Star Fortress ds-6

by Vaughn Heppner

  “The cyborgs launched the asteroids, not me,” Marten said. “I tried to stop them.”

  “I’ve got news for you,” the man said. “A cyborg is holding my wrists. You’re in league with the world-killers. It’s obvious.”

  “He is irrational,” Osadar said.

  “At least I’m not a freak like you,” the man said over his shoulder. “Humans need to stick together. Then we’ll win this war. Director Backus knows what to do. The people know it, and so does PHC.”

  “Is that why you’re killing innocent people?” Marten asked.

  “You’re a dead man, Kluge. Political Harmony Corps remembers its enemies. You’re never going to reach Athens and you’re never going to see your filthy space-borne Jovian marines again.”

  Marten stared at the man. This was all so senseless. Why had Hawthorne agreed to go meet Cassius? If only the Supreme Commander could have seen the bigger picture.

  “Knock him out,” Marten said. “Then we have to figure out what we’re going to do.”

  The man tried to say more. Osadar spun him around and hit him hard, but not hard enough to crack his skull. He slumped to the snow.

  “Tie him up,” Marten said. “I’m going inside to warm up and check on Nadia.”

  -9-

  Back in the Jupiter System, events had radically altered for the Chief Strategist.

  Tan met with Sub-Strategist Circe aboard the defensive satellite orbiting Callisto. The large Galilean moon was mostly ruins below, although a new dome was under construction on the surface. The two women sat before a large holoimage in an heavily protected chamber. Behind their chairs were Grecian statues: one of a thinker, another in the act of throwing a discus and the third of a nude goddess. On the ceiling was a stylized drawing of a pyramid with a lidless eye in the center.

  Tan was the smaller of the two, had haunted eyes and wore her red gown. She glanced at Circe. The dark-haired Sub-Strategist sat forward in her chair, staring at the holoimage. A small dark stone was embedded in Circe’s forehead. Etched on the stone in nearly microscopic letters were the words: Marten Kluge.

  The Sub-Strategist commanded a flotilla of meteor-ships. In her personal quarters aboard the flagship, the walls were plastered with pictures of Marten Kluge. Tan had read the latest profile on Circe. The Sub-Strategist no longer practiced her sexual rites with myrmidons. She had, in fact, declined several months ago to use the Cleopatra Grip on a targeted man. The only union the Sub-Strategist desired was with the quixotic barbarian from Inner Planets, Marten Kluge. Except for that quirk, however, Circe had regained her abilities, the ones lost from a forced injection of powerful sex-drugs. Her flotilla—three meteor-ships—was the most disciplined in the Jovian System. They contained pure crews, people from Callisto, those who had been taught along philosophic lines.

  “The situation is stark,” Chief Strategist Tan said. “The answer…I don’t have the answer. I admit myself bewildered today concerning the correct course of action.”

  The holoimage showed eight, faint, stellar objects hurtling through the void. Tan had read the reports. They were massive projectiles headed on a collision course for the Jupiter System. Each of the faint objects was five to fifteen kilometers in diameter and bristled with weaponry. Astronomers on Carpo—the outermost prograde moon, seventeen million kilometers from Jupiter—had discovered the objects several hours ago. After learning of them and digesting the reports, Tan had summoned Circe, who had taken a shuttle from her meteor-ship in orbit around Callisto. The Sub-Strategist had docked fifteen minutes ago.

  “Who else knows about this?” Circe asked.

  Tan made a bleak gesture. “It hardly matters now.”

  “I disagree. The information could prove critical. We have planned for this eventuality and have the tools to blunt the enemy’s attack. Panic, however, could hurt our chances of success.”

  “Do you not see?” Tan cried. “Can you not count? Our civilization is doomed.”

  “Not if we stop this attack.”

  “After seeing what the cyborgs send at us, you believe we can stop it?” Tan asked.

  “If we act with speed, resourcefulness and cunning,” Circe said with a nod. “We can possibly keep ourselves alive. At all costs, we must refuse to let ourselves despair. We are the mind and heart of Jovian Civilization. I submit that we must toil to the bitter end.”

  Tan inhaled deeply, struggling to overcome the despair Circe spoke of. She had been right to call the Sub-Strategist. She needed to hear this and needed to draw strength from Circe’s convictions. The sheer destructiveness of the cyborgs, their machine-like ruthlessness—the scope of the attack numbed her mind.

  “Do we know the headings of the various asteroids?” Circe asked.

  “Asteroids?” Tan asked. “The correct name is ‘planet-wreckers’.”

  “If we’re going to use the proper words,” Circe said, “then let us call them ‘moon-wreckers.’ The rocks can do no harm to Jupiter.”

  Tan made another sound of despair, adding, “I see the end of Jovian Civilization.”

  Circe bared her teeth, shaking her head. They were un-philosophic gestures, picked up perhaps during her sojourn among the less educated. Circe pulled out a touch-pad, her small fingers blurring over the screen. Numbers and information began scrolling in the air beside the holoimages. The Sub-Strategist read the information at an incredible rate.

  “According to the astronomers’ findings,” Circe said, “the objects definitely originated from the Uranus System.”

  “This answers our question,” Tan said. “The cyborgs have conquered Uranus’s moons and habitats.”

  Circe nodded as she continued to tap her touch-pad. The faint holoimages of the eight moon-wreckers vanished. In their place appeared the Sun. Circe studied the planets and their relative locations in the Solar System.

  Tan also observed. Neptune, Saturn, Mars, Earth and Mercury were on one side of the Sun. Venus, Jupiter and Uranus were on the other. The attack on Jupiter had originated from Uranus, approximately fourteen AUs away, or fourteen times the distance from the Sun to the Earth. After computing the velocity and trajectory of the eight moon-wreckers, it was obvious they had orbited the blue-green ice giant, building up speed this past year. Several months ago, the cyborgs had launched the eight asteroids, causing them to break out of Uranus’s gravitational pull. It was clear the cyborgs had immediately shut off each wrecker’s massive engines—it would have taken gargantuan engines to propel the asteroids. Ever since then, the eight objects had been gliding through the Great Dark, eating up the distance to Jupiter, ready to bring destruction to the system.

  “Their composition is different from the planet-wreckers launched from Saturn last year,” Circe noted.

  “It is the reason, I’m told, these were so hard to find.”

  Circe read more data as she continued to speak. “Many of the Saturn-launched wreckers were icy asteroids. These are formed of a dark carbon material, with an albedo of five percent.”

  Albedo was a measure of an object’s reflecting power, the ratio of reflected light to incoming light for a solid surface. Complete reflection would be one hundred percent.

  “How did the cyborgs conquer Uranus without our knowledge?” Tan asked. “There should have been radio signals, distress calls.”

  Circe glanced at her. “The answer is obvious. It was a successful stealth campaign.”

  The despair began to well up again in Tan. The scope of such an operation…it was bewildering and showed the breadth of the cyborgs’ power. How could the Jovians hope to defeat such an enemy? It was impossible.

  “Are there more objects incoming?” Circe asked.

  Tan wanted to ask the Sub-Strategist the point of these useless questions, but that would take too great of an act of will. They were doomed. Let Circe play out her life as she chose.

  “We have not spotted more,” Tan said, glancing at her hands. Maybe it would be better to fight than to await certain annihilation. The
attack was so galling, so…unfair. “If the planet-wreckers launched at Earth are any indicator, the cyborgs prefer to make one massive assault instead of sending a continuous stream of asteroids. Logically, we can expect the same pattern here, are seeing it unfold against us.”

  “Hmm,” Circe said. “I notice this is a smaller number of wreckers than launched at Earth. That is in our favor.”

  “I suppose that is true,” Tan said. “But we also have a smaller number of warships to attempt deflection. Given our ship tonnage and capabilities, the ratios are in favor of the cyborgs.”

  While scowling, Circe asked, “What is the estimated time of impact with our system?”

  “Five weeks,” Tan said.

  Circe’s head swayed slightly. She asked in a huskier tone, “What are their targets? Did the astronomers discover that?”

  Tan produced a touch-pad and began to manipulate it. Dotted lines sprouted from each of the faint moon-wreckers. As the lines lengthened, an enlarged Jupiter System appeared. The eight lines spread apart, heading for the Galilean moons, two each at Io, Europa, Ganymede and Callisto.

  “Two wreckers per moon,” Circe said. “That is interesting.”

  “From a theoretical point of view, I suppose that’s true,” Tan said. “It proves the cyborgs are not all-knowing. Apparently, they failed to realize that Io and Callisto are almost devoid of people. They would have been better served aiming those wreckers at the two populated moons.”

  “I don’t necessarily agree,” Circe said. “We have begun re-colonization of Callisto.”

  “On an extremely limited basis only.”

  Circe tapped her pad. It caused the holoimage to show the massive gas giant of Jupiter. Circling it were two new asteroids, one of four kilometers diameter and the other of six. A close-up appeared on one, showing massive ports for huge engines within the projectile.

  “We have two wreckers of our own and they are already moving at a great speed,” Circe said.

  Tan made a listless gesture. “Meaning we can possibly deflect two of the enemy’s projectiles.”

  Circe studied the holoimages with care before turning to Tan. “Which two do we attempt to deflect?”

  “Precisely,” Tan said as the hopelessness welled from her chest, radiating throughout her body. “Do you have any preferences?”

  Circe blinked at the holoimages. “We must assume that each of the Uranus wreckers contain laser turrets and missile launch-sites.”

  “No assumptions are needed. The astronomers have already spotted structures on the surface that match those of the Saturn-launched wreckers.”

  “Cyborg warships might conceivably be behind the eight wreckers,” Circe said.

  “We must give that a high probability,” Tan agreed.

  “The Guardian Fleet is woefully under-strength for this mission.”

  Tan made a bleak sound. “One dreadnaught and seven meteor-ships—I am well aware of our deficiencies.”

  “Suppose we decided to deflect the two wreckers headed for Ganymede,” Circe said. “How would the industrialists of Europa respond to the news?”

  “With deadly vigor,” Tan said.

  “And if we attempt to save Europa?”

  “Most of the space marines aboard the various warships are from Ganymede,” Tan said, “along with two meteor-ship crews. Once they learned we would make no attempt to defend their moon, they might object in a forceful manner.”

  Circe became thoughtful. “Those of Europa primarily crew the civilian liners and the majority of the helium-3 tankers.”

  “You are beginning to understand the quandary,” Tan said. “Europa also contains more heavy industry.”

  “That should make it an easy decision then,” Circe said, “easy in a philosophic sense.” She grimaced. “I must admit to finding myself feeling emotional about the topic, which is distracting me from purified reasoning.”

  Once more, Tan attempted to concentrate her thoughts. She would follow the Sub-Strategist’s example, using a philosophic approach to this, employing her lifelong training and submerging her ‘emotional response.’

  “These emotions,” Tan said. “I suspect you are still tainted from your episode aboard Force-Leader’s Kluge’s vessel.”

  “No doubt you are correct,” Circe said, as her features took on a pinched look.

  “Let me add a third possibility—third in terms of which moon we should save,” Tan said. “Callisto is the heart of our superior civilization. As you pointed out, we have already begun to rebuild on the moon. This may be the answer to our dilemma: that of how to revive the most humanizing civilization ever seen during man’s long history of brutality and unexamined actions. If Ganymede and Europa perish, Callisto will become the premier Jovian moon. Although the Jovian System will lack numbers after the strike, the survivors will be pure and we can begin anew with untainted citizens.”

  “There is much elegance in what you say,” Circe agreed. “The trouble is the nature of the war. The cyborgs will continue to attack until the Alliance sends fleets to the enemy systems. Therefore, it seems probable that the Jupiter System will have to absorb more attacks. Therefore, we need numbers. And there is one other thing that troubles me.”

  “Yes?”

  “Our system contains more than the four major moons. The cyborgs must realize this and have plans to target the smaller moons and various habitats.”

  “You feel this proves there are enemy warships behind the eight wreckers?”

  Circe nodded.

  “Given these parameters,” Tan said, “what is your recommendation?”

  Circe rubbed the skin around the stone in her forehead. “We lack the warships and firepower to deflect all eight projectiles. Rationally, we should let the four wreckers hit Io and Callisto and concentrate on the other four. I would hate, however, to attempt to defend Europa and Ganymede and lose both. It would be far better to defend and save one of the moons.”

  “Which one?” Tan asked, feeling detached and increasingly numb. The entire conversation was surreal. She noticed that Circe had become pale and stared fixedly at the holoimages. Clearly, the topic strained the Sub-Strategist, too.

  “We must come to a rational decision and thereby prove the superiority of our civilization,” Circe said.

  Tan bowed her head and closed her eyes. The strain of this—the responsibility of making the decision was too much, too heavy even for a first rank philosopher. They attempted to use reason alone, to keep their emotions in check, but it was hard. This concerned millions of Jovians, millions of men, women and children. She didn’t want to choose who lived and who died. It had been difficult enough defeating the first Cyborg Assault. Endless months of grueling decisions and careful maneuvers…fifteen months of it had eaten at her resolve. Now to decide which Jovian moon should die…

  “I feel old,” Tan said.

  “There is another possibility,” Circe said.

  “Tell me.”

  “We have five weeks before the wreckers strike. We could load every liner and tanker with Jovians and journey to Mars or Earth.”

  “Evacuate the Jupiter System?” whispered Tan.

  “For now,” Circe said. “The idea would be to save as many people and ships as possible. It would have the added benefit of uniting the Guardian Fleet with the others of the Alliance.”

  Tan studied the Sub-Strategist. “Do you suggest this because it is the best idea, or do you wish to reunite with Marten Kluge in the Earth System?”

  Circe shook her head. “I do not know. Whenever I think about Marten Kluge, all else fades from my thoughts. I desire his arms around me, that he peel off my clothes and—” Circe looked stricken. “Excuse me, Chief Strategist. I—”

  “No excuses, Circe. I sent you against Kluge as a weapon. I should have known better. The man is a killer and amazingly resilient against any who wish him harm. You suffered because I hated the idea of his…well, it doesn’t matter now. That was then and now we have to face these eight pr
ojectiles. I do not like the idea of fleeing our ancestral home. We must stand our ground.”

  Circe looked away.

  “I have grown weary of the Advisor of Europa,” Tan said, with her eyes half-lidded. It was so hard to think, but she recalled that the man had been a constant irritant. The idea that he should survive while those of Ganymede perished—no! He was an insufferable toad. “Europa’s domes and cities lie deep under the ice. Perhaps they can survive the wreckers.”

  “That is extremely unlikely,” Circe said.

  “You speak the truth. They will die, but some of the industries might survive.” Tan shrugged listlessly.

  For a time, the two women stared at the eight projectiles.

  “With the choice of which moon to defend decided,” Circe finally said, “there is a more delicate question.”

  “You agree with me then that we should save Ganymede?”

  “Force-Leader Yakov was from Ganymede,” Circe said.

  “Why is that important?”

  Circe blushed. “It isn’t.”

  “Ah,” said Tan. “Yakov was Marten Kluge’s friend.”

  “Marten thought very highly of Yakov,” Circe said.

  “We all did,” Tan said. “And that is as good a reason as any to save Ganymede. Force-Leader Yakov gave his life to save our civilization. We will now choose to save the moon that gave us such a selfless guardian. I approve of your reasoning.”

  Circe gave Tan a sidelong glance. “I spoke of a delicate issue a moment ago. We still have not broached it. The Advisor of Europa is forceful and given to threats. He might do more than protest your decision.”

  Tan nodded. She realized that. She should have been the one to bring it up, but she couldn’t do it.

  “Given his emotional make-up,” Circe said. “I suggest we take away the Advisor’s ability to affect our decision.”

  Tan’s mouth was dry. Once she spoke these words, she would begin a terrible sequence of events. With her tongue, she moistened the inside of her mouth. “What do you suggest?”

  “We must neutralize his ability to harm the Guardian Fleet,” Circe said. “To speak plainly, we must ensure that he never uses the defensive satellites orbiting Europa to launch missiles at our ships.”