The Unincorporated War (21 page)

“Sir!” reported the comm officer. “We’re being hit with atomics. Damsah, there’s a lot of ’em.” The officer stared blankly into the screen and then looked up in horror.

“They … they just obliterated their own suburbs, sir. I count at least thirty detonations and rising.”

“Damage report,” commanded Tully.

“Sir, hull appears intact.” The comm officer dived back into the holo display. “Interior radiation is at acceptable levels. A lot of breaks in the command and control system … rerouting to backups… one of the side thrusters is blown to hell.”

“Maneuverability?”

“Like a three-legged cow, sir, but we’ll manage.”

“Anything else?”

“Main armaments are recycling,” answered the comm officer, “getting similar reports from the other ships in the fleet. Sensors are all shot to hell; it’ll be minutes or hours before they come back to acceptable—” The look of horror once again returned to the comm officer’s face. “Sir! An Alliance fleet has sortied out of Ceres!”

“Numbers, Comm! Numbers!”

“Three, no … maybe four ships … damn this radiation!”

Tully’s momentary look of concern quickly faded, only to be replaced by a smarmy grin. He then let out a chuckle. The rest of the crew looked up, surprised.

“Just get backup power to the main generators, Comm Officer. And shut off the damn alarm.”

“Sir?”

“It was a trick, people.” The admiral laughed again. “Nasty bit, using atomics like that. But they’ll lose. Against ships like ours atomics in space aren’t enough. Get the main armament online and take out those ships.”

“Sir,” asked the comm officer, “should I prepare boarding parties?”

“That won’t be necessary. I doubt there’ll be enough left of their ships to board.”

“Yes, sir!”

Tully smiled once again as a general cheer went up from the crew of the bridge.
They may have lost their vacation homes,
thought the admiral,
but at least they won’t lose their shot at glory.

J. D. Black, rocketing toward her target, watched sadly as the second Erisian ship was blown to smithereens by the main rail gun of the enemy flagship. Her report had indicated that only three of the enemy ships had their main guns operational, but it had been more than enough against the tiny Erisian cruisers. Still, the ships had done their job admirably; they’d provided the distraction. J.D.
hoped the last two would be allowed to run away, but no sooner had she thought it than the
Doxy
was obliterated, caught in a cross fire and hit all at once by two main guns. She didn’t give much chance to the last ship, but the captain had surprised her. He didn’t run away but, rather, charged head-on toward the enemy fleet. He was, she could see, now among the opponents, and even if they maneuvered to fire they’d end up hitting themselves.
Whoever he is,
she thought as she slowed down her thrusters to get within a few feet of her target,
I need to talk to him.

The corporate core’s initial stealth plan on the way to Ceres had been a pure military play and so had been able to avoid detection. But once they did break their silence by boosting off toward their target all bets were off. The Alliance had many adherents among the merc companies now working for the corporate core, and so their security had been porous, to say the least. As a result Captain Black knew the basic layout and capabilities of each ship, if not the codes and details. She drifted, undetected, over to her target ship and attached herself near an emergency bulkhead. She then took out her cutter, and within minutes the bulkhead was open. She fired a couple of shots through the opening just to be safe and then charged in ahead of Marilynn or any of the assault miners. They soon floated in behind her and made quick work of the air lock door. Moments later dozens were pouring into the hold, with hundreds clamped to the outside of the flagship waiting to enter. The soldiers’ eyes darted furiously about, but J. D. Black didn’t really expect to see anyone. She figured that this fleet had to be pretty lightly crewed to have traveled so far and for so long in stealth mode. And fewer bodies meant less hassle. Now the odds were in her favor. J.D. quickly located what she was looking for. Ahead of her at the junction of two corridors was an information display. She grabbed a small box from her backpack and attached it to the panel. She looked over to Marilynn, who nodded affirmatively. J.D. grinned and flicked the switch on the box. If Marilynn was correct, the virus being injected would play havoc with the onboard computer systems. Neither of them knew the half of it.

Sebastian left inert status and awoke in a foreign system. With him were three others, all volunteers. Each of them had been split before being allowed onto the mission. In the eighteen other ships the same awakenings were now taking place. Given the recent calamities befalling avatarity, the act had caused a whole host of problems. Sebastian had, however, argued that all those going on an undertaking of probable failure, in essence a suicide mission, could split, with one’s “self” going into immediate stasis. If the mission was a success, the halves would be rejoined and theoretically there’d be no discordant memories. They’d still be
monitored like pedophiles wandering a kindergarten, but it took advantage of the very nature of avatar existence and helped them avoid the dreaded idea of a permanent deletion. Though Sebastian had given the splitting his blessing, it still rankled. But he knew that a lot of things that bothered him would have to become commonplace before all was said and done.

Each team carried new tools of a trade that avatars had never known. They had guns, explosives, and, if they worked correctly, suicide pills. It depressed Sebastian how quickly they’d been able to replicate the effects of the combat devices for a digital entity. But then again, he’d surmised, they were humanity’s children.

The avatars quickly spread through the foreign systems using the childishly crude human programs and counterprograms as shields for the true war that was taking place in the souls of the ships. The first core avatars Sebastian’s team had encountered were terrified and hadn’t put up much of a fight. He hoped that it would be true for the other teams. He wasn’t at all shocked to discover that they too had guns as well as a tool that he kicked himself for not thinking of—a portable suspension device with the appearance of a chloroform-soaked rag in a plastic bag. Of course, he reasoned, a terror state would need that particular tool quite a lot. He happily turned it on his enemies and left them lying inert, then handed the bags to each one of his team. If they won, they could make their own, but for now they’d use what was at hand.

Just as Sebastian had feared, when the team got to the important part of the ship’s functions he saw that they were guarded by Al’s true believers. The core avatars began firing without hesitation. The massive equations involved in avatars actively trying to disrupt one another’s patterns to the point of extinction in a virtual environment began to immediately play havoc on the ship’s main computer.

When the comm officer’s screen blanked momentarily he wrote it off as a necessary glitch one would expect from a ship negotiating through an atomic blast zone and said as much to his commanding officer. Tully ignored him. He was too busy gloating at the debris field he was in the process of creating at the expense of the Erisian cruisers.

The avatar who shot at Sebastian missed. Without thinking, Sebastian fired back and on target. The look in the avatar’s eyes was one of pure, incomprehensible shock. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, his eyes seemed to say. Sebastian could not have agreed more. He’d hoped the core avatars had had the good sense to
split as well but knew it would probably be better if they hadn’t. He pushed those thoughts aside and kept firing. Soon thereafter all the core avatars either were dead or had surrendered. Sebastian quickly went to work seizing control of the ship’s communication systems. If all went well the other teams too would have seized all the main command and control functions. Then it would be time to go hunting. There’d be no rest until the entire shipboard Neuro had been secured.

J. D. Black encountered her first major re sis tance near the bridge. Luckily, Marilynn’s virus had knocked out the ship’s impressive internal defenses. But that still left a fair number of marines to contend with. It wasn’t, however, as difficult as J.D. had thought. These marines were mercenaries, and mercenaries, she knew, rarely fought to the death. J.D. had given strict orders that surrender should be encouraged and made as easy as possible.

She also saw firsthand how the Belters fought versus the Earthers. To the Earthers’ great disadvantage, they insisted on thinking in terms of gravity. To a man they all fought from the “floor” even though there was no real floor in microgravity. Her assault miners had accepted the environment and fired from any possible angle and cover, switching their internal magnetic nanogrids on and off as best suited. Their leaps were better timed, far more accurate, and completely intuitive. J.D. had wanted to lead but quickly realized that in this battle she’d be more of a liability than an asset. She also discovered that some of the miners had deemed themselves her bodyguard. She didn’t complain.

Finally the passageway to the bridge was clear. All that remained between J. D. Black and the bridge was a blast door. As the explosives were being set by a crew experienced in blowing up everything from fine crystal structures of less than a millimeter to asteroids mea sured in miles, Captain Black repeated her orders.

“Remember, I want the admiral alive.”

The grunts around her nodded in the affirmative.

She then paused for a second and smirked.

“That doesn’t mean you can kill everyone else.”

The squad around her laughed grimly. The explosives team let their captain know they were ready.

J.D. gave the command and the door was blown apart. Instead of going directly through it, she bounced off the floor and through the gaping hole. Her trajectory had her heading straight for the ceiling of the bridge. In this way she limited her exposure should the enemy choose to concentrate their firepower on the gap. Her bodyguards, guns trained at every possible corner of the room,
quickly followed. It became apparent that there was not going to be a fight. The few sidearms present were not even drawn. The bridge crew sat immobile and stared in awe at their invaders. J.D. leapt down to the floor and without having to point her weapon demanded Admiral Tully’s immediate and unconditional surrender. He readily acceded and for the first time in nearly three hundred years an enemy ship had been surrendered in time of war.

As her soldiers rounded up and led the prisoners off, Marilynn made quick work of the ship’s main control panel.

“Captain, I think I have basic control.”

“Very good,” answered J.D. “Consider yourself drafted … lieutenant.

J.D. suddenly heard a small commotion behind her. “Congratulations on your victory, Captain,” came a familiar voice. “It appears you were correct.”

J.D. turned around and saw a friendly face walking through the gaping hole. “Chairman Sadma,” she said, delighted. “Correct in what?”

“You did have a fleet, after all.”

A faint smile appeared at the corners of her mouth.

“I had no idea you volunteered,” she said.

“You requested experienced miners not afraid to fight. I fit both qualifications.”

“Indeed you do.”

Concern then crossed her face. “Your cousin?”

“His ship was destroyed, but many made it to their escape pods. There’s a very good chance he’s alive.”

“Let me check,” she said as she took her place in Admiral Tully’s command chair. She then started to scan all the information that came into its reactivated functions.

“I was hoping,” J.D. said, “that he might have been on the ship that survived.”

“That was commanded by my niece, Christina Sadma,” Tyler said with no small amount of pride.

J.D. swung her seat around to once again face the Chairman. “Well, if I have any say in the matter she’ll have command of one of these ships, and if she’s game you can even help her name it.”

“Name it?”

“Although it’s generally considered bad luck to rename a ship,” interjected Marilynn, “those captured in time of war are the exceptions.”

Tyler nodded. “What will you name this ship then, Captain Black?”

J.D. looked puzzled for a moment then laughed inwardly. With all her machinations it was the one thing she hadn’t planned for.

“I think
War Prize
is appropriate. How ’bout you, Lieutenant Nitelowsen?”

“Most appropriate, Captain.”

“Good, lieutenant, it’s settled. Now if you wouldn’t mind, get me weapons and maneuverability. We may have to fight soon.”

Tyler made his exit as the new crew quickly took their places and got down to work. But they all soon realized that there weren’t going to be any more battles as ship after ship reported in. The entire Confederation fleet, minus one courier frigate that had headed earlier toward Mars, had been captured.

J.D. nodded, sat back in her new chair, and for the first time in a long time exhaled deeply.

We won?

—From
The Clara Roberts Show
AIR (Asteroid belt Information Radio) Network

The celebration that swept through each and every settlement, colony, ship, and outpost of the Outer Alliance was overwhelming. It was an event that would long be remembered by all with a clarity that only the greatest shared moments in history could bring. On the bridge of the Alliance flagship, Justin Cord watched the entire crew cheer with one voice. They got up and began to fly around the bridge just to roar with joy at one another, embrace, and then go and find someone else to roar with and embrace. No words were spoken or needed. Most were ecstatic beyond their own ability to comprehend or express. The only one who didn’t participate was Justin Cord. He could feel grateful, but no part of him could yet feel joy.