Two busy weeks had passed since Absen had tried speaking to Ikthor the Archon. In that time, he’d tied up a number of loose ends while establishing his new headquarters at Armstrong Lunar Base. Until the next dreadnought was completed, he’d run things from there.
Captain Doughty and his officers had been convicted of falsification of records, but nothing more serious, and dismissed from service. There was plenty of work in the civilian sectors to keep them occupied, and as long as they weren’t in EarthFleet, they could become someone else’s problem.
The Scourge on the surface had been hunted down and captured, if possible, unlike the last attack where they’d nearly all been killed. Research facilities all over Earth were having a field day exploring the creatures’ biology, testing out drugs and pathogens for their effects on live specimens. Absen still had some hope that, if it came to the extreme, some kind of killer disease could provide the ultimate solution.
While Markis had his hands full on Earth trying to keep his Blends and his various nation-states in line without Spectre – who had dropped out of sight some time back – Absen felt confident that the military-industrial space economy would rebound.
Jupiter and its many moons hosted ever more facilities to extract minerals and process them into war materiel. Leslie Denham administered the factories with hard-nosed efficiency, accepting only the best workers and sending any slackers back to Earth.
The economy of Mars, too, was growing as its terraforming proceeded apace, slowly thickening its atmosphere and bringing colonists to the new Wild West of its deserts.
Between those two major colonies and the eventual restoration of the Earth-Moon system’s orbital industry, Absen was confident that the economy and society of humanity and its allies would thrive...if given time.
Somehow, Absen would have to buy them that time, and he already had an idea how to do it.
Demolisher had provided him a full report on the situation at Gliese 370, and with more FTL transports, there would soon be regular commerce between the systems. This communication would solidify Earth’s sovereignty for the time being – at least until the Scourge were defeated.
After that, it wouldn’t be his problem.
Now that he’d gotten the scut work done and before he went off duty, Absen turned his attention to what really interested him.
“Rick, send out orders to the people on this list to report here in seventy-two hours. Tell them sorry to cut their leaves short, but we have work to do.” Absen had made Johnstone his aide, as the man had wanted to stay close to the Scourge prisoners anyway.
“Yes, sir. The old gang, eh?”
“I know them; they know me. Feel free to run a search through the databases for anyone else with skills you think will be useful, but I don’t see any reason to reinvent the wheel.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Once you’ve done that, take off. I’m done for the day.”
Absen slipped on his jacket and strolled out of his office, two Stewards picking up escort detail as he nodded to his staff. He’d ordered Tobias to take some time off. No matter how many crazies crawled out of the woodwork dirtside, he didn’t expect trouble on the base.
When he reached his quarters, Rae was waiting for him, not surprising because she did a lot of work directly from there. He took her in his arms and kissed her soundly, and she molded herself to him in all the right places.
“You seem happy,” she said.
“Aren’t I always happy?”
“Not on the outside. But you are today.”
Absen laughed. “I guess I am. I’ve cleared my schedule of most of the bureaucratic crap and I’ve sent for the team that’s going to plan our offensive.”
Rae pulled back to look in his eyes. “Offensive? Do you really think that’s wise? We’ve barely picked ourselves up from the last pummeling we just got. People are tired of war, Henrich, and there’s a lot of grief.”
“And anger. I need to get people started thinking about payback for what the Scourge did to us.”
“This is the consummate military man? Talking about payback?”
“The moral is to the physical as three is to one, Rae. When Napoleon said that, he meant that motivated troops are one hell of a lot more effective than indifferent ones. We can’t let people relax too much. We have to keep them focused, and if that means leveraging their anger, so be it.”
“You’re getting cynical in your old age, Henrich.”
“This coming from someone over four thousand years old.”
“Never mention a woman’s age. Just bring her flowers and tell her she looks lovelier every day.”
“Flowers are hard to get on the moon, but how about this?” Absen took a small box out of his pocket and opened it toward her.
Rae reached out to touch a sparkling stone of at least fifty carats set in a golden ring. “You’ve never bought me jewelry before, Henrich.”
“I’ve never asked you to marry me before either.”
“Is that what you’re doing?”
“You know it is.”
“Such a charmer. Where’s the sunset, the champagne, the bended knee?”
Absen immediately knelt and took the ring out of the box, holding it up. “How’s this?”
Rae sighed. “I guess it’ll have to do.” He took her hand and began to place the ring on her finger, but she curled her fingers. “I haven’t even said yes.”
“Don’t be a tease. Will you marry me?”
“Yes.” She uncurled her hand and allowed the symbol of their engagement to be placed on her finger. “What is that, anyway? It doesn’t look like diamond.”
“Oh, it is...just not one mined on Earth. It’s cut from a piece of Conquest’s wreckage. Some of the carbon fiber that was compressed by her impact on the flagship fused into perfect crystals the size of your fist.”
Rae extended her hand to look at the stone, lips pursed. “I’m not sure how to feel about that. Should I be jealous?”
“You know it wasn’t like that. She was a protégé, a comrade, a friend...and she filled a hole where my dead children used to be, especially my daughter.”
Taking him in her arms, Rae said, “You know, if that’s something you want now...”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it. Or at least, thinking about thinking about it, if you know what I mean. But not quite yet, all right?”
Rae reached up to caress his face. “Henrich, there will never be a perfect time for children. And for a man like you, there’s always another battle. If you want kids, let’s have kids. I’m ready for babies again if you are.”
Absen’s face fell and he disengaged from her. “Speaking of children...I heard about Charles. I’m sorry for your loss. Is there anything I can do?”
Rae hugged herself, rubbing her arms with tears in her eyes. “I can’t say it doesn’t hurt. A mother always remembers her offspring as innocent little ones, not the adults they become. But Charles fell into darkness of his own free will. I can’t blame Jill for what she did, and neither should you. I’ll miss him, but we have to move on.”
Absen stared at her for a long moment before embracing her once more. “That’s a load of crap, Rae. You’re putting on a front. You don’t have to, you know, with me. I know how it feels.”
At this, Rae burst into tears. Sobbing, she said, “I’ve lost three of five, Henrich. I can’t stop hurting, can’t stop remembering.”
“And you never will. But it will lessen to a dull ache that you can handle. And, I hope, even though new children will never replace the dead ones, they’ll fill our hearts enough that we can handle it.”
Wiping her face, Rae said, “So when do you want to do it?”
“When the next operation’s finished. I promise.”
“Operation? What operation?”
He took her head in his hands and kissed her. “I’d have thought a smart girl like you would have figured it out already.”
***
“I heard a rumor, sir,” newly promoted Brigadier Vango Markis said with a wink. “Something about a diamond, or a ring or something?”
“It’s none of your damn business, you young puppy, if you want to keep that shiny new star,” Admiral Absen replied with a mock growl. “You’re simply envious that I landed the most desirable woman in the galaxy.”
Those in the filled conference room laughed, and then fell silent as Absen stepped to the head of the table. “Welcome, everyone. I trust you all had a good leave?”
“Not as good as yours, sir, I bet!” came an unidentified voice from the back, prompting another gale of laughter.
“Thanks, and you’re right. But moving on...here’s someone who didn’t get any leave, nor did his team. Commander Fleede?” Absen waved at the man standing near the podium at the other end of the room, next to the main holoscreen.
“Thank you sir. And, leave is overrated anyway. Intel work is much more fun.” Fleede smiled awkwardly, but his manner grew more confident as he waved at the display, and warmed to his subject.
“The admiral asked me and the intelligence section to perform an analysis of the layout of the Scourge’s territory, based on all the data we have from the Meme, from what we have from Operation Bughouse, and what we’ve recovered from the flagship. Also, we’ve gotten some HUMINT – eh, maybe SCOURGINT? – from interrogation of the prisoners.”
That drew some chuckles, and the nerdy intel officer relaxed further.
“We based the analysis on the known speed of the faster-than-light drive. As ours is a direct copy of theirs, with no significant improvements yet, I’m confident the rates of travel are comparable. Next slide.”
The holoscreen changed to show a spiderweb of stars, rotating slightly in order to assist those watching to gain perspective. “This is a simplified map of enemy holdings. It’s only conjecture that they have conquered everything within its boundaries, but that’s not germane to the issue at hand. What does matter is this.”
The color scheme changed, showing layers from white to yellow to red, all the way up through the rainbow to deep purple. There were many white stars, fewer yellow ones, and so on, until eventually only a handful of those in violet.
“What you’re seeing is the field divided into groupings by the mass of the stars. Mass determines gravity, and gravity determines the FTL slope from star to star. By combining that with the stars’ physical locations and distances, we build something that looks quite different.”
The holoscreen picture reorganized itself smoothly, changing from a riot of colors into a smooth shape resembling a lumpy mountain, with bulls-eye rings of hue climbing from its skirts to its peak.
Fleede gestured emphatically at the display. “This, then, approximates a true map of the FTL travel gradients, which makes it easy to see that this enormous star here,” he stuck his index finger into the hologram, “stands at the top looking down. It occupies the ultimate high ground. Ships take a long time to climb up to it, but from it, fleets can travel ‘downward’ much, much faster, and with far less energy expenditure.”
“So it’s rather like having altitude in an aircraft,” Vango Markis said.
Fleede nodded. “Yes, sir, just like in a gravity well, in or out of atmosphere. Except the engines on our ‘aircraft’ don’t have enough power to blast their way upward.” He made a swooping, and then rising motion with his hand. “They have to slowly claw their way up, up, up...”
“We got it,” Vango said with a smile.
“The point Commander Fleede is trying to make, I believe, is that he thinks he’s located their headquarters,” said Absen.
“That’s a big stretch,” Captain Scoggins said. “Okay, it’s logical, but do we have any other confirmation?”
Rae Denham – soon, Rae Absen, thought the admiral with a warming of his heart – stood and said, “Our interrogations of Ikthor have revealed that he is one of their supreme leader’s inner circle and controls vast territories. What’s more, he’s inadvertently confirmed the principle as self-evident that the higher the gravitic quotient of a star, the more important it is to control. And, he’s referred to their headquarters system as ‘Center.’”
“Hard to believe he told you all that,” Rear Admiral Sawyer said with a frown.
“The information was gleaned over many hours of interrogation,” Rae said firmly. “While Ikthor is highly intelligent, he’s not used to being in a position of helplessness. I believe he’s never had to mentally prepare himself for the possibility of capture, and so he told us a lot, especially during the earlier sessions. Lately, he’s become more cagey....but that’s beside the point. I agree with Commander Fleede. It’s highly likely this star is the one they call Center, where the so-called Father-Mother of their race, their big boss, lives and works.”
Absen stood up and walked forward to stare at the holoscreen. “This is really good work, Captain Fleede. Truly impressive.”
“Thank you, sir – Captain?”
“As soon as the paperwork goes through. In fact,” Absen turned to his audience, “you can expect to see a lot of promotions. We’ll need more senior officers for the offensive I intend to conduct.”
“Offensive?” Vango was the first to get it. “We’re going after Center?”
“Damn right we are,” Absen said firmly.
“Sir, that’s...”
“Nuts?”
“I was going to say ‘risky.’ EarthFleet has lost half its ships, its best ones,” Rear Admiral Sawyer said. “We have nothing that can stand up to something like their flagships, and who knows how many of those are parked in their capital system?”
Rae answered for Admiral Absen. “We’re fairly certain that each of the sixteen Archons on their leader’s council owns only one of these super-ships. For all their star systems, the Scourge social structure is less like ants or bees and more like cicadas or locusts. They’re either swarming or they’re dormant, rather than in a steady state of economic expansion. Many of their star systems are unproductive, because they consume and destroy the living worlds that could allow them to sustain growth. Therefore, they actually have far less military power than the size of their territory would suggest.”
“It’s still one hell of a lot more than we have,” Sawyer replied.
“Yes,” Absen broke in, “but the point is, an attack on Center may succeed, and it might even lop off the head of the beast and win the war in one stroke.”
Sawyer said, “Or it might simply stir them up enough to send their full might against us. Sir, I think we should put our production advantage to use building the best defenses we can – improved SLAMs, for example, that can be posted close to Sol to wipe them out as they appear. They can’t beat those if we make enough of them.”
Absen shook his head. “How many is enough? If we let them gather and attack, who knows how many they could assemble? Could we handle a thousand swarms and ten flagships? No, every lesson of history, every military genius who ever wrote a book, every experience I’ve had tells me that we have to hit them hard where they live. If that stirs them up, well...I don’t see how we can make them any more hostile to us than they already are.”
Sawyer subsided, her face still filled with skepticism. Absen wasn’t surprised that she – and some others, of course – would want to lick their wounds rather than go for the throats of their enemies.
“We’ll be building defenses too, of course, many of them dual-use,” Absen went on. “I already have some ideas on how to overcome the Scourges’ super-ships and deal with their endless swarms, but it’s not my job to do all your thinking.”
He turned to Sawyer. “Jeanine, you’re my new Red Team leader. I’m sure your deputy can see to the day-to-day business of the base while you concentrate on coming up with an educated guess as to what awaits us at Center. You get Fleede and his team, Rae and hers, and whoever else you want that can help you build the best simulation you can. I’ve already ordered Demolisher to land on the surface nearby. Not only will that facilitate his repairs, but you can use all of his excess brainpower to help you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Rear Admiral Scoggins,” Absen said with a wink, “pick your blue team. Remember, though, you’re on offense this time. Your task is to come up with ship types and tactics that will beat whatever Red Team tells you will be defending Center. Get with Leslie Denham for reasonable estimates of how much you can actually get built, because I want to launch in six months, come hell or high water.”
***
“It can’t be done,” Scoggins said as she took a seat on front of Admiral Absen’s desk. “We’ve worked on it for a week. If the Red Team is playing fair, there’s no way we can break them.”
Absen tossed down the stylus in his hand and leaned back in his chair. “Armstrong, bring up the Red Team’s latest order of battle on Center and project it on my main screen.”
“Yes, Admiral Absen,” came the voice of the base’s pseudo-AI. A moment later a diagram of the enemy star system appeared, annotated with its forces in a deluge of colored icons.
“Looks ugly,” Absen said. “I see what you mean. Have you run simulations against weaker forces in case Sawyer’s overestimating the opposition?”
“Yes, sir. If they have even half the forces on that screen, we can’t beat them in a straight up fight. Even if we bring along all our D-ships and double their numbers by assuming they can all reproduce within the next six months – not a sure thing, by the way – we’ll lose. Oh, we’ll hurt them badly, but they don’t care about casualties below the level of Archon any more than the average medieval lord cared about his peasants. Less, even.”
Absen looked down the list next to the graphic. “Flagships... Fortresses... Swarms...and I see the Red Team postulates some kind of cruisers. I have to assume they know what they’re doing, based on the intel we’ve gathered. Sawyer may have her biases, but I don’t think she would deliberately jigger the results merely to prove herself right. Not with Fleede and Rae there to check on her, anyway.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to rethink our attack, sir. Sure wish we could get some recon.”
Absen shook his head. “This has to be a total surprise to work at all. If we allow them to gather forces, we could be facing ten times as much. A recon ship would have to work its way up the stellar gradient just like the attack fleet will. Even if we put the biggest FTL engine onto the smallest hull so it can bypass some steps, its very existence arriving at Center will tip them off.”
“Any progress on the FTL comms or FTL radar projects?”
“No. The scientists say there’s no way.”
“They said FTL travel was impossible, too.”
Absen smiled. “Point taken...but scientific breakthroughs take time, and often some luck. I don’t think they’ve even come up with enough theory to predict how it could be done. So let’s not hope for some magical new technology. We have to focus on what we can do in the next six months.”
Scoggins joined Absen in front of the holoscreen. “What about a raid instead?” She pointed at the planet Red Team postulated. “This is supposed to be their headquarters. If we can smash our way in and kill off their Archons...it may not win the war, but it should buy us time and disrupt their ability to coordinate against us. I’ve read all the intel summaries and a lot of the detailed reports about these critters. They’re completely hierarchical. I’m wondering if wiping out their capital might cause their empire to break up into petty kingdoms, even precipitate a civil war?”
“No way to tell, but...I like the idea of a raid. We go in fast, hit them hard and get out. If it turns out that there’s a lot less force there than Sawyer’s team thinks, we can always expand our objectives.” Absen turned to face his former flag captain. “Get a plan together for me on that basis. I want to see something in forty-eight hours. The sooner we nail down the kind of ships we need to build, the more time we’ll have to do it.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Throwing Absen a casual salute, Scoggins turned to go.
“Oh, and Melissa?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Better do it right...because you’ll be in charge.”
Scoggins’ eyebrows went up. “You’re not going to be commanding the mission, sir?”
Absen shook his head slowly. “Nope. This is too big and too far. It’s going to take you at least three months of climbing the gradient to reach Center even with the overpowered FTL engines we’re contemplating, and then a week to haul ass back here. That plus the six months will add up to about ten since they hit us, which is the earliest Fleede believes they would attack again, assuming they’re going to gather an even bigger force. If I send off the majority of our strength to attack, we won’t be able to defend ourselves.”
“That would be some irony if we came home to a dead system,” Scoggins said.
“That wouldn’t be the word I’d use. So, let’s make sure nothing like that happens. The plan is to get in, do maximum damage, and get out with your forces intact. Remember Alfred Thayer Mahan and the concept of the Fleet in Being.”
“I’ll brush up, sir.”
***
“Nguyen is a Meme now?” Absen said to Daniel Markis across the high-bandwidth video link. “How is that possible?”
“Beats me, Henrich, but that’s what the report delivered by Desolator’s FTL drone said. The summary is about a hundred pages long and the annexes run to more than a thousand. It’s been uploaded to your network already, so feel free to examine it yourself.”
“What else does it say?”
“That he intends to take control of the Meme Empire just like he did with Earth, and Australia before that. And you know what? I have every confidence he’ll do it.”
“My God.” Absen stood up to pour himself a stiff drink. “That’s fantastic news. EarthFleet just expanded by a factor of thousands, maybe more.”
Markis held up a hand. “Two things, though. First, I don’t know that he intends to subordinate himself to me or you. Second, it will take a while for his coup to percolate throughout the Empire even if he manages to fit Meme ships with FTL.”
“Understood. I’m not going to count on his help for the present campaign, but it’s still heartening. I’m a lot more confident in a Meme Empire run by a human – former human, anyway. What about Desolator?”
“That’s up to you, Henrich. The FTL drone can be sent back as soon as you have orders.”
“Then have him come back here to join the rest of the Ryss ships no later than a week before C-Day.” That was the term that had come into vogue for the date the attack on Center would launch. “In the meantime, he should be fortifying the Ryss home system and, if it’s at all possible, he needs to reproduce, even if he can’t bring his offspring on the mission. We’re having the other D-ships create new AIs, get them online, and then provide telefactors and materials to build their own bodies around them. That’s the fastest way to construct more.”
Markis chuckled grimly. “Genuine Von Neumann machines...I hope to hell they never turn against us, or we’re screwed.”
“Sir, we’ve been screwed for some time, yet we keep managing to pull our nuts out of the fire, to mix some metaphors.”
“Thanks to you, Admiral. I’m just a glorified combination factory manager and town mayor. You’re doing the hard work.”
“My people are, sir.”
“Then pass on my thanks to them. Keep in touch, Henrich. Markis out.”