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
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.”
“We
“No. You have acted as philistines and destroyers. We of Callisto serve as watchdogs over Jovian humanity. We use our teeth as it were and our valor to build. You have committed yourselves to the annihilation of things you cannot achieve. Perhaps you do not even understand what you’re attempting to destroy.”
“That’s why you plan to murder thousands of innocents,” Yakov said, his sarcasm heavy. “You’re proving your philosophic superiority, is that it?”
“You are a clever man, Force-Leader. Who taught you to dialogue as you do?”
Marten pushed himself beside the command chair. This was going entirely the wrong way. These two obviously hated each other. “You Jovians are the oddest people I know,” he said.
Su-Shan’s left eyebrow twitched, which for her placid mannerisms amounted to wild emotionalism. “You are a barbarian, given to animalistic outbursts. Still, you are an accredited representative and in theory belong to the governing class of Mars. Would you care to clarify your statement?”
“Your system is under massive assault and the two of you bicker over philosophy,” said Marten. “Who fired the Zenos at us? Who ordered those ships to attack? No one in the Guardian Fleet did, meaning that cyborgs ordered it. You’ve seen our data. The
“You expect me to believe that obvious fabrication? I am insulted, Representative. The pod’s destruction was a clear ploy to murder your arbiter and create a sensation. Yakov achieved both. Now he and his kind will pay the penalty for trying to destroy perfection.”
“Have you spoken with Athena Station lately?” asked Marten.
“Of course,” said Su-Shan. “The controller there assured me that nothing unwarranted has occurred. And let me add, and this will dismay you: the War Council at Athena Station has decided to act decisively. They will shortly launch needed munitions, sending them to Callisto. Did you hear that, Force-Leader? Your rebellion is doomed.”
“What supplies?” Yakov asked.
A faint smile slid onto Su-Shan’s face. “Your rebellion has failed before it could truly begin. Disarm, Force- Leader, and save your people in the Galileo Regio.”
“Wait!” said Marten. “Athena Station is sending supplies to Callisto? Is that what you said?”
She gave him a level stare, with the faintest hint of a sneer. She looked at him as if he were a buffoon who had committed some buffoonish offense. “I am not in the habit of lying, Representative. Frankly, your insinuations weary me. And it causes me to wonder how you gained your credentials.”
“I already told you,” Marten said, “the hard way.” He was sick of being called a barbarian and fed up with her airy manners. “I gained them by putting my life on the line, by bleeding in combat and by killing armed enemies.”
“Gross barbarism,” Su-Shan said. “It shows your brute nature and likely your Highborn affinity that you revel in battle. You boast about fighting and killing and thereby show your lack of sensitivity and desire for reasoned dialogue.”
“Maybe,” Marten said. “But I earned my credentials.”
“Your insinuation is that I failed to earn mine. You disappointed me, Representative.”
“Have bullets ever whizzed past your ears? Have you ridden a torpedo into a particle shield and stormed your way aboard a warship?”
“I am a governor,” said Su-Shan, as she lifted her elfin chin. “I am not a brute guardian. Please, cease these veiled insults.”
“You use reason?” Marten asked, stung now. He wanted to break her placid manner, to see if she was human.
Su-Shan gazed at him coldly, as if he emitted a foul odor.
Marten shook his head, berating himself. He was as bad as Yakov and the others. Arguing with the Chief Controller was madness. He cleared his throat, deciding to try a different approach. “The Highborn commander has broadcast his data. He is the former Praetor of the Sun-Works Factory.”
“I have heard his proclamation, yes,” Su-Shan said. “It is bombastic twaddle. And it confirms my suspicion concerning the so-called Highborn. They are like our myrmidons: genetic aberrations, brutes in love with fighting.
