Battle Pod

“You’re bringing the Julius Caesar into near-Earth orbit to help?”

“The premen expect it, so it’s best to comply and keep them from thinking too deeply,” the Grand Admiral said.

The Praetor’s nostrils flared. He wished the Grand Admiral would get to the point and offer him command of the Hannibal Barca.

“Consider the problem, Praetor. We possess five Doom Stars. There are four planets in the inner system. We could pin down each planet with a Doom Star and have one extra warship for duty wherever the primary objective happens to be. That extra warship, however, took damage. Fortunately, the Genghis Khan nears completion of its repairs. The problem still remains, however, especially with the damage sustained by the Hannibal Barca.”

“Our Doom Star left Mars for just that reason,” the Praetor said. “Mars is now in Rebel hands so it’s out of Social Unity’s hands. That means we have five Doom Stars for three planets.”

“The Bangladesh highlighted our dilemma,” the Grand Admiral said, as if he hadn’t heard the Praetor.

“Guerilla attacks?” the Praetor asked.

“Would you call the pounding your Sun-Works Factory took a guerilla attack?”

“We destroyed the Bangladesh,” the Praetor said.

“But we have not yet solved the situation. Mind you, it could become worse if the other planets came to Social Unity’s aid.”

“The Outer Planets?” the Praetor asked in jest.

“The Jupiter Confederation once came to the aid of the Mars Rebels.”

“Those Rebels now control Mars.”

“I will frame the situation exactly, Praetor. We own Mercury but must guard it with at least one Doom Star to insure its safety. We pin down Venus with a Doom Star and thereby cut it off from the rest of Inner Planets. Soon, we will have three Doom Stars in Earth orbit. Yet if we wish to travel anywhere else in the Solar System, we must leave at least one Doom Star on guard duty here and preferably two.”

“Go on,” the Praetor said.

“As I’m sure you understand, the problem is the Social Unity space fleet. As long as it exists, we must scatter our Doom Stars in this inefficient manner. The longer the war progresses, the longer the Outer Planets have to come to their senses and join their fellow premen against us. Premen are slow-witted and often foolish to an amazing degree. They still do, however, have overwhelming numbers.”

“Has the Intelligence Service discovered communications between Inner and Outer Planets?”

The Grand Admiral nodded.

The idea made the Praetor uncomfortable. There were two million Highborn, more or less. The training schools graduated just enough young Highborn to make up for combat losses. Earth System alone still contained over thirty-eight billion premen. If the entire Solar System of premen should unite against the Highborn—

“You spoke about a trap,” the Praetor said.

“I believe the director of the premen war effort possesses elementary cunning. The Bangladesh affair proves that. The stiffening of their war effort on Earth also points to it. Our days of easy victories are over for the present. I therefore withdrew the Doom Star from Mars in order to give him a golden opportunity.”

“You left the Rebels in charge of the orbital defenses.”

“Yes. Now you’re beginning to see. Our exit from Mars seemed reasonable from their limited view. The SU premen will think we believe we’ve garrisoned the planet against them.”

“But we have not done so sufficiently?” the Praetor asked.

“No. I say this for two reasons. One, Social Unity still possesses many powerful warships, a more than credible force if combined. Two, that force will have another surprise for us.”

“Of what nature?” the Praetor asked.

The Grand Admiral chuckled. “This is nothing the Intelligence Services have discovered. It is something I have logically deduced.”

The Praetor frowned.

“We are superior, Praetor, but we are not infallible. The premen have among them intelligent scientists and able tacticians. They will have a surprise, maybe even two surprises, that we have not foreseen. I accept that and plan accordingly. The trick is to use their surprises against them.”

The Praetor waited, having expended his willingness to ask questions.

“I have enticed Social Unity to gather their scattered warships into one place,” the Grand Admiral said. “This place is Mars. Using their trick, they will likely capture the Rebel orbital defenses in short order. If it is bloody for them, that will be even better for us. The point is they will set their space forces and orbital defenses to face us. They will no doubt believe they’re setting a trap for us.”

The Praetor’s frown deepened, putting creases in his broad forehead.

“I see your doubts concerning my plan, and I accept it. I am blessed with superior sight. I will tell you a secret, Praetor. Sometimes it is a curse to see farther and more clearly than anyone else. Too often in the past, others I hold dear have doubted me. I would like to say that I’ve become inured to it, but that would be a lie. However, I can give you evidence that even you can comprehend, Praetor.”

The Praetor stiffened.

“The Social Unity space attack five days ago occurred in order to send a flotilla of vessels to Mars.”

“So their high command could escape the coming disaster?” the Praetor asked.

The Grand Admiral shook his head. “I’ve heard those rumors, and they’re absurd. If nothing else, these socialists are stubborn. They’ve been in control of human destiny too long to simply give up and flee to the Outer Planets. No. That was a supply convoy, and the majority of it now hides behind a growing prismatic crystal shield. I have ordered a cessation of laser attacks against it.”

“I see,” the Praetor said slowly. “The premen gather their fleet into one force and will capture Mars. We then send… two Doom Stars to smash their fleet and retake Mars.”

“You are almost correct.”

The Praetor’s cheek twitched. When was the Grand Admiral going to offer him command of the Hannibal Barca? “This fleet that lifted from Earth,” he said. “You called it a supply convoy. They will refit their warships?”

“Exactly,” the Grand Admiral said. “They will have surprises that we cannot yet foresee. But we too shall have a surprise.”

The Praetor blinked, waiting.

“It’s your move,” the Grand Admiral said.

It took the Praetor a moment to understand that the Grand Admiral meant the chessboard. He tried to concentrate on the game. The Praetor pondered for only a minute and then swept the Grand Admiral’s castle with his queen. He neatly placed the captured castle in a new, second line of pieces, one behind the smaller pawns.

The Grand Admiral moved immediately, seeming to make a blunder. He took a pawn, but left the Praetor’s queen open to maneuver.

As the Praetor bent forward to examine the possibilities, the Grand Admiral spoke.

“I know you’ve desired a field command in space. Until now, I’ve needed you in charge of supplies at the Sun-Works Factory. It was critical that we kept ourselves well-supplied.”

The Praetor looked up. Here it was, at last. “I am to head the expedition against Mars in the Hannibal Barca?”

“No. That position belongs to Admiral Brutus. He will command the Hannibal Barca. Nor are there any available positions in the other Doom Stars. But if you are agreeable, Praetor, I wish to award you the captainship of our secret weapon.”

Rage washed through the Praetor. He found it hard to speak. “If you would explain the weapon—”

“The Beamship Bangladesh gave me the idea,” the Grand Admiral said. “Even as we speak, a special weapons team is converting a captured missile-ship. They are rapidly adding stealth technology and installing our new drones. Your task, Praetor, will be to take the stealth ship and circle the Sun. The