Tactics of Conquest (Stellar Conquest) (7 page)

“What about the other races, sir?” Ekara spoke up. “We’re human.
Conquest
is an EarthFleet ship. Will they be coming along?”

“Some, yes. A few dozen of each. It’s important to have a mixed crew, for political reasons, and for some good practical ones.”

“Practical?” Ekara seemed ready to object. “Extra facilities to accommodate aliens could be put to better use, I should think.”

“Possibly. But,” Absen ticked off reasons on his fingers. “What if we run into other Ryss out there, or Sekoi slaves of Meme? What if we run into completely new races? There are no Ryss Blends – they abhor the very idea – and only one human Blend in this system: Ezekiel Denham. The Hippos, on the other hand, have thousands. They can spare a few, and they may be very useful if we run into any Meme-controlled creatures.”

He went on before the others could comment. “Both races have some experts in certain disciplines that will be useful, particularly the Hippo Blends, with their accumulated memories of long lifespans. They are way ahead of us in the biological sciences, for example. The Ryss have some warriors that have asked to join the fight. Turning them down would have caused hard feelings. And then there’s the Black Swans.”

“The unknown unknowns.” Ekara looked like he was sucking on lemons.

“Right. Three races means triple redundancy if, for example, some kind of Meme human-killing plague got loose in the ship.”

“The Vulcan saves the day again?” Nightingale laughed.

Absen joined him in a chuckle. “I learned a lot from that old TV show.”

Ekara seemed to force his face into a neutral mask, and Absen made a mental note to keep an eye on the man.

“Welcome, Admiral,” echoed the AI’s voice.

“Thank you, Desolator. I was walking, and a question occurred to me. Something I have been meaning to ask you for some time, about the time before the final battle at the Ryss homeworld.”

“Of course.”

“The Bite. That was the result of your war with the Meme.”

“Yes.”

“It’s a relatively dead zone. Once we learned what emissions to look for, humanity found traces of civilizations in all directions, but much less within that area. It’s why our radio-telescopes didn’t find alien life earlier. Yet, when we took Gliese 370, we didn’t wipe out the Sekoi, and therefore ten years later we have a thriving economy. Did we just get lucky, or was there some other factor in play?”

Desolator paused for a moment longer than usual. Absen realized this fact was significant. At the speed the AI thought, there was no reason for a break in conversation. Maybe it was for effect.

Unless Desolator was thinking deeply. Or perhaps dissembling? Chirom had said that the machine intelligence, like most Ryss, was not very good at lying.

“This may distress you, if I understand human psychology; or, as a military man, it may not.” He paused again.

“Desolator, I have never seen you hesitant or uncertain like this. Please explain fully.”

As the Admiral’s request was effectively an order, and Desolator had submitted himself to Absen’s authority, the AI forged ahead resolutely. “I know you humans fear me for my power, and also for my other-ness. I am a mind doubly alien, Ryss and machine. Because of this, I have felt inhibited in explaining the full implications of the Bite.”

Absen waved his hand in the air, dismissive. “Get to the point.”

“Perhaps we could have some privacy?” Desolator’s voice dropped in volume and seemed to move to a position next to Absen’s ear, probably transmitted from a directional microphone.

Absen turned to look over his shoulder at the vast command center behind him, and told the unfamiliar Ryss in the captain’s throne, “Do not disturb me while I am conversing with Desolator.”

The big cat nodded.

Moving deeper into Desolator’s chamber, Absen said quietly, “Go on.” He found a place against the wall farthest from the permanently open door and leaned against it.

“You humans count genocide a great crime, but we Ryss see little value in sparing an enemy, especially if his death is honorable.”

“Got it.”

“The Meme actually believe more as you do, for different reasons. They wipe out planets only as a last resort, because they want to enslave them.”

“I see. So what you are saying is that the Ryss, not the Meme, caused the devastation of the Bite.”

“Yes. As a more recently built ship, I never left home system until the end. However, earlier
Dominator
-class ships and the smaller dreadnoughts that came before us traveled via stardrive to hundreds of Meme worlds, and ruthlessly laid them waste. It seemed advantageous at the time.”

Saddened but not surprised, Absen said, “’Scorched earth,’ we call that. Didn’t you think about helping the enslaved races revolt?”

“You must understand, Admiral, that we had no idea how large the Empire was, and we were under tremendous pressure. The situation was not so different from your own World War Two, as the Allies reached deep into the Axis powers with the indiscriminate firebombing of cities, not to mention Hiroshima and Nagasaki. We were desperate, and had no time for niceties. Or, perhaps, inclination.”

“I can’t judge your people and their culture, Desolator. Maybe in your position I’d have done the same thing. Certainly it was part of our planning process for Gliese 370.”

Desolator’s voice evidenced surprise. “You considered wiping out the Sekoi?”

“Most of them. In the extreme case. If all else failed, we could have struck the planet with large relativistic projectiles and bombed them back to the stone age, and then continued on to another star. So I understand what the Ryss did.”

“Why did you not ask me this before, Admiral?”

Absen massaged his chin. “I suppose I didn’t want to press you too hard.”

“Until I had proven my loyalty.”

“Baldly stated, yes. It’s never a good thing to shame someone who has the power to overthrow you.”

“Thank you for your consideration, but if you understood the Ryss, you would realize that I owe you blood debt for my entire race. I can no more betray you, or humanity, than you could murder a child. A million children. Power doesn’t even enter the equation.”

“Ouch. But thank you for explaining that. Forgive me for doubting.”

Desolator’s tone smiled. “I understand, though, that it is your responsibility as a commander to be skeptical. I take no offense.”

“Good. I had always wondered about the orientation of the Weapon, the laser on Afrana’s moon, and why it pointed straight toward the planet. It wasn’t just to keep the Sekoi in line, was it?”

“You are correct. As I wandered the stars, I developed a primitive tactic to take advantage of the stardrive that I had and the Meme did not. I am sure other Ryss warships did the same. I would enter a Meme system and pause, usually near a gas giant. Then, I would select a target, normally the most populous world, take the time to recharge the stardrive, and use it to skip past all defenses to a position above the planet. I would deploy an Exploder, wipe out all higher life, and then fight my way out.”

“That’s why you were so battle-scarred when you arrived,” Absen observed.

“Yes. But in one system I observed the Meme installing a Weapon on the moon of a planet, and deduced their intention, which was to destroy me or anything else that arrived suddenly.”

“It was a Ryss-killer,” Absen said. “Even if they couldn’t stop you bombing the planet, they could hammer you with a laser of enough power to destroy even you, before you could get away.”

“Yes. I believe it was by this method that the Ryss dreadnought raiders were eventually destroyed. Between the Weapon or Weapons in a system, and Guardian Monitors, our marauders would have been picked off one by one while the main Meme fleets captured our systems. The enemy was just too numerous.”

Absen added, “And because their shipbuilding methods do not rely on a machine economy, Ryss wiping out Meme enslaved worlds didn’t actually degrade their war-making capability very much.”

Again that pause, just briefly. “That is very astute. I had not made that connection.” Embarrassment crept into Desolator’s voice. “Then the Ryss used an incorrect strategy.”

“I would have to agree. They failed to identify the foundation of Meme power, which is not their worlds, but rather, their spacegoing warships. Those can feed and reproduce without ever coming near a life-bearing planet. That’s an enormous advantage. But,” Absen waved his index finger like a teacher, “now you have the same advantage. You, Desolator, are the machine version of their living ships, and freed from the restrictions organics placed on you, you can reproduce much like they can.”

“Yes, Admiral. You give me much to think about.”

“Glad to be of service, and thanks for answering my questions.”

“I serve the Ryss, and the Ryss serve humanity.”

Absen waved his hand in the air as if shooing flies. “I appreciate that, but I’d rather have partners – brother warriors, if you will – than servants.”

“You do us all honor, Admiral. Blood debt, remember.”

“I remember.” He walked away from the wall to lay a hand on one of the sarcophagi. “Thank you, my friend. My brother warrior.”

“I thank you, Admiral, my friend, my brother warrior.”

He set the appointment for noon and ate an early lunch, nodding to the commingled crews in the mess. Then he took a deep breath and waved for Tobias to accompany him. “Walk with me this time, Dwayne,” Absen said.

The sharp-eyed man moved up next to his principal, a question on his face. No doubt he wondered at the use of his first name, so rare.

Absen couldn’t exactly explain it, except that he had a feeling this meeting would be momentous, critical, not only for the ship, but perhaps for humanity. “Sometimes a man needs a comrade more than he needs a bodyguard,” the admiral said, staring ahead as he walked.

Tobias cleared his throat. “I understand.”

“What are people saying? About the AI?”

“Less than I expected, sir. Some grumbling, and the usual trash talk, but nothing that worries me overly.” Besides bodyguarding, Tobias and his Stewards kept an eye on the internal security situation, performed investigations, and kept Absen apprised of the scuttlebutt. “I’m not so worried about the naval crew; it’s the Marines that concern me.”

Absen grunted in agreement. “They fought AI-controlled machines that look hardly different from the ones around us.” He waved at a cluster of mechanicals that were working on a lift. “And Desolator wants us to have battle drones aboard, under AI control.”

“I don’t like that idea at all, sir. Too much power in one, ah,
person’s
hands. Metaphorically speaking, hands.”

Absen nodded. “I know what you mean, but I hate to leave tools behind. I’m inclined to bring them along, but put them in storage under lock and key, with power cells removed. They will only be brought out if needed.”

“Do you think we’ll get in any sort of close action?”

“We’re going to be one ship, alone and unafraid, Chief. We have to be flexible. Better to have them and not need them –”

“– than need them and not have them,” Tobias finished. He looked pointedly around as they crossed the floor of the docking bay, a sectional slab of
Conquest
’s nose armor looming above them. Laying his hand on its surface just to the right of the huge open portal, he said, “This always amazes me when I see it up close, that humans built this ship.” He sniffed, breathing in the scents of welding and lubricant.

“And then you look at
Desolator
…” Absen grinned. “I wonder if there are other, bigger ships out there. Like Death Stars? With the Von Neumann approach, all that’s needed is time, materials and knowhow.”

“Makes you think,” Tobias replied, running his fingers around the corner and into the tunnel that led through hundreds of meters of multilayered armor. “Maybe there’s something worse out there than Meme.”

“Maybe. One nemesis at a time, eh?” Absen touched the front of a utility cart hauling a load of boxes. It obediently stopped, and he and Tobias hopped onto the seat in front. “Take us to the
Conquest
AI, please,” he said aloud.

“Of course, Admiral,” Desolator replied from the cart speaker. While Absen doubted that the intelligence paid close attention to every cart, he’d found that Desolator did seem ever-present near him. The electric vehicle rolled confidently through
Conquest
’s main larger passageways, machines moving out of its way as if by magic.

Outside a portal it stopped. Two Marines stood watchfully by, and an officer stepped forward, looming over them, huge in full armor. His faceplate snapped upward to reveal the visage of Major Joseph “Bull” ben Tauros, but Absen knew who the man was as soon as he’d seen the blue Star of David painted like a target on his broad chest.

Bull presented arms with his plasma rifle. “ADMIRAL ON DECK!” he roared, and Absen returned the salute.

“At ease. Carry on.” Absen noticed another pair of Marines standing next to a device that looked rather like a bomb. Cables ran from it to mechanisms in their armored fists. He raised his eyebrows at Bull, then looked at the setup.

“Deadman EMP, sir. Both Marines have to keep squeezing those switches, otherwise everything electronic within fifty meters gets fried, including the AI circuits.”

“Good thinking, Major. As you were.” Absen turned toward the chamber.

Inside the opening, deliberately large and without a door, he could see a setup similar to Desolator’s: three coffin-like modules, large Egyptianesque sarcophagi with their heads pointing toward the center. In the middle stood a three-sided obelisk like an obsidian shard. Conduits connected all four pieces of the machine brain to each other, and other fiber-optic cables the size of a man’s wrist lay unconnected in deliberately flimsy brackets.