We found the rip in the hull Marvin had spoken of. It was a tight squeeze for him, but was easily managed by my marines. We were soon floating free in space.
“Are there any more active Macro cruisers in the area?”
“No sir, but several of them haven’t been knocked out yet.”
“Who is running fleet ops then?”
“Commodore Decker.”
I winced. He was one of Crow’s hand-picked favorites. The man was old guard British navy, with little in the way of imagination. He was competent, if annoying.
“Commodore Decker?” I called on an open channel. “This is Colonel Riggs, please respond.”
The response didn’t come for another minute or so. I began to become annoyed. “Commodore Decker, I repeat, this is-”
“Riggs? Where have you been hiding, man?”
“Inside the belly of a Macro cruiser.”
“Humph. Glad to hear you made it.”
“Let’s connect on a private channel, Decker.”
“I’m in the middle of Fleet ops now, so I’m afraid I can’t chit-chat, Riggs.”
“Private channel, please.”
A few moments later, I had my private chat with him. He didn’t want to give up ops, having assumed command when Barbarossa was hit and he’d figured I’d been lost. I couldn’t blame him for that, but I didn’t want these disabled Macro ships destroyed. After a short argument, he recognized my authority as mission commander and I resumed command. My surviving marines were taken aboard a second destroyer where they suffered the probing ministrations of the ship’s medical room. Fortunately, I’d escaped serious injury. I avoided the skinny black arms of the medical nanites as well and let my own personal nanites repair my body. The process would be slower, but I would stay more lucid. For command, that was a necessity.
I managed to cancel all efforts to destroy the crippled enemy ships. We left the hulks floating in space and headed for the ring to Eden, through which the last handful of enemy ships had escaped. I was angry with Commodore Decker for not pressing ahead and stopping them, but the damage had been done. On the positive side, I had to admit he’d done a fair job of mopping up and managing a bad situation. We’d won the battle due to our superior numbers and the weakness of the Macro fleet after it had hit the Worm minefield first.
That thought brought me around to the Worms, who were still following us. They were down to seventy- three ships, while we had only forty effectives. I was glad to see half the Star Force destroyers had survived the engagement. I wanted to have something left to return to Crow when I went home.
We rolled through the Eden ring at a relatively cautious pace. No one knew what we’d meet on the far side, but I wasn’t comfortable with allowing even a fraction of the enemy to escape if I could help it. If nothing else, they were carrying away copious amounts of intelligence about our strength and tactics.
On the far side, we were greeted with no explosions, enemy fleets or the like. Instead, I was treated again with the vista of Eden. A yellow star sat in the center, burning with unusual stability. A tightly-held ring of hot planets hugged the star’s waist. Mid-system a band of six lovely, inhabitable worlds orbited at a stately pace. Farther out was the lone gas giant and beyond that were several far-flung, frozen rocks.
It took us a few minutes, but the sensory data soon came in. The enemy cruisers were retreating away toward the opposite side of the system. I had to wonder if there was another ring out there among the outlying ice-worlds. There didn’t seem to be any other destination that made sense in that direction.
We posted a sentry ship at the ring and pursued the enemy. I relayed news of our battle through the sentry, knowing it would eventually get back to Earth via the chain of ships I’d left at each ring. Even at the speed of light, the radio waves would take several days to reach Star Force back on Andros Island, but at least Sandra and the rest of our homeworld would know the fleet had been victorious and had ground the enemy down to almost nothing.
A tense moment came when our sensor-data began to paint the picture from the rest of the Eden system. I knew there were enemy Macro ships here, orbiting the habitable worlds. At least there had been when I’d left the Centaurs to their fate.
I restlessly watched the screens as the brainboxes located enemy ships and Centaur satellites. Eventually, large Macro machines were spotted roaming the surfaces of various planets. The ships were what mattered to me most. I was relieved when the facts were displayed on the forward walls. There were only six cruisers garrisoning the system, the same number I’d seen when I’d last visited here.
A broad smile spread across my features. They were not going to be able to face us. We were too many, too strong. Besides that, they’d been beaten several times in a row by this fleet, and their instinct would be to run, and to keep running until they had the power to turn and destroy us once and for all.
As that thought crossed my mind, my smile diminished. If they truly were fleeing to the next ring-to yet another star system I’d never seen, what might be waiting for me there? For all I knew, the next system held their local nexus in the region. A vast armada could be nearby, and I had no way of knowing the truth.
Commodore Decker hailed me. I answered the call on a direct channel.
“I say we turn around,” he said without preamble.
“No,” I replied firmly. “I will not abandon the Centaurs a second time. I made a commitment to these people the last time I was here. We will press ahead.”
I heard him mumble something, but could not make out the words. The channel with the Commodore closed suddenly. Information regarding the status of the Centaurs began to flow soon thereafter. They had two fewer satellites than they had possessed when we’d last visited. A grim development for a people who seemed to be on the edge, and who were precariously situated with their entire known population located in vulnerable satellite habitats. I wondered how many of them had died, and how the Macros had engineered their demise.
“Incoming alien message, Colonel,” Marvin said into my helmet suddenly.
“What is it, Marvin?”
“It’s the Centaurs, sir.”
“Open a channel, I wish to speak to them.”
“The message isn’t for you, sir. It’s for me.”
“What?”
“I–I don’t understand. I believe I’m-I’m experiencing an update, sir. I’m about to restart, sorry.”
“What?” I shouted the question. Concern ran through me. An update? I thought of all the times software had spuriously updated itself on my home computer. Marvin’s mind would be destroyed.
“Jam that signal,” I ordered. “Helmsman, you are in charge of communications. Jam the alien signal coming from the Centaurs.”
“Uh, yes sir,” the helmsman said, he began speaking urgently with the destroyer’s brainbox. Soon a powerful signal was sent out into space around us.
I ordered the crew to direct cameras toward Marvin, who was following us in his junkyard ship. An image came onto the screen that filled me with worry. Marvin was drifting. His engines had stopped. He was lifeless.
We slowed long enough for a long ship’s arm to reach out and latch onto him. I felt the loss deeply. Somehow, I’d lost another friend. Oddly, I felt it more than I did most deaths, as this one was a unique intellect. And partly, I suspected, because I had helped create Marvin, to make him what he was.
How could I feel attached to this bizarre robot? I wasn’t sure, but I did feel something. I was left staring at the screen in grief.
— 48
Marvin didn’t show any signs of life for the next several minutes. As each moment passed, my hopes faded. I was reminded of the day my children had died at the cold steel hands of a ship like the one we flew within now. Marvin’s mind had been stilled by an automated, thoughtless subsystem.
Quite possibly, the Centaurs hadn’t ordered the download of a blank intellect into his brainbox. When we’d
