by CJ Williams
In the background, Roth managed the Manhattan-like Project effort to augment Earth’s defenses. In the middle of the second week he summarized their progress to Carrie and his senior deputies. They were seated in the comfortable chairs in his office while George adjusted the wall display to illustrate the narrative.
“I’m worried about our Rabbit system,” he said, referring to Riley’s missile system. Carrie’s illustrative name had become the official designation for the self-replicating platform.
“The issue is that each generation takes twelve hours to duplicate itself. As of now, they’ve been in operation for almost five days, so we have just over two hundred and fifty platforms. That’s not nearly enough but if we get another five days, the number will be over a quarter million systems. Every day after that really increases our survivability.”
“What about software upgrades?” Admiral McGee asked. His team had come up with several desired modifications.
Riley Stevens answered. “We’re sending out upgrades every day. We’ve got three test platforms and I’m working with your guys to make sure we capture their requirements accurately. We can generally turn something around in twenty-four hours.”
During the serious discussion, the public’s impression of the cute, absent-minded professor, was replaced by the reality of Stevens’s nature—a coldly calculating genius, whose implant-enhanced mental prowess greatly augmented his ability to communicate with George and transform incredibly complex theories into real objects.
“What about fighters?” Roth asked.
Lou Morrow shrugged. “I’ve got all three large-scale replicators turning out thirty-six new machines a day. As of now, we’ve added just under four hundred units. By the fourteen-day mark it’ll be five hundred.”
“Any new warships?” Roth prompted.
Morrow shook his head. “I spoke to Jared about that. For planetary defense, he’d rather have the fighters. All of us remember what Annie was able to do with just a single armed yacht when the Bakkui hit us last time. Our current fighters have that same capability with a few upgrades, plus we have the armed yachts Princess Carrie brought.”
The meeting went on for an hour as they discussed the war effort’s critical details in mission, people, and logistics.
Roth summed it up. “If they show up at the fourteen-day point, I don’t see how we survive. If we can get just a few more days, we’ll have a shot.”
On the evening of the seventeenth day after Carrie’s arrival, an emergency warning siren sounded throughout Moonbase One’s many corridors, shopping malls, and restaurants. The eerie wail was repeated in every inhabited post in Earth’s solar system.
The tsunami of Bakkui warships had arrived.
*.*.*.*
Carrie had just thanked a large group of warship crew members for their service when the klaxon sounded. Surrounded by an area protection field, she was standing on the outdoor patio of a crew rest facility built on the surface of Iapetus, Saturn’s third largest moon. The gas giant floated majestically just above the horizon, its rings appearing to be no more than a brilliant pinkish-gray line across its face due to the angle of the moon’s orbit.
The man in front of Carrie was Squadron Leader Tim Moore, an experienced exchange officer who had deployed to Moonbase One on loan from the United Kingdom.
At the first tone from the klaxon, a large electronic horn mounted on the wall just outside the facility's door, a brief look of surprise crossed his features. It lasted no longer than a second before he barked an order at the men around him.
“Jarmain, Cobellie, Pittman, escort Her Highness back in system.”
“No, Squadron Leader,” Carrie protested. “That’s not—”
“Sorry, Princess,” he said respectfully, placing his hand on her wrist. “Standing orders, I’m afraid.” He handed her over to the two men racing up.
They physically lifted Carrie off the surface and charged toward Sadie, waiting on the ramp just thirty yards away. They ran in an exaggerated slow motion, always keeping one of their gravity boots in contact with the surface.
“Amanda!” Carrie shouted over her shoulder. “Bring the kids!”
Amanda scowled at the photographer beside her, faithfully recording the entire process. “You better hope you got that on tape!” She scooped up Eolin and Ttal and after one hurried step managed to launch herself into space. She shrieked twice. The first time when she found herself floating away and then again when Flight Lieutenant Pittman snagged her ankle and then tucked her under his arm. Amanda held tightly to the kids and growled at her photographer, who was following close behind. “I’ll kill you if you got that on tape.”
Carrie stood in the cargo bay and grabbed her children from Amanda as the flight lieutenant shoved all of them into her shuttle. Behind his shoulder over two dozen men were quasi-racing toward their various spacecraft in the necessary shuffling gait with gravity boots.
Once the kids were safely aboard, Carrie hurried to the pilot’s seat in Sadie’s cockpit. “Status report?” she said.
“A massive fleet has entered Earth’s solar system,” Sadie replied. “No further details available but my guess is it’s the Bakkui.”
“Why do you say that?” Carrie asked. “Could it be the Commander?”
“If it was Commander Blackburn, he would not go sub-light until he was almost in lunar orbit. The force in question appears to be following standard Bakkui tactics in a system with multiple gas giants. More data coming in, and your escort is urging us to lift off.”
Two fighters had lifted off and were moving to escort position on either side of Sadie.
“Go ahead and lift off, but I want to rejoin with that warship. The Ambrosia-class right off your nose.”
“That’s not what their protocol states, Highness,” Sadie reminded her. “It calls for them to escort you out of the battle area.”
“Of course it does. What AI is running that warship?”
“That’s the Sarah Ferguson,” Sadie replied resignedly.
“Link me in,” Carrie ordered.
“You're connected.”
“Hey, Fergie,” Carrie said aloud. “You know who this is, right?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” the Sarah Ferguson replied. “How may I serve you?”
“Open your hangar bay door, Fergie. I’m bringing my shuttle aboard.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The wide hangar door in the side of the Ambrosia-class warship slid open and the ship stopped its ascent from the moon’s surface.
“Take us in, Sadie.”
Carrie’s armed yacht moved forward quickly, slipping past the hangar door’s force field barriers to settle softly on the metal deck.
“Come on, kids,” Carrie shouted, exiting Sadie. “We have to hurry so let’s run.” She didn’t want to stress the kids out any more than necessary, but she wouldn’t leave them alone in the shuttle, either.
Amanda hurried after them, roughly shepherding her unfortunate cameraman along.
“Status update, Fergie,” Carrie said, striding onto the bridge. She held up a stern index finger, forestalling the shocked outburst from Squadron Leader Moore.
Fergie spoke briskly. Her British accent matched that of the squadron leader. “Several thousand of your Sadie-class armed space yachts have been identified. They are currently located just inside the orbit of Neptune. They seem to be marshaling for an advance.”
“Thank you. Take us in their direction and record the following message. I want you to broadcast it every minute or so.” Carrie turned toward the bridge camera and composed her expression into one that was both calm and confident. The red light went on, indicating the message was recording, and she spoke in a diplomatic tone. “King Kkoli, I bid you greetings. I am Paeli Pokeuneo, youngest daughter of King Peyha. I believe we should speak before you make a mistake that will destroy the Second Family.” The camera light went out. “Good message,” she said.
Squadron Leader Moore couldn’
t take it anymore. “Highness! Please.”
Carrie turned to him with a baleful expression. “What is it, Squadron Leader?” Her tone was not hostile, but neither was it patient.
The question brought him up short. “Highness. Our…our… I mean…the Alliance battle plan. You must let me initiate the Alliance battle plan.”
“Please do so, Squadron Leader. However, I require the use of the Sarah Ferguson for a plan of my own.” She turned her back to the captain of the Sarah Ferguson and gazed out of the bridge’s massive front window.
Moore stared at her back, his mouth hanging open. After a moment he shook his head and turned to his tactical officer. “Order Red and Yellow Squadrons to take up a supporting position in formation on us. Inform Captain Holcombe that he has command of the remainder of Task Force Eighteen and to carry out the battle plan as published. Inform Jupiter Command that we, along with Red and Yellow Squadrons, have been re-designated as Royal Task Force One.”
“Aye, sir,” the tactical officer replied, his voice crisp and devoid of any astonishment he might be feeling.
Carrie nodded and motioned for Moore to join her in front of the window. When he did, she slipped her arm under his elbow to pull him against her side. “Thank you, Squadron Leader.” She looked around to find Amanda. “Keep the kids from being underfoot,” she said.
Amanda, already sitting in the observer’s chair with Eolin in her lap, nodded with a dumbfounded expression. She looked over at Ttal who was standing next to the communications officer, pointing at the console and asking an unending stream of questions.
A moment later the Fergie AI spoke. “Highness, the enemy force is now moving forward.”
“How are they deployed?” Carrie asked. “I assume the yachts have dispersed to lead individual formations of warships.”
“That is correct, Highness,” Fergie replied. “However we still do not have an accurate count on numbers, other than to say tens of thousands.”
“Understood. Make sure that we are in the path of the main force. Also, if possible, order our reconnaissance drones to keep watch for a secondary force. Their normal tactic in a system with this many gas giant planets would be to split out a reserve unit.”
“Acknowledged.”
Carrie flicked a glance at Moore. “This is where it gets interesting, Squadron Leader. I’ve met several subjects of King Kkoli, and frankly, I wasn’t impressed.”
“Yes, Highness,” Moore said in a non-committal tone. Carrie could see he was struggling to hold in his frustration. The officer was totally in a no-win position because her commands to his warship overrode his own.
She ignored his dilemma and continued with her explanation. “What they don’t know is that the king believes there is one fight going on. But if anyone would think about it for just a minute, they might see that there are two wars being fought.”
“Yes, Highness. And what wars are those?”
“Kkoli believes it’s his force against ours. And from his limited perspective that’s true; this is his fight. But the other war is humanity against the Bakkui. What the man doesn’t understand is that in that war, he’s on our side. He would figure it out eventually, but by then it would be way too late.”
“Yes, Highness.”
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Not really, Highness.”
“That’s okay,” Carrie said. “It might be bad if it was too obvious. My little secret is that in reality, there are three wars going on. And I’m hoping that is going to give us a slight edge. It won’t win the war, but I’ll take anything we can get.”
“Yes, Highness.”
Moore was just being polite, but it was still nice to hear him agree with her.
A green rectangular outline appeared on the front window but Carrie could see nothing inside. Fergie explained. “The lead enemy ship is inside the reticle.”
“Thank you,” Carrie said. “Send this message.” She composed her face into one of concern. “Your Majesty, please think for just a moment. I have information you are not aware of.”
“Message sent.”
“Thanks. Start moving toward the lead yacht and prepare to match our speed and course to theirs.”
“You want to negotiate with him?” Moore asked. “Do you think he will?”
“I doubt it. But he will be curious. He didn’t know about me until it was too late and I hurt him badly. The guy is a king, Squadron Leader. That means he has a big ego. I suspect he would like to look me in the eye when he gets revenge.”
Moore nodded. “I would agree, Highness. Is this a self-sacrifice on your part?”
Carrie smiled grimly. “You mean am I committing suicide and taking you with me? I suppose that’s a possible outcome, but it’s not my intent.” She pointed to the empty space ahead. “That guy is scary and evil, but he’s made some pretty big assumptions.”
Fergie interrupted again. “They have changed to an intercept course. They have our position.”
“Okay, Fergie. In a few minutes, we’ll get a message from King Kkoli. While I speak to him, you can continue to close on their formation, but keep at least a half million miles between us. I want to establish a communication delay of about two seconds, but do it slowly.”
“Understood,” Fergie replied.
Carrie stared into space for a moment and then suddenly faced the squadron leader. “Speaking of battle plans, what was yours?”
“Highness, upon contact with the enemy, all system forces were to take up defensive positions at point Jupiter 12-9. That is just outside the asteroid belt. We will engage under the assumption we will be overwhelmed. Our forces will initiate peel-back maneuvers into the asteroid belt where the Rabbit system will be employed. Jupiter Command will direct fire and maneuver at that point.”
“Sounds good,” Carrie said. “That’s pretty much what we used to plan for, except if it got squirrely we would just bug out. Can’t do that here, of course. Good job.”
Moore raised his eyebrows at her comment. “I have heard that previously, you were an admiral serving under Commander Blackburn at the FEBA.”
“FEBA?” Carrie couldn’t remember what the acronym stood for, only that Commander Blackburn had used it on occasion.
“Forward edge of the battle area.”
“Oh, right. Well, yes, to answer your question. I was an admiral for a brief period.” The ever present guilt flashed briefly across Carrie’s face. “It didn’t work out.”
“I beg your pardon, Highness. I didn’t mean to offend.”
Carrie sighed. After a moment she replied quietly. “Not to worry. Some things just are.” She looked at Ttal, now at the navigation station. “Hey, speedo. Where’s Teeny Jim?”
Ttal unzipped her shoulder bag and pulled out the stuffed teddy bear.
“Can I have him for a little bit?”
Ttal raced over and handed the bear to Carrie, and then charged back to resume her conversation with the harried navigator.
Carrie had always looked down on parents that let their kids run wild. It seemed unimportant now. All she wanted was for Eolin and Ttal to be close to her and enjoy each moment of their lives. Everyone else would just have to deal with it.
She held the teddy bear up to the startled squadron leader. “Have you met Teeny Jim?”
Carrie mentally scolded herself for teasing the man. He was starting to look worried again. She held the bear behind her back and waited. It wouldn’t be much longer, another few minutes. She glanced at the tactical display. A number in the upper right of the viewscreen flickered on and off. It was supposed to display Fergie’s count of enemy combat vessels approaching. One brief flash showed over two hundred thousand.
Moments later Fergie announced, “Message coming in.”
Carrie waved the squadron leader back, out of camera shot, and faced the display screen. King Kkoli’s haggard face appeared. He had the appearance of someone whose wits were at their frazzled end.
“So you are
not the so-called Warlord after all,” he said sourly. “My analysts believed you were.”
“I am not, Your Majesty,” Carrie acknowledged. “However, the Warlord is my mentor. And for this reason I must speak to you. Please halt your fleet, for the sake of King Peyha and our two families.”
During the time delay for her message to reach Kkoli, Carrie questioned the Sarah Ferguson. “Can you detect the AI signatures of the oncoming enemy ships?”
The AI responded instantly. “Yes, Highness. They are a mixture of Bakkui and Kkoli. I am also detecting several thousand identities registering as Princess Paeli. Those are the same as your personal yacht.”
“That makes sense,” Carrie replied. The armed yachts she had brought from the Bonbu system were all designated as Alliance vessels. “Inform Jupiter Command that all Princess Paeli signatures are enemy combatants. And Sadie, you need to stay aboard until the battle is over.”
“Acknowledged, Highness,” Sadie answered quickly.
“Reply message coming in,” Fergie said.
The king appeared on the screen and started to speak but his words were cut off by shouted arguments in the background. When the voices subsided, he spoke with a savage growl. “There will be no delay,” he vowed.
“Can we not call a truce to this war?” Carrie urged. “My father, King Peyha, loved you as a brother. You know he did. I hate to destroy the man he thought so much of.”
Fergie spoke immediately after Carrie finished. “Our distance now at ten light seconds and closing.”
The king’s response came twenty seconds later. “There will be no truce!” he shouted. “You destroyed Bonbu Two and now I will do the same to your homeworld!” More arguments broke out behind the king, and Carrie heard the voice she had been hoping for. The time lag between her and Kkoli was close enough.
“Booker!” she yelled. “Is that you? You know who I am, so you better answer me!” Carrie held her breath waiting for the answer.
“Highness!” Moore said urgently. “What is going on?”
“Kkoli’s command fleet is based on a yacht design that has to be operated manually; they don’t have onboard AIs. It makes his fleet immune to orders from Bakkui AI warships.”