Charles Stross - Iron Sunrise

“Moscow was, bluntly, another boring McWorld. And a bit backward, even by those standards. But it had a single — and fairly enlightened — federal government, a single language, and no history of genocide, nuclear war, cannibalism, slavery, or anything else very unpleasant to explain it. It wasn’t Utopia, but neither was it hell. In fact, I’d have said the Muscovites were rather nice . Easygoing, friendly, laid-back, a little sleepy. Unlike whoever murdered them.”

Rachel leaned back in her chair and watched George. Cho was a diplomat, and a polished and experienced gambler who liked nothing better than a game of three-stud poker — so the experience of seeing him actually looking angry and upset about something was a novelty in its own right. The wall behind him showed supporting evidence. Rippling fields of grain as far as the eyes could see, a city rising — if that was the word for an urban sprawl where only city hall was more than three stories high — from the feet of blue-tinted mountains, white-painted houses, huge automated factory complexes, wide empty roads stretching forever under a sky the color of bluebells.

“Not everyone on Moscow was totally laid-back,” George continued, after taking a sip from his water glass. “They had a small military, mostly equipped for disaster relief work — and a deterrent. Antimatter-fueled, ramscoop-assisted bombers, hanging out in the Oort cloud, about twelve light hours out.”

The wall dissolved into icy interstellar darkness and a close-up of a starship — not an elegant FTL yacht like this one, with the spherical bump of its drive kernel squatting beneath a tower of accommodation and cargo decks, but the evil angular lines of a planet-buster. Most of the slower-than-light bomber consisted of fuel containment vessels, and the huge inverted funnel of the ram field generator. Scooping up interstellar hydrogen for reaction mass, using antimatter to energize it, the warship could boost itself to more than 80 percent of lightspeed in a matter of weeks. Steering toward a target, it would then drift until it was time for terminal approach. Then, instead of decelerating, the crew and the ramscoop would separate and make their own way — leaving the remains of the ship to slam into the target planet.

“This is a reconstruction of a Muscovite Vindicator-class second-strike STL bomber. Our best intelligence gives it a maximum tau factor of point two and a dry rest mass of three kilotons — extremely high for the product of a relatively backward world — with an aggregate kinetic yield of 120 million megatons. It’s probably designed to prefragment prior to impact, and coming in at 80 percent of lightspeed with several hundred penetration aids and a wake shield against ablator clouds, it would be able to saturate any reasonable planetary ballistic defense system. It would deliver about 20 percent more energy than the Chicxulub impactor that hit Earth 65 million years ago, enough to devastate a continent and trigger a dinosaur winter. In other words, it’s a pretty typical second-strike slower-than-light deterrent for a planet that didn’t have any enemies or major foreign policy engagements; an insurance policy against invaders.

“Moscow had four of these monsters, and we know for sure that the early warning system alerted them before the stellar shock front reached their fire-bases; we know at least three of them came under acceleration. What happened to the fourth ship is unclear at this time. They probably took some serious damage from the nova, but we have to assume that those four ships are engaged on a strike mission.”

George sat down again and refilled his water glass. Rachel shivered slightly. They launched? But where to? The idea was disquieting, even revolting: “Has anyone ever actually launched an STL deterrent before, that you know of? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of one being used…”

“May I?” It was Chi Tranh, lean-featured and quiet, the expert on weapons of mass destruction and, sometimes, her back-office researcher. Not a field agent, but George had evidently included him in the operation from the start, judging by the way he nodded along. “The answer is no,” said Tranh. “We have never seen one of these weapons systems used in anger. Nobody can start a war using STL ships — it would give years for a pre-emptive retaliatory strike. The idea is simply to have a deterrent — a club up your sleeve that makes the cost of invading and occupying your world too expensive for an aggressor to bear. This is a first, at least within our light cone.” He sat back and nodded at George.

“Who were they directed at?” Gail asked tentatively. “I mean, who would do such a thing? How are they controlled? Have they—” She looked bewildered, which gave Rachel little satisfaction: the easily flustered protocol officer wasn’t her first choice of someone to bring into the inner circle. What was George thinking? she wondered.

“Peace.” George made soothing gestures with his left hand. “We, um … at the time of the event, Moscow was engaged in heated and unpleasant trade discussions with New Dresden. That’s in your briefing documents, too, by the way. A previous trade deal cemented between a Muscovite delegation and the central committee of the Balearic Federation collapsed when the, um, Balearics were finally forced to sue for peace with the provisional government of Novy Srebrenicza. Prior to the peace of ’62, the Balearics controlled the planet’s sole surviving skyhook, which gave them a chokehold on the surface-to-orbit bulk freight trade. But after ’62, the Patriotic Homeland Front was running the show.

They decided to renegotiate several of their local bilateral trade arrangements — in their favor, of course — to help with the reconstruction. Things got extremely heated when they impounded a Muscovite starship and confiscated its cargo: differential levels of engineering support orbit-side in both systems meant that, although New Dresden had more turmoil and a war to recover from, heavy shipping was a proportionately much more expensive item on Moscow, which didn’t have the tech base to fabricate drive kernels. The Muscovites’ consulate was downsized to a negotiating core, and a large chunk of the Dresdener embassy was expelled a couple of weeks before the, ah, event.”

“So the bombers launched, on New Dresden,” Rachel concluded with a sinking feeling.

“We, um, think so,” said George. “We’re not sure. Tranh?”

“We can’t track RAIR bombers once they go ballistic,” said Tranh. “It’s standard procedure to launch in a random direction at high delta-vee, crank up to about point one light, then shut down and drift for a bit before lining up on the real target and boosting steadily to cruise speed. The drive torch is highly directional, and if nobody is in line behind it to see the gamma signature, it’s easy to miss. Especially as the bombers launch from out in the Oort cloud and aim their exhausts to miss the inner system completely during the initial boost phase. Once they’re under way the crew, usually four or six of them, enter suspended animation for a month or more, then the Captain wakes up and uses the bomber’s causal channel to establish contact with one of the remaining consulates or embassies. He or she also opens any sealed orders. In this case, we’ve been informed — through confidential channels, initially by the Muscovite embassy on Earth — that a week before Moscow was hit, the Governor-General’s office updated the default fire plan for the V-force to target New Dresden. We don’t know why she did that, but the trade dispute…” Tranh trailed off.

“That’s the situation.” George shook his head. “Doubtless the Muscovite government didn’t expect to be attacked by New Dresden — but as a precaution they selected New Dresden as a default target, leaving the fallout for the diplomatic corps to deal with. New Dresden is thirty-six light years from Moscow, so at full bore the bombers can be there in forty years. Thirty-five now, and counting. New Dresden has a population of over eight hundred million. There is no way, even if we install extra skyhooks and obtain maximum cooperation from the neighbors, that we can evacuate nearly a billion people — the required cubage, over thirty million seats a year, exceeds the entire terrestrial registered merchant fleet’s capacity. Never mind the refugee problem — who’d take them in?”