“I’m listening, Chief Strategist.”
Tan dipped her head the tiniest bit as she strove for serenity. To persuade, she must achieve apparent disinterest and a seemingly didactic arrogance.
“Callisto faces massive damage,” she said. “Pre-battle analysis indicates a world-ending strike. That, of course, presupposes that the cyborgs have added new functions to the existing missiles. Their secret endeavors and the core reality of their existence—the heightened technology that allows their being—indicates cyborgs possess such refinements.”
“This world-ending strike,” the commandant said, as he continued to chew his lower lip, “it is only for one face of Callisto that we have plotted the course of the projectiles. Therefore, in a worst case scenario, the other side survives.”
“Computer analysis indicates massive quake damage on the Jupiter-facing side, and high levels of radiation poisoning.”
“Jupiter and Io already send large doses of radiation into—”
“The missile strikes will likely increase the radiation dosage by an entire factor,” Tan said. “That is a debilitating amount.”
The commandant’s cubby cheeks sagged as he whispered, “Continue.”
“The cyborgs are obviously attempting a decapitating strike,” Tan said. “Logically, the Guardian Fleet should combine with the Secessionists to face the greater threat.”
The commandant straightened. “There is no one I know of designated as ‘Secessionist’. Now there are terrorists—”
“I am not here to quibble about semantics, Commandant. Extinction threatens. Therefore, put aside your prejudices and let reason guide your actions. At this juncture in time, you are being called to make a monumental decision. Rise to the occasion as a true son of the Dictates.”
“Insults are unbecoming in a Chief Strategist,” the commandant said. “As a controlling governor in the Guardian Fleet, I have by increasing degrees and training shed all prejudices.”
“Come, come, Commandant, speak the truth through reason. Do not quote me governing ideals. Remember this as well, that hard and often unpleasant truths are not insults.”
The commandant’s features stiffened as he leaned toward her vidscreen. “Vocalize your logic.”
Tan paused. She could have said that better, yet she had been logical and she’d spoken truth. She now strove for convincing serenity as she said, “The cyborg fleet outnumbers ours by a critical margin. We need the Secessionists to defeat the machine assault.”
“I considered your logic earlier, I must confess,” the commandant said. “I soon reached a bitter conclusion. Even with the Secessionists, we lack the warships to face the cyborgs. Therefore, the Solon’s order—”
“Victory is achieved one step at a time,” Tan said. “Logic, reason, selfishness, all point to a united effort in an attempt to thwart our certain destruction.”
“…I concur,” he said softly.
“Have you read article two of the Warship Code?”
“Earlier, as you may have noted, an officer handed me the section. I read it.”
“You understand then that I am correct concerning my military authority,” Tan said.
The commandant hesitated, but finally admitted, “I do.”
“As the Strategic War Council in persona, I hereby order you to ignore the Solon’s order. Further, I order you to ignore any further communications with him concerning military maneuvers.”
“You are taking over fleet command?” the commandant asked.
Tan focused on idyllic serenity as she said, “I am.”
The commandant bent his smooth face at an angle, seemingly staring at deckplates. He nodded slowly and faced her. “What are your orders?”
“There will be an immediate cessation of hostilities with all Jovians, including those signified as secessionists or terrorists. You will hail the Secessionists and inform them of your new orders. You will also seek to engage their highest authority. Then you will coordinate with me. I will board your dreadnaught in….” Tan checked her computer. “In another few days.”
“I acknowledge. Is there anything else?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Tan. “Give me a dedicated laser-link and access to your dreadnaught’s main computer. I have computations and analysis to run.”
“May I ask what it concerns?” he said.
“Victory against the cyborgs,” Tan said.
“I have acknowledged your authority and will obey your commands. I feel that I must point out, however, that the cyborgs outnumber us by a too large of a margin to hope for success.”
“That is why I must use the main computer,” Tan said, “as I search for a way to change the odds. We must go to work, Commandant.”
As Tan began her computations, Chief Controller Su-Shan began a radical shakeup of command-personnel in the orbital laser stations and down at the anti-missile rocket installations on the surface.
At the same time, the Solon made a Callisto-wide proclamation that left many rulers and philosophers uneasy. A full third raced to the deep shelters on the Jupiter-facing side of the planetary body. A handful sped into space in their private yachts or booked passage on outgoing liners. The rest composed themselves, deciding to reject fate by penning a new treatise, beginning an ode to reason or selecting choice wines to sample on the day of doom.
All the while, the Voltaire Missiles increased velocity, a technological pack of raving machines bent on annihilation. Except for one, each had reached the halfway point. The missile that aborted its progress self-destructed, its crystalline AI following its bitter programming. Its fusion core had failed, and the AI saw it in self-recriminating terms, as a lack of virtue. The thermonuclear explosion appeared on a hundred watching thermal scanners and on as many teleoptic scopes observing the so-called supply vessels. Spectrum-analysis brought a grim conclusion: the incoming projectiles were genocidal weapons.
In the last day of flight, the Voltaire Missiles rapidly closed, traveling the majority of the distance in a burst of acceleration. The velocity gave them several military advantages. They were in the Orbital Defense laser-range for only a short duration. Their velocity would add kinetic energy to any impacts, and the crystalline AIs had less time to dwell on their coming demise. For some, that anticipated demise might debilitate computing power. The crystalline-AI creators hadn’t had time to expunge that bug from the system.
In another two hours, several AIs had psychological seizures induced by their fear of imminent death. One AI turned its defensive weaponry on its nearest neighbors. Those hit by the surprise attack retaliated savagely, and soon another Voltaire Missile exploded its massive payload.
As that missile had already dropped behind too far to affect the others, the rest of the titanic missiles bore relentlessly toward the fourth Galilean moon. Behind them and traveling more slowly was the second wave strike: a dreadnaught, a meteor-ship and the troopship packed with cyborg-converted Jovians, plus several patrol boats.
Waiting in her laser satellite in low-Callisto orbit, Chief Controller Su-Shan stood in a governing pit. A blue glow bathed her as monitors ran though their sequence codes. Charging electrons passed through Su-Shan, heightening her awareness and reflexes. Her arms were sheathed in VR-sleeves and gloves and with VR-goggles over her eyes. Her armored laser-satellite was the same as the others orbiting Callisto. It was a torus with asteroid-rock shielding and a large focusing system. The generators were online, with the satellite’s fusion core surging at full power.
Twenty-three other satellites ringed Callisto. Many had used the past day to clump closer together, allowing them to beam in concert. Below on the surface were countless blooms: launching anti-missile rockets. In minutes, the rockets zoomed past the satellites as they hurried to do battle with the approaching Voltaires.
Su-Shan watched through her VR-goggles. Her satellite’s ECM struggled valiantly against pirated Onoshi Electronics. Even if the Jovians possessed superior philosophies, those of Neptune made better decoys, sensor-buffers and shear-plates.