Doom Star: Book 06 - Star Fortress (13 page)

“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 projectiles. 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.”

“That would be an irrational act on his part,” Tan said.

“I have studied his psychological profile. The man is irrational and unstable.”

“I have also found him irritating,” Tan admitted.

“There are two meteor-ships in orbit around Europa,” Circe said. “I suggest you launch an immediate space marine assault against the defensive satellites or use bombs to incapacitate them.”

“If we did that it would destroy their ability to deflect the wreckers.”

“Europa has insufficient military hardware to deflect them,” Circe said. “Their only possibility of affecting the outcome of the situation is vengeance against us.”

Tan recoiled at the idea of leaving Europa defenseless against the enemy. It was monstrous and she would have no part in it. The horror of the suggestion revived her spirits and cut through the despair.

She turned to Circe. “What if Europa used all their liners and tankers, building up velocity and crashing them against the moon-wreckers? Before impact, they would have to launch weapons to disable each wrecker’s engine ports so the asteroids could not make any course corrections.”

On her pad, Circe began to compute the odds. After a time, she looked up. “They would need to send the ships now. The farther away from Jupiter they nudge the asteroids—provided they can knock out the engine ports—the less mass is needed for success.”

“The problem is that cyborg lasers would likely destroy such space-liners and tankers,” Tan said. “And who would crew the suicide vessels?”

“It wouldn’t necessarily have to be suicide. Skeleton crews could guide the ships, leaving at the last moment by a shuttle and escaping the impact.”

“And falling victim to cyborg lasers,” Tan said.

“The Guardian Fleet would need to join in the assault,” Circe said, “engaging the moon-wreckers in battle. We would attempt to mimic the Highborn and Earthlings as they attacked the Saturn-launched wreckers.”

Tan bit her lip, worried again about the leader of Europa. “If only the Advisor were a rational man.”

“The answer is obvious. You must assassinate him.”

“Who will take his place?” Tan asked.

“Hopefully someone more malleable,” Circe said.

“And if he or she does not view the matter as we do?”

“There are many imponderables,” Circe said, “too many to calculate. We must fight. We must give our system the likeliest chance for survival. Our two asteroids will target the Ganymede wreckers, shepherded to the point of contact by the Guardian Fleet. The people of Europa can do as they wish with their space-liners, tankers and defensive satellites—provided they don’t attack us. Perhaps we can convince them to transfer to Ganymede.”

“There are not enough spaceships to complete a transfer in time.”

“It would save many more lives, however.”

Tan stared at the holoimages, at the faint stellar objects. She was the Chief Strategist. She should devise a strategy for the greatest number of survivors. This certainty of the Advisor’s emotionalism—

“No,” Tan whispered.

“Chief Strategist?” Circe asked.

“I cannot order the Advisor’s assassination,” Tan said. “Neither can I use space marines or myrmidons to denude Europa of a fighting chance. I will have to take a leap of faith on the Advisor’s humanity.”

“He has not shown good faith in the past,” Circe said.

“He has not faced extinction before.” Tan leaned forward, letting her forehead sink against her hands. “I don’t know what to do. The decisions…they are too heavy for me. We are facing the end of our hard-built civilization.”

“Then let us show the Solar System our superiority by facing doom like the philosophers we are,” Circe said. “We lived with equanimity and we shall die the same way.”

Tan looked up. “That isn’t how Marten Kluge faced the cyborgs.”

Circe’s serenity faded as her features twisted. She stood abruptly, strode toward the holoimages and then turned around. “Here is my advice. Call the Advisor. Tell him our decision. Let us see how he acts. If he is a Jovian, he will act with calm and we may yet defeat the moon-wreckers. If he panics…” Circe shrugged.

“Is this a reasoned decision you suggest?” Tan asked.

“…no,” Circe said. “The emotions in me are too strong to control. Nevertheless, this is my suggestion. First, order the two meteor-ships out of Europa’s orbit. We will need every vessel if we are to deflect the two wreckers headed for Ganymede. Then, board every liner and tanker you can with space marines or myrmidons. Take away the Advisor’s options so when he threatens, you can bargain with him, offering him the return of his vessels if he agrees to reason.”

Tan stared up at the lidless eye in the pyramid. “In a week—”

“No,” Circe said. “You have two days to act, no more. Stall while you can and move shuttles and warships into position. Then—”

Tan held up her hand as she dug out a com-unit. She clicked it on and began to give rapid-fire orders. Circe was right. She had to act fast and decisively. These moon-wreckers…the scope of the attack had paralyzed her. But she was the Chief Strategist, a philosopher of Callisto. She would show the Solar System how one with an examined life responded to an extinction-level attack. She would show them because otherwise she would begin to weep for the loss of such a metaphysically beautiful system.

As signals began to flash between the meteor-ships of the Guardian Fleet, on Earth, Marten Kluge felt nauseous. He tried to walk across a heaving deck, with angry waves tossing whitecaps around their automated cargo vessel. Everywhere he looked the sea churned. His guts churned as well, with seasickness. Cold wind whipped against his face, pelting it with salty spray. Storm clouds raced across the sky so everything was moving, making him dizzy.

He still thought hijacking this automated ship had been a bad idea. No one rode on ships anymore unless they wanted to go on a pleasure cruise. A plane would have been better, but very difficult to access now. Using a train would have been faster than the ship. The trouble was that Social Unity was unraveling as the directors and others jockeyed for position. Already there had been riots, armed police uprisings, incidents of military defense-forces shooting down planes and PHC terrorists blowing up trains.

The greatest blow to Marten was that Turkey Sector had declared for Director Backus, joining Italia Sector and others. They demanded that Backus rule Social Unity, cleansing the Party so it would return to its socialist purity. The problem was that Marten needed to get to Greece Sector, to Athens in particular. Two weeks ago, his Jovian space marines had insisted on finally visiting the ancient Athenian ruins. He’d let them go, never suspecting everything was going to unravel into chaos.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the Director of Greece Sector had “detained” his marines, a little less than one hundred fighting Jovians. In Osadar’s option, Director Delos was trying to keep Greece Sector neutral by holding both Backus and Cone at arm’s length. Delos had quarantined the Jovians, but she hadn’t shot them as Backus wished.

Marten wiped spray from his cheeks. He spied the jagged hills of Crete on the horizon. The hills looked decidedly uninviting. The way the white-capped waves slammed against the automated vessel…

They had slipped away from the train wreck in Lebanon Sector and headed for the nearby coast. With Turkey declaring for Backus, they needed another path to Athens.

“I’m afraid the authorities will arrest us if we enter Turkey Sector,” Osadar had said.

After the PHC attack, Nadia hadn’t wanted to go into any city to try to buy a plane ticket. That meant they could travel across North Africa to get to Spain Sector, and then to Athens, but that would mean traveling through Egyptian Sector. It had strongly declared for Director Backus. The quickest route then—since they couldn’t use the air—was by sea.

With her superior sight, Osadar had pointed out the automated vessels. Most bulk shipments were transported by sea. They found a rowboat, and with her cyborg strength, Osadar rowed them out to the ship. She leapt aboard the present vessel, found rope and hauled them up. For several days, they had endured the ship’s programed route. During that time, Osadar, being part machine, had talked to the vessel’s computer. She’d finally cracked its defenses and was now in control, piloting the ship to Athens.

Osadar still spent most of her time on the computer, monitoring the news-sites. She discovered all sorts of useful, if sometimes daunting, information. The most pertinent was that open fighting had broken out. Cone’s soldiers won most of the engagements, but Backus eroded Cone’s political power with an idea. As Osadar put it, “The idea is like a spark landing on oil-soaked rags.” The oil was the planet-wrecker strike a year ago. According to what she’d found in Hawthorne’s quarters—real opinion polls, for instance—many people believed the cyborgs would conquer Earth. Despair was rampant, and Backus used that. Osadar had read Marten several of the director’s newest slogans:
Free Earth of
all
foreign germs.
There was another:
Cleanse our planet of its infestation. Then we will grow strong again in purity and defeat our enemies
.

The Jovian space marines made excellent symbols. Osadar had predicted a show trial, where Backus’s people stirred up mass hysteria against non-Earthers to a fever pitch.