From her coasting pod, Chief Strategist Tan spoke urgently to the commandant of the Guardian Fleet flotilla in low-Ganymede orbit.
She sat in the pilot’s chair as she wore her Strategist whites. It had taken some doctoring, but now she wore a Chief Strategist’s megastar pinned to her chest. A diamond glittered in a five-pointed, golden star.
Tan strove for calm as she stared into the vidscreen. Serenity and authority mixed with assuredness is what she attempted to project.
The flotilla commandant appeared in the screen. He was older, bald, with rejuvenated skin. He had chubby cheeks like a freakish baby. He rode aboard the
Static caused his image to waver. Ganymede was in the fierce Jovian magnetosphere, a flattened area or belt that included Io and Europa. Of the Galilean moons, Ganymede was the only one that had its own magnetosphere, which carved a small cavity inside Jupiter’s vast magnetic field. Jupiter also acted like a pulsar, a radio-emitting star. Those radio waves often interfered with Jovian communications the closer one approached the gas giant.
As the commandant spoke, his words were drowned out in the static.
Tan adjusted the controls. The chubby-cheeked image wavered worse than before, but finally stabilized. She raised gain, and shouted, “Could you say that again, Commandant?”
“The Solon has instructed us.” The commandant had a deep voice. Behind him on the vidscreen, an officer floated past. “We are forbidden on pain of death from having further communications with you.”
“If you will check article two of the Warship Code,” Tan said, “you’ll find that the Solon lacks the authority for such a military order.”
The commandant scowled. “We have a war in progress, and—”
“The Solon declared that there is no war.”
“What nonsense is this?” the commandant said.
“I have a file of our three-way conference. Prepare to receive it.”
“Did you not hear me?” the commandant asked. “I am forbidden from doing so.”
Tan gave him a serene stare. “On the possible eve of our destruction, is it rational to follow madness into oblivion?”
“Obviously not,” he said. “But your query has no bearing on the situation.”
“I suggest you apply common sense to our conversation. What harm can occur from listening to my file?”
“The Solon has declared,” the commandant said. “He is the supreme intellect and our guiding light. I dare not disobey him.”
“With such a supreme intellect,” Tan said, “why did he fail to take into account article two of the Warship Code?”
The commandant received a note from someone off screen. He scanned it and then frowned at Tan.
“I suggest you listen to a selected audio file and compare the voice with the one in your ship’s library,” Tan said. “You will discover a disconcerting truth.”
“I don’t have time for this. Quickly, declare your truth. Then I must go. Even now, we are initializing our bombardment sequence.”
Tan wanted to scream. Bombarding the Secessionists was madness. Humanity needed to unite against the cyborgs, not gnaw itself to death like a crazed beast. She attempted to calm her anxieties as she let a faint smile touch her lips. She must project rationality.
“I would rather that you confirm this truth yourself,” she said. “It will then have a primary validity to your subjective view.”
“I am not attempting a dialogue,” the commandant said hastily.
“You are wise,” Tan said. “Now prepare to receive my audio file.”
The commandant glanced off-screen. After a moment, he nodded at her.
Tan moved a toggle, sending the selected portion across the void. The commandant received, listened, ran his file-check to confirm the speaker and then looked at her with raised eyebrows. For him, a governor noted for his imperturbability, it was a gross gesture of surprise.
“The Solon’s unraveling is a tragedy,” said Tan. “But the proof is undeniable. He has become unhinged.”
“So it would appear. The implications… the complications…. What am I supposed to do?”
“I suggest you hold his order in abeyance until you’ve listened to my logic. Today, you must trust your reason, employing it to its fullest. The survival of our system is at stake, perhaps every human life here. Much now rests upon your choice. Trust the Dictates, your training and your intellect.”
The commandant stared at her. He appeared wan, and he chewed his lower lip, before saying, “You are the new Chief Strategist.”
“I am the
“I’m listening, Chief Strategist.”
Tan dipped her head the tiniest bit as she strove for serenity. To persuade, she must achieve apparent disinterest and a seemingly didactic arrogance.
“Callisto faces massive damage,” she said. “Pre-battle analysis indicates a world-ending strike. That, of course, presupposes that the cyborgs have added new functions to the existing missiles. Their secret endeavors and the core reality of their existence—the heightened technology that allows their being—indicates cyborgs possess such refinements.”
“This world-ending strike,” the commandant said, as he continued to chew his lower lip, “it is only for one face of Callisto that we have plotted the course of the projectiles. Therefore, in a worst case scenario, the other side survives.”
“Computer analysis indicates massive quake damage on the Jupiter-facing side, and high levels of radiation poisoning.”
“Jupiter and Io already send large doses of radiation into—”
“The missile strikes will likely increase the radiation dosage by an entire factor,” Tan said. “That is a debilitating amount.”
The commandant’s cubby cheeks sagged as he whispered, “Continue.”
“The cyborgs are obviously attempting a decapitating strike,” Tan said. “Logically, the Guardian Fleet should combine with the Secessionists to face the greater threat.”
The commandant straightened. “There is no one I know of designated as ‘Secessionist’. Now there are terrorists—”
“I am not here to quibble about semantics, Commandant. Extinction threatens. Therefore, put aside your prejudices and let reason guide your actions. At this juncture in time, you are being called to make a monumental decision. Rise to the occasion as a true son of the Dictates.”
“Insults are unbecoming in a Chief Strategist,” the commandant said. “As a controlling governor in the Guardian Fleet, I have by increasing degrees and training shed all prejudices.”
“Come, come, Commandant, speak the truth through reason. Do not quote me governing
The commandant’s features stiffened as he leaned toward her vidscreen. “Vocalize your logic.”
Tan paused. She could have said that better, yet she had been logical and she’d spoken truth. She now strove for convincing serenity as she said, “The cyborg fleet outnumbers ours by a critical margin. We need the Secessionists to defeat the machine assault.”
“I considered your logic earlier, I must confess,” the commandant said. “I soon reached a bitter conclusion. Even with the Secessionists, we lack the warships to face the cyborgs. Therefore, the Solon’s order—”
“Victory is achieved one step at a time,” Tan said. “Logic, reason, selfishness, all point to a united effort in an attempt to thwart our certain destruction.”
“…I concur,” he said softly.
