The Universe — or Nothing by Meyer Moldeven (i like reading .txt) 📕

the recon-patroller's computer as authenticator for the mission and demolition and laser gun settings. The computer adjusted thrust and vector to bring the ship to the 'fire' point and engage the countdown and sequence to launch, arm the warhead, and follow up. Missile launch was at six seconds.

Without warning, the computer froze. The frame of the pilot's enclosure glowed red, then white. An instant later the ship disintegrated into thousands of metal and composite fragments, and shards of what had been human flesh and bone.

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"Flash — Spunnel Transmission Priority One. To Supreme Commander, United Inner Planetary System Space Force, Earth Headquarters, from Keeper, Luna Station. Attack report. Repeat: attack report. Recon-patrollers R-19557, Red Fox, and R-87265, Blue Fox in Planet Pluto Special Zone on recon missions under Keeper control, were attacked and destroyed by particle beams; attack times: Red Fox 212014; Blue Fox 215514.

"Beamers fired from unidentified batteries, source Sectus Gorge, coordinates GT165, Planet Pluto. The UIPS patrollers were on directed Tac Ops missions: cite our messages to Red Fox and Blue Fox past half-hour, info recorded in Tac Ops Actions Register, your Headquarters. Regret to inform you that no life signals emanate from Red Fox and Blue Fox wreckage. Spacetrack Ceres will monitor for survivors. Ship recovery and investigation teams dispatched from Log Depot to both sites. Out."

##

"Flash To President, United Inner Planetary System from Supreme Commander, Space Force. This is my initial report of attacks on two of our recon-patrollers while on UIPS-directed missions in the Planet Pluto Special Zone. No survivors. I conclude that Plutonian weapons destroyed both ships. UIPS ships and support stations sunside of Neptune hold on Defense Alert Level Two. Defense Alert One remains in effect at Slingshot construction site and throughout Plutonian Special Zone. Details follow."

##

"To President, UIPS from Commander, Space Force. Copy to each Senior Elder of the General Assembly, to Ministers of Intelligence and Diplomatic Protocols, and to Slingshot Director. This is follow-on to my initial report of attacks on our recon-patrollers in Planet Pluto Special Zone. Recon-patroller Red Fox was destroyed while on assigned mission to scout Special Zone to locate launch and support sites for spacecraft that present a clear and present danger to Slingshot. Thirty-five seconds later, sister ship Blue Fox, on directed survey of the Planet Pluto Special Zone for unregistered space debris and contraband was similarly attacked and destroyed.

"Transmissions from the patrollers Tac Ops systems, and scansplays of their external observations ceased instantly at time of attack. Note that Spacetrack Ceres' reports of the events, confirmed by Keeper, indicate conclusively that in the last few milliseconds of functional stability before the ships' defenses were breached their damage report systems salvoed message bursts to spunnel boosters. The signals confirm that each patroller had been the target of long-range particle beamers.

"The missions of the two patrollers have not been completed. Although the Red Fox scout mission can be rescheduled, we must be prepared for an increase in such attacks throughout the Special Zone. Blue Fox was four seconds from a missile launch to destroy a cache of contraband, and was attacked before it could complete the task. Consequently, Plutonian insurgents have now added significantly to their already large stores of space weapons.

"Repeat alerts have been spunneled to Commanders of UIPS ships, posts and stations throughout the UIPS, and to all UIPS vessels that enter or are in the Outer Region; also to ships under way, and at space and surface moorings. Note that UIPS ships en route to Slingshot, the Log Depot, and work sites have been on Defense Alert Red since the Outer Region seceded from the old United Planetary System, therefore Slingshot readiness in their sectors remains unchanged.

"This completes Commander Space Force Attack
Report."

Chapter TWO

Rymer Camari, President of the United Inner Planetary System entered his official residence's conference room in a brisk walk, a loose, gray ankle-length robe draped about his thin shoulders. He nodded perfunctory greetings to his Ministers of Intelligence and Diplomatic Protocols, and to the Commander of the UIPS Space Forces as he took his seat at the head of the long table. An abundant mane of white hair framed his aged features; his stony glare reflected the rage they shared.

A panel in the wall slid upward to reveal a two-meter square well. A cylindrical view tank filled its available space. The tank cleared to the United Inner Planetary System's standard simulation. Colored and geometric symbols glowed the real time positions of UIPS planets and their natural and artificial satellites and outposts, schema of space traffic lanes, space spunnel booster stations, the Asteroids, and the twenty Guardian Stations equidistant along the Asteroids' outer perimeter.

Stroking a key embedded nearby in the table the President brought the Strategic Concepts Computer on line. "Computer," he said, "integrate these proceedings into the database. Follow, analyze in depth across-the-board and display."

Turning to the Space Force Commander he said, "What's the situation, Jim?" His voice was flat with the effort to control his anger.

Admiral Jim Selvin, shifted his stocky torso about to ease his discomfort. Battle-flinty eyes cast a quick baleful glance at his colleagues and turned to face the President. Thin lips, slashed across his rough-hewn face, twisted as he spoke.

"There's little to add to what we had an hour ago," he said. "Two good pilots dead; two impossible-to-replace patrollers destroyed."

Rubbing his chin vigorously, he grated, "We confirmed that the bandit beamer drew back into an underground tunnel that cuts into an ice gorge south of Coldfield. Their weapons' cache is even now being approached by unidentified tugs. No doubt that they're Narval's thugs and they're going to clamp a tow beam on the stores and haul them off to some subsurface storage or assembly shop. Once the weapons are assembled, installed and calibrated we could be on the receiving end of more nastiness."

Leaning forward over the table, he looked directly at the President. His hand transformed into a fist, and he pounded the table in cadence with his words.

"Mr. President," he said, "the real hell of it is we can't stop them, and we've got no one to blame but ourselves. It's downright unrealistic to keep our self-defense forces in the Special Zone so far below what's needed to protect our vital interests."

"What do you suggest, Jim," the President shrugged, "break our treaties with the Outer Region? What'll that get us?"

Jim looked directly into the President's eyes. "But they're the ones violating the treaties," he growled. "If we've ever needed irrefutable evidence, we've just had it rammed down our throats. We'd better get off our duffs and do something."

Allen Dynal, Minister for Intelligence, nodded in agreement, but did not speak. His turn was coming.

Selvin leaned back, turned his head to scowl at the view tank. Together, they contemplated the forming scene.

The Admiral's outburst had given subject matter guidance to the computer. The display shifted to the Planet Pluto Special Zone. Two tiny red lights flashed rapidly at the coordinates where the attacks had occurred. A steady blue light tracked the hijacked stores.

Selvin continued. "The entire sector from which this attack was launched is honeycombed with utility passages and subsurface supply and maintenance shops," he said. "They date back to when our earliest construction cadres went in. The subsurface should have been returned to its original state when we had no further use for the tunnels and galleries. We did start to collapse the ice walls and overheads; obviously, we didn't get very far."

Selvin sighed, heavily.

"Understandable," he went on. "Hundreds of junctions and cutouts were dug to serve one-time needs. They were never mapped. The same can be said for subsurface technical facilities. No question that many are still usable."

The view tank's image blurred, then cleared to show a broad expanse of Pluto's barren surface out to the planet's horizon. A white, steady glow identified Coldfield, the surrounding red and blue lines identified scores of subsurface passageways and rutted trails that curved away from the domed city in all directions.

"There's no doubt that the underground passages and caverns are being used by Narval as maintenance and operations hangars for his fleet," Selvin said returning his eyes to Camari. "Many have enough room to accommodate nuclear energy capsules, ship and equipment repair shops, and catapult launchers. Pseudo-gravity enhancers during construction stabilized the floors. Foundations are secured deep in the frozen surfaces, and bonded well enough, so that even under the planet's low density, they'll take the weight of battle wagons."

The silence hung heavily as Selvin glared at the view tank. His voice rasped. "They must have installed heavy screens in the overheads. Many of our penetration readings are dim, even with our most advanced sensors."

"That's all I have for now, Mr. President," he said, leaning back. Absently, his stubby fingers drummed the tabletop. He caught himself and glanced about guiltily as he drew his hands back to the edge of the table.

Camari's eyes moved on to a somber-faced ancient who gravely returned his stare. "Let's hear the intelligence review, Allen," the President said.

The Minister for Intelligence placed his clasped hands before him on the table and spoke. His voice was hoarse, low and intense, and his eyes moved from the President to Jim Selvin, who faced him grimly.

The view tank flickered, clouded and cleared to an overview of the Outer Region. The scale reduced planets, satellites, and stations to the colored pinpoints of light with which they all were long familiar. The computer adjusted to focus on a magnified Plutonian sector. The Uranus and Neptune orbits, although contained within the tank displays, were cut out by the compression. The Slingshot Construction Site rode the rim.

"Updating, the latest reports of military construction, commitments and political realignments among the Outer Nations are ominous," Allen said. "They're pledging themselves to each other through mutual assistance pacts and are building military spacecraft, weapons and support systems to back up their agreements."

Pointing thoughtfully with his right forefinger at his left palm, Allen updated the military assets of each opposing nation, and correlated its potential capabilities to economic resources over the coming decades and centuries until Slingshot reduced the solar system's deficits. He wove into his analysis the effects of orbital dynamics on normal and spunnel transit times from each Inner and Outer Region point-of-origin to the Slingshot work sites. He moved on to the status of weapons research and development, and identified the locations of the Outer Region's weapons manufacturing sites and military training facilities.

"The long-term defense of Slingshot through purely military means," he added, following a deep breath, "especially in protecting our routes and the Log Depot, is, as Jim stated, not possible given the prevailing circumstances. The so-called members of the Independent Nations of the Outer Region are expanding their field of operations, and they get generous support from satellite collectives and individual sympathizers throughout the region.

"Our intelligence sources," Allen concluded, "report that many supporters of Plutonian objectives are, themselves, descendants of the insurrectionists that fomented the dissolution of our first interplanetary union. Now, it seems, their intent is to destroy Slingshot, and us as well."

Allen Dynal and Jim Selvin glanced at each other; they were not in disagreement.

Camari broke the hush that followed Dynal's words.

"We are well into an armed confrontation," he said. "Nevertheless, whatever actions we take must minimize destruction to life and property, require no diversions from resources allocated to Slingshot, and in no way restrict Slingshot's construction and launch schedules."

Turning his head slightly, he nodded at the last of his three advisors. Chan Dahl, Minister of Diplomatic Protocols, laid his massive forearms on the table, palms down. His abrasive voice matched his heavy features and rotund body. He spoke rapidly in summary fashion: offering little that was new, Chan passed quickly over the diplomatic chasm that had formed between the UIPS and the Outer Region after the dissolution of the first United Planetary System. He summarized the complex alliances that had evolved among the independent governments beyond the Asteroids following the secession, and moved on quickly to the initiatives of his Ministry to reconcile inter-regional differences.

"The issue of the transit fee is critical," he said. "Each Outer Region nation has expressed vehement impatience to get on with its toll tax on the UIPS for each transport or other vessel that enters space contiguous to their planetary and satellite orbits. They insist that such space is legally within their natural boundaries, and that by merely passing through, we trespass. Restitution, they claim, is in order.

"Negotiations remain in limbo. The impasse will, quite likely, remain for some time. Our position is unchanged: the fees that they demand are without justification, an extortion to which we cannot submit."

Throughout the discussions, the Strategic Concepts Computer flashed a continuing display. As each topic was opened for discussion the view tank portrayed the corresponding regions, sectors, planets or satellites, shifting from one to the other as needed to clarify points under discussion or accompany the exploration for alternatives. The lower section of the tank registered the computer's quantification of speculations by the President's advisors, and their probabilities toward realization.

Finally, President Camari raised his hand. He pressed a softly glowing disk on the table. The view tank cleared. Resting his chin in the palm of one hand, Camari gently rubbed his temple with the fingertips of the other.

"Instructions to Strategic Concepts Computer," he began.