Conquest of Earth (Stellar Conquest Series) (18 page)

“How many do we have?” Spectre had asked Ezekiel to take him on an inspection tour of the Line.

“Over a thousand now, with a couple of dozen added every day. Our captive Blends slap cloned fusion engines on them to rocket them onto the right orbit. On the way, grabships drop off PVN-made self-installing automated laser turrets, turning them into cheap pillboxes. When the Scourges show up, they’ll start shooting, taking as many out as possible and hopefully slowing them down by attracting their attention. Also, each has a supersized fusion bomb that will blow either when all its weapons are down, or when we send a signal.”

“But space is big,” Spectre observed.

“Really big. If they were stationary, the odds of even being within range of an incursion would be slim. But since they’ll be in orbit, the math says that at least ten percent of them will move into range as they travel. If the Scourges are actually attracted to them instead of ignoring them, each will sucker the enemy into the firing arc of the next.”

“Bug zappers.”

“Yes.”

“But that’s not all Absen has.”

“No.” Ezekiel manipulated controls and
Roger
turned to zoom toward a swarm of living missiles. Manipulating the time senses of the two men allowed them to feel as if they moved far faster than they really did. “These are Meme hypers, parked in orbit. The Destroyers are pumping out tens of thousands of them every day. When the time comes, they will seek and attack anything not friendly.”

“Excellent. And those?” Spectre pointed toward a cluster of icons.

“These are stealthed smart mines. We can see them because we have the exact specs on them, but we hope the Scourges won’t. We inherited millions of these things from the Meme – some in storage on Luna, some deployed around Earth after
Conquest
’s first attack.”

Spectre grunted. “Lucky they didn’t have time to deploy that many near Jupiter.”

“They didn’t trust their underlings, so they were slow to authorize. These are also part of the Line, deactivated of course. Once turned on, they will home in on anything without an EarthFleet or Meme IFF and detonate.”

“Why don’t we attach them to hypers and make ourselves some cheap nuclear missiles?”

Ezekiel smiled. “I asked the same question. The mines couldn’t survive the hypers’ acceleration. Seems hypers have one speed only: flat-out, balls-up screaming. Redesigning the hypers and making them smart enough to handle variable acceleration would mean producing only a tenth as many. The mines have cold thrusters and simple seeker programs. It will have to do.”

Nodding, Spectre said, “What else do we have out here on the Line. No manned systems?”

Ezekiel shook his head. “Would
you
want to crew a fortress out here? Suicide. No, all the manned systems are reserved for Earth’s defense. If the Scourges go for the richest, closest source of biomatter, they’ll head straight there.”

“Too bad we can’t make decoys, things that falsely scream
LIFE! LIFE!
to split up their rush.”

Ezekiel’s eyes widened. “That’s a damn fine idea, Spooky.”

“
Spectre
, please, and I know…I sent a memo to Absen, but it doesn’t appear to be practical.”

“Maybe you sent your memo to the wrong place.”

It was Spectre’s turn to look surprised. “Where else?”

“To the Meme, through Mom. Living ships, remember? If anyone can decoy them with life signs, it’s eight five-billion-ton living Destroyers.”

On the other hand, the Meme tended to take the long view, and their very lack of strong emotion meant they would gladly agree to anything that seemed logical without the endless recriminations and finger-pointing of humans. She mused on how many seemingly intractable historical conflicts – Arab-Israeli, the two Irelands, India and Pakistan – could have been solved if hurt and anger could have been stripped out.

Once she decided to meet the Meme on their psychological terms, she found them ridiculously easy to manipulate. Without a tradition of sophisticated diplomacy and apparently lacking the ability to perceive when Rae was shading the truth, SystemLord allowed his forces to be moved around like chess pieces. On the occasions he refused, he did so immediately and with a purely logical reason.

It simplified her life a lot. She only hoped that if and when the Scourge threat abated, SystemLord would not find it logical and reasonable to stab humanity in the back.

“My first request comes from my SystemLord and his trium,” Rae opened with. She’d found putting things in Meme terms smoothed her negotiations. “He believes your eight Destroyers will be best deployed by remaining well away from our defense of Earth. This will provide both sides with independence of action, simplify coordination, and, if we are fortunate, will draw off a significant portion of the enemy, who will regard your ships as prize biomass. Also, it will allow you the freedom to flee if the worst happens. We consider it vital that the Empire know of the alliance you have made here.”

I agree. My Command tria find it difficult not to still regard you as enemies. It is better to remain out of range. Also, I have already dispatched message drones to the nearest Empire systems, informing them of our arrangement.

This admission surprised Rae, but she strove not to show it. It was amazing what this being gave away in bargaining chips.
“Our dreadnought will be on station near this system’s star within seven days. We request you take your position by then.”

Agreed
.

“Also, while he in no way seeks to dictate your tactics, my SystemLord will consider any request for special materials or weapons that you might find useful.” Rae really hated to make that offer, but Absen had insisted.

Unfortunately, the answer she dreaded was not long in coming.

We request antimatter for weapons such as have been used against us.

“I am sorry, but my SystemLord has specifically exempted that material from dissemination. You are, of course, free to gather it for yourselves.”

That is unreasonable. As allies, strengthening one strengthens all.

“True, but we do not have sufficient antimatter for our own use, and since we are defending our own planet directly, and you are performing the function of a diversion, we must reserve these weapons for that role. We consider that reasonable.”

I do not agree, but I understand your cultural fears and limitations, and accept them.

Rae barely noticed the Meme’s insulting blind hubris anymore. “Here is a memory-packet with further details of my SystemLord’s suggestions for our battle plan coordination.” Rae placed a hard sphere of biomass on the floor next to the pool, within the Meme’s easy reach. “Now, I have several other issues to discuss.”

But Yort dreamed anyway, for what else was there to do during the weeks of dull nothingness? His mothership’s sensors saw nothing, detected nothing except the approaching gravity well of the exit star. Until they arrived, he clung to the machine-induced somnolent state as his only reality.

And he was thankful for it. Outside of the dream-maker, null space made larva uncontrollable, adolescents destructive, and adults mad. Archons, with their exalted intellect, might have visions and insights, but removing the dream-maker risked a catatonic inward turning. Some Archons awoke from catatonia to find themselves abandoned, their underlings stolen by another Archon. Some simply never wakened, left ensconced in deep caves and fed through tubes, for no Archon ever killed another.

This was one of the Race’s few laws. An Archon’s person was sacred, no matter the vicious competition to acquire, hold and develop swarms of underlings or productive nests. If one lost everything, he could always seek a position serving a higher-ranking Archon.

This too, was Law.

All serve the Law, as Law serves the Father-Mother, and the Father-Mother serves the All
, the sacred and circular saying reminded him.

Yort’s mind drifted back to the glory of acquisition, the taking and ruling of underlings and the territory to support them. More land meant more of everything, though it was not in his nature to wonder why
more
was necessarily superior to
not-more
. The adaptive pressures that drove survival of the fittest had long since done away with such musings, except, perhaps, within the catatonic.

But Yort was far from bored with his life, nor had he despaired after too many failures. Not for him to reach up and remove the dream-maker from his cortical receptors and open himself to the visions of unfiltered null space. Not yet. Perhaps that way gifted a shortcut to the Father-Mother of All, like null space itself provided a shortcut between the stars, but Yort was young, and saw glory in his future.

The target system contained teeming biologicals ranging from single cells to tool-using sentients. The lower animals and plants were sufficient to feed larvae, but he hungered to consume the higher orders. Nothing less would do for an Archon, which made the solar system of their goal all the sweeter, for it was one of those recently discovered occupied by at least
two
sentient species. Even better, one of the races were Jellies.

Ah, the subtle complexity of a Jelly and its ancient, well-developed biochemistry. Such rich memory molecules would induce dreams of extraordinary texture in any Archon. With enough Jellies to breed and harvest, he would never have to worry about boredom.

As for the bipeds with their bones on the inside, he expected they would make for interesting eating as well.

Absen kept the surprise from his face as he saw an ancient Ryss male, stooped and white with age. The Ryss made as if to rise from his seat, but the admiral quickly waved him down. “Honored to meet you,” the human said in passable Ryss, the language chip in his head feeding him the words. “I didn’t know we had a Ryss scientist aboard.” He remembered he’d left the makeup of the contingent up to Trissk, not paying much attention.

“I am an anomaly to my race, Admiral,” Plessk said in his own language. “A male that did not want to be a warrior. Unlike in the old days, in current Ryss society that desire is viewed almost as a perversion. If I wish to spend my few remaining years doing the work I love, I have to do it among Humans or Sekoi. So, here I am.”

“Here you are indeed. What can you tell me about the FTL drive?”

“Very little, Admiral,” the Ryss said. “But perhaps, just enough.” Plessk raised a shaky paw to signal Doctor Egolu, who turned on a holoprojector showing a cutaway diagram of the Sun. “The Meme intelligence says that they detected gravitic anomalies in the star where the Scourge attacked, approximately sixteen minutes before they appeared. This tells us the FTL drive is gravitic in nature. Some among us think they use gravity to generate power. Some believe they use solar power to lens gravity into a singularity, which in turn can create a wormhole. Some –”

“Doctor, I’m not a scientist, I’m just a simple old warrior. Please proceed to the conclusion.”

“Yes, well…” This seemed to throw Plessk off for a moment, but then he recovered, blinking watery eyes. “I believe we can give you at least sixteen minutes’ warning of The Scourge’s appearance.”

“Outstanding.” Absen said. “Doctor, if you can do that, you will have given us a key to defeating this threat, and I thank you.” Bending over, he made another attempt, as he always did, to avoid an enormous waste. Whispering in the old cat’s ear, he said, “Doctor, you don’t have to endure this degeneration from old age. The Sekoi have a virus available that will return you to health and extend your life, perhaps indefinitely.”

Plessk patted the admiral absently with a soft paw. “Thank you, Eldest War Leader, but even I am not such a pervert as all that. I will go to my ancestors when they call me home, and gladly.”

Hissing with frustration, Absen straightened and composed himself. “I understand. I will make sure your people know of your accomplishments. Perhaps in time even Ryss will accept that scientific discovery is just as honorable as victory in battle.”

“Now that I would like to see.” The ancient cat’s eyes sparkled.

Scoggins was new to the flag captain role, but she was a veteran on this bridge, and seemed to have settled in without a hitch. She’d immediately moved Fletcher to Sensors, and everyone else stayed where they were.

“Aye aye, sir,” she said, standing and picking up a holographic cursor and gesturing to the holotank. “Since three hours ago, we are on station twenty million kilometers, or sixty-six light-seconds, above Sol’s north pole. This is as close as we can get and still handle the solar radiation.”