Extinction

“Incoming Message: Fulfill the terms of our agreement immediately.”

I felt a tickle of sweat under my arms. What did the Macros want? Everyone had their eyes on me. I was the architect of this entire thing, and if I had monumentally screwed up by misunderstanding the terms of our agreement, the existence of my race was in question. I swallowed, and tried to look confident and tough. I thought about exiting the room and working from my office. It would be easier to think if I wasn’t being stared at by a half-dozen scared people.

I drew in a breath. I decided to brazen things through. The Macros seemed to respond well to that sort of thing.

“We are ready. We have prepared the promised cargo. Now, open your cargo bay doors so we can load your transport.”

“Incoming Message: We measure insufficient mass. Agreed-upon terms have been violated.”

Insufficient mass? I blinked, wondering if we had screwed up somehow. Had they measured tons in an entirely different fashion? Did they have scales from some tiny world where a single ton metal was the size of a mountain? Had we promised them troops in tonnage equal to the size of the Earth itself?

My head swam as I groped for a next move. I rejected the mistaken scaling concept. That didn’t make sense, as their holds couldn’t support much more mass than what we’d promised them. Something else was wrong….

“Maybe they think we meant tons of nothing but troops,” Robinson said in a stage whisper, as if the Macros might somehow overhear. “Maybe they’ve counted heads, and know that our troops weigh far less than a single kiloton in bodies alone.”

I stared at him. If he was right, we would have to renegotiate, or we were doomed. I thought about this delicate situation. I knew I didn’t have too long to respond.

“Sir,” said Captain Sarin, “the cruisers are reorienting themselves.”

“Give me the visual.”

The image, transmitted down from space, snapped up on the tabletop in front of me. The Macro ships formed a classic diamond pattern over our heads, one ship at the center and one at each point. I nodded, noting that they had formed a similar formation over China. Apparently, during planetary assaults, they tended to form diamonds or triangles.

“Those unknown turrets on the bottom of the ships, they are activating sir,” said another staffer. “They are tracking.”

“Tracking what?”

“They appear to be tracking this command module, sir. All of them.”

I nodded. “Well, at least we know now what those turrets are. They’re ground-assault weapons of some kind.”

— 36-

“Maybe we should just go for it, sir,” said Major Robinson.

I looked at him. “What have we got?”

“Crow took the precaution of massing up the Fleet over the production base. They are drifting very close to ground-level, but could head up into orbit at a word from us. All we need to do is report that the agreement is breaking down.”

I blinked. “I’m not ready to do that yet.”

“Sir,” he said, leaning forward. “That is your call. It is my duty to inform you of our status for any contingency. I believe we could take out this fleet fairly quickly.”

“You have thirty seconds to convince me,” I said.

Robinson put both his palms on the table between us. A rippling effect on the screen outlined each hand. It was the screen’s way of idly acknowledging the contact and showing it was awaiting an intelligible gesture.

“We have more ships than we did when they hit China,” he said with intensity. “That’s nearly forty ships.”

“Closer to thirty,” I said.

“Yes sir, but the fleet only represents a fraction of our firepower. The big advantage we have right now is our ground-based weaponry. Every Macro ship is in range of our land-based beam turrets. We have two hundred and seven guns we could target them with. We also have hovertanks, with a combined firepower greater than the fleet itself.”

I thought about it. Essentially, we could hit each of their vessels in turn with around three hundred cannons. This was because they were right on top of us now. We could blast each ship in turn with overwhelming firepower and destroy them all, probably within a few minutes, and definitely before they could retreat.

I grimaced. This was not how I had envisioned my day unfolding. I had brought peace to Earth. Was I about to plunge her back into war? I felt like Admiral Yamamoto, eyeing the charts and plotting the locations of US ships around Pearl Harbor. I imagined he’d felt similar misgivings.

“The problem is, Major,” I said, “they will be back in a month or two with a hundred ships, and next time they might not be so kind as to park themselves in low-orbit above the single heavily-fortified spot on our planet. No matter how many guns you place on it, the Rock of Gibraltar can’t defend the entire world.”

“It might be our best option, sir,” Robinson said.

I looked into his eyes. He wanted to do it. Even if it meant this command module would be splattered into oblivion seconds after the order was given. Was that bravery, or simple desperation, I asked myself. Probably, it showed an impressive hate for the Macros.

“Tell Crow to position his ships in orbit behind the Macro formation,” I ordered Robinson. “Tell him not to fire unless he sees things go badly.”

Robinson nodded and stepped away to pick up a com-link and make a private connection with Fleet. I turned to Captain Sarin and gave her similar orders to relay to Lieutenant Colonel Barrera. He was in command of the laser turrets and the hovertanks. If he group-linked them, they could all fire in unison at designated targets.

“Tell Barrera to disperse our hovertanks-just in case.”

“Yes, sir,” said Captain Sarin. She seemed far less excited about her orders than Robinson had been. I didn’t blame her.

“Command module,” I said, “transmit this to the Macros: we have not violated the terms of our agreement. We have all the promised mass here to load aboard your transport.”

“Incoming Message: Insufficient mass detected. Our terms have been violated.”

“Crow is lifting off, sir,” said Robinson in my ear. “He’ll form up behind them so our own ground-based beams won’t cause any friendly-fire problems.”

“Barrera is group-linking the ground forces,” said Captain Sarin into my other ear. “He suggests you evacuate the command module. He’s relocating to the new underground bunkers now.”

Barrera was right, of course. If this thing was about to turn into a shootout, I didn’t want my command staff caught in the middle of it. I should pull out of the module and move to a safer location. I thought of Sandra, sitting in my office nearby with no clue what was going on, no inkling of the weighty decisions I was making.

I thought next of Kennedy and Kruschev during the Cuban Missile Crisis of the sixties. I’m sure they had felt pressure like this. Here I was with my finger on the button, and I had no idea what the other side was really thinking, what they might be up to. I was sure of one thing, however: the Macros weren’t freaking out inside like I was right now. Being a machine-based intelligence had its advantages.

“Command module, transmit this: Macro Command, measure the combined mass of all the bricks stacked in front of you. There are nearly five hundred of them. Their combined weight exceeds the promised cargo weight.”

Nothing came back for several seconds. I had them thinking, conferring. Perhaps they were doing as I asked, scanning the units.