Extinction

-36-

“Maybe we should just go for it, sir,” said Major Robinson.

I looked at him. “What have we got?”

“Crow took the precaution of massing up the Fleet over the production base. They are drifting very close to ground-level, but could head up into orbit at a word from us. All we need to do is report that the agreement is breaking down.”

I blinked. “I’m not ready to do that yet.”

“Sir,” he said, leaning forward. “That is your call. It is my duty to inform you of our status for any contingency. I believe we could take out this fleet fairly quickly.”

“You have thirty seconds to convince me,” I said.

Robinson put both his palms on the table between us. A rippling effect on the screen outlined each hand. It was the screen’s way of idly acknowledging the contact and showing it was awaiting an intelligible gesture.

“We have more ships than we did when they hit China,” he said with intensity. “That’s nearly forty ships.”

“Closer to thirty,” I said.

“Yes sir, but the fleet only represents a fraction of our firepower. The big advantage we have right now is our ground-based weaponry. Every Macro ship is in range of our land-based beam turrets. We have two hundred and seven guns we could target them with. We also have hovertanks, with a combined firepower greater than the fleet itself.”

I thought about it. Essentially, we could hit each of their vessels in turn with around three hundred cannons. This was because they were right on top of us now. We could blast each ship in turn with overwhelming firepower and destroy them all, probably within a few minutes, and definitely before they could retreat.

I grimaced. This was not how I had envisioned my day unfolding. I had brought peace to Earth. Was I about to plunge her back into war? I felt like Admiral Yamamoto, eyeing the charts and plotting the locations of US ships around Pearl Harbor. I imagined he’d felt similar misgivings.

“The problem is, Major,” I said, “they will be back in a month or two with a hundred ships, and next time they might not be so kind as to park themselves in low-orbit above the single heavily-fortified spot on our planet. No matter how many guns you place on it, the Rock of Gibraltar can’t defend the entire world.”

“It might be our best option, sir,” Robinson said.

I looked into his eyes. He wanted to do it. Even if it meant this command module would be splattered into oblivion seconds after the order was given. Was that bravery, or simple desperation, I asked myself. Probably, it showed an impressive hate for the Macros.

“Tell Crow to position his ships in orbit behind the Macro formation,” I ordered Robinson. “Tell him not to fire unless he sees things go badly.”

Robinson nodded and stepped away to pick up a com-link and make a private connection with Fleet. I turned to Captain Sarin and gave her similar orders to relay to Lieutenant Colonel Barrera. He was in command of the laser turrets and the hovertanks. If he group-linked them, they could all fire in unison at designated targets.

“Tell Barrera to disperse our hovertanks—just in case.”

“Yes, sir,” said Captain Sarin. She seemed far less excited about her orders than Robinson had been. I didn’t blame her.

“Command module,” I said, “transmit this to the Macros: we have not violated the terms of our agreement. We have all the promised mass here to load aboard your transport.”

“Incoming Message: Insufficient mass detected. Our terms have been violated.”

“Crow is lifting off, sir,” said Robinson in my ear. “He’ll form up behind them so our own ground-based beams won’t cause any friendly-fire problems.”

“Barrera is group-linking the ground forces,” said Captain Sarin into my other ear. “He suggests you evacuate the command module. He’s relocating to the new underground bunkers now.”

Barrera was right, of course. If this thing was about to turn into a shootout, I didn’t want my command staff caught in the middle of it. I should pull out of the module and move to a safer location. I thought of Sandra, sitting in my office nearby with no clue what was going on, no inkling of the weighty decisions I was making.

I thought next of Kennedy and Kruschev during the Cuban Missile Crisis of the sixties. I’m sure they had felt pressure like this. Here I was with my finger on the button, and I had no idea what the other side was really thinking, what they might be up to. I was sure of one thing, however: the Macros weren’t freaking out inside like I was right now. Being a machine-based intelligence had its advantages.

“Command module, transmit this: Macro Command, measure the combined mass of all the bricks stacked in front of you. There are nearly five hundred of them. Their combined weight exceeds the promised cargo weight.”

Nothing came back for several seconds. I had them thinking, conferring. Perhaps they were doing as I asked, scanning the units.

“Incoming Message: Contextual definition required for the term: brick.”

“Certainly. This command module transmitting to you now is one ‘brick’. We have broken up the cargo into four hundred and sixty-six bricks of identical size and configuration for easy loading and transportation. These bricks are stacked all around us.”

Another silence stretched. People’s eyes wandered fearfully over the ceiling and walls. Were we about to be blasted into subatomic particles?

“Incoming Message: Terms met. Load the cargo.”

Whoops went up from the stunned staff around me.

Robinson stared at me. “That’s all it was?” he asked, incredulous. “They were only measuring this one brick?”

I nodded. “Looks that way. The Macros have always been literal-minded in my experience. They are rogue robots, after all, following some program laid down by their creators perhaps centuries ago. They aren’t very flexible in their thinking. Maybe when they load a transport, they always do it with a single, massive pallet.”

“Sir, the whole front of the transport is opening up,” said Captain Sarin. She sounded choked up. She cleared her throat.

“Display it,” I said.

The screen swam and refocused. The dawn light had grown brighter and turned the pink skies orange. I could see the base, the palms and the wind whipping up the beach. The ship was huge, and the cargo doors appeared to be on a commensurate scale. One end of the cylinder now aimed toward our base as it hovered over the sea. The doors consisted of four triangular leaves that opened flat end of the cylinder. The leaves unfolded slowly. The bottom triangle crashed down into the seabed and became a ramp, sinking into the beach like a dragon’s heavy tongue. The side doors swung wide with tremendous groaning sounds on hinges each of which was as big as one of our bricks. The top triangular door lifted up to block out the sky overhead. Inside this yawning maw the ship was dark and empty.

“We can get aboard now, sir,” said someone.

For the first time since I’d stepped into the command center today, I grinned.

“Relay a stand-down order to everyone,” I barked. “Let’s not blow this because one jumpy pilot takes an early shot. Get Crow’s Fleet down on the ground again. Put the beam turrets back on standby and get the hovertanks that aren’t coming with us back into their garages.”

Everyone reacted with great energy. The loading process began in earnest.

It took even longer than I had imagined. We, as the command module, were one of the last bricks to be loaded aboard the Macro transport. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to communicate with the base once I was inside the massive ship, so I had the trundling worker-machines with their whipping black arms pick us up last.

During the intervening hours, several people contacted me with final well-wishes and instructions. Sandra had been putting them on hold while I pondered starting a new interplanetary war, but now that we were loading they became insistent. She relayed them to me on a private com-link channel one at a time. The first in line was Crow himself.

“I’m sorry to see you go, mate,” he said. “I honestly didn’t know if they would actually come and take you.”

“Keep building ships, Crow,” I said, “and keep training new pilots. I hope to see the skies dark with Star Force ships when I get back. After you have about two hundred of these light craft, start building—”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Crow. “I’ll have a nice row of destroyers waiting for you when you get back, I’d wager. No worries.”

Our destroyer class, long ago scripted, required ten times the mass, time and effort to build as the one-manned workhorses we’d been using up until now. They would not look much larger than our puffed-up little frigates, but would have ten times the firepower and double the effective range due to their larger beam-cannon mounts. A crew of six would operate them, mostly working as gunners to prioritize multiple targets.

“I’ve got plenty of worries,” I told Crow.

Crow chuckled harshly. “I can understand that. But she’ll be right. We’ll keep building troops and ships in your absence.”

“Wish me luck, at least.”

“Luck, mate. Crow out.”

I didn’t get to take the com-link from my ear. Sandra had Kerr on the line.

“Why General,” I said, “I didn’t know you cared.”

“Stay out of trouble out there, Riggs.”

I snorted. Then the snort turned into a full-blown gust of laughter. I looked at the screen, where a steady line of trundling robots hovered along in teams of two, carrying bricks full of equipment and humanity aboard the alien transport. In order to keep from flipping over, the hovering bases of the worker units had to tuck themselves underneath the bricks. Their long arms reached up to the carrying handles on top. Cable-like fingers gripped the handles and held the bricks aloft, swaying and creaking.

“Such a thought at such a moment. I’m in deep here, Kerr. I’m in so deep, I’m never going to dig myself out of this monumental pile of trouble. Not this time.”

“What I mean is, don’t bring it back home this time,” Kerr said.

My laughter stopped. “I get it. You are slapping me for China again. Listen, if France takes a shot at these ships as we leave orbit, I’m not going to be able to do anything about what happens afterward.”

“No offense meant, Riggs. But you do tend to get ideas. Try not to get any on this trip. And have a good time.”

“Sage advice, sir.”

I couldn’t press the disconnect button fast enough on that one. I had to ease up so I didn’t break it.

Next in line was Barrera. As the link clicked in my ear, I heard loud rumbling sounds outside the module. Metallic clattering and rasping came from the roof. The hands were wrapping themselves around the carrying handles of our module.

“Talk fast,” I said.

“Everything is in place, sir.”

The floor heaved up under me. Everyone in the command post reached for the cable loops on the walls. The robot arms rippled and lifted. For a moment or two, we swung in the air as the two worker units automatically sought a good balancing stance underneath us. I felt like a rat in a cage.

“Mind the store for me, Barrera. When I get back, I want to see a Star Force Fleet—and Star Force Marines.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” he said evenly.

We disconnected. I noted that he was the only one who’d never wished me well. I wondered if that was due to an overabundance of confidence in my abilities, or simply a character flaw. I suspected the latter. Barrera was all business.