SU-SHAN: Orbital Defense will defeat whatever—
SOLON: There is a high probability that Callisto will never recover from the coming attack. And by Callisto, I mean the paradise created by the Dictates.
TAN: We must not surrender or give in to despair, sir.
SOLON: (monotone) Who do we wish to succeed us? The terrorists have used this opportunity to do us harm. They lack mercy. The cyborgs… do they possess higher reason than we do?
TAN: They’re trying to annihilate us. The Dictates show—
SOLON: The cyborgs have reasoned more deeply than we have. Our coming destruction proves their superiority.
TAN: Would such reasoning also imply that the Secessionists are our superiors?
SOLON: (coldly) You are hereby relived of your station, Chief Strategist.
TAN: Article twenty dash A3 states that only a quorum of the War Council can relieve a Strategist from his or her post.
SOLON: You dare to quote articles to me?
TAN: I have begun to wonder if you are well, sir. The strain of office—
SOLON: I am the Solon, the wisest of Callisto. Emotive despair cannot shatter my reason. I am sending immediate orders to the ships at Ganymede to begin their bombardment. If we cannot survive the coming nightmare, neither shall the ingrates of Ganymede. With our death, the cyborgs will have proven our superiors. We can only hope they read the Dictates and see its value in the new order.
TAN: Su-Shan, the Solon is sick. You must send your Orbital Defense arbiters down to the surface and relieve the Solon and his archons from office.
SOLON: I have already relieved you, Chief Strategist.
TAN: (to Su-Shan) I will contact the Ganymede Flotilla and instruct them to coordinate with the Secessionists. We must unite against the cyborgs. We must save our civilization from destruction. Do you hear me, Su-Shan?
SOLON: I am the wisest. You will obey me or face extinction.
SU-SHAN: (softly) I hear you, Chief Strategist.
SOLON: (monotone) We are doomed, but we can decide and should decide on whom is the most worthy to succeed the Dictates. I relieve you both of office. I await the end now that I foresee it with such clarity. Humanity has lost. The New Order of melded-men is at hand.
TAN: Reason implies that you fight until you’re dead, sir. We’re not dead yet. Therefore, we shall fight to survive and reinstate the Dictates in whatever remains after the war is won.
SOLON: We are doomed. The cyborgs have achieved strategic surprise and superiority. I deem them worthy to replace us—and my voice is decisive. For none can see as well as me, as I am the supreme intellect of Jupiter.
TAN: Send those arbiters at once, Su-Shan, and begin making priority targets. The Solon has said one thing I agree with. Those aren’t supply vessels heading for Callisto, but the first wave of the cyborg assault.
End of the three-way Strategic Conference.
-10-
From her coasting pod, Chief Strategist Tan spoke urgently to the commandant of the Guardian Fleet flotilla in low-Ganymede orbit.
She sat in the pilot’s chair as she wore her Strategist whites. It had taken some doctoring, but now she wore a Chief Strategist’s megastar pinned to her chest. A diamond glittered in a five-pointed, golden star.
Tan strove for calm as she stared into the vidscreen. Serenity and authority mixed with assuredness is what she attempted to project.
The flotilla commandant appeared in the screen. He was older, bald, with rejuvenated skin. He had chubby cheeks like a freakish baby. He rode aboard the Kant, an Aristotle-class dreadnaught.
Static caused his image to waver. Ganymede was in the fierce Jovian magnetosphere, a flattened area or belt that included Io and Europa. Of the Galilean moons, Ganymede was the only one that had its own magnetosphere, which carved a small cavity inside Jupiter’s vast magnetic field. Jupiter also acted like a pulsar, a radio-emitting star. Those radio waves often interfered with Jovian communications the closer one approached the gas giant.
As the commandant spoke, his words were drowned out in the static.
Tan adjusted the controls. The chubby-cheeked image wavered worse than before, but finally stabilized. She raised gain, and shouted, “Could you say that again, Commandant?”
“The Solon has instructed us.” The commandant had a deep voice. Behind him on the vidscreen, an officer floated past. “We are forbidden on pain of death from having further communications with you.”
“If you will check article two of the Warship Code,” Tan said, “you’ll find that the Solon lacks the authority for such a military order.”
The commandant scowled. “We have a war in progress, and—”
“The Solon declared that there is no war.”
“What nonsense is this?” the commandant said.
“I have a file of our three-way conference. Prepare to receive it.”
“Did you not hear me?” the commandant asked. “I am forbidden from doing so.”
Tan gave him a serene stare. “On the possible eve of our destruction, is it rational to follow madness into oblivion?”
“Obviously not,” he said. “But your query has no bearing on the situation.”
“I suggest you apply common sense to our conversation. What harm can occur from listening to my file?”
“The Solon has declared,” the commandant said. “He is the supreme intellect and our guiding light. I dare not disobey him.”
“With such a supreme intellect,” Tan said, “why did he fail to take into account article two of the Warship Code?”
The commandant received a note from someone off screen. He scanned it and then frowned at Tan.
“I suggest you listen to a selected audio file and compare the voice with the one in your ship’s library,” Tan said. “You will discover a disconcerting truth.”
“I don’t have time for this. Quickly, declare your truth. Then I must go. Even now, we are initializing our bombardment sequence.”
Tan wanted to scream. Bombarding the Secessionists was madness. Humanity needed to unite against the cyborgs, not gnaw itself to death like a crazed beast. She attempted to calm her anxieties as she let a faint smile touch her lips. She must project rationality.
“I would rather that you confirm this truth yourself,” she said. “It will then have a primary validity to your subjective view.”
“I am not attempting a dialogue,” the commandant said hastily.
“You are wise,” Tan said. “Now prepare to receive my audio file.”
The commandant glanced off-screen. After a moment, he nodded at her.
Tan moved a toggle, sending the selected portion across the void. The commandant received, listened, ran his file-check to confirm the speaker and then looked at her with raised eyebrows. For him, a governor noted for his imperturbability, it was a gross gesture of surprise.
“The Solon’s unraveling is a tragedy,” said Tan. “But the proof is undeniable. He has become unhinged.”
“So it would appear. The implications… the complications…. What am I supposed to do?”
“I suggest you hold his order in abeyance until you’ve listened to my logic. Today, you must trust your reason, employing it to its fullest. The survival of our system is at stake, perhaps every human life here. Much now rests upon your choice. Trust the Dictates, your training and your intellect.”
The commandant stared at her. He appeared wan, and he chewed his lower lip, before saying, “You are the new Chief Strategist.”
“I am the only Strategist of the War Council still alive and still human. Thus, I am elevated to the War Council in persona. The chain of command is direct and unequivocal. Particularly in military matters and warship movement, my authority exceeds the Solon’s, as his authority is two steps removed through executive channels.”