Cyborg Assault

endure. Oh, I’ve studied their last attack in detail. I know beyond doubt that they desire a nuclear bombardment of Ganymede. They hope to finish the war with one more strike.

CONTROLLER: I have a counter-proposal.

ADVISOR: My dear sir, we must unite on strategy so the Chief Strategist doesn’t divide and then exploit us through Dictate-derived guile.

CONTROLLER: First, let me remind each of you that secret obliteration devices reside in the warships.

ADVISOR: I feel driven to point out that activating the devices will leave Europa at the mercy of the cyborgs.

CONTROLLER: I understand. But I refuse to passively stand by and watch Europa’s destruction. If the second Galilean moon dies, the fleet perishes.

ADVISOR: Forgive me for saying this, but that strikes me as a selfish attitude.

CONSTROLLER: Nevertheless, it is my attitude. However, I no more desire death than you do. Therefore, if you refuse to split the Combined Fleet into equal parts, then I demand that you move the fleet into a position halfway between Europa and Ganymede. In this way, if the cyborgs lunge at either moon, the Combined Fleet will rush in to protect that target.

ADVISOR: In no way do I wish to disparage your intelligence. Yet a simple understanding of space mechanics will show you the folly of such a proposal. A fleet needs a gravity-well to help it accelerate and slingshot at its targeted destination. Since the Combined Fleet already rests at the—at a primary defensive post, it should logically remain here. If the fleet were already at Europa, I would suggest the same thing.

CONTROLLER: Your statement is questionable.

ADVISOR: I am unused to anyone calling me a liar, even someone as noble as you are, sir.

TAN: Gentlemen, please, this bickering is useless. The cyborgs are on the verge of destroying us, of bombarding Europa and Ganymede.

ADVISOR: Our fleet stands in their path.

TAN: Gentlemen, let me outline the cyborg strategy.

ADVISOR: (scoffing) You claim to understand them?

TAN: I understand how I would act given their situation.

ADVISOR: If your highly vaunted insight reigns so supreme, why didn’t you foresee the strike against Callisto?

TAN: The cyborgs are trying to annihilate important, strategic targets in turn, hoping to paralyze us into inactivity. If we let them bombard Io, we are that much closer to the abyss of extinction. We must meet their fleet, risking life or death. Otherwise, we give them the strategic initiative.

CONTROLLER: Could you explain that, please?

ADVISOR: She speaks Dictate-style gibberish in an attempt to confuse us. I advise against listening to her.

CONTROLLER: No. I would hear her insight. After all, she was a Chief Strategist under the old rule.

ADVISOR: Don’t let her deceive you. She was a junior strategist elevated to the highest rank through the simplest expedient of being the sole survivor of the War Council.

CONTROLLER: Nevertheless, she was trained in war theory and execution.

ADVISOR: That means she is highly cunning and deceitful.

CONTROLLER: Then let us use her deceitful practices to deceive the cyborgs.

ADVISOR: That is mere sophistry, sir, which I had thought died with Callisto’s passing.

CONTROLLER: (his voice hardening) I insist on hearing her insights, sir.

ADVISOR: Bah! It is a waste of our precious time. However, to show you that I am capable of bending over backward to please an ally, I will submit to her diatribe.

TAN: (serenely) This is no diatribe, gentlemen, but an assessment of the strategic situation. The cyborgs threaten us with the horns of a dilemma, thereby hoping to pin our mobile elements into static non-movement.

ADVISOR: You’re speaking strategic gibberish to blind us to your political goals.

TAN: In my first days at the Academy, we read an ancient book called Strategy. B.H. Liddell Hart wrote it.

ADVISOR: I am unaware of the author and suspect you are deviating from the true topic of our three-way.

TAN: Strategy is a treasure trove of military insights. What I find interesting is that the cyborgs seem to be applying the strategy of an ancient soldier named General Sherman. He termed the phase, ‘on the horns of a dilemma,’ which I just elucidated. In his ‘March to the Sea’ through a place called Georgia, General Sherman always took a line of advance that left his enemies in doubt of his destination. Would he march on Macon or Augusta next, or later on Augusta or Savannah? He forced his enemies to defend multiple places. The place left open, he destroyed. In this way, he annihilated the productive areas in a land called ‘The South.’

Now, the question for us is this. Do we park our fleet in a single place, waiting? Do we allow the cyborgs to burn through the Jovian System as General Sherman burned his way through Georgia? If we answer in the negative, if we hope to thwart our fate, we must strike boldly. We must use everything we possess to smash the enemy and regain the initiative.

CONTROLLER: The risks are great, and perhaps you are wrong. Do the cyborgs truly wish to destroy Io? If they attempt it, it will put their warships deep in Jupiter’s gravity-well.

ADVISOR: I believe the cyborgs hope to lure our fleet out of position. I find that I agree with the Controller. We must wait.

TAN: Haven’t you been listening? Io isn’t the target, but a possibility. The cyborgs have put us on the horns of a dilemma. We cannot possibly defend everything. Therefore, we must risk the fleet and our moons to attack instead of waiting to die piece by piece.

ADVISOR: Controller, your words have convinced me. We must wait. We must hold and defend. Unfortunately, I lack complete authority regarding the Combined Fleet. My vote, however, is to place the fleet in far-Ganymede orbit, thereby putting it closer to Europa, ready to dash to your moon in its savage defense.

CONTROLLER: A mid-point between our moons would be better.

ADVISOR: I believe if you confer with your space tacticians, you will find that an inadvisable proposal.

CONTROLLER: …I will confer with them.

TAN: Gentlemen, the cyborgs will destroy Io if we do nothing. Then they might well send patrol boats into Jupiter’s upper atmosphere and bombard the floaters. They might also strike the inner group, the processing moons, blowing up the storage facilities there. Several year’s-worth of helium-3 and deuterium are at risk.

ADVISOR: You cannot know these things with such certainty. They are illusions built to suit your political aspirations.

TAN: My words are recorded, gentlemen. I will stand by them. Then all will see that I could have saved Io and whatever else we shall lose, while you two dithered, too filled with fear to make the bold move.

CONTROLLER: Your insults leave me cold, Chief Strategist. Advisor, I must confer with my tacticians concerning these space mechanics you mentioned.

ADVISOR: Yes, excellent. I must also depart and relate this meeting to our Quorum. Chief Strategist, if you will excuse me, and Controller, if I have your leave.

CONTROLLER: You do, for now. But I will expect an elevation of Europan fleet personnel into command positions. This must have occurred by our next meeting. If you find that unacceptable, then a substantial number of warships must be en route to our moon. Otherwise, the destruct codes will be activated. I suggest you both think carefully on that.

ADVISOR: You are a bold man, Controller. I welcome you as my ally in these harrowing days.

TAN: Unless you gentlemen agree to my strategy, our extinction is a real probability.

ADVISOR: Your days are numbered, Chief Strategist.

TAN: No more than yours, Advisor.

CONTROLLER: (a static line).

The end of the three-way.