“Shall we not avenge Kra Rragkryzh?”
Graagkhruud stared at the body. “How? And be not overconfident in presuming to take vengeance so easily. We live because we were not the target.”
Darzhee Kut cycled his focal lenses. “Not the—?”
Astor-Smath nodded, pointed back over their heads. Darzhee spun, looked: the targeting array on top of the building was gone, the mast sheared off and blackened just beneath where the sweep armature had been. Astor-Smath was already giving orders to recalibrate the remaining two targeting arrays to create a smaller, but heavily overlapped umbrella of coverage for the center of the compound.
Graagkhruud growled. “You should release the bunker PDFs to autonomous fire and intercept, with priority for terminal defense.”
Astor-Smath nodded, passed that along.
Darzhee Kut looked around, felt unusually confused and more useless than any other time that he could recall. “What happened?” he asked.
Yaargraukh heard. “The humans were not trying to destroy the ROV or us. They probably didn’t even know we were here. They were after the main targeting arrays.”
“Why?”
“Because they want to learn how to overwhelm our systems, how to saturate them.”
Graagkhruud’s assent was a chesty rumble. “And they have learned one way to do so.”
“That rocket: there was one which curved in its flight—”
First Voice spoke. “I saw that, too. Very sophisticated. It tested the programming of the intercept computers.”
Astor-Smath cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“Speak to the Arat Kur technicians. I predict they will tell you that their system automatically prioritizes missiles which head directly toward the high-value targets within the defense umbrella: hangars, warehouses, construction depots, barracks, command and control centers. But that missile approached, veered, appeared to have malfunctioned, moved past us—but then had powerful boosters which allowed it to angle back in just after the humans launched their final, largest salvo. While our targeting computers were busy acquiring, then dismissing, and then reprioritizing that apparently malfunctioning missile as a target, the computers became backlogged with the sudden wave of new targets. It was only a delay of one hundredth of a second, but that delay allowed the missile to slip inside the engagement perimeter. And it removed our array.”
“Which proves what?”
“Which proves, Speaker Kut,” said First Voice, turning toward him, crest rising, “that if the humans could have done that two more times, we would no longer have central arrays, only the smaller tactical intercept radars integral to each of the PDF units. Inferior targeting and computing capabilities, minimal coordination, unacceptable duplication of effort. In short, the insurgents would have started scoring many more hits.” He looked out at the slopes of Gunung Sawal. “Too many.”
Graagkhruud signaled Response Team One, which had gone prone at the start of the attack, to resume their advance. Darzhee Kut moved closer to Yaargraukh, who now leaned upon the handrail. “What do you think they will find?”
He wobbled his neck uncertainly. “Probably some abandoned missile racks. Judging from the fire-and-forget missiles the humans included in their barrage, several scorched trash cans, as well. They use them as disposable launch holders for the more sophisticated missiles that have integral or remote guidance packages. Sometimes our patrols find dead bodies; sometimes they find their own death. And before many more days have passed, they will encounter infiltrators from the more advanced nations. I’m sure they are here now. Probably organizing insurgency groups such as this one.”
Graagkhruud snorted. “So far, it seems otherwise. We do get occasional reports—and corpses—of Indonesian military personnel who are leading these insurgents. But there have only been three confirmed incidents of them being led by foreign cadre elements. One Chinese, one Australian, one American.”
Yaargraukh’s tongue snaked out and back again. “Be patient; there will be more.”
Darzhee Kut found it strange to be taking the side of Graagkhruud. “I am sure you are right in this, Advocate, but even if a few of them do run our blockade of this island, what can they do? Because we have remained within a limited number of cantonments and garrisons, we are all but impregnable. Our recon and combat drones, ROVs, and microsensors allow us to detect all threats long before they close with us. Our PDF systems intercept their missiles long before they reach us. And our orbital fire support immediately interdicts anyone foolish enough to fire such weapons at us.”
Yaargraukh turned to face Darzhee Kut. “That all sounds most reassuring. Certainly more reassuring than what we witnessed five minutes ago.”
Graagkhruud’s eyes swiveled sideways in their protuberant sockets at Yaargraukh. “We have sufficient control, Advocate.”
“I wonder,” commented Astor-Smath. “Either way, I intend to take no chances.” He spoke into his collarcom, “Recall the refuse sweepers.”
Graagkhruud rose up. “No. They will continue.”
“They might be killed,” Astor-Smath pointed out diffidently.
“Then their blood will be on the claws of their own kind.”
“Even so, First Fist, you cannot afford to have a massacre on your hands.”
“Astor-Smath speaks truth.” Darzhee Kut turned to First Voice. “Your wisdom is most wanted at this moment, First Voice of the First Family.”
The aged Hkh’Rkh stared after the loping backs of the receding response team. Without turning, he spoke. “Advocate?”
“I agree with Speaker Kut, First Voice. The humans would consider such an event to be a massacre of innocents.”
Graagkhruud growled. “It would be their own fault.” He glanced at Astor-Smath. “It would be an attack by humans, upon humans, who were themselves impressed by humans. Surely they will not blame us for their own—”
“With respect, I must interrupt,” Yaargraukh huffed, “for time is short and the First Voice has asked for my judgment in this. The humans would not be surprised at the killing of insurgents. They understand that armed resistance invites death. But impressed civilians forced to serve our troops by clearing these fields, then taken under fire and killed? The average human will consider these people martyrs, regardless of the details of who technically compelled their service. For every one you kill this way, ten will swear a blood oath of vengeance and take arms against us. Maybe more.”
“They will not. They will learn submission.”
“With respect, First Fist, most of them will not. Their history teaches clear lessons on this topic.”
“Yes. It teaches that the human generals lack the resolve to carry out punishments against insurgents inflexibly and invariably. It is their own weakness that makes this sound strategy a failure in their hands.”
Yaargraukh’s reply was calm. “I commend you to the annals of the German occupation of the Balkans under the Nazi regime, or the Japanese occupation of China and Southeast Asia during the same period. Consider also the tribal conflicts of less than a century ago in Africa. In each case, the conquerors showed no mercy. In each case, they carried out just such ruthless reprisals as the ones you suggest. And in each case, the occupied peoples mounted bitter and dedicated insurgencies. The humans will not submit: they will live to dine on our entrails, or will die trying.”
“Enough.” First Voice stood higher. “I am decided.” He turned to Astor-Smath. “Recall your humans. Our combat operations must have utter political and ethical clarity. At least for now.”
“Very well. With your leave, I must depart to oversee an unusual security matter in Jakarta.”
First Voice checked his armlet. “Then you should make haste in your departure. You have twenty minutes left.”