Vaughn Heppner - Planet Wrecker

“I recognize you,” the Highborn said.

“I’m Marten Kluge.”

Irritation flashed across the damaged face. “Since I’ve already stated I recognize you, there was no need to tell me your name,” the Highborn said. He held up a big hand as Marten began to speak. “I am aware of your habits. It is the reason we have been given our mission. Do you know what that mission is, preman?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Marten asked.

“You are to return with me to the Julius Caesar .”

“Is that right?”

The Highborn bared his teeth. They were big and strong-looking.

That triggered something in Marten. He leaned closer to the screen, minutely examining the Highborn. “You look familiar to me,” he said. “Have we met before?”

“Your insolence is making this difficult,” the Highborn said. “Premen should learn better manners and keep their mouth closed until personally addressed.”

Marten snapped his fingers. “You look just like the Grand Admiral. Are you his son?”

The Highborn snarled an oath and must have grasped his communication device, for this thumbs appeared on the image. “I am Felix of the Ninth Iron Cohort. Know that the Grand Admiral and I share the same chromosomes. In his mania, Cassius shot my favorite sex object, exiled me into space and killed me once. Then he packed me into a missile as a living warhead and launched me in a suicide mission against the cyborgs. I survived that, but gained this,” Felix said, indicating the plasti-flesh on half of his face. The Highborn breathed heavily so his nostrils flared. “Now Cassius will learn what it means to have made an enemy of me.”

Marten glanced at Omi and raised an eyebrow.

The stoic Korean shook his head.

“Are you going to gain the Grand Admiral’s favor by bringing me in?” Marten asked.

“You stupid preman,” Felix snarled. “Are you truly that slow-witted? No. I am declaring my independence from the Grand Admiral and his tyranny. His ineptitude has cost us Earth. I mean to see him ousted from power and hanged by the neck. In the interim, I, and those who think like me, will use your asteroid as a base. Since the Grand Admiral despises you, I will give you a choice. Remain among us for a time or leave in your spacecraft, if you possess any. It is more than an irritating subhuman deserves. But I feel that doing this will anger the Grand Admiral. Well, preman, what is your choice?”

“Can you give me a few minutes to think about it?” Marten asked.

“No!” Felix said. “Decide this instant. Speaking to you is a burden I’d rather not have to practice a second time.”

“We’ll leave,” Marten said.

“Felix of the Ninth Iron Cohort out,” the Highborn said.

“How do you know he’s telling us the truth?” Nadia whispered.

“I’ve rubbed shoulders with them for a long time, honey. This one is crazy like Sigmir. I know the look. But I bet he’s honest.” Marten turned to Omi. “Get the men. It’s time we left while the getting’s good.”

“Go where?” asked Omi.

“We’ll decide that once we lift off,” Marten said. “Maybe if we’re lucky, we can land on Earth.”

Omi nodded and headed for the hatch.

In the former laser satellite that monitored the eight habitats, tall Scipio kept flexing his prosthetic hand. Why did it hurt at times like this? That didn’t make sense. He lacked pain-sensory equipment and none of the skin was raw. It was ghost-pain, imaginary. Yet even though he knew all that, the metal hand throbbed dully and made it difficult to concentrate. Not that he needed to concentrate now. Everything was set.

Scipio stood before the wall showing the first targeted asteroid. It was the outer one of the two biggest, at least outer in relation to Earth. The wall showed the asteroid in detail, particularly its frozen cryovolcano or ice volcano.

The cryovolcano fascinated Scipio. It meant that much of this asteroid was icy. Ordinary volcanoes spewed molten rock. A cryovolcano erupted water, ammonia or methane and was known as cryomagma or ice-volcanic melt. The energy to form the eruptions usually came from tidal forces—the tug and pull of gravity from larger objects that twisted the asteroid’s center. It was doubtful there had been any eruptions during the asteroid’s journey from Saturn. No, the cryovolcano would likely never have another eruption again. Unless he could nudge the asteroid out of the way, it would end its existence as it smashed into Earth and obliterated life.

While flexing his bionic hand, trying to ease the imaginary pain, Scipio sat down at his desk. It was clean and minimalist. Using his real hand, his fleshy one, he began to change settings. The test of his work would begin in an hour. He would succeed and possibly save a world, or he would fail and condemn billions to death.

He was ready…. But why did his inhuman hand have to hurt so much?

As Scipio watched on his wall, the asteroid with the cryovolcano approached the blue-green world. If anyone had been left alive on it, he or she would have seen the third planet as Luna-sized from Earth.

The line of former farm habitats—gently accelerated these past days—moved like giant billiard balls. They approached in silence and in near formation. That had been Scipio’s greatest decision. Should he work on one habitat at a time and send it alone at the asteroids? Or should he work on all of them and launch them together? He’d chosen a third way, working on eight at a time. Because of a thousand problems and delays, these were the only eight he’d been able to fix enough to blast out of Earth-orbit.

From hundreds of thousands of kilometers away, Scipio witnessed the first event. A cylindrical-shaped habitat plowed into the asteroid. Metal crumpled at the impact and then burst apart, flying in many directions. The hit caused trembling to shake crystals loose on the cryovolcano ten kilometers from the impact-point. The second habitat caused greater trembling. Unfortunately, the habitat’s mass was a pittance compared to the asteroid. Fortunately, another came in a line, hitting, crumpling and flying apart.

At the third strike, the combined jolts caused the cryovolcano to crack, shatter and burst apart. Giant sections tumbled down onto the icy plain or flew off into space. Each strike had deflected the asteroid a little. The trick, the point of this exercise, was to move it enough that Earth’s gravity wouldn’t pull the object down upon itself. If these strikes had occurred even two days ago, it could have easily moved the asteroid far enough off course. Now, it was going to be dicey. It would have been good to hit this asteroid with another object, but those were on other intercept courses. The targeting decisions had been made a day ago. The mass of the habitats, their velocity and the relative weakness of the engines meant it was impossible to redirect them now.

Scipio faced the wall as Supreme Commander James Hawthorne appeared on it. The Earthling sat at a desk, with his hands folded on top.

“The habitats have struck,” Scipio said. “My projections say that four of the asteroids will not hit the planet, but will pass between the Earth and the Moon.”

Hawthorne nodded solemnly. He had discolored bags under his eyes.

“There are three major asteroids still coming,” Scipio said. “And there is much debris, enough to annihilate life on your planet.”

“We’ve been monitoring their progress,” Hawthorne said in a raw voice.

Scipio tried to refrain, but he had to know. “Can you stop the barrage and save Earth?”