by Allan, Jay
“The object contains not just antimatter, but some previously unknown manifestation of highly concentrated antimatter.” Hofstader couldn’t hide the amazement in his voice. What he was describing was as far ahead of Earth science as a spaceship was over a canoe. “I have run several estimates, utilizing the data from our scans. The density of that material is approximately equal to that of Uranium 235. I cannot, as of now, even guess if we are dealing with actual anti-uranium or if it is some other form of antimatter entirely unknown to us.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “It is theoretically possible, of course, to form any element on the periodic table from antimatter, however we have only been able to produce five of the smallest…and those only in trace quantities. The processes and energies required to produce large quantities of anti-elements with high atomic numbers are simply incalculable to us.”
Hofstader was standing to the side of the table, his eyes moving from one occupant to the next. The sizable room was mostly empty, just a small cluster of occupied chairs at one end of the table. The gathering was small, but the subject matter was extremely important. They were discussing the most amazing artifact ever discovered by man…and trying to figure if there was a way to use it to defeat the enemy. Hofstader was nervous, and he didn’t like trying to explain something so complex on so little research. He wished he had a year to study the alien device. Ten years.
General Holm was watching silently. He hadn’t offered any comments or asked any questions. Holm was usually silent when the topic became highly technical. His leadership skills were beyond question, but Elias Holm had never been strong in the sciences, and he followed the discussion only with great difficulty. Though he’d never admitted it, he tended to be embarrassed by his lack of knowledge on the subject, which was one reason he kept his mouth shut.
Erik Cain was watching too. He had remained quiet as well, though his reasons were different from Holm’s. Cain was able to follow Hofstader quite well. He’d enjoyed the sciences in training and at the Academy, and he was more knowledgeable than even his close comrades would have guessed. But Cain tended to be guarded, keeping what he knew to himself unless there was a compelling reason to do otherwise. It was habit, an offshoot of his suspicious, cynical personality.
Cameron Francis was Thomas Sparks’ protégé, second in command of the Corps’ research division. An accomplished and capable engineer, he’d always been overshadowed by his brilliant boss. He was sliding around uncomfortably in his chair. He understood Hofstader better than anyone else present, but he still felt inadequate to the task of filling Sparks’ shoes. And he’d had even less time than Hofstader to examine the alien device.
“We already knew the enemy was well ahead of us, Friederich. Especially regarding antimatter.” Garret was twirling a small stylus nervously as he spoke. He was concentrating on Hofstader, but his mind was also wandering to Compton and the rest of the fleet. He’d been surprised not to find them at Sigma 4, and he was concerned about what was going on in X1…or X2 or wherever Compton had gone.
“Yes, admiral, you are correct. However, this device and its contents are far beyond any other enemy technology we have seen to date.” Hofstader glanced down at the ‘pad he’d laid on the table. “Let me quote some figures to give a clearer insight into this device and its power. There is an inner sphere of antimatter held within the mechanism’s magnetic fields. This…” He paused, fishing around for the right word. “…payload, for lack of a better term…is 48 meters in diameter, and it is 1.3 million tons in mass.” He stopped, letting that sink in. “If that amount of antimatter is allowed to annihilate, the resulting explosion will measure approximately 50 petatons.” Another pause. “Fifty million gigatons.”
There was a long silence. Everyone in the room was staring at Hofstader, but no one spoke. Finally, Garret took a deep breath and said, “So, this is a bomb then. A very big one.” There were a few very brief chuckles around the room. No one was in much of a mood for humor.
“Indeed, admiral, I believe you are correct. I cannot think of any alternative reason to go to the expense and risk of producing such dense antimatter unless the purpose was to make an astonishingly powerful, yet highly portable weapon.”
Garret looked down at the table, his forehead wrinkled in thought. “I can’t imagine it would be cost-effective for space combat. Certainly, it could destroy an individual ship of any size within a wide area. But I can’t believe it would be worth this concentration of resources to accomplish that.” He looked up at Hofstader. “And while I don’t have a ready conception of the area of effect of a weapon like this, I still find it unlikely that more than one ship would be within its kill zone. Certainly no more than two.” Navy ships were deployed at considerable distances from each other. Even a dense formation allowed at least a thousand kilometers between vessels.
“You are correct, admiral.” Hofstader had already considered everything Garret was now going through…and in roughly the same order. “I have taken into consideration every permutation I could devise…and I cannot conceive of any purpose for this weapon. Save one.” He panned around the room quickly before focusing on Garret. “I believe it is intended for use against enemy planets.”
A ripple of soft whispers and deep breaths worked its way around the table. Most of those present were nodding, having found their way to the same conclusion. Garret broke the near-silence. “So it’s a planet destroyer?” It was half statement, half question.
Hofstader let out a deep breath. “Not technically, admiral. At least not in the sense of physically destroying an Earth-sized world. As large as this weapon is, vastly more energy would be required to accomplish that.” Hofstader walked slowly along the edge of the table. “Although as a practical matter, I believe your statement to be correct. A detonation of that size would almost certainly destroy all life on a planet and render it permanently uninhabitable. Depending on specifics, it might also be sufficient to destabilize a world’s orbit, with obvious cataclysmic consequences.”
“Sowing the ground with salt.” Cain’s voice was soft, barely a whisper.
“What?” Garret turned and looked at Cain, just as everyone else was doing.
Erik looked up, startled from his musing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I was just thinking.”
“What were you thinking, Erik?” It was Holm this time. He’d been silent until now, but he wanted to hear Cain’s thoughts.
“I was just thinking of the legend of Rome salting the ground where Carthage stood.”
Everyone was staring at Cain, with varying levels of confusion. Garret was the first one to speak. “I think we’re all familiar with the story, Erik. What does it have to do with our current situation or this new weapon?”
Cain shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hadn’t intended to get this involved in the discussion. “I was just thinking that this device may tell us something about the enemy. About what to expect going forward.” He paused for a few seconds, but the expectant expressions all around pushed him on. “Destroying your enemy is one thing. I have to imagine…” He turned to face Hofstader. “…and tell me if I’m wrong Friederich…that it would be far more cost effective to build enough conventional nukes to lay waste to a planet and destroy all life on it.”
“Yes, General Cain.” Hofstader was nodding vigorously. “We can safely say that. By several orders of magnitude.”
“So why build this thing?” Cain’s voice was getting louder, more authoritative as he spoke. “I can think of only two reasons…and neither is good news with regard to our long term prospects of communicating or coexisting with them.” Not that Cain had any desire to coexist with the First Imperium. He wanted to destroy them, exterminate every trace that they had ever existed. He knew that was likely impossible, but it was what he craved. Maybe in a thousand years, mankind would have the power…but first they had to find a way to survive the current war.
The room was silent, everyone focusing on what Cain was saying. “Th
e first possibility is pure megalomania…a feeling of superiority so profound that they have a compulsion not only to defeat or destroy an enemy, but to do so in a spectacular manner. To display their might for all the universe to see.” Cain took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before exhaling. “The second possibility that occurs to me is paranoia. True, uncontrollable paranoia. A world that is saturation bombed with nuclear weapons can be rehabilitated, at least theoretically. But one that has been stripped of its atmosphere, massively irradiated, and probably seismically damaged…that is an enemy planet that will never again threaten you.” Cain slid around uncomfortably in his chair as he finished speaking. He knew paranoia well. He controlled his own, kept it reasonably hidden…but Erik Cain agreed whole-heartedly with the concept of so completely destroying your enemies they could never again threaten you. He’d never had that power, but he knew if he ever did, he would use it.
The room was silent. Cain’s points had been tangential to the primary topic, but they served to remind everyone present of the overall context…of what they were truly fighting.
“I believe I can add on more bit of analysis with regard to what we can derive from this device.” Hofstader had broken the silence. His voice was soft, somber. “I think we need to realize that its existence supports one other extremely unpleasant assumption. This represents a level of technology well beyond anything else we have seen. I now believe it is highly unlikely that the vessels we have encountered to date represent the best the enemy has available…or even anything close to it. I would speculate that there are far stronger forces that we have not yet seen. If they possess a weapon of this power, I hesitate to even guess at what else they might have.”
Hofstader’s point hit everyone in the room. They’d been resigned to a fight against long odds, but the thought of even more advanced enemy forces was extremely demoralizing.
Garret broke the silence. He didn’t really have anything to say, but he wanted to interrupt the somber musing. “Well, we will cross that bridge when we come to it.” He shifted his glance down the table. “For now let’s…”
“Admiral Garret, you have an urgent message coming in.” Garret had removed his earpiece, so the AI was speaking on the open com.
“Yes, Nelson…what is it?” Garret answered in the open as well. There was nothing classified from the people in the room with him.
“We have received word from Admiral Compton. He has engaged enemy forces in System X2.”
“Very well, Nelson. Transfer all available data to my command console.” He looked up at his companions. “And issue a fleet order, Condition Yellow.” He stood up and glanced down the table. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut this meeting short.” He turned and walked quickly from the room.
“Admiral Garret, may I have a moment?” Hofstader stood in the open doorway, looking meekly into the admiral’s office. “I know you are busy getting the fleet ready to move out.”
“Of course, Friederich.” Garret was motioning for the scientist to come in. “Have a seat. I always have time for anything you consider important.” He pointed toward the two guest chairs facing his desk.
“Thank you, admiral.” Hofstader walked from the door and sat down. The office was small, utilitarian. In a starship, especially a warship, space was always at a premium. Even the fleet admiral’s office was small and cramped.
“What can I do for you, Friederich?” Hofstader had been sitting silently, apparently hesitant to begin what he’d come to say. “Is there a problem?”
“No, admiral.” His voice was slow, tentative. “I have a plan…more of an idea than a plan, really.” He paused, trying to decide how to proceed. “My plan…idea…whatever…is based on some of my former work. Former theories, actually. I have no real evidence to support it. But if it works, it could end the war immediately.”
Garret had been half-gazing at his ‘pad as he listened to Hofstader, but his head snapped up, and he stared right at the physicist. “Friederich, I don’t care if something came to you in a dream last night after you ate a big dinner. If you have something in mind that can end this war I want to know about it…fact, theory, or wild guess.” His eyes bored right into Hofstader’s. “Immediately.”
“It has to do with an extensive body of theoretical work I did some years ago regarding warp gates and their physical properties.” He paused. “Without going into detail, it is my belief that the release of an extraordinary amount of energy inside a warp gate would cause a disruption that would...” He was looking for the right word. “…disable the gate.”
“By disable, do you mean the gate would no longer facilitate transits? That the warp gate would be non-functional?” Garret couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice.
“Admiral, please remember that this is the wildest speculation on my part. I was never able to test any of these theories because we didn’t have access to a sufficiently large energy source.” He had been looking down toward the desk, avoiding the admiral’s stare. But now he looked up, directly into Garret’s eyes. “Until now.”
“You are suggesting that we detonate the enemy device inside a warp gate?” It was a question, but Garret already sounded convinced.
“I wouldn’t go so far as to suggest we actually do it, admiral. I just wanted to share my thoughts with you.” His eyes dropped down again, and he continued nervously. “That device is of incalculable value, and I can offer no proof whatsoever that such a course of action would work. First, my theories may be utterly incorrect. Beyond that, we would need the time of detonation accurate to within a microsecond.” He paused then added, “Even in the best of circumstances, it would be a considerable longshot, Admiral Garret.”
Garret sat quietly for a minute, considering Hofstader’s words. He knew the German scientist was a genius, considered brilliant even among his peers. He’d never been wrong about anything in the time Garret had been working closely with him. Hofstader seemed to have considerable doubts about his plan, but Garret began to realize he himself was convinced. “Is the disruption permanent?”
“Please understand, admiral. I cannot even guarantee there would be disruption. However, my theory is indeterminate on the duration of the effect. It could be permanent but, more likely, it would be temporary. There would be some degree of leakage from the gate. The trapped energy will dissipate over time. Nevertheless, I believe the period of complete disruption would last at least several centuries. Possibly longer.”
“So if we detonate that thing in the gate between X1 and X2 we would cut the First Imperium off from human space for at least a few centuries?” Garret knew Hofstader would come back with another protestation about the untested nature of his plan, so he beat him to it. “Assuming your theories are correct?”
“Yes, admiral. And assuming they do not find an alternate route through space that is still uncharted by us.” The tension in Hofstader’s voice was obvious. “I was extremely reluctant to suggest this course of action but, as you have noted, if it does work we will have effectively ended the war. Or at least forced a hiatus of several hundred years. By then, perhaps our civilization will have gleaned sufficient technology from the enemy artifacts to face them on even terms.” He left unspoken the selfish thought that it would also be someone else’s problem.
Garret leaned back rubbing his face with his hand as he considered the options. He thought about calling another meeting, but he decided that wasn’t necessary. He was in command, and he realized he’d already made a decision…one he wasn’t going to change. There was too much upside not to try. They’d come here looking for some type of miracle…and Hofstader had just dropped in on his desk.
“Friederich…” Garret stared right at Hofstader as he spoke. “…well done. Do it.” Another pause. “What do you need from me?”
Chapter 30
Alliance Primary Shipyards
Orbiting Wolf 359 V
Wolf 359 System
The Alliance’s great shipyard at W
olf 359 was a series of orbital structures, majestic and immense, that dwarfed any other construct in space. The nearly endless series of factories, storage facilities, workshops, and space docks extended in a line over 180 kilometers in geosynchronous orbit, 110,000 kilometers above the system’s fifth planet.
A gas giant, larger by a third than Jupiter, Wolf 359 V was a vibrant blue globe, the most distant of the worlds orbiting the red primary. Uninhabitable, and useful only for its gravitational hold on the shipyard facilities, it had long been unnamed, referred to only as planet 5. Eventually, the name Poseidon came into informal use, and some years later it was made official. Whether the name was motivated by the presence of the shipyard or the fact that the blue of the planet resembled the color of Earth’s oceans is unclear.
The system’s third planet was Arcadia, one of the Alliance’s largest and most important colonies. A flash point of the colonial rebellions, Arcadia remained one of the most fiercely independent of the Alliance worlds. It had a diversified economy, but it had become more dependent on its proximity to the shipyards in the years since the rebellion. The Confederation Agreement that ended the insurrections also provided for control of the shipyards to pass to the colonies, and more and more workers from Arcadia had taken positions on the various production lines.
Before the First Imperium invasion, the shipyards had been garrisoned by a full battlegroup, but now, with all humanity allied against the enemy, those defensive forces had been redeployed to the front lines. There were only a few patrol ships on duty now, and those were second line units, not the veteran forces that had historically protected the complex.
“Attention Faulkner, this is Convoy Gamma Epsilon, inbound for Wolf 359 shipyard central docking…answering your query.” The challenge by the patrol ship had been an automated one. Standard procedure.
Faulkner was a small vessel, an old suicide boat too obsolete to maintain its place in a front line fleet. Ensign Jon Cleon glanced at his scanner, then at the manifest on his workstation display. Convoy Gamma Epsilon…there it was…27 ships, just as expected. And right on schedule too.