moon, that was it. He could easily have sent pages of text coded in a burst with little additional risk, so I knew there was a lot Marvin wasn’t telling us. Still, I couldn’t see any way he could possibly sneak his way through either ring and leave us behind now, no matter how long he was left alone. He’d disappeared for months at a time back in the Macro Wars, but he’d always come back to stir the pot. Maybe if he had the time to study the Lithos, he could come up with valuable insights, learn their language, and collect important intelligence.
I hoped he didn’t start communicating with the Lithos on his own the way he had with the Macros. That had led to near-disastrous results. In fact, in the much longer and more detailed message I sent back to him via tight-beam laser, I forbade him from contacting the Lithos of this system or cutting deals of any kind with them.
By that time we had reached the point where the ice moon appeared above the horizon of the enormous gas giant we orbited. The planet was so big that, as we skimmed its atmosphere, we could hardly see its curvature on the forward viewscreen. Instead, my mind tried to trick me into believing we cruised much lower, as if we flew an airplane just above the clouds of an Earthlike planet, except these clouds glowed blue and shimmered with hidden, silent lightning strikes. That got me wondering if there might not be some kind of life below us. Perhaps there was something similar to the Blues that lived down there in that soupy gas. We hadn’t detected anything, but then again, we hadn’t looked very hard. Even if we had, Matterhorn 6 possessed the surface area of a thousand Earths, and it would have been easy to miss quiet life forms.
I turned deliberately away from that awesome view and stared at the holotank and its small auxiliary screens, which were much better for commanding the ship.
“Crew to battle stations,” I said calmly. They were probably all there anyway, but making sure never hurt.
“Moonrise in ten minutes,” Hansen said.
“If the holotank is up to date, I see only one squadron of Litho fighters and they haven’t noticed us yet.” Against the hot background of the planet and clouds, we were just a speck. As long as we did not light off our engines or transmit, picking us out of the clutter would be next to impossible until we got close. I’d counted on that as well.
“Make that two squadrons,” I said, as more Lithos broke the horizon. Running intercept numbers, I said, “Whether they'll be able to catch us depends on when they see us. Do you have a least-time solution on the splashdown?”
“Yep,” Hansen replied tersely, and I realized I was giving in to my nerves. Plotting and flying our course was the man’s number one priority, and it had been stupid to ask.
“Two more squadrons,’’ I called as they came into view. The four groups seemed to be holding in widely separated geosynchronous orbits around the gas giant, which made sense. They were in perfect spots to observe. I presumed other squadrons were even now moving into positions ringing the planet, looking for us. The only better formation for them would have been to brea
k up the squadrons into flights of two to four allowing them to cover more area.
Maybe with their Macro-like hive mind, they got smarter and worked better with more of them near each other passing signals. That could be another explanation for why they liked to build everything so big. Probably there was a threshold of intelligence below which they became almost animals, simple beings with simple goals, like the snowflakes.
“Moonrise,” Hansen said as the ice moon came into view. We were overtaking it in its orbit and coming in from a slightly oblique angle. Had I been the Lithos hunting a ship, I might have anticipated this move and waited to pounce, but they hadn’t. As I had told Hansen, they simply didn’t think the way we did, and vice versa.
Probably what we were doing didn’t make much sense to them, either. From a Litho point of view, our ship must be like a dangerous bandit running madly in and out of their peaceful landscape, circling and dashing here and there to strike while they, the villagers, formed militia units and tried to drive us off.
That’s what the Litho warships reminded me of, I realized. Militia. They didn’t seem to have a professional fleet or military the way humanity did. I theorized that, in Litho society, every Litho was a potential warrior with little specialization. Like militias everywhere, they tended to focus on the immediate threat and not look ahead and think strategically. If fortifying their rings and sitting tight had bought them peace and prosperity until now, then why should they have developed heavier weapons and better ships?
In that way they did resemble humanity. Without an imminent threat, they’d turned to other pursuits, neglecting war.
Sadly, and unintentionally, I’d brought war to them. Maybe if we built up enough, we could get them to yield long enough to start a dialog. Every race Dad had confronted, from the Macros to the Blues who had created them, respected strength.
