The Clone Redemption

the Milky Way to the Cygnus Arm, a journey of more than twenty thousand light-years, in a matter of seconds.

A flash of electricity so bright it could be detected by the human eye from a million miles away marked the ship’s exit from one arm of the galaxy, and an equally bright flash marked its entrance into the next. That flash was called an “anomaly.”

Every broadcast was a scientific miracle, but pangalactic travel had become so mundane that the crew of the Churchill did not even think about it.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Location: Planet A-361-D

Galactic Position: Solar System A-361

Astronomic Location: Bode’s Galaxy

Because of their synchronous orbits around A-361-D, the two moons always remained on opposite sides of the planet. The sun shone on the far side of the planet, its glow illuminating the back of the planet and both of its moons. The sides facing the Fleet were bathed in shadow.

Three of the Japanese Fleet’s four battleships had flown into position one hundred thousand miles from the moons. The Yamato and the Onoda hovered nearer to A-361 -D/Satellite 1, the larger of the two moons, the one with the flat plain that looked like a landing field. The Kyoto patrolled A-361-D/ Satellite 2, the smaller moon.

The Sakura remained another hundred thousand miles back, far enough away for Admiral Yamashiro to watch both moons from a viewport. He sat on the observation deck with Captain Takahashi. Takahashi looked through the viewport, then returned to his computer to oversee the operation through the eyes of satellites. He was too far away to see the battleships or the transports unassisted.

“How do you think they will they react when we destroy their moons?” asked Captain Takahashi. With the other captains away, Takahashi became less formal around the admiral. Yamashiro was, after all, Takahashi’s father-in-law.

“They would have attacked us already if they had the ability,” said Yamashiro. “They must not have a navy. It’s as if they have spent so much time conquering other planets that they have forgotten how to defend their own.”

Takahashi walked to the viewport and leaned against the rail that ran beneath the glass. He stared out at A- 361-D. The gas giant was a muddle of yellow and brown and orange.

Far in the background, A-361, the star from which the solar system took its name, burned like an electrified ember. Earth’s future generations, assuming Earth would have future generations, might know this as the “Avatari System,” thought Takahashi. In another hundred years, children might be required to memorize the names of the four battleships in the Japanese Fleet, the Sakura, the Onoda, the Kyoto, and the Yamato.

“What will we do if they shoot back at us?” he asked.

Yamashiro dismissed the idea. “We’ve analyzed the moons,” he said. “They pose no threat.”

The video feed from one of the satellites shadowed the Onoda. Another showed a view of seemingly empty space, that was, in fact, occupied by a stealth transport. That same satellite also had a telescopic sight on the moon, which included a very clear view of the flat area that Yamashiro’s officers now called, “the deck.” Everyone agreed that it looked like a landing field, but it could also have been the roof of a huge subterranean city or a missile-defense system. Because he did not know what lurked under that flat top, Yamashiro had sent the Yamato to back up the Onoda. On his computer screen, a satellite tracked the Yamato as it approached the larger moon, lagging twenty thousand miles behind her sister ship.

Yamashiro didn’t care about the moon or what it housed. Gathering scientific data did not interest him.

Back in his office, Yamashiro had a photograph that he had not yet shared with Takahashi or the other captains, one that made the deck on A-361-D/Satellite 1 and the little ring of buildings on A-361-D/Satellite 2 look insignificant. It was a photographic image of planet A-361-B taken by a scout satellite, and it showed a city.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The two lead transports carried infiltration pods but no SEALs to fly them. On this mission, they would use the S.I.P.s as weapons instead of transports. On this mission, the S.I.P.s were both the message and the messenger.

Two technicians rode in the kettle of each of the transports. The technicians did not need to open the pods to program them. They prepared the pods using special computer stations. Though the techs had never programmed pods to overcharge and self-destruct, they had been trained in the operation of field-resonance engines. They jacked computer lines into the pods and typed in instructions.

Now that the pods would be used as torpedoes, the techs loaded the S.I.P.s into the launching device with new reverence. Once they had the pods in place, they returned to their programming stations. The displays on the computers glowed like neon signs in the darkness of the kettle, their low glow showing on the wall in a twist of white and red and green.

Young and tired of exploring Bode’s Galaxy, the technicians normally complained and commiserated as they worked. They criticized officers and gossiped about shipboard romances. On this day, though, with high-ranking officers listening in from nearby battleships, the technicians only spoke to report their progress.

The field-resonance engines required two minutes and twenty-seven seconds to build an explosive overcharge. That left the techs and the transport pilot with a chilling two minutes and twenty-three seconds in which they would sit with the S.I.P.s as they morphed into bombs.

Admiral Yamashiro ordered the attack, and Miyamoto Genyo, captain of the Onoda, coordinated it. Sitting on the bridge of his battleship, grim-faced, his eyes dark as flints, his lips pressed so tightly together they formed a single flesh-colored line, his shoulders tight, he watched the satellite feeds, ready to pull the plug on the operation if something went wrong.

“Flight path programmed,” reported a technician on the transport preparing to attack the moon known as A- 361-D/ Satellite 1.

“Flight path programmed,” reported a tech on the transport preparing to attack the moon known as A-361- D/Satellite 2.

Miyamoto gave the order that everyone anticipated and feared. Speaking in Japanese, he said, “Charge the infiltration pods.”

Time seemed to freeze at that moment. For Miyamoto, who had never put much thought into the length of two minutes, the next one hundred and forty-seven seconds felt like a lifetime. From the bridge of his ship, he watched the larger moon, studying the curve of its surface, and he wondered what mysteries it held.

Miyamoto looked at the timer and saw that only twelve seconds had passed.

No one spoke. The sailors manning the bridge of the Onoda remained silent. If the technicians in the transports had spoken, Miyamoto would have heard. He had a commandLink connection with the pilots of the transports as well.

Twenty seconds had passed.

Miyamoto watched an unenhanced view of the moon through a viewport. Seen from hundreds of thousands of