“Your altered cyborg file shows your duplicity,” Su-Shan was saying. “Surely, you did not believe that would fool us.”
“We are presently under attack,” Yakov said. “So if you could make your point, it would be greatly appreciated.”
“I grow weary of your falsified proceedings,” she said.
“Send her the sensor readings,” Yakov told Rhea.
“Is that wise?” Marten asked.
“Who speaks with such a strange accent aboard a Jovian warship?” Su-Shan asked. “Show him to me.”
“I’m in the middle of a battle and must disconnect,” Yakov told her.
“Do that and I shall order an immediate bombardment of the Galileo Regio,” Su-Shan said.
Marten had glanced at a map of Ganymede earlier. The Chief Controller referred to a dark plain that contained a series of concentric grooves or furrows. It was one of Ganymede’s most significant geologic features. Yakov had informed him that it was also critical to the Secessionists, stockpiled with weaponry and with secret planetary defenses soon to go online.
Yakov raised an eyebrow. “You accord my decision far too much weight, Chief Controller.”
“Again you prattle falsities.”
“Would you clarify your statement?”
“Force-Leader,” Rhea said. “The drone continues to accelerate.”
“Do not look away from me,” Su-Shan said as she accepted a missive from a hand appearing onscreen. She glanced at the message before continuing. “We have discovered your importance in the terrorist plot. As amazing at it sounds, you are either the heart or the intellect of the so-called Secessionist Rebellion. Therefore, you will dialogue with me or the Galileo Regio shall receive several precision bombardments.”
“Force-Leader,” Rhea said, “you must—”
“Begin the Code Six Defense,” Yakov told Rhea.
On the main screen, Su-Shan’s eyes hardened. She turned her head and seemed to be in the process of giving an order, possibly a most terrible order.
“I am Marten Kluge of the Highborn Shock Troopers,” Marten said, who’d been following the conversation closely.
On screen, Su-Shan turned back. It caused her robe to shift, to highlight her smooth skin underneath.
Marten hurried before the main screen. “I’ve come from Mars,” he said. He dug out his credentials. “I am a fully accredited representative of the Mars Planetary Union.”
“You expect me to believe such nonsense?” Su-Shan asked. “Firstly, your words are unreasonable, considering your original statement that you are a shock trooper. We have heard about them: Earth troops trained in advanced Highborn space-combat techniques. Secondly, the Martians would have informed us concerning an accredited representative in our system.”
“I was a shock trooper who escaped the Highborn. The Martians hired me during their recent struggle and afterward granted me accreditation. They learned that I journeyed to Jupiter and wished to open secret negotiations with you. Unfortunately, they feared Highborn and Social Unity communications-cracking. My proof is this,” Marten said, holding up the booklet’s cover and then paging through the contents, hoping their video could record it.
As Marten did this, the Descartes shuddered. Anti-missile rockets zoomed from the meteor-ship, rocking it with their combined blasts. Usually, Yakov would have detached the rockets before they fired. There was no time now. Point-defense cannons fired for long-range spreads, and the rail-gun shot minefield canisters into the Zeno’s likeliest path.
On the split-screen, Su-Shan glanced at something out of sight. “Your credentials appear to be genuine. You should have headed directly to Callisto.”
“As a representative of the Mars Planetary Union,” Marten said, “I can assure you that cyborgs boarded my ship.”
Su-Shan stared at him. “We are aware of the Zeno, Representative. It would have been better for you if you’d headed directly to Callisto. Now your doom is imminent. I suggest you return to your module and trust to Yakov’s performance.”
Marten hurried into the narrow module. He yanked a strap over his shoulder, buckling it with a click. Through the ship-wide intercom, Yakov was already instructing ship personnel to hurry to their acceleration couches.
Twenty seconds later, the Descartes engaged full thrust and began hard maneuvering. A harsh whine sounded and the command room’s bulkheads trembled. Marten was pressed into the module as a hardened piece of plastic dug into his side. Then the pressure eased as the ship’s thrust minutely changed. Now the side of Marten’s head pressed against a cushion.
Meanwhile, outside the warship, the anti-missile rockets sped for the drone. Depleted uranium pellets followed, spreading into predictive paths. Behind them tumbled the rail-gun’s barrel-sized canisters.
“Deploy three decoys,” Yakov said.
The ship shuddered as electronically powerful missiles left the meteor. ECM pulsed from each as they attempted to imitate the ship’s signals. Their task was to lure the enemy onto them instead of on the ship.
“Begin spraying the defensive gels,” Yakov ordered.
Rhea initiated the sequence. Outside, tubes sprouted. From them sprayed a thick gel with lead additives. It formed a cloud behind the ship as the engines cut out. In several seconds, the cloud expanded. It was a dull gray with glittering purple motes.
The Zeno gained on them. But now rockets, pellets and canisters zeroed in on it.
Suddenly, the Zeno sprouted targeting rods. Then it ignited its massive thermonuclear warhead. X-rays and gamma rays traveled microseconds faster than the rest of the annihilation. Those rays used the rods to focus and aim at the targeted vessels: two decoys and the meteor-ship itself. The nuclear destruction destroyed the rods and destroyed the targeting computer as the x-rays and gamma rays traveled at light speed toward their destinations.
The two decoys exploded. The other rays hit the gel-field. Some of the energy made it through. One x-ray beam struck the meteor shell and burrowed into it, burning crewmembers on the outer levels. The command room was in the center of the ship. The arbiter’s rooms were also deep within the protective core, and the crewmembers there were spared the worst effects.
As Marten stared at the screen, damage reports began to pour in. The ship’s motive functions had survived. But the Zeno had struck a blow that affected many personnel and would likely reduce the ship’s usefulness for days and perhaps weeks to come.
“Impressive,” Su-Shan said from the main screen. “It is a pity we weren’t able to give you a dreadnaught to command. Is that why you joined the rebellion? Did we under-appreciate you?”
“I have casualties to contend with,” Yakov said. “If you could make this brief, I would be grateful.”
Golden-banded Su-Shan studied Yakov. Then she smoothed out her robe. She spoke as before, without inflection. “In the next few hours, the Galileo Regio shall receive precision bombardments. You can thank yourself for it.”
“Mass retaliation?” asked Yakov.
“No. This is an eradication of ingrates, a purging of philistines. We have achieved near perfection here, which your rebellion now imperils. I assure you that we shall not watch this occur as bystanders, but ruthlessly act to save our unique civilization.”
“It would be good at a time like this if you could speak the truth,” Yakov said. “You plan this bombardment in order to save your rank.”
“I grieve to hear you utter such a nonsensical comment. In the Confederation, those best suited to rule do so. It is a matter of the Dictates and our rigorous tests.”
“If your tests are so accurate,” Yakov said, “why are all the governors from Callisto and not from Ganymede, Europa and Io?”
“Ah. Is this the source of your unwarranted arrogance? The answer is easily explained. We at Callisto possess superior genetics because we have striven to improve our bloodlines. Our educational system soars above yours and above those of Europa and elsewhere. If you desire rank, do as we’ve done. Earn greatness.”