by B. V. Larson
“There are several psychological theories I’ve been working on in that regard. I would say the most likely cause is straightforward: boredom.”
I pressed my lips together in anger. I hated it most of all when he was right. I had been bored, and I’d come out here to do something cool. As a result, I’d taken risks. I’d poked the stick into the hornets’ nest—and surprise, surprise—we were about to be stung.
They kept pouring in through the ring, and we made emergency preparations for battle. I scrambled my fighters and launched a barrage of missiles—but not all of them. I wanted to see what I was facing before committing us to battle.
They kept flowing out of the ring like a hose on full blast. Over the next half-hour, we planned and war-gamed. We had only a single carrier and about sixty support ships. It wasn’t enough. When the enemy force managed to punch through our minefield, their numbers had reached four hundred cruisers despite their losses. It was too late to stop them. They were already here.
I ordered us to reverse course and run for the ring that led to Eden. Maybe that was the moment they’d been waiting for. As soon as we reversed course, they unloaded.
“Colonel Riggs, we have new contacts…missiles, sir. That’s confirmed. About eight hundred of them.”
I nodded. “The enemy is firing now that they sense we’re trying to break off.”
A cloud of missiles appeared in a broad swath of space. Each enemy ship had fired two.
“All right,” I said. “Change the programming on our missiles. Order them to intercept that cloud and lay down a staggered impact pattern. If we can get to the enemy barrage before they spread out very far, we should halt this wave.”
Newcome looked at me. “Maybe we should try to strike with what we’ve launched. Our missiles are moving faster, they should get through and destroy a lot of ships.”
“Uncharacteristically brave of you, Admiral,” I said. “I approve, but I must overrule your suicidal suggestion.”
“Why is it…?” his question died as Jasmine reconfigured the map, showing the probable outcome of his idea. He nodded. “I see. We can’t stop eight hundred missiles. They’ll get through and damage the task force badly.”
“I’m predicting a thirty-eight percent loss from this initial barrage alone—that’s if they don’t throw everything at our carrier to knock it out.”
“That would be their wisest move,” I said. “Our fighters can dodge missiles, but they can’t fly forever out here without a base. They’d all be out of action before the rest of us reached the Eden ring. Speaking of which, have you alerted Welter Station, Captain Sarin?”
“Naturally, sir. They know what’s coming.”
“Good work,” I said, and turned a musing eye back toward the screens.
Around me, most of the staffers were in a near-panic. They were relaying instructions, organizing formations and gaming out scenarios. Mathematical projections were made for a dozen possible actions we could take, just in case I asked.
But I was in a more contemplative state of mind. As the top commander, it was my job to keep my eye on the bigger picture.
“They seem to have stopped coming through,” I said aloud. “Four hundred ships… Actually, I’m surprised they have so few. I would have thought they’d had enough time to build more. We’ve given them over a year to prepare for this day.”
I turned back to Captain Sarin, who was bringing all our data together. “We’ve projected their acceleration curve based on known Macro flight capabilities. They won’t be able to catch us.”
“Good,” I said. “We’ll withdraw in good order to the Eden ring. With Welter Station at our back, we should be able to—”
“Sir,” interrupted Admiral Newcome. He’d been playing with his tablet and a smaller console to the side. “I think we have a problem.”
I turned to him, frowning. “What problem?”
“The enemy acceleration curves, sir—they don’t match our projections.”
“How so?”
“They’re accelerating more quickly than our estimates allow for—about thirty percent faster.”
I looked at his work and read the numbers. “That’s a lot of power. They must have upgraded their engines. I can’t think of any other explanation.”
“Neither can I, sir,” Newcome said.
“Good work,” I told him, clapping him on the shoulder. “I knew I brought you along for something.”
He winced, probably because I was accidentally crushing his shoulder, but he appeared appreciative of the praise.
“Jasmine, tap in the new estimates.”
“Those numbers aren’t confirmed yet, Colonel,” she said.
“I don’t care. I’m not taking any more chances.”
She did as I asked, and very soon a much grimmer picture developed. Originally, it had looked as if we’d be faced with missile barrages chasing us all the way back to the station. But now, it was clear we weren’t going to make it. The enemy ships would catch up with us before we made it back to the safety of the Eden system.
“We’ll be under their guns within twenty-four hours,” I said. “Are these numbers firming up? I need accurate projections, people.”
I looked sternly over at the table full of nerds in the corner of the room. They were responsible for getting these things right. They worked feverishly for perhaps thirty seconds more, then transmitted their results to my table.
The images shifted on the primary screen. A red arrow representing the Macro ships now intersected our green oval in nineteen hours.
“What the hell…?” I asked. “Why did it change again?”
“The enemy ships are coming on even faster now,” Jasmine said. “Their rate of acceleration is increasing, not staying steady. That’s why I must have missed the estimates in the first place. We can’t beat them, Colonel.”
“New engines,” I said thoughtfully. “Something that allows them to accelerate with an odd curve. Maybe the new engines take time to warm up? They pretty much crawled through the ring. Maybe they start cold and have to be stoked to full power.”
“I hardly think it matters, sir,” Newcome said. “The point is, they will catch us. We’ll have to turn and do battle.”
I glanced at him. “These details do matter. Very much so. Jasmine, what do we have in the way of reinforcements back in the Eden System?”
“Not much, sir. Less than a dozen ships, all small except for a single old carrier that we use to watch the Blues.”
I nodded. “All right. I assume these latest projections are holding up and don’t need further tampering?”
“They are, sir. We have nineteen hours.”
“I want my senior staffers to meet me in the conference room. We’ll discuss our options.”
I left the bridge, and a few minutes later Jasmine and Newcome showed up in my office. Behind them a third individual clattered into view. It was none other than Marvin himself. He was still nursing his broken camera and displaying it prominently as if he imagined someone might offer him sympathy. None of us did. The old ‘abused robot’ routine wasn’t flying with anyone today.
“Your robot appears to have followed us, Colonel,” said Newcome stiffly. “I was under the impression this was for senior officers only.”
I snorted. “He’s right, Marvin. Have you given yourself a new rank?”
“No, Colonel Riggs. But I have interesting opinions to share regarding this command decision.”
“Okay then, pull up a chair—or rather remove one.”
When Marvin came to a conference table, it was generally necessary to remove a chair to make a place for him to crouch around it with the rest of us.
“I’ve brought you here because we have some unpleasant choices to make,” I said to the three of them.
“Unpleasant?” asked Marvin.
He had a lot of cameras on me. Whenever the topic of discussion involved his existence, Marvin became very focused indeed.
“That’s right. O
ne option is to turn and fight right now. The advantage to such a move is that, if more reinforcements are coming up behind this wave of Macros, we can destroy these ships before they’re reinforced.”
“That doesn’t seem realistic, Colonel,” Jasmine said. “We can’t kill all their ships. How does it help us if they outnumber us twenty to one or only ten to one?”
“I’m getting a negative vibe from you, Captain,” I said, giving her a slight frown. “Anyone else?”
Marvin’s foreclaw rose up.
“Sir, I have a suggestion or two.”
“Go ahead.”
“The enemy fleet is going to destroy us. That’s unquestionable. But many of our personnel might escape this fate and reach Welter Station if we act quickly.”
I leaned back in my chair. “I’m all ears, Marvin.”
“We could abandon most of the ships. By transferring every engine to a single large vessel—the carrier would be the most natural choice—we could load up our personnel and accelerate at a greater pace than the enemy.”
“Intriguing…” I said, “But you mentioned that ‘many’ of us would get away. Who would not make it?”
“I’ve done the calculations. We have a group of transports traveling with us carrying Centaurs, am I correct?”
I was beginning to frown. “Yes, new recruits from their homeworld.”
“Fortunately, they’ve had basic training and have undergone my treatment to make them functional in space. I’m proposing that—”
“Hold on, Marvin!” I said, lifting a hand. “Are you saying we should leave them behind? That we should let the Macros destroy them in their ships while they lag behind us? That we steal their engines and leave them adrift?”
“No, sir, that would be a terrible waste.”
“I’m glad to hear we agree on that point.”
“No, Colonel,” he continued. “I’m not proposing to squander a vital resource. What I suggest is that we deploy the Centaur troops, all of them. They can ride their personal conveyances into the hulls of the enemy ships and do terrific damage by detonating nuclear charges—”
I was out of my chair.
“Shut up right there, robot!” I shouted. “You’ve got a lot of guts to suggest these fresh recruits commit mass suicide in order to salvage your brainbox. Let’s not forget that you were the one to fire off this experiment prematurely.”
“That was an accident, sir.”
“So you say. If you’d held back until we reached the ring, we’d have been in position to stop the enemy as they entered. Instead, we’re faced with this grim situation.”
“I fail to see how I’m to blame. The entire process was experimental. In these situations, unexpected phenomena very typically—”
“Well, get the idea of leaving the Centaurs behind to screen our retreat out of your neural chains. I’m not going to order the Centaurs to make a suicidal charge at the enemy ships while we run for cover. That’s final.”
“In that case, I’m out of ideas.”
“I’ve got one,” Newcome said. “What about the gravity device Marvin’s been working on—could it be weaponized?”
We all looked at Marvin. He seemed surprised.
“An intriguing proposal. The system is essentially a gravitational force manipulator on the order of the one built inside Phobos. In fact, I first got the idea for the system from the Phobos unit. Unfortunately, the site has been abandoned, and there is no one there to make the necessary changes to the systems.”
“Hmm,” I said, tapping on the screen in front of me. “We’re not that far from the probe’s launch point. We could be there in a few hours.”
“We can’t divert our course or slow down,” Newcome pointed out. “They’ll catch us even faster if we do.”
“No,” I said, tapping my chin. “But Marvin has given me an idea. We could launch a small ship with extra engines very quickly. With enough power, it could reach the device within a matter of hours.”
“But Colonel,” Marvin said, “who could possibly be convinced to go on such a dangerous, highly technical mission?”
All of us turned and stared at him in unison.
“Oh,” he said in surprise. “I should have expected this response after your earlier tirade.”
“Well?” I asked gruffly. “Will you do it, Marvin?”
Jasmine reached out a hand and put it on his nearest tentacle. He studied the hand with a single camera, rather than her face.
“Marvin? Please?” she asked. “We’d all appreciate it. You would be a hero again.”
“I’ve found that the title of ‘hero’ is a fleeting honor amongst humans. But I will do it. Just thinking about the challenge is stimulating my circuitry.”
I’d been pretty sure that Marvin would take the job. That’s why I’d asked him instead of ordering him to do it. In some ways, he was a coward, but in other instances he was insanely brave. The key was to put some kind of technical challenge into the mix to intrigue him. If you did that, you could get him to do almost anything.
Marvin and I had a very long history of manipulating one another and involving one another in our schemes. This time, I seemed to have had the last laugh.
Or at least, I hoped so.
-12-
Our missiles met with the enemy’s first barrage in open space. They destroyed one another in a cascade of ghostly fire. In the airless void between planets, nuclear explosions are odd, glimmering affairs. There’s no mushroom cloud, no fireball. Each release of energy resembles a cold-looking puff of light and energy as if tiny stars are being born, then winking out a fraction of a second later. As our missiles struck theirs, hundreds of infant stars were born and quickly died away as we watched.
“Some of their birds got through,” Jasmine said. “Seventy-four of them. I’m surprised they haven’t released another wave.”
“They plan to get in close before hitting us again,” I told her. “Why waste good missiles when they know their main guns can shred us soon enough? They’ll save their ammo for the killing strikes.”
I realized my shoulders were hunched, and that I must have looked defeated. I made an effort to straighten up. I knew the staffers were watching me. I had to look firmly in command and confident. Slumping over the command table at a bad moment wasn’t acceptable. Looking cool when I didn’t feel like it was one of the hardest parts of my job.
“Give me an update on Marvin,” I said to Jasmine.
“He’s not responding to any transmissions. He can hear us, but he’s running with radio silence at his end.”
“What about a ring-to-ring transmission system? Surely, he took one with him. The enemy can’t listen in on that.”
“He did, but the Macro ships are jamming all the rings now. We’re left with radio. If he transmits, he’ll give away his position.”
I nodded in understanding. There was no way Marvin was going to answer us while scooting away on a small, vulnerable target under enemy guns. I couldn’t blame him for that.
“All right then. How long until the Macros get into range?”
“Eleven hours and forty-nine—”
“Colonel,” Admiral Newcome spoke up beside me. He sounded as if he couldn’t stand by quietly any longer.
“What is it, Newcome?”
“We should launch another attack now. Give our missiles time to get up to high velocity and slam into them. We can at least make a good accounting of ourselves before they catch us.”
“We don’t have a lot of hardware left. I’d rather hold onto it until we get in closer.”
Newcome nodded curtly and stepped away from me. I could tell he didn’t like my answer at all, but he wasn’t going to say so. As an ex-Imperial officer, he was used to being shut down by superiors. In a way, I wished more of my regular staffers had his respect for the chain of command. We Star Force types were still less than one hundred percent professional. We were more like some kind of revolutionary outfit full of personalities and shouting.
Hours crawled by. Sometimes, having a finite amount of time to wait seemed to make events happen more slowly. This was one of those times. But at last, there was news to report when the enemy was no more than three hours behind us.
“Sir,” Jasmine said, “we have new contacts.”
I frowned at the screens. I was looking for a fresh wave of missiles or new Macros at the ring, but I was looking in the wrong direction and for the wrong colored contacts. The new images were friendlies, and I finally spotted them blinking in green at the Eden ring.
“Who’s that?”
“Remember the carrier force we left to supervise the Blues? They’ve come to our aid.”
“Hmm,” I said, uncertain as to how I should respond to this. I’d never ordered the carrier to come to the Thor System. “Open a channel to the commander.”
“Done.”
“Is this Captain…?” I asked, but I couldn’t recall the fellow’s name. I looked at Jasmine and snapped my fingers.
“Captain Grass,” she said quietly, putting her hand over her microphone.
Grass? I froze for a second, then winced in recollection. This was the single large ship in our fleet that was commanded by a non-human. Like most Centaurs, he had a name only his own people could relate to. Almost all of them were named after the sky, or grass, rivers, honor, fur, etc. This wasn’t as strange in their native language as it was to us. They had over a hundred names for grass, each of which connoted some delicate variance, such as the way it rippled when wind ran over a field. When their names went through our translation systems, they all came out as “Grass” no matter what other nuances there might be for them.
The bigger problem, besides the name, was the fact that the commander was a Centaur. I’d had a lot of trouble with Centaur officers as ground troops. Now, I had an untested alien captain coming to my rescue in command of a major ship.