Gravity Wars: Nova Strike, page 10
Distaste crossed his heavy features. “You may have fooled Steele and Garvey, but you don’t fool me. This is a sham. I’m beginning to believe the plan all along was to squirrel you up here. Are you here to murder me or possibly sabotage the station?”
“I failed to kidnap Dr. Huber. Instead, I found the greatest man ever, a man who loves me and accepts the things I’ve done and have happened to me. I don’t know what to tell you, though. I’m not a traitor. I don’t sell the most intimate secrets of those I’ve served.”
“So you admit to serving Director Drusus.”
“What else would I admit? I hoped for promotion to start a secondary intelligence services for her. I designed the mission. I plotted everything but it didn’t work the way I planned.”
Petty snorted rudely. “You expect me to believe that the head of the mission went into the submarine as the action operative?”
“That’s how it was. I failed because I took John with me and he wrecked everything. I learned that he’s unique, and I’ve started to wonder if Earth needs him against the aliens.”
“So take your claws out of him and let him be so he can save the Earth,” Petty said.
Dawnstar shook her head. “If John doesn’t marry me, it is not going to go well for you or the station. He’s going to be angry and sullen. At the very least, you won’t get the best of him, and that would be a mistake. I don’t know what he’s going to do or how he’s going to do it, but you should make him happy.”
Petty appeared amused. “And I do that by letting him have your sweet body?”
“That and my sweet spirit.”
“You have a sweet spirit?” Petty shook his head. “Let’s be honest. You’re a killer and an intriguer.”
“I don’t dispute any of that. But…” Dawnstar saw a harsh, callous, and cynical man. Would it help to tell him the truth? Probably not, but she would try the John Steele Way and see what happened.
“I don’t know if you can believe this,” Dawnstar said, “but I feel like I’m getting a second chance with John. His goodness and idealism are so refreshing. It’s shown me there’s a different way to proceed. That doesn’t mean I will be any less effective, but it’s a better way to live.”
Petty sat back, his face twisted with disbelief and cynicism. Was there something else in his eyes, though, asking if such a thing could happen? Especially for such a hardened creature like Dawnstar, an operative who had made it high up the ladder into Livia’s inner circle?
“For Steele’s sake,” Petty replied, “you can tell me your information and I’ll tell you whether it’s good enough.”
“I believe I asked for Dr. Huber. He would need to be here as well.”
“What difference does Huber make?”
“He can help you assess the importance of my information.”
Petty sneered. “I’m quite capable of assessing the information on my own.”
Dawnstar nodded. “I have no doubt of that. However, John saved Dr. Huber, and Dr. Huber will want to hear this.”
Petty studied her. “You’re a cunning little witch, aren’t you? Is this a deep plot Livia hatched in order to get—?”
Petty stopped and leaned to the left, pressing an intercom switch. He grunted seemingly unintelligible words into it.
In a few moments, Dr. Huber entered the room. He marched directly to a small chair that seemed specially designed for him. He sat in it and pressed a button. The seat rose like that of a barber’s chair. Then he nodded to Petty and Dawnstar.
“Here he is,” Petty said. “Now tell us what’s so damn important it will change my mind about you.”
Dawnstar shifted her chair so she faced Huber and Petty equally. The more she had thought about this, the more she felt right revealing the information. It was too important to keep hidden any longer.
“This has to do with the original plot to lure Dr. Huber down to Earth,” Dawnstar began. “Doctor, the information we released provided the wrong coordinates to check underwater in the Persian Gulf. There is nothing at those coordinates. We never expected your submarine to get that far, but Livia didn’t want to risk it in case it did. Divers have found archeological evidence of an ancient civilization on the floor of the Persian Gulf. The relics we used to lure you were absolutely genuine.”
“How can I believe that?” Huber asked.
“You disappoint me,” Petty said. “We’re not going to fall for the same trick twice.”
“I understand your disbelief,” Dawnstar said. “Let me explain: I had an opportunity to read the original reports. I’m referring to how the explorers originally discovered the ancient site and later explored it. Over the course of several months, dive teams uncovered an ancient temple. They drilled into the temple roof and found a hidden chamber within.”
“Impossible,” Huber said.
“On the contrary,” Dawnstar said.
Huber looked at Petty. “That would change all of archaeology, all of Earth history, if true.”
“I don’t know the ramifications about all that,” Dawnstar said, continuing. “I do know a dive team entered an inner sanctum. Under an ancient sea-encrusted altar, they found stone tablets. They took the tablets, and after careful cleaning—after careful cleaning, two of the tablets showed stars, constellations chiseled in the stone. There were also certain mathematical formulas that no one has as yet deciphered.”
Huber stared at her as his big head seemed to inflate with wonder. “Star charts in an ancient temple down on the Persian Gulf? How deep was the temple?”
“Around eighty-five feet, if my recollection is correct,” Dawnstar said.
“You can prove these allegations?” Huber asked.
She gave them the coordinates to a secret research center where the tablets had been taken.
“Just a second,” Petty said. He took out a laptop and searched for the site, finding its location on a GPS map. He looked up. “How heavily guarded is this?”
“I don’t know,” Dawnstar said. “I don’t know that anyone has thought to keep it heavily guarded.”
“But it must be,” Huber said. “We must— I must see the artifacts.”
“Just a minute, Doctor,” Petty said, frowning. “Care to clue me in as to why?”
“Sir,” Huber said, practically gushing, “if this is true, then the supposition that the Persian Gulf, or at least areas of it, was dry land nine thousands years ago— Then there was a civilization nine thousand years ago making maps of constellations. What do those calculations mean? Could scholar-priests have been trying to figure out the distance to the stars? I do not know. But the fact that they were so involved in such extended astronomy, that gives a hint, a greater possibility, that they had knowledge of the stars, or maybe movement among the stars, or perhaps even the distances of the stars.”
“Why would that be important?” Petty asked.
“My goodness,” Huber said. “This may be a link in a chain that directly relates to a common ancestor between the Valiants and us. This is stunning and possibly revolutionary.”
Petty scowled, probably not seeing it.
“Ah,” Huber said, his eyes shining. “Do you realize that the Bible speaks about a pre-diluvium civilization? This could be evidence of that civilization, the one that turned its back on God, causing Noah to build his ark.”
“Noah?” Petty said. “That’s mythological nonsense.”
“Is it?” Huber said. “I don’t consider myself a religious man, but often these ancient texts hold some truth. Perhaps this is one of those cases. This is marvelous and amazing. Why, the ancient Greeks and Babylonians, the Sumerian Kings List—this is incredible. Thank you for sharing this.”
“She hasn’t proven anything yet,” Petty said. “She probably spun another set of lies. She knows you’re absorbed with this. We need to find out if this is true.”
“Yes, yes, I agree,” Huber said. “Will you send…? We can’t send a combat team. We cannot risk destroying the tablets. We need a spy who can obtain the tablets for us. That would be best. Yes, this changes the entire tenor of our war against the Valiants.”
“I don’t know how it does that,” Petty said. “It’s the same war.”
“Not the same,” Huber said. “Here is a further clue that there may be a direct connection between our two races. The Valiant women and our space marines conceived children. Sir, all this is startling.”
Petty rubbed his chin. “Tell me this then. Has she corrupted herself by giving us traitorous information?”
Huber turned shining eyes upon Dawnstar. “No. All humanity must know this. This is not a military secret. But it may help us in the further war against the aliens and perhaps against the Vims if they ever show up.”
Petty grunted, sitting back and folding his fingers across his stomach. He stared at Huber and then Dawnstar. “I will have to think about this before I give you an answer,” he told Dawnstar. “You are dismissed.”
She stood and left. What would this mean for John and her? Dawnstar didn’t know. But she once again dared to hope about the future.
-20-
In this instance, Dawnstar’s hopes proved well-founded.
Three and a half weeks later, a spy stole one of the Persian Gulf tablets, bringing it up to O.S. Aphrodite. Huber confirmed its authenticity and exclaimed over the stellar map it portrayed. Petty grudgingly gave his consent to the marriage.
Two weeks and two days after that, John Steele and Jondelle Dawnstar became man and wife.
They went to O.S. Artemis on a honeymoon and had a marvelous three days there.
This also meant that Dawnstar was no longer a prisoner. Petty didn’t trust her, but he gave her freedom.
Five days after returning from the honeymoon, John left for space marine training at the facility in Mid-Earth Orbit. He would start with basic training.
He had one leave during basic training and rushed home to Dawnstar.
Once he returned to the facility, he passed basic training, received leave for a month, and entered advanced training upon his return.
Several weeks later, during advanced training, he received news that Dawnstar was pregnant.
It was funny. John believed he would have felt a great sense of relief in that he had continued the Steele line. He hadn’t let his dad down. But now, John felt a greater sense of obligation to Earth, to Dawnstar, and to his unborn child.
He needed to do everything he could to defeat the aliens so his child, and possibly children, would live free and live at all.
As impossible as it seemed, John’s determination grew more intense because he had even more to save.
His wife was pregnant. He was going to have a baby and a wife to protect. He would be a father.
Part II
The Sword of Damocles
-1-
TITAN
APRIL 2073
Chief Marshal Assur slammed the tablet onto his desk. He was a large humanoid with dark hair, piercing eyes, and sagging skin from extreme age—he did not look anything like his true age. In Earth terms, he looked to be in his upper 50s. He wore a military uniform, having sworn never to wear civilian garb until the Valiants conquered Earth.
He was far older than any Valiant in the solar system. That was due to the treatments of his mother’s second husband, the originator of the Valiant strain of the People.
By treatments, Assur meant drugs.
His headaches had diminished since the completion of the third Enforcer-class warship several weeks ago. That meant the second one built in the Titan Orbital Shipyards.
The Valiants possessed three of these 100,000-ton vessels. That was similar in size and mass to the Earthlings’ Orion ship.
However, in Assur’s estimation, in combat power, an Enforcer was worth three Orion ships. While the railguns on the Orion ships were powerful ship-killers, the Valiant particle beam cannons had their own advantages, especially at close range.
The Second Battle of Saturn had proven that in August 2069 almost four years ago.
Assur rose to his feet, pushing his chair back. He walked around his desk, as he tried to move every hour in order to help keep himself fit. The younger Valiants were bigger, stronger, and more athletic than he was. Assur ruled because he possessed two key attributes: intelligence and religious authority.
First, Assur considered himself a genius, mentally brilliant in gaining and holding power. Second, he had raised a religious system these past years, using what his mother and others had discovered from the home world. Assur had what he called the mandate of Heaven, the blessing to rule from the old gods.
He was leading the Valiants to victory even with the setback of losing the 200-kilometer railgun on Iapetus.
That had almost been two years ago now. Two hard years of endless construction, planning, debating, and studying.
How could 170,000 superior Valiants conquer billions of Earthlings? The number of Valiants had been rising, but not nearly fast enough, and never enough to catch up with those on Earth.
Assur continued to pace around his desk, clasping his hands behind his back and hunching his head in meditation.
Sometimes, he wondered how he kept going the way he did. Age was his enemy. The ambitious and cowardly among the Valiants vainly chipped away at his authority, seeking to either replace him or wilt before the enormity of the great task.
Long ago—but more so these days—Assur realized that he was the man of destiny. Only he possessed the iron will to do the hard tasks that would bring ultimate victory to the People. Lesser Valiants simply lacked his internal fortitude. He had many examples to support his belief.
Now… Assur halted and glared at the offensive tablet on his desk.
Sometimes, he truly hated Naram Sin, the aide. The Valiant was too honest and far too clever for his own good. Yes, Naram Sin had helped him enormously these past years. The young Valiant had particularly done so in the Great Strategy Debate.
Assur shook his head, remembering.
The Great Strategy Debate had taken place three weeks after the destruction of the 200-kilometer railgun on Iapetus. Colonel Mike Steele had successfully destroyed the magnetic line on the Saturnian moon through his nefarious and sneaky attack.
The debate was simple in its one critical question. How could the Valiants win the war? Statistical charts, numbers, probabilities, and birth rates had governed much of the debate. Another point had been the Earthlings deflecting most of the iron projectiles launched against them. That topic had caused Valiants to rise and shout at each other.
For another 400 days, those projectiles would strike the green planet. That was a little more than a year of attacks.
One suggestion during the Great Strategy Debate was to construct another railgun on Iapetus to continue the long-range assault.
“The Earthlings are already deflecting most of the projectiles,” Naram Sin said. “By the time we construct another railgun, the Earthlings may have perfected their defense. That would make a railgun strategy worthless for us.”
“Then we build two, three or four railguns,” Marshal Baal shouted, a truly massive old Valiant with a stentorian voice. “We keep constructing railguns until we pound the Earth into submission.”
That hadn’t been the worst idea broached at the debate. Naram Sin had used charts and discussed probabilities that refuted Baal’s suggestion.
The crux of Naram Sin’s rebuttal had been this: The Earthers were learning how to deflect the iron projectiles. Surely, they would build forward defenses, making it even easier for them to deflect the projectiles. Yes, deflecting such a projectile near Earth was hard. Deflecting them from farther out meant less energy or power, making it an easier proposal.
“You think the Earthers can deflect five projectiles at a time?” Baal roared.
“By the time it takes us to construct five 200-kilometer railguns,” Naram Sin said, “Earth will have launched ten Orion ships or more at us.”
“The railguns will knock the Orion ships down during their flight here,” Baal thundered.
“I seriously doubt that,” Naram Sin said. “Dodging direct-flight projectiles is easy once you know what to do and set up sensors accordingly.”
“What’s your answer then?” Baal demanded.
As he stood in his office on Titan, recalling the Great Strategy Debate, Chief Marshal Assur’s nostrils flared.
Naram Sin had proven useful up to that point. The fool had brought out another chart, showing the near-futility of the Valiant position.
Despite the successful Second Battle of Saturn—the destruction of all eight attacking Orion ships—and the success of the iron projectiles to date against Earth factories, the Valiant position was on a knife’s edge—this according to Naram Sin.
“What are you saying?” Baal demanded that day.
The conference had been in a massive hall, hundreds of the most important Valiants in attendance. Naram Sin had risen once again and given his nearly traitorous pronouncement.
Despite the chaos developing on Earth, despite the drop in human industrial capacity and that it would be many years before they could launch another Orion-ship fleet at Titan, the Earthlings’ position was strong. It was because the Valiant position was weak and possibly becoming weaker.
Assur had risen then and spoken in a calm and fatherly voice. “Perhaps you had better explain yourself, Naram Sin. This is an outrageous statement.”
The foolish, overly honest aide had done just that. His point had been clear and easy to understand, making it that much worse. Despite their recent successes, the destruction of the railgun on Iapetus had been critical.
The reason was this. Although the initiative had passed from Earth to the Valiants with the sweeping victory of the Second Battle of Saturn, the numbers were heavily weighted against them.
Both sides had been knocked back, and the Earthers had been knocked back farther. That was why the initiative had passed from them. The Earthlings had launched four attacks to date. One had struck at Neptune, and had been partially successful. It had badly damaged the generational vessel and carried off Valiant women and technology to Earth. The next two had failed badly, the two Orion-ship strikes at Saturn. The last, the stealth attack, had successfully destroyed the railgun.
