Doom Star: Book 06 - Star Fortress (35 page)

“If we’re right,” Blackstone said, “the cyborgs have a surprise for us behind Nereid.”

They had been studying the system for weeks, picking up minute pieces of data a particle at a time. Slowly, they built a Neptunian map. All the while, each passive and active system had relentlessly scanned the void, seeking cyborg stealth-ships.

“There!” cried Kursk. “Laser-turrets are rising from Nereid’s surface. They’re firing.”

Hawthorne’s fingers tapped across the pressure-pads. The image changed on the monitor. Polygonal-shaped Nereid appeared. Then a close-up zoomed into focus. The moon was mainly water ice and rock. Towers stood on formerly empty ground. Laser beams burned from each of the focusing mirrors.

“They hit a probe,” Kursk said. “Make that two probes. That’s it,” she said a moment later. “They got all three.”

“How long until Nereid is in ultra-laser range?” Hawthorne asked.

“Three hours and sixteen minutes,” Kursk said.

Hawthorne wanted to hit Nereid now, but not as Sulla planned. The idea was right, the method too risky. An SU fleet would have decelerated long ago and built up a prismatic crystal cloud before it. The SU fleet would have sent heavy reflectors to the cloud’s sides, bouncing the beams from them in relative safety.

In Hawthorne’s opinion, the Highborn trusted their heavy lasers and collapsium shielding too much.

“I don’t understand this,” Blackstone said.

“What’s wrong?” Hawthorne asked the Commodore.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Blackstone said. “Will the cyborgs just let us sweep the moon with lasers?”

“I doubt it,” Hawthorne said.

“Then why haven’t they defended Nereid with P-Clouds?”

“The obvious answer is so they can fire at us,” Hawthorne said. “A P-Cloud defends, but it also halts an attack. They could use mirrors, but mirrors make precision targeting more difficult.”

“Permission to speak,” Kursk said.

“Granted,” said Hawthorne.

“We should have launched a swarm of missiles at them,” Kursk said.

Hawthorne remained silent. He hadn’t agreed to that before and he still didn’t. Maybe if he could have resupplied the missile racks in several weeks, he would have agreed. They had come a long way, however, and had a limited number of missiles. Each one had to count. The inability to re-supply quickly was a critical weakness of taskforces that traveled so far from home.

Hawthorne shivered on the couch as a chill worked up his back. The cyborgs were waiting for something. Did they have a longer-ranged beam than the Ultra-lasers? Why did they leave Nereid open like this? Were they daring the Highborn to strike, and if so, why?

“Where is their fleet?” Blackstone said. “We should have spotted something by now.”

“They don’t think like us,” Hawthorne said. He kept reminding himself of that.

“They’re aliens,” Blackstone said, with a quaver in his voice.

Hawthorne lifted his head to glance at the Commodore.

Blackstone had a far-off stare. He must have noticed Hawthorne gaze. With a guilty start, the Commodore gave a sheepish grin and said, “I was remembering the first time I saw them.” He shuddered. “They were horrifying. Why would scientists make something like that?”

Hawthorne let his head drop against the couch. He was staring at the monitor again, trying to wrest secrets from it. They had come an immense distance to fight the enemy. What horrible surprise did the Prime Web-Mind have in store for them? This not knowing—the waiting—it was the worst part of battle. Hawthorne hated it, hated the suspense.

The hours passed with agonizing slowness as the Alliance Fleet bored in. With majestic grace, the Doom Stars slid into position. The SU ships were several hundred thousand kilometers behind them and moving to flank Nereid. The Doom Stars would also flank the moon, passing at eight hundred thousand kilometers, well within range of the heavy beams and hopefully beyond anything the cyborgs possessed.

Finally, aboard the
Vladimir Lenin
, the heavy deceleration eased. The engines still burned, now slowing them at one G of thrust instead of many. Couches whined as they lifted their occupants to a sitting position and the bridge crew took up their normal stations.

Blackstone and Kursk climbed out of their couches, standing around the command module.

Thirty-four minutes later, Kursk said, “There’s an incoming call for you, Supreme Commander.”

“Thank you,” Hawthorne said, as he straightened his cap. A moment later, Admiral Scipio appeared on the screen.

“Have you detected anything unusual?” Scipio asked.

“Just the laser-turrets on Nereid,” Hawthorne said. “Believe me, Admiral, we’ll alert you the instant we spot anything important.”

“In seven minutes, we shall begin the attack,” Scipio said. “The cyborgs must surely know the range of our heavy beams. What do you think they’re doing?”

“Saving their fleet for later, would be my guess,” Hawthorne said.

“Or readying themselves for a relentless assault,” the Highborn said.

“From behind Nereid or from behind Neptune?” Hawthorne asked.

“If they’re accelerating from behind Nereid,” Scipio said, “they would begin with a low velocity.”

“You expect a surprise assault from behind Neptune?”

“It is the likeliest possibility.”

Hawthorne nodded in agreement. “There is another possibility.”

“There are many, in fact,” the Highborn said dryly.

“The cyborgs might have hollowed out Nereid, using it as a missile base. They will wait until we’re past and then launch as we near Neptune.”

“Clearly, they will attempt something, using the various moons as bases. For now, since they are luring us, we shall destroy as much of Nereid’s outer platforms as we can.”

“Good luck,” Hawthorne said.

Scipio studied him, and finally nodded. “Admiral Scipio out.”

The attack began shortly after that.

“The energy readings are building,” Kursk said.

She meant the Doom Stars. The huge fusion engines inside the massive vessels began to churn power. The engines are what made the Doom Stars so dangerous.

“Why aren’t the cyborgs building a prismatic cloud?” Blackstone asked.

“They’re firing now,” Kursk said.

Hawthorne examined the power wattage. The
Julius Caesar
, the
Genghis Khan
and the
Napoleon Bonaparte
—it was amazing! Three heavy lasers stabbed through the void. They traveled the eight hundred thousand kilometers at the speed of light, hitting and burning the first laser-turrets on Nereid.

Finally, the cyborgs began pumping prismatic crystals. Why wait until attacked? It simply made no sense.

“This is incredible,” Blackstone said. He looked up with a grin. “We’re annihilating their offensive capabilities.”

“Keep scanning at three hundred and sixty degrees,” Hawthorne said. “I can’t believe the cyborgs will just let this pass without hitting back.”

“There’s nothing near us,” Kursk said.

“Have they developed an invisible drive?” Hawthorne asked.

“That would be impossible,” Blackstone said.

Time passed as the heavy lasers methodically burned through the thin P-Clouds and obliterated the laser-turrets.

This must have been how it felt in the Colonial Wars
, Hawthorne thought to himself. In the days of European Supremacy, English and French ships sailed the Earth’s oceans. In North America, in Africa and India particularly small bands of technologically-advanced soldiers had annihilated hordes of spear, sword and bow-armed natives. Cortez in Aztec Mexico used cannons and matchlocks to blow down rows of feather-clad warriors swinging obsidian-chip clubs. The British at Rouke’s Drift slaughtered attacking Zulus, using the long-ranged Henry rifle.

This is more like the Maxim machine gun
. Superior battle-tech gave devastating advantages.

“Is this all we had to do all along?” Blackstone asked. “Have the cyborgs been playing a fantastic bluff?”

“One battle doesn’t settle a war,” Hawthorne said.

“The Highborn are launching a trio of missiles,” Kursk said.

“What type?” Hawthorne asked.

“Phobos’ killers,” Kursk said.

She referred to the missiles that had splintered and destroyed the Martian moon Phobos.

Hawthorne watched as the three missiles accelerated toward the distant moon. The missiles were big, with massive nuclear warheads. It would take time for them to reach Nereid.

During that time, the heavy lasers destroyed cyborg turrets. Then the
Julius Caesar’s
Ultra-laser went offline.

“Have they burned out critical components?” Blackstone asked.

“I’d ask,” Hawthorne said. “But I’m sure the Highborn would take delight in ignoring me.”

Nine and quarter minutes later, the laser came back online. Soon, however, the
Genghis Khan
stopped firing.

“Maybe the cyborgs are testing the limit of a Doom Star’s firing capacity,” Blackstone said.

Hawthorne had been thinking the same thing. Would that be worth the loss of Nereid? Hawthorne answered his own question by telling himself:
If it gives them the victory, it does
.

Soon, the Highborn only fired with two heavy lasers at a time. Then it became only one laser at a time. The moon-killers bored in as laser turrets melted under the fierce assault.

“The missiles are one hundred thousand kilometers from Nereid,” Kursk said some time later.

“This is the test,” Blackstone said.

Hawthorne had been stretching. He rubbed his eyes now and focused on the screen.

The minutes passed. Time stretched and soon it was a half hour later.

“Lasers!” Kursk cried. “The cyborgs are firing lasers.”

All three Highborn lasers opened up again, lashing across eight hundred thousand kilometers. It took almost three full seconds for them to travel to the target. That made little difference when firing at something “stationary” like turrets on the moon. In this case, the enemy couldn’t jink to escape.

During that time, cyborg lasers targeted and hit the moon-killers. Those were armored missiles, however, able to absorb punishing damage.

The seconds ticked away. Then heavy beams melted the newest cyborg turrets to pop up on the surface.

A bloom of light on Hawthorne’s screen showed that one moon-killer ceased to exist.

“How much time until impact?” Hawthorne asked.

Another bloom appeared. The Supreme Commander grimaced.

Before Kursk could answer him, a third bloom appeared on the screen. The cyborgs had annihilated the three missiles.

“It appears the cyborgs desire to keep Nereid intact,” Blackstone said.

“They’re testing us,” Hawthorne said.

“By letting us destroy their defenses?” Blackstone asked.

“I’m not sure,” Hawthorne said, wishing he’d kept the thought to himself. How subtle was the Prime Web-Mind? They knew so little about the enemy. They didn’t know how he or it thought.

That had been one of his secrets against the Highborn. He’d known how the super-soldiers thought and how to predict their actions. The cyborgs were aliens, with strange ways and thought patterns.

“What else can we do other than what we’re doing?” Hawthorne whispered to himself.

“Maybe they want us to head for Nereid,” Blackstone said.

Hawthorne didn’t believe that. The main enemy fleet must be hiding behind Neptune.

“Nereid will be out of Doom Star range in another seventeen minutes,” Kursk said.

Hawthorne found it hard to swallow as his throat turned dry. That sounded ominous. They were plunging into the Neptune System, with a damaged but still intact moon behind them. The trick, it seemed, was to make sure they kept at least eight hundred thousand kilometers between them and any potential weapons platform. Yet it also appeared that to destroy a moon or base, they would have to go in close enough to land their missiles.

“It’s time to launch probes,” Hawthorne said. “I want to know what’s behind Neptune.”

“A set of probes, sir?” Blackstone asked.

“No. Make it nine probes,” Hawthorne said. “It’s time to figure out the cyborgs’ war plan.”

As the Alliance Fleet crawled past Nereid and headed closer toward the ice giant, the
William Tell
accelerated for the projected location of the cyborg Lurker.

Everyone wore combat-armor. Marten sat before the com-equipment as Osadar piloted the boat.

Marten charted the parameters on the screen. Venus was in direct line-of-sight, although it was well behind them and to the boat’s objective right as the planet orbited away. Mercury would appear around the Sun’s horizon in another thirty-seven days. Long before that, they would pass Mercury’s orbital path as they headed closer to the nuclear fireball. Nearly invisible to their sensors was the vast, Highborn interferometer. Somewhere behind it was the Sun Station, while farther behind it were the huge mirrors.