Fusion bombs.
The second battle group had been clustered together—no reason to scatter, as far as they knew. Now they were melted slag. We’d lost twenty-five dreadnaughts and a couple hundred drones. Bobs looked at each other, stunned.
But our third battle group was coming in, and we had no time to mourn. I sent a quick IM to the group leader, instructing them to scatter at the end of their pass.
The Others started moving their defenses to the point a further 120 degrees around, where they expected us to come in, given a symmetrical series of assaults.
Exactly what Butterworth had suggested they’d do.
Our third group came in only ten degrees off the first group’s path, 130
degrees away from where the defenses were forming, completely blindsiding them. The dreadnaughts and drones tore through the defenders like tissue paper. Lobbed fission weapons took out two cargo vessels and another death asteroid.
As the battle group exited the theater on the far side, they scattered. The Others launched another volley of fusion drones in pursuit. The Bobs had a massive head start, but the pursuers had that ridiculous level of acceleration.
It was a footrace we couldn’t win.
Everyone was intent on the developing drama, which left the door open for Butterworth’s next suggestion. A trio of lonely nukes, on ballistic trajectories, with virtually no emissions, now sailed in from the vector from which the Others had been expecting the third attack. Three flashes, and two more cargo vessels were drifting, offline.
I imagine, somewhere in one of the death asteroids, some Others general was screaming invective at his subordinates while veins pulsed on his neck and forehead. Or some equivalent. In any case, the Others apparently decided
to finally take us seriously. A massive series of SUDDAR pings emanated from their fleet, swamping our receivers. The transmission power was truly incredible, and my jaw dropped at the readings. I looked at one of the other Bobs. The sheer power behind that broadcast said, better than anything else they’d done, that we were gnats.
And more to the point, it lit up every vessel and drone in the immediate area. Whether it would reveal our last surprise or not, well, we’d know in a few moments.
It did.
The Others launched a dozen fusion drones straight forward along their flight line, where several cloaked fusion bombs were approaching. This would have been our coup de grâce. Instead, it would be little more than a parting shot.
I instructed the incoming nukes to begin evasive maneuvers. The Others might not be able to maintain a continuous bead on the cloaked units.
The Others’ fusion drones deployed into a defensive grid, and detonated simultaneously.
“Not bad…” Charlie said. “They estimated that pretty well.”
I checked status. “They took out two of ours. The last one still looks operational. I don’t think they have time to do anything about it. It’s also interesting that they haven’t broadcast another ping like the last one…”
“Like the gamma-ray blasts, it probably requires a recharge.”
I nodded distractedly while I guided the last cloaked fusion weapon. Right into one of the death asteroids. It detonated perfectly. When the flash cleared, there was nothing left but scattered debris.
We were done. We’d used up everything we had. Our battle groups, what was left, were heading away from the Others’ fleet at far too high a velocity to be able to turn around in any reasonable interval. By the time we could get back in the game, the Others would be at the Pav home planet.
Eight death asteroids and eleven cargo carriers were still under power. If they decided to continue on and rebuild in the system, there would be nothing we could do. We held our breath, as the seconds ticked by.
No change.
I sat, stunned, as the Others continued on towards Delta Pavonis, and the Pavs.
We’d failed.
[Incoming message. In Mandarin]
I was almost doubled over with nausea, but it was logical to find out what they had to say. “Put it on, Guppy.”
You have proven to be more than food. You are pests. We will harvest
this system, despite your pathetic attempts at defense. Then we will harvest
your Sol and Epsilon Eridani systems. And your species will end its
existence in our larders.
Fuck.
I tried to open a chat with Jacques, but got nothing. I pinged Andrew instead.
“Hey Andrew. Any idea where Jacques is?”
“Hey, Bill. Sorry, Jacques was killed during his group’s attack. We have a differential up to the last few minutes, so we’ll be restoring him as soon as we have a new vessel.”
“Crap.” I rubbed my forehead. We had some spare matrices, but it could still be days before we were able to get that done.
Andrew interrupted my train of thought. “Did he ever follow through on that plan to kidnap some Pav?”
“Yeah. Kind of a worst-case response. I’ve triggered implementation already. We’ll get twenty thousand Pav off-planet before the Others get there.
We’re not going to be gentle about it, though. We can’t afford to have a discussion and ask for volunteers.”
The Pav were now an endangered species. I just hoped that Jacques had taken plant and animal specimens and such.
73. Collection
Phineas
February 2217
Delta Pavonis
I closed the connection with Bill, and turned to Ferb. The defense of Delta Pavonis had failed, and we now had to compound the karmic deficit by ripping up to twenty thousand people from their homes by force.
Jacques had put a lot of thought into the problem, and Ferb and I had expanded on the plan once we’d come online. It wasn’t going to be pretty.
But there simply wasn’t time for explanation and debate. It should have helped that the people we were going to snatch would otherwise die. It didn’t.
Jacques had selected two towns of the right size, in different parts of the target country, to maximize genetic diversity while still retaining community.
We carried specialist drones in our holds, ready to do the deed.
I hovered over my town, Mheijr, in the dead of night. If this was Earth, it would be about 3 a.m. A dog barked—well, the local equivalent of a dog did the equivalent of barking—but otherwise, there was no movement. Without an electrical grid, most places still went totally dark once everyone went to bed.
I sent out the first wave of drones. These were equipped with canisters of a heavy, odorless gas that we’d developed. It would render the victims unconscious for up to four hours. By then, hopefully, we’d have them all in stasis.
The drones performed their task, then headed back to the cargo hold, and the second wave of drones exited to collect bodies. Each drone could hold two adult Pav. It would take about fifty trips per drone to collect the full ten thousand people.
I hoped that we would come up under ten thousand in total rather than have to leave people behind. I dreaded what anyone would have to go through, waking up to find that almost everyone in their town had disappeared. It would be devastating, even without the inevitable suspicion
that would fall on them.
The operation completed flawlessly.
Some comments over the SCUT from Ferb indicated that his end wasn’t going quite so swimmingly. I smiled, thinking of the ribbing I’d give him.