Doom Star: Book 05 - Planet Wrecker (13 page)

“With their cannons, Grand Admiral?” asked Scipio. He was an uncommonly tall Highborn, a full ten feet. Scipio had a prosthetic hand, covered by a white glove. Replacement therapy had never taken on him. Some Highborn believed it had made him overly cautious, but Cassius had never complained.

“As preparatory fire, yes,” Cassius said.  He used a knob, rotating holoimages before him.

The farm habitats were uniformly vast cylindrical satellites. The satellites spun to create centrifugal-gravity. They used mirrors to reflect light into the interior. Once, each habitat had been filled with algae tanks heated by the Sun to a bubbling temperature and a strange organic soup from bacteria that formed a protein-rich jelly. Drop membranes with giant dura-chutes had floated the produce to the planet. Now most of the cylinders were vacuum-filled and devoid of life. Countless farm workers had died during the launching of the SU Mars supply fleet. More satellites had been destroyed during the ensuing months as Highborn space commandoes had stormed onto them. The last useful habitat had been gutted nearly a year later by proton beams and Earth-launched merculite missiles. Now only lifeless habitat hulks drifted around the planet.

Cassius understood perfectly. If Social Unity couldn’t have them, no one would. Hawthorne and his SU directors cared nothing about the conquered territories or feeding the billions of Highborn-dominated premen.

For a variety of reasons, there were endless food riots in the conquered territories, the worst in South America. Cassius had ordered many Free Earth Corps formations there to reestablish discipline. That had soon caused dissension in the FEC units. The dissension had surprised some Highborn commanders.

“You forget,” Cassius remembered telling them. “The premen are weak willed and often tender-hearted. Too many are squeamish at the sight of blood and become conscience-stricken. Cold-blooded killing—such as firing into chanting mobs—heightens this process in them. This produces alcoholism, heavier drug-usage and in some cases sedition among our troops. Therefore, we will comb the FEC units, searching for psychotic and sadistic individuals. These we’ll train into riot-control battalions, helping to restore order in the worst territories.”

The riot-control battalions had been trained and deployed. Now they were stretched thin. It had surprised Cassius how few sadistic or psychotic individuals there were. Therefore, he had reluctantly begun using hypnotically-drugged police units. The percentage of mental breakdowns had meant a high level of wastage among the personnel. Sometimes, he wondered if simply letting mass starvation do its work to thin out the billions of useless mouths would be the wisest course. His psychological profilers had told him that would give added impetus to the SU propagandists. So for now, he tried to keep the billions alive on their starvation diets, gunning down the most unruly.

“The fighter squadron has launched,” said Scipio.

The Grand Admiral adjusted his controls. Tiny yellow lights sped toward the various holographic cylinders.

“Launch a squadron of heavy orbitals,” Cassius said. He made a quick calculation. “Launch Squadron Seven.”

“Squadron Five is in rotation, sir,” Scipio said.

Cassius’s features tightened, the only indication that he’d heard the officer.

“Squadron Seven, sir,” the tall Highborn said after a moment.

Cassius watched his holoimages. A few minutes later, red lights began to zoom among the wrecked habitats. He had transferred Felix from Ground Command and into orbital duty. The cockerel would be acting as a weapons officer aboard one of the heavy orbitals. They were two-seaters. There was a growing belief among High Command that two-seater orbitals were wasteful of Highborn. Some suggested a phase-out of the heavy orbitals. A few wanted to train premen as weapons operators.

A warning horn blared on the bridge.

Cassius swiveled around.

“Powerful SU sensor sweeps are coming out of stations in Ukraine Sector,” Scipio said.

Cassius showed his teeth in a grin. “They’re awake down there. Good.”

Several Highborn chuckled.

“Let’s give them something to target,” Cassius said. He checked his holoimages, noted the location of Felix’s heavy orbital. With a click of a button, numbers appeared under the various cylinders. “Destroy Targets A-13 and R-11.”

“Both satellites are deep in the gravity-well, sir,” said Scipio.

“Exactly.”

“Their decaying orbit means that some debris will head straight down, sir. The SU operators might think we’ve launched missiles.”

“I don’t think they’re that stupid,” Cassius said. “But let’s find out.”

“Shall I order the beginning of a prismatic-shield, sir, or begin spraying aerosol gels?”

“We are the Highborn,” said Cassius, who watched his command crew sidelong.

Tall Scipio frowned as his white-gloved hand hovered over his control-board. The Highborn glanced at him, meeting his eyes.

“Highborn take unnecessary risks?” Scipio asked.

Cassius mentally marked the Highborn down for promotion as a field commander. A Doom Star was a precious military commodity. There were only four of them in the Solar System, and one of those four was still at the Sun-Works Factory under repair. It would be many more months, maybe even another year, before it was operational again. That left them three Doom Stars, two here in Earth orbit and one around Venus.

“We do not take foolish risks,” Cassius said. “But it is good for the premen to think that we do.”

“Sir?” asked Scipio.

“They will not launch merculite missiles today,” said Cassius.

“We found out at Mars how dangerous their proton beams are,” Scipio said. “In Eurasia, they have dozens of them. Respectfully, sir, we are much too near Earth’s stratosphere.”

“Of course we are,” Cassius said.

Several Highborn glanced at him sharply.

“I request permission to speak freely, Grand Admiral,” Scipio said.

“Permission granted.”

That caused eyebrows to loft. Two Highborn traded glances. Cassius mentally marked them down for profile studies. He wondered if their allegiance to him was wavering.

“Why are we much too near the stratosphere, risking serious damage to our Doom Star?” asked Scipio.

“To gauge Social Unity,” Cassius said.

“We hold the strategic advantage, sir. We should push that instead of risking our most valuable asset.”

“The Doom Stars are not our most valuable asset,” Cassius said.

Scipio blinked at him. “Sir?”

Cassius nodded to himself. Scipio wanted to ask what was, but he was too cautious to do that. He would help Scipio.

“We as Highborn are our most valuable asset,” Cassius said. “Our fighting spirit, our aggressiveness and sheer ability gives us the military edge.”

“The Doom Stars help, sir.”

“Why won’t the premen open fire with proton beams?” asked a different Highborn.

“An excellent question,” said Cassius. “It is something I’m endeavoring to answer. Now!” he said, signaling Engine Control. “Take us from low-orbit and head fast toward the Atlantic Ocean.”

“Should I recall the orbitals?” asked Scipio.

“Tell them to head toward the Pacific Ocean. We will pick them up over North America.”

“I’m picking up increased deep-core readings, sir.” Scipio looked up. “They’re bringing the proton beams online.”

“Interesting,” said Cassius. His gut began to churn. It made him feel alive. “Strap in, gentlemen. Engine Control, give us emergency speed. Scipio…order an increase in satellite targeting. I want them to rain debris on Eurasia. Since they’ve brought the protons online, let’s give them something to shoot at.”

“Enemy sensors are locking onto us, sir,” Scipio said.

Cassius’s heart-rate increased. The
Julius Caesar
was a huge ship, the biggest in the Solar System. So the premen wanted to frighten him off, did they? Or maybe they thought they could take potshots at his ship. There were personal enemies among the Highborn who would snap at the opportunity to bring him down. If the
Julius Caesar
should take serious damage because of a slip in a routine pass….

“Launch a spread of nuclear missiles,” Cassius said in a clam voice. “Use Green Pattern-E. Then begin spraying the upgraded aerosol-gel.”

It was a new gel, made specifically to slow proton beams.

A sigh of relief seemed to fill the bridge.

Cassius leaned forward as he studied the holoimages. Ports opened in the kilometers huge Doom Star. Space-to-land missiles launched toward the planet. Each had a MIRVed nosecone—multiple reentry vehicles. It meant that each missile shot a spread of five nuclear warheads.

He switched settings. The heavy orbitals also launched missiles, but at the floating cylinders, the former farm habitats. Checking range and distances, Cassius quickly calculated debris drop-rates.

“They have battle-level wattage online,” Scipio said.

From Eurasia, from Kiev, Berlin and Milan, proton beams stabbed upward at the
Julius Caesar
. The white beams hit the heavy lead-additive aerosol-gels, chewing through them with unbelievable speed.

“Emergency pumping,” Scipio growled.

Grand Admiral Cassius leaned back in his command shell, watching the crew. They moved with efficiency, with calm speed. That was another reason he’d dipped so near the stratosphere and over Eurasia. It had been a long time since these warriors had been in space combat. An unused sword became rusty.

“There is a breakthrough,” Scipio said.

Cassius returned attention to his holoimages. A weakened proton beam burned through the gels. It struck the Doom Star’s outer plating. It wasn’t the original plating, but a
collapsium
coating. It was a breakthrough technology, very hard to make. The
Julius Caesar
was presently the only warship with it, a coating micro-microns thick. Collapsium was hard and dense, and similar in nature to the core of a white star. The electrons of an atom were collapsed on the nuclei so the atoms were compressed so they actually touched. Lead in comparison was like a sponge.

The collapsium shielding held long enough for the
Julius Caesar
to begin rotation. No point on the ship received the hellish proton-beam longer than a second. Soon, more gels sprayed, absorbing the beams, giving the huge warship enough time to speed around the Earth’s curvature and out of line-of-sight first from Kiev, then Berlin and finally Milan.

“The proton beams are retargeting, sir,” Scipio said. The tall Highborn looked up. “They’re burning orbitals, sir.”

“Point-defense installations are opening up on the surface,” a different Highborn said.

“All orbitals are to take evasive action,” Cassius said.

“They’ve already begun do so, sir,” said Scipio.

The Grand Admiral nodded. That was the Highborn way, to take matters into your own hands. If a Highborn didn’t have the initiative to disregard a foolish order, he wasn’t worthy of the exalted status of super soldier. If a Highborn disregarded a wise order, however, he could be shot. A preman might fold under that kind of pressure. A Highborn thrived, exalting on the knife-edge of existence.

“There are new point-defense establishments!” an officer shouted.

“I can hear you quite easily, thank you,” Cassius told him.

“There are hits in the Po Valley,” Scipio said.

“None on Milan?” asked Cassius.

“It was too heavily defended.”

Cassius switched settings on his command shell, which switched his holoimages. A mushroom cloud rose in the Po River Valley. That was prime agricultural land. Good, good, that would hurt them in the belly.

“More nuclear warheads are detonating,” Scipio said.

“What percentage made it through their defenses?” asked Cassius.

“Fourteen point three-seven percent,” Scipio said. “No, make that fifteen point three.”

“So little?” asked Cassius.

“The number of point-defense establishments has dramatically risen.”

“Hmm,” said Cassius. Yet again, he redirected his holoimage, noting that Felix’s two-seater had interposed a drifting habitat between itself and Eurasia. Was the cockerel foolish enough to think he could remain there? Ah, no, the heavy orbital headed for deeper space. Maybe the youth could think after all.

“Begin battle analysis,” Cassius told Scipio.

“…Yes, sir,” said Scipio.

“Speak your mind.”

“Not all the orbitals have escaped the danger zone.”

“Notice the nuclear warhead patterns,” Cassius said. “Now direct your vectoring—”

“Oh,” said Scipio. “Yes, I see, sir. The warheads have affected SU defense, giving our orbitals cover. I will begin the battle analysis.”

Cassius switched off his holoimaging. How was it that he could see these things more quickly than other Highborn? Was it merely his superior genes? Or did his intense study of military history have something to do with it? Felix had his chromosomes and he’d received full Academy training. Would Felix be able to see as quickly? It was an interesting question, and one that Cassius planned to study in depth.