The Praetor raised his massive hand and made a decisive gesture.
A pale officer licked his lips. Then the officer’s big hands roved over his board. He engaged the fusion core, and the ship’s engines fired with violent life. Every Highborn aboard the crippled Thutmosis III found himself slammed against his acceleration couch.
The Praetor, Canus and one other Highborn on the bridge, shouted wildly, roaring at the universe. Their emotions had overloaded and they bled their tension in the only way they knew, with a predator’s roar of aggression.
Despite the massive Gs, the Praetor raised his fist, shaking it at the universe, hoping his derelict ship could survive the horrible forces pressing upon it.
-18-
Alarms rang in the Descartes. On the ship’s main screen blazed a bright dot, the brightest object in the region of banded Jupiter. The glowing dot was more luminous than the Sun or any of the nearby moons, and certainly brighter than the stars.
“Give me an analysis,” Yakov said, who had lurched forward to stare at the teleoptically-enhanced sight.
The hunched officers worked furiously, while Marten frowned at the glowing dot.
“It approaches from out-system,” Rhea said.
“Is it cyborg reinforcements?” asked Yakov.
“I have a match on the engine’s heat-signature,” Rhea said. She looked up, surprised. “Force-Leader, it’s a SU missile-ship.”
Yakov massaged his forehead. It was a rare indication that he was under stress.
“Their speed is excessive,” Rhea said. She touched the blue medal dangling from her choker. Then she went to work. Soon, she said, “Given their deceleration rate, it will take them many orbits around Jupiter before they could conceivably come to a halt.”
Yakov stared at the white dot.
So did Marten, as he thought about the Storm Assault Missile.
“The ship’s energy output has increased,” Rhea said. “And the ship’s heading has veered. It will take them….” She madly typed keys. “Force-Leader, it will take them ten thousand kilometers from the Rousseau.”
“How long will that take?” snapped Yakov.
“In approximately three point four hours.”
Yakov swiveled toward Marten. “Do you think it’s an actual SU missile-ship?”
“Not if it came from out-system,” Marten said.
“Who drives it then?” Yakov asked.
Marten spoke to Rhea. “Given its flight path, can you calculate its point of origin?”
She stared at him. She had beautiful eyes. They were green, and larger than ordinary Jovian eyes.
Abruptly, she turned to her screen, typing quickly. “It must have come from Uranus.”
“Are you sure it’s a military vessel?” Yakov asked.
“The engine’s heat-signature is a one hundred percent match to a SU missile-ship,” Rhea said. “It must be a warship.”
“Why would those from Uranus send a warship here now?” Yakov said.
“Their secret service must have stolen SU ship designs,” Marten said. “Maybe they meant to slip such vessels into Inner Planets.”
“Why?” asked Yakov.
“If cyborgs are here,” Marten said, “maybe cyborgs also attacked the Uranus System.”
“And?” asked Yakov.
Marten glanced at Rhea. She dropped her gaze, and after a moment, she turned back to her board.
“Are they fugitives from a successful cyborg invasion?” Marten asked.
“The assertion is preposterous,” Rhea said. She brushed curls from her eyes. “The barbarian could as easily suggest cyborgs commandeered the ship. The truth is otherwise.”
“How can you know any of that?” Marten asked.
She gestured angrily. “It has an SU heat-signature and it comes from Uranus. Why couldn’t it be an SU warship returning from a diplomatic mission? That is the logical deduction.”
Marten shook his head. “That it’s here now at this juncture indicates something else. If it belongs to Social Unity, why stop in the Jupiter System? The ship must contain more cyborgs.”
As Yakov stared at the main screen, his eyes glittered. “No. That isn’t a cyborg ship.”
“It seems like the likeliest explanation,” Marten said.
Yakov shook his head. “If you’re right about the Rousseau and Athena Station, it shows that the cyborgs have been acting secretly. This new ship blazes its presence. Everyone in the system will note it. And that would be contrary to a hidden attack. Therefore, the new ship contains something other than cyborgs.”
“It is mere supposition that cyborgs are in our system,” Rhea pointed out.
Marten made a harsh sound. “Cyborgs attacked my shuttle.”
“The Arbiter didn’t believe you,” Rhea said. “Why should anyone else?”
“The Arbiter fled his pod for a reason,” Marten said. “The Rousseau sprayed a gel-cloud to hide itself for a reason. Its com-officer said there was fusion core damage, but you all saw it earlier. That was battle-damage. They lied to us. Athena Station ordered the Descartes away from the stricken ship. Give me a good reason for those actions.”
“He is an out-system barbarian,” Rhea told Yakov. “His motivations are hidden and likely antithetical to the Dictates.”
“It might be time to active the Zenos,” Yakov said softly.
Rhea clutched her slender throat. “No! You cannot attack a Guardian Fleet warship.”
“If I use the drones,” Yakov said, his eyes tight, “it might inadvertently begin the secession. And if cyborgs are here it’s time for system unity, not discord.”
“It’s time to attack,” Marten said. “If the new ship brings reinforcements, you must strike before the cyborgs become even stronger. If that ship doesn’t contain reinforcements, the cyborgs on the Rousseau will likely be worrying about the new vessel.”
“The barbarian is wrong,” Rhea said.
“I’m not wrong,” Marten said, “and I’m not a barbarian.”
Rhea sneered at him. “The Earthman is likely a provocateur, sent to start a civil war among ourselves.”
Marten stared at Rhea a moment longer. Then he turned to Yakov. “You must decide quickly, as the Zenos still have a long way to travel. You must accelerate them now to strike as the new ship approaches the Rousseau.”
Yakov ran a hand through his silver hair. Indecision twisted his usually stoic features. He glanced at the main screen, at Marten and then at Rhea Merton, the Primary Gunner.
“We’re loyal to the Confederation,” Rhea said. “We each took a solemn oath with our three center fingers placed on the Dictates. We swore to uphold and enforce them. Now I must insist that you tell us where the Strategist went. We should have heard from her by now. Tell us what happened, Force-Leader.”
Using his sleeve, Yakov wiped his forehead. Then he sat straighter and opened a slot on his armrest.
“No,” Rhea said weakly. “We’re Confederation officers. That is a Guardian Fleet vessel.”