Cyborg Assault

“You must engage your logic,” Yakov told Rhea. “Athena Station broadcast the Secessionist code. No one there would do that if he or she were Guardian Fleet personnel. Either Secessionists gained control of Athena Station or cyborgs did. It is more logical to believe that cyborgs captured the station than Secessionists.”

“No,” said Rhea, “that is illogical. Why would cyborgs broadcast the code?”

“Obviously,” said Yakov, “to create disunity among us.”

Rhea gripped her choker. “None of that matters anymore. The tracking Zenos will destroy our ship. We must take to the lifeboats and escape with our lives.”

Marten chewed the inside of his check. The Descartes used the technique of sledding down the gravity-well to build up velocity. Unfortunately, the following ships also went down into the gravity-well after them.

Marten studied his screen. The enemy ships were red dots. The Descartes was a yellow dot. The green dots were the speeding Zenos.

Marten spoke to Yakov. “There may be a way to discover if the ships chasing us are cyborgs or Guardian Fleet vessels.”

“I’m listening,” Yakov said. He sounded weary and looked older.

“Radio Callisto Orbital Defense,” Marten said. “Tell them everything you know. Then ask them if they ordered those ships to attack us. If they didn’t, they’re cyborgs.”

Yakov pondered the idea, soon nodding. Then he ordered the com-officer to open a channel with Callisto Orbital Defense.

* * *

Aboard the hard-decelerating Thutmosis III, thick-necked Canus broke the Guardian Fleet’s ship-to-ship code. He was thus able to intercept Yakov’s message to Callisto.

“Well done,” the Praetor said, after listening to the message.

“The premen maintain a primitive system,” Canus replied hoarsely from his acceleration couch. “They use a simple 1-2-3 dynamic with an override code-sequence set at the second level.”

As he endured the terrible Gs, the Praetor pondered the Jovian message, playing it over a second time, ingesting the innuendos. “Replay the warship’s demise,” he said, meaning the Rousseau, although he didn’t know the dreadnaught’s name.

The Thutmosis III’s passive sensors had recorded the destruction. By studying a computer-list of Solar System warships, the Praetor knew it had been a Guardian Fleet dreadnaught, a durable warship, but inferior to those of Inner Planets.

“We’ve stumbled into a civil war,” Canus said, after watching the video a second time.

The Praetor grinned viciously. “That’s perfect. We shall join the weaker side, use our superior tactics, leading them to victory and thereby gaining their gratitude.”

“Premen are notoriously fickle with their gratitude,” Canus said.

“I controlled the Sun-Works Factory for many months,” the Praetor said. “There I learned the full extent of their ingratitude. We gave the premen discipline and meaning, and they turned on us like sneaking curs, with their tails between their legs as they snapped at us. It is the condition of inferior stock. In this system, I will use their initial gratitude, which sometimes gushes with irrationality. I will use it to begin my rule. Yes, even among premen there are killers. I will seek those out, break their will to mine and build a corps of enforcers.”

“First we must defeat the cyborgs,” Canus said, as he scratched the red burn-scar twisting across his cheek.

“No,” said the Praetor. “First we must stop the Thutmosis III.” He showed his teeth in an aggressive smile. “However, it is also time to begin winning premen gratitude. Show me the warship that destroyed the dreadnaught.”

Through the ship’s powerful sensors, the Praetor soon witnessed the situation between the Descartes and the following meteor-ships. The Praetor ran figures, studied the holographic display and listened a third time to Yakov’s warning to Callisto Orbital Defense. By then, Canus had intercepted the ruling philosophers’ answer.

“Give me the political situation report on the Jupiter System,” the Praetor said.

It came online. Despite the harsh conditions, the Praetor read the report with incredible speed, skipping the non-essentials. During that time, the ship rapidly closed toward the actively hunting Zenos.

“It will take us many circuits around Jupiter to halt our velocity,” the Praetor said thoughtfully. “Before that, we must have chosen sides and gained allies. Otherwise, we risk having both sides trying to destroy us.”

The Praetor balled his mighty hands into fists. He squeezed, letting his nails dig into the flesh of his palm. He was the superior being in this system. The cyborgs, they were no longer human. They did not count, as they were mechanical aliens. As the dominant being here, control and rule would naturally fall to him—if he could reach the levers of power.

“Weapons: heat the laser,” the Praetor said.

“The target?” asked Canus, trying to sound unconcerned as the continuing deceleration caused rattling and high-pitched whines.

“Target those drones,” the Praetor said. “Let us show these premen our gratitude for destroying the dreadnaught for us.”

“They only destroyed the dreadnaught to help themselves.”

“Do not seek to teach me the basics,” the Praetor warned. “I know more than you, more than everyone here combined. We shall give them life. They shall fawn on us because of it, and we shall insert ourselves into their struggle. Our superiority will then give us control of the system.”

Canus nodded grudgingly. “Your plan is well-conceived,” he muttered.

“On my word,” said the Praetor, “target the first drone.”

-22-

Gharlane wore a vacc-suit as he inspected massive Voltaire Missiles on Athena Station’s asteroid surface.

He was like a mote as the missiles towered three hundred meters over him. In effect, they were corvette-sized spaceships. But instead of living quarters and crew, each was double-packed with lethal weaponry to help fight its way to the target. Each also possessed a new and improved artificial intelligence to do the fighting. The payload was hundreds of megatons of thermonuclear power. A fusion core drove each at the highest acceleration of any craft in the Jovian System. A Voltaire seldom hid like the chemically-fuelled Zeno, but came on powerfully to subdue the target through mass, weaponry and superior ECM.

Coils were still attached to many of the gargantuan missiles, and cyborgs scurried everywhere, using the rail- system to make last minute adjustments. Some cyborgs climbed the outer rungs and entered the rockets, manually checking the more delicate systems.

Above the missiles was the blackness of space. Athena Station lacked an atmosphere, causing the stars to shine brilliantly like cold gems. Jupiter hung in the distance, its Red Spot barely visible as the gas giant rotated.

Gharlane turned around. On the asteroid there were squat buildings, laser ports, waiting anti-missile rockets, ready for immediate launching, sand-accelerating guns used to knock down incoming objects and a bewildering forest of antennae. They helped scan the void for anything that might harm the station. The original gaining of Athena Station had been the greatest cyborg achievement to date.

Gharlane had wanted to strike at Callisto Orbital Defense then. The Web-Mind had overridden the desire, and Gharlane had come to see that the Web-Mind had been correct. The Guardian Fleet had been much too strong then and could have possibly converged in time to halt much of a first strike.

Gharlane raised his helmeted head, peering up at a giant missile. The Voltaire was unlike the Jovian dreadnaught, which was smaller than an Inner Planets vessel of a similar type. He read the big letters on the