programs. It did so now, numbing a key brain dome.
Using its sensors, the Sigma located the exact coordinates of the first and nearest missile. Then it manually overrode targeting as it turned on ship’s engines and began warming its laser. The Sigma would have used hidden drones, but it had waited too long, letting the missiles fly past the drones’ secret locations.
The Sigma Web-Mind sent a pulse, activating its hidden drones sprinkled throughout Inner Planetary space. Soon, they would be hot drones, and target and destroy any ship moving too near them. Afterward, the Sigma sighted the first HB missile and fired its laser.
A minute and a half later, on the other side of the Sun, a Highborn in a black Missile Operator uniform turned in surprise to Commandant Maximus. They were in the Sun-Works Factory. Their chamber was under one G of pseudo-gravity.
The laser-beamed message had used various beacons orbiting the Sun near Mercury’s orbital path. The staged beacons were the reason the message could wrap around the Sun.
“Commandant,” the operator said. “A laser is hitting our lead missile.”
The missiles didn’t fly in a close flock, but in a line. It was standard operating procedure. They were spaced and staggered so the destruction of one would not harm the next in line.
Maximus scowled as he stepped closer to the screen. “Look at the laser’s wattage. How does a patrol boat’s ion engine generate enough power for that?”
“Commandant,” the operator said as he checked his screen, “the laser originates elsewhere, from a region closer to the Sun.”
“Cyborgs,” Maximus whispered.
The operator frowned and glanced up at Maximus. “Why would a cyborg stealth-ship defend the premen?”
“An excellent question,” Maximus said. “Keep watch over your sensors.”
The operator turned to his screen. “The missile is destroyed,” he said a moment later. “They’re targeting the second missile.”
“Yes, yes,” Maximus said, as he rubbed his chin. “It’s beginning to make sense. How could premen defeat Centurion Titus? The answer: they couldn’t, at least, not one patrol-boat full of them.”
“It was inconceivable,” the operator agreed.
“This Kluge is known for his slipperiness. But I think we’ll find if we poke around, that his exploits are highly inflated. In any case, I see now that cyborgs helped him. They must have turned Kluge into one of their creatures. I wonder how long ago that happened.”
The operator shook his head.
Maximus snapped his fingers. “It must have happened in the Jovian System. Yes, he has been one of their mindless servants ever since.” The Commandant laughed. “Redirect the missiles.”
“Sir?” the operator asked.
“Track the laser back to its origin-point. Then target the cyborg ship. It’s vastly more important than one of their dupes. Marten Kluge, he’s been a cyborg creature! I should have seen it sooner. The Inner Planets must be riddled with cloaked cyborg vessels, and they helped Kluge defeat the centurion. I won’t be fooled again.”
“I’ve redirected the remaining missiles, sir.”
“Excellent,” Maximus said, as he made a fist and struck himself on a pectoral. “It pays to think, and to attack the entity who threatens you most.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Osadar said.
Marten blinked at the sensor-equipment. The second HB missile blew up, destroyed by what had to be a cyborg laser.
“Why are the cyborgs destroying the missiles for us?” Osadar asked.
Marten grinned as it came to him.
“You have an answer?” Osadar asked.
Marten nodded.
“I’d like to know, too,” Felix said.
“God,” said Marten.
“What?” Felix and Osadar asked together.
Marten managed to close his mouth, although it was difficult. He wanted to bray with laughter. God had finally grown tired of Highborn arrogance and the blasphemy against nature that were the cyborgs. Therefore, God had confused mankind’s enemies. What other explanation could there be?
“God is no answer,” Osadar said.
“Do you like the word
“No,” she said. “For I’ve found that Fate is always negative, never positive. This laser…I do not understand.”
“If this is God’s work,” Felix said, “how come He didn’t intervene sooner? For instance, why did He allow South American Sector to perish?”
“I don’t know,” Marten said.
“Primitive beliefs are of no use to us in space,” Felix said.
“What’s
Felix shook his head. “My answer is to grab what I can when the opportunity presents itself. Our enemies fight. That’s good enough for me. I do not need higher explanations.”
“The moment is enough?” Marten asked.
“The moment is all there is,” Felix said. “Therefore, one must grab life with both fists and mold it to suit himself.”
“Do we target the remaining missiles?” Nadia asked.
“They’ve changed bearing,” Marten said. This time he couldn’t contain himself. He laughed. “They’re going to pass us, likely as they head for the cyborgs.”
“This is a trick,” Felix said. “Maximus has caused the missiles to deviate just enough to lull us.”
“Leave the missiles,” Marten told his wife.
“You’re making a mistake,” Felix said.
Marten shook his head.
“Your belief in myths will get us killed,” Felix said, anger tingeing his voice.
“It hasn’t so far.” Marten grinned up at Felix. “You’re free because of me.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Felix said. “It is a stain that I will never wash away. A preman saving a Highborn—it is a paradox.”
“Give it time,” Marten said, “and I’m sure you’ll see a few more of those.” He took a deep breath, wondering what the next few hours would bring.
The Sigma Web-Mind seethed with impatience in the M Lurker. A monitor program attempted to foil the launching of a full spread of anti-rockets.
The enemy missiles had switched heading. The Sigma had known they would. Did this Maximus really think he could out-guile a Web-Mind? It was a vain conceit. The Highborn were better soldiers than Homo sapiens, but a poor second against the glorious melding of technology and biology within every cyborg.
The laser stabbed into the void. The HB missiles jinked, but they accelerated at such high gravities that they only had a few options. The third missile exploded, destroyed by the laser.
