Wallace considered that. He knew the law Gray was talking about. No one had really thought much of it at the time. A few people had starved to death while immersed in their mindscapes, so the law had seemed like a necessary measure to force mindscaping companies to automatically wake up their users if they stayed immersed for too long. But with automated habitats like the one Mindsoft was proposing, there would be no need for breaks, and forcing people to wake up multiple times a day only to realize that they’re actually living inside a coffin-sized tank would take the appeal out of the system for most people.
“I’ll see that the law is revised,” Wallace said.
Mr. Gray smiled anew. “I’d hoped you would, Mr. President.”
After the meeting was over, Senator Harris accompanied President Wallace on his way to deliver his address to the Alliance following the attack on the Moon.
As they walked, Harris said, “Human League Party Senators will never go for this. You’ll have to explain the revision to them, and then they’ll put up a fuss—they’ll say we’re taking one step closer to making our species obsolete.”
“Human League senators are a minority,” Wallace replied. “They don’t have to go for it so long as we have all the Utopian Party senators on our side.”
“The League could make our lives difficult in other ways. They could make the idea seem so dangerous and unattractive to the public that no one will be interested in living in tanks, even if the law is changed. We need to find a subtle way to make the necessary legal reform.”
“That could take forever, and the result will be the same once the League figures out why we reformed the law. No, I’m going to use my address to the Alliance to publicly come out in favor of this idea and gain support for it before the Humanists have a chance to undermine it. When I present this as the solution to our budget crisis and a way for us to fund a more adequate defense fleet, people will be flocking to Mindsoft’s habitats before they’re even finished building them.”
“That’s another issue, sir. After the Moon attack, won’t people be afraid to cluster together like that? A million people in one building is a hell of a tempting target.”
“So is a city. Don’t worry about popular support, Harris. I’ll get it. All we have to worry about is how the Humanists are going to get revenge for us blindsiding them like this.”
“Let’s hope it’s nothing too unpleasant.”
Wallace slapped his friend on the back and smiled. “Cheer up. We’re actually going to the people with solutions for a change. If the Human League is smart, they’ll see that and they’ll back us, too.”
“If they’re smart. I think that’s asking a lot from a group of technophobic extremists.”
They reached the balcony where Wallace was going to make his address to the public, and he turned to Harris. “Time to find out. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck, Mr. President.”
Wallace turned and walked up to the sliding glass doors leading out onto the balcony. The doors opened automatically for him, and he stepped up to the podium beyond. Applause thundered up from the parade grounds below. A large crowd had gathered there. Most of them were present only as holograms projected from hovering mobile virtual presence devices, but that was more than he could say for the turnout on most days.
As soon as the applause died down, Wallace began his speech. “Good evening, citizens of the Alliance. Today our way of life and freedom came under attack by a deliberate and pre-meditated act of destruction, the likes of which we have not seen since The Last War.
“The victims were innocent citizens like you, mothers and fathers, friends and neighbors, children and babies. Millions of lives came to a sudden and horrifying end that has filled us with terrible sadness and a solemn, simmering anger.
“This act of mass murder was no doubt intended to bring us to our knees, to paralyze us with fear, but it failed. Our Alliance is strong. Unfortunately, it was not strong enough to prevent this attack, and I fear we must all be ready to make some bold new changes if we are to face this threat and defeat it.
“The fleet has already moved into a defensive formation around Earth and the Moon, and we are hunting for our attackers. My advisers tell me that we need more ships to be completely sure that an attack of this magnitude could never reach Earth. Unfortunately, the problem is the same as it has always been: we can’t afford the fleet we already have, let alone to build a bigger one. Yet I am here today to tell you that we can, and we will. We cannot sit idly by and allow our great Alliance to come crashing down. If the missiles that hit the Moon had hit Earth, tens or even hundreds of millions would have died. We cannot allow that to happen.”
Wallace paused to let that sink in, and then he launched into his sales pitch for Sakamoto’s lease-to-own proposal for a new fleet. Once he was sure people were asking how the Alliance could afford to make payments, he introduced Mindsoft’s automated habitat project. Wallace was careful to emphasize the positives and downplay the negatives, painting life in the arcologies—not tanks—as idealistically as possible. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure how people were going to take it, but by the end of his speech, he was greeted with violent applause.
Wallace smiled. “Thank you. Good night. And long live the Alliance!”
Chapter 6
“We have reached the midway point to the Looking Glass, Admiral,” Lieutenant Bishop announced from the helm. “Coming about for ten Gs deceleration.”
“Carry on, Lieutenant. Still nothing on sensors?” Alexander asked.
“Not a blip,” Lieutenant Frost replied.
“Hmmm…” The missiles looked like they’d come through the wormhole, so it was possible that it was actually between them and their attacker, blocking the enemy ship from view. To test his theory Alexander brought up a tactical map and checked the ship’s logs for the trajectory of the missiles that had hit the Moon.
The trajectory showed them crossing beside the wormhole rather than through it. He’d expected that given the wormhole’s orbital velocity and the amount of time that had passed since the attack, but it also meant that if there’d been something hiding behind the wormhole, it should be in plain sight by now—unless it was far away and they were limiting their emissions to stay hidden.
“The mouth of the wormhole only lined up with the Moon for a very brief window of time,” McAdams said from beside him, her eyes on the map.
Alexander nodded. “Whoever was behind the attack, they timed it perfectly to make sure we would think it came from the Looking Glass.”
“Are you sure that it didn’t?” McAdams replied.
“You heard what Bishop said. It would take 180 times the orbital distance from the Earth to the Sun just for a ship to reach a third of the speed of light, and we know from experience that nothing can travel that far into the wormhole without being ripped apart.”
“Maybe there’s a safe zone—some point where the tidal forces balance each other out and it’s safe to traverse.”
“I’m no physicist, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how wormholes work.”
“Well, I hope you’re right and the attack didn’t come from the Looking Glass.”
“And why is that, Commander?”
“Because the mouth of the wormhole is pointed at Earth now.”
Alexander checked his tactical map again. She was right. The Looking Glass was now aimed at Earth like the barrel of an interstellar cannon.
McAdams shook her head. “Bishop, I have a math problem for you.”
“What’s that, Commander?”
“Find out when a missile traveling at a third of the speed of light would hypothetically need to exit the mouth of the wormhole in order to hit Earth.”
“Yes, ma’am. Give me a minute to run that through the computer.”
“That’s what targeting computers are for,” Lieutenant Cardinal put in from gunnery. “I can calculate that faster.”
“I don’t care who does it, just get me the calculation,” McAda
ms replied.
Alexander’s brow furrowed. “You’re really stuck on this theory that someone is attacking us from inside the wormhole.”
“It doesn’t matter. Our attackers are either actually using the wormhole to direct their shots, or they’re pretending to. In either case the attacks will have to come from a specific direction at a specific point in time, which means we should be able to predict where and when another attack will come.”
“Unless that’s what they want us to think and they’re hoping we’ll be so fixated on the wormhole that we’ll miss an attack from another angle.”
“If I’m wrong, it will be easy to verify. Scanning for incoming ordnance along a known vector is a lot easier than scanning everywhere at once.”
“True.”
“Got it!” Cardinal said.
Bishop went straight to the point. “The missiles would have had to leave the mouth of the wormhole approximately five minutes ago.”
“Four minutes and fifty nine point two three seconds ago,” Cardinal added.
“So where would that put them now?” McAdams asked.
Alexander watched as a glowing red dot appeared on the tactical map along the trajectory he’d drawn between the wormhole and Earth. “Frost, get me eyes on that area of space. Account for targets moving at a velocity of point three C.”
“Yes, sir… scanning.”
Alexander turned to McAdams. “I hope you’re wrong about this.”
She met his gaze with unblinking blue eyes. “So do I, sir.”
“Multiple pings!” Frost called out.
Alexander felt a sharp stab of adrenaline followed by a feeling of electricity sparking through his fingertips.
“They’re moving fast! Thirty-two percent the speed of light,” Frost added.
Alexander sat up straighter in his couch. “What are we looking at?”
“Twenty-one targets, closely staggered! Looks like more missiles, same as before.”
“Hayes, get that target data to Fleet Command.”
“Aye, sir. At this range it’ll take eight minutes to reach them.”
Alexander grimaced. Eight minutes before Earth could even react to the threat. “Cardinal, is there any way we can intercept those missiles?”
“Calculating, sir…”
Alexander was already checking their range to the targets to make some of his own calculations. They were over a hundred million kilometers away from the missiles. Since they weren’t maneuvering, it should have been a simple matter to fire projectiles or other missiles in their path and take them out, but at the speed the enemy ordnance was moving, any weapon the Adamantine fired would take far too long to get there.
Meaning we’re shit out of luck.
“We can’t intercept them from here, sir,” Cardinal reported, confirming Alexander’s suspicions, “but at the nearest point between our approach vectors the enemy missiles will pass just inside of our theoretical maximum effective laser range. Our window of attack will be a fraction of a second, and we’ll have to account for all kinds of sensor and firing latencies in order to hit something moving that fast, but it should be possible to intercept a few missiles if we concentrate our fire.”
“Let’s make that more than a few. Bishop, get us as close as you can at ten Gs thrust. Let’s give this our best shot.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Stone, launch drones and fighters and get them to intercept as well. We may as well throw everything we’ve got at this.”
“Roger that, sir.”
“Frost, how long do we have before Earth impact?”
“Forty three minutes and sixteen seconds, sir.”
“Minus eight minutes before Earth even realizes they’ve got incoming,” McAdams said.
Alexander turned to her. “That still gives them thirty five minutes to intercept. Thanks to you. That was a good call, Commander. If we’re lucky, someone else was thinking the same way and the fleet is already on its way to intercept.”
“I hope so, sir. It only takes one of those missiles hitting Earth and a lot of people are going to die.”
Alexander nodded absently.
“Incoming message from fleet command!” Hayes announced.
“It’s been eight minutes already?”
“No, sir. They had to have sent this message before we sent ours.”
“Patch it through to the main display.”
Fleet Admiral Anderson appeared larger than life on the main forward screen. “Admiral Leon,” he said. “We’ve detected incoming ordnance moving at relativistic speeds. Same as what hit the Moon, but there’s more than twenty this time. All available ships are moving to intercept. That means the Adamantine, too. I sent you the target data with this message. Find the best place to intercept, and shoot those missiles down. Anderson out.”
“Do you want to send a reply, sir?” Hayes asked.
“Tell them we saw the missiles before their message reached us, and we’re already on an intercept course.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Cardinal—how long before we reach firing range?”
“Seventeen minutes and eleven seconds, sir.”
Alexander pressed his lips into a grim line. “Let’s hope we can improve those odds for everyone back home.”
“Aye, sir. Unfortunately we’re not in the best position to intercept, but I’ll do my best.”
“What’s the best position?” McAdams asked.
“Directly in front of the incoming ordnance,” Cardinal replied. “The smaller the angle of deflection, the less the speed of the missiles will matter. Calculating an accurate deflection shot against targets moving a hundred thousand klicks per second is not an easy task. You just have to be off by a millionth of a degree or have an extra nanosecond of firing delay and you’ll miss.”
“Sir!” Frost interrupted from sensors.
“What is it, Lieutenant?”
“I’m getting a blip on our long-range scanners within a reasonable margin of the incoming missiles’ trajectory. It’s out over a billion klicks behind the wormhole. Dreadnought analog. The comm transponder identifies it as a Solarian ship—the S.R.S Crimson Warrior.”
Alexander blinked. “A billion kilometers? What’s out there, Frost?”
“Nothing, sir. Empty space.”
“Isn’t Saturn about that distance from us?” McAdams asked. “The Solarians have a colony on Titan and water mining operations in Saturn’s rings. They might have a reasonable explanation for being that far out.”
“That’s the right distance, but the wrong direction, Ma’am,” Frost replied. “They’re over three hundred million klicks from Saturn, and they don’t appear to be headed for Mars.”
“Hayes, hail them,” Alexander said. “Ask for their flight plan and an explanation of what they’re doing out there.”
“They’re not in our territory, sir. They may feel we have no right to know their business.”
“In light of the recent attacks, we have every right to know. Explain the situation as tactfully as you can, but make it clear that we need to know what they’re doing if they don’t want us to suspect them. Also, send Fleet Command an update with the location of the Solarian dreadnought. It’s the only lead we have so far.”
“Aye, sir.”
Alexander saw McAdams shaking her head. “Something on your mind, Commander?”
“It doesn’t make sense for the Solarians to attack us. They own almost half of Alliance debt. If those missiles hit Earth, they’ll put us that much closer to defaulting on our loans.”
“Maybe that’s what they want,” Alexander replied. “Then they’ll have an excuse to come and collect.”
“Assuming we let them. Our fleet won’t be affected by an attack on Earth,” McAdams replied.
“Not immediately maybe, but who’s going to pay for upkeep when the entire Alliance is in shambles? It won’t take long before it’s a ghost fleet being auctioned off to the Solarians for emergency funds. Look at the evidence�
��someone is using the wormhole to hide these attacks and trying to make us think it could be a surviving remnant of the old Confederate Fleet, or even aliens. That gives the Solarians anonymity. They can cripple us with a minimum of effort and expense, and without starting an all-out war that they’d surely lose. All they have to do is sit back and wait for the dust to settle before they make their move.”
“It’s possible, sir.”
“Cardinal—how much longer to intercept?” Alexander asked.
“Eleven minutes, sir.”
“Put up a clock on the MHD.”
“Aye, sir.”
Alexander kept his eyes glued to the clock as time ticked away and everyone went about their tasks. Below the clock, the MHD showed a broad, starry vista. A bright red target box glowed there, inching visibly closer to them with every passing second. He found himself mesmerized by the stars and the steadily approaching target. After a while, he glanced up to check the clock.
Two minutes.
In the next instant the red target box split into twenty-one smaller boxes, all of them streaking in at high speed…
“Weapons hot!” Cardinal announced.
“Stone, report.”
“All drones and fighters are sitting five thousand klicks ahead of us, locked on and waiting.”
“Good. Keep me posted.”
The target boxes sped across the holo display, seeming to accelerate as they drew near—an illusion created by the angle between their trajectories and the narrowing distance between them.
Thirty seconds… ten…
Alexander realized he was squeezing the life out of the armrests of his couch, and forced himself to relax with deep, calming breaths. His surroundings might be virtual, but the stress was real, and he needed to keep a cool head.
One second.
Dozens of blue laser beams flashed across the void and converged on just a handful of the targets. Alexander blinked and then both the lasers and the glowing red target boxes were gone, leaving nothing but fading after images in their wake.
Mindscape: Book 2 of the New Frontiers Series Page 6