But as thousands of humans died, and the admiral took pleasure in his victory, the Queen felt the fi?rst stirrings of worry. Because rather than surrender, as she had been assured that they would, the surviving elements of the home fl?eet had chosen to fi?ght. In order to buy time? So that those down on the planet’s surface could better prepare their defenses? Or for some other reason? The monarch feared the latter. What if the animals were less indolent than they appeared to be? What if somewhere, buried deep within their self-indulgent culture, there was a core of steel? That could be very dangerous indeed!
The monarch couldn’t afford to let such doubts show, however, as the leading elements of her fl?eet swept the last remnants of resistance aside and began to trade salvos with the planet’s orbital-defense platforms. The human habitats were massive affairs, each housing more than six thousand animals, and possessing a vast array of weaponry. According to intelligence reports each of the four battle stations was armed with a massive Class I energy cannon, plus two dozen lesser gun emplacements, and an equal number of missile launchers. This meant that, so long as all the platforms were operational, it would be diffi?cult if not impossible to put a signifi?cant number of troops on the surface of the planet. Impressive though the orbital fortifi?cations were, however, they had a major weakness. And that was the fact that while the ring of battle stations could lose one platform and still bar access to the planet below, the destruction of a neighboring habitat would open a hole large enough that invading ships would be able to pour through. And because the battle stations couldn’t direct their weapons downwards without running the risk of hitting Earth’s surface, once enemy ships managed to penetrate the human defenses, there was nothing to fear from above.
The remaining battle platforms could launch fi?ghters, however—a threat that the Ramanthians would have to counter. For that reason Admiral Lorko planned to put most of his capital ships against Battle Stations III and IV, while sending a swarm of smaller craft to suppress the aerospace fi?ghters from I and II. If all went well, both platforms would be effectively sidelined.
Meanwhile, aware that there were fortifi?cations on the moon, Old Iron Back planned to neutralize the batteries in the fastest and most expedient manner possible—nuke them. And that was the way the human colonies on Mars and Jupiter’s moons would be dealt with as well. While Earth had value as a bargaining chip, the rest of the solar system’s settlements weren’t worth occupying, and could be dispensed with. Yes, the Queen knew that the humans would make use of the new hypercom technology to call for help, which was why a signifi?cant portion of the fl?eet was being held in reserve. But given the alliance with the Clone Hegemony, plus confl?icts elsewhere, it wasn’t clear if the Confederacy would be able to respond in time. The coming hours and days would tell. In spite of whatever minor doubts she had, the Queen believed the strategy would work as she looked down upon the jewel-like planet that hung below her. Animals lived on it now. But someday, perhaps thirty years in the future, all of them would be dead.
BATTLE STATION III, IN ORBIT AROUND PLANET EARTH,THE CONFEDERACY OF SENTIENT BEINGS
“All civilian and supernumerary personnel will report to the mess deck, where they will receive combat support assignments. . . .” Battle Station III’s primary Command & Control (C&C) computer’s soft, dispassionate voice was supposed to communicate a sense of calm, even if that didn’t match what was going on. A fl?ight of three enemy missiles struck the station within yards of each other. And the nearly simultaneous explosions caused a shield generator to overload. That created a momentary hole in the space station’s defenses, which one of the Ramanthian fi?ghters managed to exploit by fi?ring a torpedo through it. The entire habitat shuddered as the missile penetrated the hull and killed people. Within seconds the surrounding airtight compartments sealed themselves off and prevented what could have been an even larger catastrophe as the C&C computer delivered the latest piece of bad news. “The battle station’s primary weapon system is off-line,” the computer intoned emotionlessly. “Secondary and tertiary weapons have been delegated to local control. All damage-control parties will report to . . .”
Lieutenant JG Leo Foley didn’t care where the damagecontrol parties were going to report. All he wanted to do was to escape the battle station’s brig, round up some sort of transportation, and get the hell off the platform before the bugs began to board it. Because there wasn’t a man or woman in the navy who hadn’t heard about the slaughter that took place aboard the Gladiator once the crew put down their arms and surrendered. Some of the POWs had been taken off the battlewagon to serve as slave labor, but many had been murdered, or left to die when the ship blew. And, assuming the stories were true, the chits were especially hard on offi?cers. Which Foley still was, for the moment at least. Foley’s thoughts were interrupted as a hatch opened and a fi?rst-class petty offi?cer appeared. His arms were full of printouts, and it looked as though the rating had been ordered to feed the pile of documents into a shredder bolted to the opposite bulkhead. All things considered, that was not a good sign. “Jonesy!” Foley said imploringly. “You’ve got to let me out of here! You know what the bugs will do if they board. Give me a fi?ghting chance!”
“Yeah!” a neighboring prisoner agreed loudly. “You heard the loot—give us a fi?ghting chance!”
The shredder made a grinding noise as the jailer fed sheaves of paper into it. “How stupid do you think I am?”
Jones inquired rhetorically. “Rather than fi?ght, you eight balls would run for the nearest escape pod!”
Foley had something more comfortable than an escape pod in mind, but knew better than to say so, and continued to plead his case. “No way, Jonesy. . . . Let us out of here, give us weapons, and we’ll make the bugs pay!”
There was a chorus of agreement from the other holding cells as the petty offi?cer fed the last sheets of paper into the shredder. The battle station shuddered as something blew, and the deck started to tilt as 12 percent of the habitat’s steering jets went off-line. Perhaps it was that, as much as anything else, that caused the noncom to pause and reconsider. Foley was a thief by all accounts, although the charges against the offi?cer had yet to be proven, which meant he was theoretically innocent. The rest of the prisoners were enlisted personnel who had been charged with offenses ranging from sleeping on duty to running a distillery down in the battle station’s engineering spaces. All of which were serious offenses, but they didn’t justify the death penalty. And none of them deserved to be killed like rats in a trap. Because, based on what Jonesy had heard, Foley was right. The Ramanthians were merciless. “I’ll probably regret this,” the PO said, as he rounded the duty desk. “But what the hell? I never expected to make chief anyway.”
A meaty fi?nger stabbed at the touch-sensitive screen, six indicator lights went from red to green, and there was a metallic clang as all the doors slid open. The prisoners were free!
Or so it seemed. But moments after rushing out of their cells, and milling around inside the detention facility, a new announcement came over the PA system. And, rather than the well-modulated tones typical of the C&C computer, this voice was human. Thereby raising the possibility that the Command & Control computer was belly-up, too. “This is Lieutenant Commander Nidifer,” the female voice said. “All hands will stand by to repel boarders. I repeat, all hands will stand by to repel boarders.”
Foley swore. It didn’t take a fl?eet admiral to fi?gure out that if the main battery was off-line, and most of the secondary armament was down, then the bugs were going to come aboard and clean house. And, worse yet from his perspective, the fi?ve pounds of stardust that he’d been willing to sacrifi?ce his navy career to steal was locked up where he couldn’t get at it!