Cyborg Assault

“At this point in our campaign, is it wise to change our strategic goals? Ultimately, we have the advantage in ship tonnage and now possess the strongest base: Athena Station.”

Our old strategy was based on unlimited time. The Prime Web-Mind of Neptune has decided to accelerate our schedule. We must complete our planet-wrecker and match the target date of the Saturn-launched strike. Even a twenty percent increase of tonnage from us to the Saturn total will ensure annihilating victory. A ten percent tonnage increase from Jupiter will bring an obliterating enemy defeat ninety-three point six-five percent of the time.

Gharlane changed the holographic sights. An image of Io filled the bridge, as the sulfur volcano-clouds became the center of attention. Strong volcanic eruptions on Io emitted as much as 1000 kilograms of matter into space each second. When holographic Ganymede appeared on the bridge, blue dots indicated the enemy fleet, with the brightest blue indicating the hated dreadnaughts. The Jovians still retained two of them.

Gharlane only half-noticed the images. His mind raced as he absorbed the Web-Mind’s data. He could understand the Prime Web-Mind’s thinking. Several cyborg stealth campaigns were in operation. Once one proved successful, all effort should be funneled to heighten its success. Strategically, one should concentrate effort to any breakthrough in order to achieve even greater victory rather than worrying about the failed or struggling endeavors. They had not failed here. The Saturn Campaign had simply achieved overwhelming success first. Therefore, the Jovian Campaign now became secondary to them and needed to bolster their attack sequence if possible. The question was—what was the best way to shift the strategy here to aid the Saturn-strike?

The Web-Mind broke into his thoughts. I am leaving Athena Station.

Gharlane stiffened.

I am headed to Carme.

“Why there?” asked Gharlane, relieved at this news.

It is our priority planet-wrecker, soon to begin its acceleration. I have recomputed odds, warship tonnage and strategic goals. The present conquest of the Jovian moons no longer takes precedence. Therefore, you will strike the Galilean moons, using nuclear bombardment to obliterate population concentrations. That will fix Homo sapien attention onto the inner moons. To achieve this goal, you are permitted to accept cyborg fleet annihilation.

“Wouldn’t it be wiser to destroy the enemy fleet first?” Gharlane asked.

Obliterate population concentrations and industrial capacities of the Galilean moons. All analysis gives high probabilities that the Jovian warships will insert into moon orbits to halt your genocidal tactics. There you may lay tactical ambushes.

“You are relying on panic factors?”

I rely on probabilities and known Homo sapien reactions. They foretell a fixation on genocidal tactics, your fleet and Athena Station, in that order. During their fixation cycle, we shall complete the planet- wrecker. Then we shall build up velocity as we coordinate with Saturn on an Earth-strike.

“You plan to join the planet-wrecker?”

I will for ninety-eight percent of the journey, the Web-Mind said. Eventually, I will abort and return to the Jovian System as the ruling entity.

“Do your probabilities foresee the cessation of my existence?”

There is an eighty-three percent chance you shall face obliteration in the coming campaign. Yet you must endure in your task. Your faulty six-percent bio-reactions may take comfort in this knowledge: In time, I shall search Jovian space for lingering pieces of your DNA. With it, I will initiate a clone reconstruction of Cyborg Gharlane. You will live again in the eternal process of Web-Mind.

Gharlane’s head twitched. Eighty-three percent chance of obliteration meant a seventeen percent chance of continued existence. He would increase those odds, as he was Gharlane, the prime unit in the cyborg assault of Jupiter.

I will sweep the station for workers and equipment, the Web-Mind informed him. The Jovian planet-wrecker must strike to ensure annihilating victory. Therefore, you must begin to implement your strategic task in the quickest timeframe possible.

“I hear and obey,” Gharlane said, his strange, red pupils fixed on the swiftly changing holo-images around him.

* * *

Webbie Octagon’s nostrils twitched as he lay on the magnetic gurney. Harsh chemical odors assault him. The cyborg continued to push him as they entered the main conversion chamber.

Even to Octagon’s altered brain, this was a place of horror. A vast machine stood before him. On it were twenty-four naked humanoids. Some bellowed. A few stared in shocked silence. All were strapped down securely and moving headfirst toward a small chute. Beyond that chute chemicals sprayed as skin-choppers began the hideous task of removing the outer layer of epidermis.

Octagon croaked a sound of protest. That caused the hatred to flare within him. Marten Kluge had caused this horror. Marten Kluge must die. Wait! Marten Kluge must not die, no, no, not die. Marten Kluge must suffer horribly for the wrongs he’d committed. The barbarian—

Octagon cocked his head and blinked. Barbarian… barbarian… that was a difficult concept. The Web-Mind mandated obedience in the new thinking. There wasn’t such a thing as barbarians in Web-Mind terminology. Why then did he concentrate on such a topic?

“Marten Kluge,” Webbie Octagon hissed. He began to squirm as the gurney neared the end of the conveyer. Octagon bitterly realized his fate. He would ride the belt into the choppers as he was transformed into a cyborg. He would become strong. He would no longer possess any of himself. He might even lose his hatred of—

“Marten Kluge!” Octagon screeched.

As titanium-reinforced fingers began to unbuckle him, the cyborg stiffened. It stood motionless as the conveyer belt fed the screaming, protesting humans into the machine. The cyborg remained unmoving until the last human entered the chute.

“Marten Kluge,” Octagon whispered.

The cyborg reattached the buckle. It turned the magnetic gurney and pushed Webbie Octagon toward the entrance. No fleshy human, Webbie or otherwise, had ever gone in that direction. It was unprecedented.

The pushing cyborg had received an emergency message from the Web-Mind. All the cyborgs on Athena Station had. They were to immediately head for the cargo vessels, the destination Carme. Because of the new command, Webbie Octagon inadvertently avoided conversion. He would join the convoy headed for Carme, to add his feeble muscles to the launching of the Jovian planet-wrecker.

-5-

Patrol boats landed on the Descartes’ shell and on the rock of the second Thales-class vessel. The patrol boats lacked the extended acceleration of a meteor-ship, so they would have to ride piggyback. Unfortunately, their added mass would cut into fuel consumption. But it meant the taskforce would have the benefit of maneuverable landing craft.

Marten and Osadar were in the former Arbiter’s quarters. Omi was presently running a squad in heavy calisthenics as they sprinted through the outer corridors.

Marten studied the latest advance in Jovian ground ordnance: the Infantry Missile Launcher or IML. It was a tube with sights and a trigger and it held a single Cognitive missile. The Cognitive missile gave Marten hope. The warhead was red and the electronics in it were better than anything he’d used before. Normally, the Cognitive missile gave a foot soldier the ability to destroy tanks or other heavy vehicles. A soldier aimed, fired and ducked like mad. The missile’s sensors took over after that, guiding the missile to the target. It used secure neutrino receivers and had the added benefit of a passive designator.

Marten lowered the IML. It weighed nine and half pounds with the missile loaded. Each salvo weighed five and