Star Fortress

you warned us. That was well done, and it deserved a gesture. I will give you no more than that, Kluge, for the stakes have become huge. You have proven yourself a gadfly often able to sting an elephant. Therefore, I will not underestimate you.

“I own the Sun Station and the Sun-Works Factory. Soon, I will rule the Solar System. Your boat’s camouflage was excellent, but I have the interferometer. Since I discovered your take-off location, I knew where to search. We have spotted your patrol boat and missiles are already accelerating toward you. Good-bye, Marten Kluge. Good-bye, Grand Admiral Cassius-Felix. Your deaths will be swift and no one will miss your wasted lives. Commandant Maximus out.”

As the message ended, it looped and began again, calling for Marten Kluge.

Marten and Omi traded glances. Marten holstered his needler and his fingers flew across the sensor screen.

“Where did they launch—” Marten saw it. “Five missiles,” he said, “sent no doubt some time ago from Venus or Venus orbit. They’re accelerating fast at over fifty gravities.” He made a quick calculation. “They’ll be here in a little over three hours.”

“We warned them about the cyborgs!” Xenophon shouted. “The Highborn is killing us after we warned him?”

“Maximus is a Highborn’s Highborn,” Felix said through clenched teeth. “He seeks to emulate Cassius.” With an oath, Felix slammed a fist into his palm. “We must survive! We must make him pay for his treachery!”

“Right,” Marten said. “Osadar, rotate us. We’ll use the PD cannons.”

The cyborg swiveled in her chair. “The Lurker is out there. If we use our engine again, it might spot us.”

Marten laughed. “We’re not going to just sit here and allow the missiles to destroy us.”

“This may be a Highborn ploy,” Osadar said. “Maybe Maximus needs us to move. He claimed to have spotted us, but that could be a lie. He believes we’re in a certain quadrant and expects his message will panic us.”

“I doubt that,” Marten said.

“What if the missiles’ guidance systems need something more in order to pinpoint our exact position?” Osadar asked.

“Since leaving the wrecker, we’ve used our engine several times already,” Marten said. “The ion exhaust is cool compared to a fusion engine, but not so cool that the interferometer would fail to spot it—especially since Maximus knows we had an ion engine installed. I don’t believe he’s bluffing, and I don’t want to rely solely on jamming electronics to protect us. Turn the boat.”

Osadar nodded glumly, and switched on the boat’s side jets. Slowly, the William Tell began to rotate.

* * *

A cyborg Lurker was closer than anyone in the patrol boat would have believed possible. The Lurker was cloaked several magnitudes better than the William Tell, and cyborgs had become masters at camouflaged movement.

This was a Master Lurker, bigger and more heavily armed than the regular Lurkers. A Web-Mind controlled the ship and ran the stealth assault against the Sun Station.

The Web-Mind in charge styled itself as the Sigma Web-Mind. The brain domes and bio-systems were in the center of the ship, a sealed and heavily armored compartment. For months, it had crept through the Inner System. Except for the giant interferometer near the Sun, the Lurker Fleet possessed the best sensors this side of Neptune. Using them, the Sigma had timed each use of thrusters to when the least number of enemy ships or systems could see it. It had taken torturous precautions and moved with delicate precision.

The Sigma was a fighting Web-Mind, and therefore contained a lower percentage of survival imperatives. Yet throughout the long journey from Neptune and with the tedious crawl through Inner Planets, it had grown hesitant. For many months, it had self-dialoged. It had also ingested a million Social Unity-originated radio waves, watched an inconceivable number of shows and read countless blogs.

It had chosen the name “Sigma” to show its loner position in the cyborg hierarchy. The Web-Mind believed itself different from the others. Who else had been given such an important mission? No one else.

The Sigma realized several critical points. One, it was unique. Two, it must succeed. Three, it must expect devious cunning from the Highborn.

As the M Lurker drifted toward the Sun Station, the Sigma watched the stealth-pods near their destination. Glee filled it. The devious Highborn had met their match in the great Sigma. Soon, cyborg troopers would swarm the station, kill the Highborn and take control. Then the war in Inner Planets would be over.

Deep within the M Lurker, the Sigma listened to Maximus’s broadcast.

A dim green light filled the inner compartment. Tubes fed the brain sheets under the domes with synthi-blood. The gel surrounding the tissues quivered.

The Sigma dissected the Highborn message, mulling over the fact of these missiles. It ran over three hundred thousand scenarios concerning what could occur. It understood the danger to its existence. Until it controlled the Sun Station, a single powerful missile could end its existence. That must never ever happen.

To make sure that never happened, the Sigma began heightened logic checks. The Highborn were deviously clever. That was the weightiest piece of datum. The Sigma knew about the patrol boat launching from the wrecker. It had analyzed the boat and concluded it was a minimal threat. Yet the boat was still a factor. The Sigma would have destroyed the craft except that self-concealment mandated a minimal use of weaponry. Because of that, the Sigma had already bypassed many opportunities for ship-kills. Now, Highborn missiles accelerated toward the semi-cloaked patrol boat.

I’m not sure I can call the boat cloaked. It is a pale imitation of cyborg cloaking. And its sensors—the Sigma felt contempt—they are pitifully weak.

By themselves, the Homo sapiens presented little danger. The heading of the boat, however, was the second weightiest piece of datum. The boat was headed toward the Master Lurker—or headed at least in its general direction.

That cannot be a coincidence. No. The Highborn are deviously clever. That is the critical factoid.

A mixture of fear and anger began to surge through the Sigma’s brain domes. The feelings spiked, and tripped internal alarms. “Cooling” chemicals sprayed on its emotive centers, dampening the debilitative feelings.

The patrol boat and the Highborn message—

Does Maximus think he can fool me? I am the Sigma. I am unique. I must survive.

Clearly, obviously, the patrol boat was a ruse. The message—when did Highborn ever send out such a broadcast? It was an anomaly.

A crudely done anomaly, no less. They insult me.

Obviously, the missiles were headed toward the boat, building up velocity. The question was: why destroy the patrol boat?

The answer became blindingly obvious. A Homo sapien could have seen the reason. The Highborn recognized the stealth power of the Lurkers. How could they not? Uranus, Saturn, Jupiter and now Mars had all fallen to a stealth assault run from Lurkers. While the Highborn had never actually seen a Lurker, they could have surely rationalized its existence. The Highborn surely realized that the Inner Planets were riddled with stealth drones and various Lurkers. Maximus therefore, used the patrol boat-ruse in the hope that no hidden drones or Lurkers would destroy the missiles. Why destroy a weapon meant for someone else? Let the Highborn and Homo sapiens fight between themselves. That’s what Maximus wanted it to think. In other words, the Highborn worked the missiles in close so at the last minute they could reroute for the M Lurker, destroying it.

The Sigma still didn’t understand how the Highborn had spotted its Lurker. Rationality programs attempted a persuasion mode on its thinking. The programs suggested that Maximus actually did want to destroy the patrol boat. The programs were incredibly naive.

Fortunately, during the long journey to the Inner Planets, the Sigma had learned how to subvert those