Vaughn Heppner - Star Fortress

Presently, blue Neptune filled the monitor’s screen. The ice giant possessed thirteen moons. The outer six were irregular satellites. The last two—Psamathe and Neso—had the largest orbits of any moon in the Solar System. Each took twenty-five years to orbit Neptune. Of the two moons, Psamathe was presently on the other side of Neptune, while Neso was far away in the direction of the southern pole. Each moon had a highly eccentric orbit.

Unlike those orbits, the Alliance Fleet had traveled within the Solar System’s ecliptic: the path most of the planets followed along the Sun’s equator. Even out here, the Sun’s gravity ruled the planetary motions because of its dominating mass—the Sun accounted for ninety-nine point eight-six percent of the total mass of the Solar System.

Triton was the biggest Neptunian moon. It was the seventh largest moon, and the sixteenth largest object, in the Solar System. It was slightly bigger than the dwarf planet Pluto. Triton comprised more than ninety-nine point five percent of the mass orbiting Neptune, meaning it dominated the other moons in terms of gravitational effect.

The Neptunian System had been colonized about a century ago from Uranus. Before the cyborgs, there had been habitats here constructed of weird ice, orbiting Neptune at whatever distance the original buyers had desired. Some of the habs had been built within the rings of Neptune. Others orbited hundreds of thousands of kilometers from the surface. Some of the richest capitalists had constructed floating villas in Neptune’s highest atmosphere. By heating vast hydrogen balloons, large masses had been suspended underneath. Because of the distance from the planet’s core, the occupants in the floating villas had enjoyed near one G of gravity. Jupiter had lacked such floating cities because its size made the escape velocity too high and because of the gas giant’s intense radiation.

Like Jupiter, however, the richest capitalists had launched robotic aerostats into the atmosphere. The floating machines gathered or “mined” deuterium and helium-3. Both fuels fed fusion reactors, giving the planetary system the needed power for the endless projects.

Despite the many habitats, the floating cities and various moon-bases, the largest industrial and population concentration had always been on Triton. It was one of three moons in the Solar System with an atmosphere. Its mass gave it an appreciable gravity and the subsurface ammonia/water seas provided one of the critical components for human life. Triton was cryogenic and was therefore rich with geothermal energy. Most of Neptune’s banks had headquartered on Triton, as well as the core military establishments.

By studying the enemy’s past behavior, Hawthorne and the Highborn admirals agreed that the concentration of cyborg strength would likely be on Triton. To ensure that the main enemy fleet came out and engaged, they had agreed the fleet must eventually drive for a primary objective. In this instance: Triton.

The strategic objective was presently on the other side of Neptune. Basic military caution mandated keeping a planetary body between the enemy strength and the decelerating ships. Deceleration was a vulnerable time, allowing little latitude for maneuvers and signaling one’s presence with hot fusion exhaust.

These and other thoughts passed through Hawthorne as he lay on the acceleration couch. By his side, his fingers twitched across the pressure-pads, changing the pictures on the monitor.

Nereid appeared—it was the nearest of Neptune’s satellites to the fleet. It orbited an average of five-and-half million kilometers from the planet and had a polyhedron shape, with several flat or slightly concave facets.

Debate had raged for days on the correct approach into the system. Hawthorne had sided with Sulla, who had finally convinced Scipio and Cato to hit a strategic center early.

“We could take out several of the farthest orbiting habitats,” Hawthorne had told the Highborn. He’d shrugged. “Unfortunately, that would have minimal effect on the outcome. If the cyborgs mean to lure us—and it seems obvious they do—let us destroy important military installations while they’re giving us the opportunity.”

Scipio’s analysis of the Third Battle of Mars made the commanders cautious. The cyborgs were devious. The enemy would likely act in a similar manner as they had at Mars. In other words, the cyborgs were likely hoping to snap a trap on them.

“I’m detecting an increase in radiation on Nereid,” Commissar Kursk said from her couch.

Hawthorne watched the monitor. They had launched probes twenty-three hours ago. The probes continued to hurtle toward Nereid at the fleet’s former velocity.

The SU ships had been decelerating for some time. They had braked as the Doom Stars continued to rush toward Neptune. Finally, however, the Doom Stars began deceleration. Their long exhaust plumes acted as shields against most matter—missiles, cannon shells or plasma—with the needed heat to incinerate titanium.

“If we’re right,” Blackstone said, “the cyborgs have a surprise for us behind Nereid.”

They had been studying the system for weeks, picking up minute pieces of data a particle at a time. Slowly, they built a Neptunian map. All the while, each passive and active system had relentlessly scanned the void, seeking cyborg stealth-ships.

“There!” cried Kursk. “Laser-turrets are rising from Nereid’s surface. They’re firing.”

Hawthorne’s fingers tapped across the pressure-pads. The image changed on the monitor. Polygonal-shaped Nereid appeared. Then a close-up zoomed into focus. The moon was mainly water ice and rock. Towers stood on formerly empty ground. Laser beams burned from each of the focusing mirrors.

“They hit a probe,” Kursk said. “Make that two probes. That’s it,” she said a moment later. “They got all three.”

“How long until Nereid is in ultra-laser range?” Hawthorne asked.

“Three hours and sixteen minutes,” Kursk said.

Hawthorne wanted to hit Nereid now, but not as Sulla planned. The idea was right, the method too risky. An SU fleet would have decelerated long ago and built up a prismatic crystal cloud before it. The SU fleet would have sent heavy reflectors to the cloud’s sides, bouncing the beams from them in relative safety.

In Hawthorne’s opinion, the Highborn trusted their heavy lasers and collapsium shielding too much.

“I don’t understand this,” Blackstone said.

“What’s wrong?” Hawthorne asked the Commodore.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Blackstone said. “Will the cyborgs just let us sweep the moon with lasers?”

“I doubt it,” Hawthorne said.

“Then why haven’t they defended Nereid with P-Clouds?”

“The obvious answer is so they can fire at us,” Hawthorne said. “A P-Cloud defends, but it also halts an attack. They could use mirrors, but mirrors make precision targeting more difficult.”

“Permission to speak,” Kursk said.

“Granted,” said Hawthorne.

“We should have launched a swarm of missiles at them,” Kursk said.

Hawthorne remained silent. He hadn’t agreed to that before and he still didn’t. Maybe if he could have resupplied the missile racks in several weeks, he would have agreed. They had come a long way, however, and had a limited number of missiles. Each one had to count. The inability to re-supply quickly was a critical weakness of taskforces that traveled so far from home.

Hawthorne shivered on the couch as a chill worked up his back. The cyborgs were waiting for something. Did they have a longer-ranged beam than the Ultra-lasers? Why did they leave Nereid open like this? Were they daring the Highborn to strike, and if so, why?

“Where is their fleet?” Blackstone said. “We should have spotted something by now.”