Vaughn Heppner - Star Fortress

“There is much elegance in what you say,” Circe agreed. “The trouble is the nature of the war. The cyborgs will continue to attack until the Alliance sends fleets to the enemy systems. Therefore, it seems probable that the Jupiter System will have to absorb more attacks. Therefore, we need numbers. And there is one other thing that troubles me.”

“Yes?”

“Our system contains more than the four major moons. The cyborgs must realize this and have plans to target the smaller moons and various habitats.”

“You feel this proves there are enemy warships behind the eight wreckers?”

Circe nodded.

“Given these parameters,” Tan said, “what is your recommendation?”

Circe rubbed the skin around the stone in her forehead. “We lack the warships and firepower to deflect all eight projectiles. Rationally, we should let the four wreckers hit Io and Callisto and concentrate on the other four. I would hate, however, to attempt to defend Europa and Ganymede and lose both. It would be far better to defend and save one of the moons.”

“Which one?” Tan asked, feeling detached and increasingly numb. The entire conversation was surreal. She noticed that Circe had become pale and stared fixedly at the holoimages. Clearly, the topic strained the Sub-Strategist, too.

“We must come to a rational decision and thereby prove the superiority of our civilization,” Circe said.

Tan bowed her head and closed her eyes. The strain of this—the responsibility of making the decision was too much, too heavy even for a first rank philosopher. They attempted to use reason alone, to keep their emotions in check, but it was hard. This concerned millions of Jovians, millions of men, women and children. She didn’t want to choose who lived and who died. It had been difficult enough defeating the first Cyborg Assault. Endless months of grueling decisions and careful maneuvers…fifteen months of it had eaten at her resolve. Now to decide which Jovian moon should die…

“I feel old,” Tan said.

“There is another possibility,” Circe said.

“Tell me.”

“We have five weeks before the wreckers strike. We could load every liner and tanker with Jovians and journey to Mars or Earth.”

“Evacuate the Jupiter System?” whispered Tan.

“For now,” Circe said. “The idea would be to save as many people and ships as possible. It would have the added benefit of uniting the Guardian Fleet with the others of the Alliance.”

Tan studied the Sub-Strategist. “Do you suggest this because it is the best idea, or do you wish to reunite with Marten Kluge in the Earth System?”

Circe shook her head. “I do not know. Whenever I think about Marten Kluge, all else fades from my thoughts. I desire his arms around me, that he peel off my clothes and—” Circe looked stricken. “Excuse me, Chief Strategist. I—”

“No excuses, Circe. I sent you against Kluge as a weapon. I should have known better. The man is a killer and amazingly resilient against any who wish him harm. You suffered because I hated the idea of his…well, it doesn’t matter now. That was then and now we have to face these eight projectiles. I do not like the idea of fleeing our ancestral home. We must stand our ground.”

Circe looked away.

“I have grown weary of the Advisor of Europa,” Tan said, with her eyes half-lidded. It was so hard to think, but she recalled that the man had been a constant irritant. The idea that he should survive while those of Ganymede perished—no! He was an insufferable toad. “Europa’s domes and cities lie deep under the ice. Perhaps they can survive the wreckers.”

“That is extremely unlikely,” Circe said.

“You speak the truth. They will die, but some of the industries might survive.” Tan shrugged listlessly.

For a time, the two women stared at the eight projectiles.

“With the choice of which moon to defend decided,” Circe finally said, “there is a more delicate question.”

“You agree with me then that we should save Ganymede?”

“Force-Leader Yakov was from Ganymede,” Circe said.

“Why is that important?”

Circe blushed. “It isn’t.”

“Ah,” said Tan. “Yakov was Marten Kluge’s friend.”

“Marten thought very highly of Yakov,” Circe said.

“We all did,” Tan said. “And that is as good a reason as any to save Ganymede. Force-Leader Yakov gave his life to save our civilization. We will now choose to save the moon that gave us such a selfless guardian. I approve of your reasoning.”

Circe gave Tan a sidelong glance. “I spoke of a delicate issue a moment ago. We still have not broached it. The Advisor of Europa is forceful and given to threats. He might do more than protest your decision.”

Tan nodded. She realized that. She should have been the one to bring it up, but she couldn’t do it.

“Given his emotional make-up,” Circe said. “I suggest we take away the Advisor’s ability to affect our decision.”

Tan’s mouth was dry. Once she spoke these words, she would begin a terrible sequence of events. With her tongue, she moistened the inside of her mouth. “What do you suggest?”

“We must neutralize his ability to harm the Guardian Fleet,” Circe said. “To speak plainly, we must ensure that he never uses the defensive satellites orbiting Europa to launch missiles at our ships.”

“That would be an irrational act on his part,” Tan said.

“I have studied his psychological profile. The man is irrational and unstable.”

“I have also found him irritating,” Tan admitted.

“There are two meteor-ships in orbit around Europa,” Circe said. “I suggest you launch an immediate space marine assault against the defensive satellites or use bombs to incapacitate them.”

“If we did that it would destroy their ability to deflect the wreckers.”

“Europa has insufficient military hardware to deflect them,” Circe said. “Their only possibility of affecting the outcome of the situation is vengeance against us.”

Tan recoiled at the idea of leaving Europa defenseless against the enemy. It was monstrous and she would have no part in it. The horror of the suggestion revived her spirits and cut through the despair.

She turned to Circe. “What if Europa used all their liners and tankers, building up velocity and crashing them against the moon-wreckers? Before impact, they would have to launch weapons to disable each wrecker’s engine ports so the asteroids could not make any course corrections.”

On her pad, Circe began to compute the odds. After a time, she looked up. “They would need to send the ships now. The farther away from Jupiter they nudge the asteroids—provided they can knock out the engine ports—the less mass is needed for success.”

“The problem is that cyborg lasers would likely destroy such space-liners and tankers,” Tan said. “And who would crew the suicide vessels?”

“It wouldn’t necessarily have to be suicide. Skeleton crews could guide the ships, leaving at the last moment by a shuttle and escaping the impact.”

“And falling victim to cyborg lasers,” Tan said.

“The Guardian Fleet would need to join in the assault,” Circe said, “engaging the moon-wreckers in battle. We would attempt to mimic the Highborn and Earthlings as they attacked the Saturn-launched wreckers.”

Tan bit her lip, worried again about the leader of Europa. “If only the Advisor were a rational man.”

“The answer is obvious. You must assassinate him.”

“Who will take his place?” Tan asked.

“Hopefully someone more malleable,” Circe said.

“And if he or she does not view the matter as we do?”

“There are many imponderables,” Circe said, “too many to calculate. We must fight. We must give our system the likeliest chance for survival. Our two asteroids will target the Ganymede wreckers, shepherded to the point of contact by the Guardian Fleet. The people of Europa can do as they wish with their space-liners, tankers and defensive satellites—provided they don’t attack us. Perhaps we can convince them to transfer to Ganymede.”