Alpha Constellation was abuzz with activity today. Frenzied generals barked orders to subordinates, weapons release codes were being retrieved and prepared for broadcast, and the collective calculations of hundreds of supercomputers in campuses and research labs all over human space were compiled into a single comprehensive report. Humanity had come a long way since it broke through the Oort cloud for the first time; during World War III, they might as well have been hurling rocks at each other.
In one particular mirrored room, seven holographic men and women sat about a round table, waiting on the arrival of the eighth. The Council of Nations, as the congregation was called, hadn’t been convened since the first attack on Novoarkhangelsk; it was fitting that it was to come together to discuss the second. Their calculations said that they hadn’t long until the Poslushi fleet arrived over the Russian border world, and then all bets were off; it was now or never.
With a hum, the eighth holographic projector spooled up, and the shimmering simulacrum of Marshal Kuznetsov appeared at the spot set out for him between Presidents Poirot and Herald. With the entire Council assembled, their work could begin.
President Herald looked down at a card in his lap and began to read. “Greetings, esteemed members of the Council of Nations of the Coalition of Aligned Solar Territories. If you were not previously made aware, this meeting and subsequent referendum regards the deployment of nuclear, thermonuclear, fusion, enhanced-radiation, and other assorted weapons of mass destruction or disruption against the forces of the Poslush Combine. Before we vote on the proposal, does anyone have any questions or comments to speak?”
A brief pause went by, and then Prime Minister Nakao spoke up. “Have we considered all prior options? Surely, surely there must be a way to cause them to see reason without unleashing such destruction.”
“If the Pozzies could see reason, they would have stopped once they realized we weren’t just another hick civilization to imperialize.” Marshal Kuznetsov cut in.
Herald regarded Kuznetsov silently, then made his own response. “A reminder should be made that this forum is intended to be cordial in nature, but Marshal Kuznetsov is generally correct. It has become clear, through our interrogations of captured personnel and general analysis of the actions of the enemy, that it would be unsafe for the Combine to achieve anything other than total victory in this war; anything less would be considered a sign of weakness by the galactic community and potentially cause them to present themselves as a target for more unscrupulous civilizations.”
“By negotiating with us, they endanger themselves,” President Fontana of Italy mused.
Herald pointed at him, nodding his head. “Correct. Now, our intel shows that the Combine does not possess a nuclear stockpile, nor does it possess anything similar. The closest thing it has to such are the Eidolons, but they’re cowardly and will refuse to fight unless they know they won’t be in any danger whatsoever. In short, a single psychic, such as the personnel Paraweapons makes use of, can neutralize the effects of such a force.”
“They can’t even hit back,” said Chancellor Stirlitz of Germany, “why must we do these things to them?”
“Because if they had the opportunity, they’d do it to us,” President Poirot responded, “their culture places little value in mercy. Now, if we don’t do this, the fleet that is currently assaulting us is less than a fifth of their full strength, and still outweighs the entirety of CAST’s space forces in tonnage by almost four to one. Without a significant force multiplier, our craft will be smashed aside and they’ll be in control of the sector by the end of the month. From that point, they will have gathered too much momentum, and their victory will only be a matter of time.”
“Mr. Poirot is correct,” Herald interjected, “but there’s another reason. Prime Minister Berry?”
The United Kingdom’s head of government nodded. “As previously mentioned, the Poslush Combine has no safe means of exit from the war; they cannot end it even if they want to. However, by showing that a negotiated peace with us is the only reasonable option, it’s possible that we can cause the Combine to appear prudent rather than cowardly in suing for one. It’ll be an off ramp of sorts, a way for them to stop the bloodshed while not risking more. If we make a demonstration of their invasion fleet and explain this to them, we could end the war.”
It was Prime Minister Day of Canada’s turn to speak now. “And if this doesn’t end the war?”
“Then we will have committed ourselves to the wholesale annihilation of the military capability of the Poslush Combine, in accordance with counterforce nuclear strategy.” Berry said grimly.
The room sat silent for a few minutes after that one. The closest humanity had ever come to full nuclear exchange was during the closing days of World War III, as NATO forces marched on Moscow and the Russian government got desperate. To unleash such horror on someone comparatively defenseless was appalling to say the least; they were effectively taking the slippery slope of nuclear deployment and jumping down it. However, it was them or the Poslushi. They could worry about the well-being of the enemy later.
Herald cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. “The four present nuclear powers have already agreed upon this course of action. On the behalf of all four, I would like to cast a vote of affirmation.”
Prime Minister Day nodded. “I hereby vote yes.”
That left Fontana, Stirlitz, and Nakao. Nakao was the first of the three to speak. “I understand the necessity of such an action, but the Japanese people still have yet to forget the first time such weapons were used. I cannot condone another deployment in good conscience; let it be recorded that I hereby abstain from the vote.”
“Duly noted, Prime Minister. Now, Stirlitz, Fontana, anyone?” Herald said.
Stirlitz looked down sheepishly. “I vote yes.”
“The measure is passed, then. I will confirm the decision with the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and I trust that the other nuclear powers will do the same.”
“Remember the warning shot, Herald?” President Poirot asked.
“You got a message to send along with it?” Kuznetsov replied.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“Indeed.”
“Broadcast it, and time the impact right. I want to scare these ants out of their skins.”
—
The Tethylen emerged from hyperspace above a great, white-red ice world mottled with dark gray. Once upon a time, this planet was one of lava and volcanic activity, heated via the tidal effects of its large moon. However, a few million years prior, some cataclysm dislodged the satellite and caused it to instead become the innermost planet in the system while Novoarkhangelsk froze over. The first civilization to touch this region was humanity, but Rapier would be damned if it was the last.
Moments later, the advance fleet popped back into existence all around the cruiser. Seeing this, Rapier spun around in his chair. “Comms, how long ‘till Dao’s fleet arrives?”
“Calculating approximately thirty minutes, sir!” the communications officer barked back.
“Good,” Rapier said, returning to his normal position just as quickly as he had left it. Tapping a few buttons on his console, he pulled up a video feed to the flagship of the Aralu Janissaries. Soon afterwards, the scowling face of Ulo appeared on the screen.
“Captain-General,” he saluted.
“At ease, sir. What’s our status on groundside deployments?” Rapier’s antennae perked up.
“The men are rallying as we speak. We should be making our first landings as Dao’s fleet arrives.” Ulo said. As he spoke, half a dozen sleek, birdlike craft drifted out from above the Tethylen, each one two kilometers wide by one long. Each one was large enough to harbor an entire infantry division in relative comfort, with heavy equipment stored on barges to be ferried down once they had secured landing spots.
“Good. The Knights will cover your descent. I also trust that you have–”
Rapier was suddenly distracted by an insistent bleeping from the communicator. Looking back, he saw the device prominently displaying a textual message glowing angry yellow. Springing up, he got closer to read it more easily.
ERROR.
INCOMING TRANSMISSION IS NOT THREE-DIMENSIONAL.
VISUAL DIFFICULTIES MAY ENSUE.
“Hit the button.” Wakizashi commanded offhand. Rapier quickly complied, and the letters floating in the air dissipated, replaced by a flat projection of a human female wearing formal attire. Loathingly, Rapier moved around the communicator, standing next to Wakizashi so that the image was oriented correctly for him. The woman was sitting at a desk in an office of sorts, and her expression was cheerful, but that cheer was tainted by a grim apprehension in her eyes. It was as though she was trying to find the best way to say something terrible. She cleared her throat loudly, and then began to speak, her voice scrambled into Founderspeak by the receiver.
“This message is addressed to the commanding officers of the fleet that is currently in orbit of Novoarkhangelsk, on the behalf of the government of the Tenth French Republic and of CAST. At this time, you are not to leave the orbit of the planet in any direction other than from whence you came. In the event that this warning is disregarded, either in the form of intruding further into CAST territory or landing any ground force on Novoarkhangelsk, the Coalition is hereby authorized to deploy and utilize weapons of mass destruction in order to ensure the devastation, if not wholesale destruction, of any invading forces.”
“Oh, they’ve really hit their heads,” Wakizashi chuckled. For once, Rapier agreed; they couldn’t just go from losing the war on all fronts to destroying a fleet as large as theirs in one battle. It just wasn’t possible.
The woman faded away, replaced by a rolling, arid landscape dotted with spike-trees. In the background, a voice counted down from ten. When he reached zero, the feed was suddenly consumed by a burning white light, and an odd thrumming played through the communicator’s speaker. When both subsided, an enormous ball of fire was rising over the shrubland, the very clouds above forced aside by its expansion. Slowly, but surely, it formed itself into a mushroom shape, and then a piercing bang sounded through the bridge, startling practically everyone in earshot. A couple of officers even clutched their antennae in pain.
Wakizashi was the first to respond to the recording. “Ha! Can’t you unlerms see that this is a mining charge? They do these things back on Pollanide to get the ore from mountains and it causes us no trouble. They couldn’t possibly manage to maneuver that many explosives in any way that could hurt us.”
“I see, ma’am.” Rapier responded automatically. It just wasn’t possible that that much power could be concentrated in any portable weapon. Sure, it might have been dangerous if they set up a couple as traps for unwary ground units, but Rapier was already planning to be extra careful of such things.
About twenty seconds later, as the pyrocumulus cloud started to blow away in the wind, the feed returned to the woman. “In the event that a recording is insufficient for you, a strike package is currently being deployed to make a demonstration. Do not be afraid; we have ascertained the location of your fleet command ship and will not be aiming for it.”
“Captain-General, Viceroy, picking up a contact breaking upper atmosphere,” the detections officer called, “the returns match a self-steering torpedo.”
“Give it a moment; they might launch more.” Rapier ordered. Humans were fans of launching their weapons in salvos, rather than the staggered approach of the Poslushi. It made for overwhelming, but not continuous firepower. Rapier could see why it worked; humans preferred shock tactics, while Poslushi doctrine put more emphasis on sustained assaults that wore down the enemy by attrition.
Ten seconds later, the officer spoke again. “There’s only one, sir.”
“What’s its trajectory?”
“It’s set to impact one of the Janissary craft, sir.”
Nodding, Rapier turned back to his console. “Ulo, did you hear that? You might want to brace for an impact.”
“Janissary ships are very well-armored, Captain-General. We’ll be fine.” Ulo replied.
“Comms, broadcast an attack warning. Inform all craft in the vicinity to be prepared to intercept.”
“On it!” the communications officer called.
“Twenty seconds to impact!” the radar officer reported. Looking up, Rapier could see tiny muzzle flashes coming from the turrets of the Janissary ships as they began to unload flak shells in the direction of the torpedo. Soon, however, the ships got far enough away that he couldn’t make them out anymore.
“Ten seconds!”
“Rapier, come here. I want to watch them shoot down the torpedo with you.” Wakizashi said. She didn’t phrase it as a command, but Rapier could tell that it was. Maybe if he dragged his feet, the missile would go down before Wakizashi forced him to sit on her lap or in some other, equally humiliating position.
“Brace for impact,” Rapier said, without much enthusiasm. Slowly, he walked back towards the Viceroy. She had the look about her again; the sooner this was over with, the better.
“I told you not to worry, Reyena. They couldn’t scratch this ship if they–”
Light.
Beautiful, horrible, unbearable light.
His gaze fixated on Wakizashi, he saw as her chitinous shell shone through her flesh for a moment, and he could see through her eye sockets all the way into the back of her skull. It was so, so painfully bright, and he was too slow to close his eyes. Ulo’s voice was cut off by a piercing static screech, and then so many things happened all at once.
Wakizashi’s hands flew up to her eyes as she let loose a loud yelp of pain. Several of the officers fell from their seats, clutching at theirs and screaming. Rapier was lucky; he had been facing away from its source and got away with only comparatively minor discomfort. He turned around and looked out of the windows of the bridge, but he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing immediately. Instead, he tried to comprehend the various elements of the scene separately, one at a time.
Three of the Janissary craft were listing away from the center, their thrusters flickering and firing wildly. The paint had been burned from their hulls.
Two more were split asunder by the blast, torn apart by flying chunks of metal, their decks melting and conglomerating together from the sheer, unfathomable heat.
And in the center of it all, the ship that Ulo had been on had simply ceased to be. Nothing remained to suggest that anything had ever been there. The only clue of what had happened was a rapidly-cooling bubble of incandescent gas expanding out into space, shining like a star.
It shouldn’t have been possible.
And yet it was.