Chapter 19: Best Laid Plans

I cycled my smart irises to filter the display further until I could make out the physical surface of the moon itself. From the current location of the space station and also because the tiny moon’s orbit was only six thousand kilometers above Mars, Phobos looked about the same size as Luna did from the surface of the Earth. Although the small martian moon was as heavily-cratered as the familiar Moon I’d grown up under, Phobos was misshapen; oblong and lumpy, not the near-perfect spherical shape of Luna.

I zoomed into Phobos attempting to spot details of the military wormhole complex. With the masking effect of my artificial irises, I was just able to make out a cluster of construction which my overlay display indicated was the primary fusion power facility. I then remembered that the military wormhole complex was on Phobos’s “dark” side, or the face of the tidally-locked moonlet which never faced Mars.

Also, our current point of view on the Elon II station was much lower than the orbit of Phobos. We’d never be able to directly see the wormhole complex from this vantage, no matter the orbital position of either the station or the moon. I continued to inspect the face of Phobos I could see and noticed that it was slowly receding, visible proof of the space station’s lower, faster orbit.

Because of our increasing lead and the changing view angle, the glare from the atomic-fire lances was growing less severe. We were also only seeing the extreme tips of the lances as they were also on the face of Phobos further away from the station’s current location. I was surprised that the smaller dynamo I’d seen orbiting Vesta had seemed much brighter.

“Hmm, I thought the atomic dynamo exhausts would be brighter,” I mused out loud.

“The current output is only thirty percent of maximum,” Ohmu answered, having quietly entered Hannah’s quarters while we were focused on the viewport.

“Yes, it’s much brighter when they are burning at maximum,” Hannah added.

I knew we had not scheduled any wormholes to the distant ark today so I was curious about the active power dynamo.

“What’s happening that required firing up only a third of the magneto-plasmadynamic dynamo array?” I asked Ohmu.

“Praxcia and Stellux are using the main Phobos wormhole to send target drones out to the vicinity of the Hemru interloper probe. They will use the departing Hemru probe as an observation station to watch the testing of guided munitions against various targets traveling at fractional light speed.”

Ah, the planned high-speed attack tests. Since the Hemru probe was traveling at eight percent of light speed, it was perfect for simulating the velocity of the enemy ark. Also, over the past year, we had sent many sensors, cameras, and even partial AIs to the Hemru probe as we dug into its secrets. Those already-deployed assets would act as forward observers for the upcoming weapons tests.

The hellfire flares streaming from the far side of Phobos quickly dwindled and extinguished. I cycled the iris’s filters until they were able to detect the residual radiation streaming off into space. A spreading halo of deadliness that luckily was heading away from both our current location on the space station and the surface of the planet itself.

“Assuming you are both curious, I will now project a current image being relayed in from the Hemru probe site,” Ohmu said.

Hannah’s wall display came alive to show an empty black starfield. The image panned and zoomed, focusing on a distant ring of a large wormhole terminus portal. The image must be coming from one of the high-power telescope sensors deployed near the Hemru probe. I was about to ask if this was real time but realized that it had to have been recorded moments ago before the wormhole had been shut down.

A large metallic cylinder emerged from the wormhole terminus. It was big, almost completely filling the six-meter diameter portal. As I watched it continue extruding from the wormhole I was also amazed at how long it was. I watched at least fifty meters emerge and it was still coming!

“How long is the target drone, Ohmu?” Hannah asked, voicing my curiosity.

“Seventy-eight meters, Hannah. Once the drone carrier has fully emerged and stabilized, it will begin deploying expandable targets. Each target is simply a film of metalized polymer which is spun out to form a circle approximately four hundred meters in diameter,” Ohmu explained. “The drone carries four such targets.”

We watched the cylinder finish emerging through the wormhole and then fire small thrusters to orientate itself. It had reached a distance of about a kilometer from the wormhole when the image winked out.

“The recording terminated upon the closing of the Phobos wormhole. Live images will resume in approximately ten minutes when the Sarissa wormhole is again opened near the Hemru observation platform to relay data,” Ohmu said.

“Is that when the testing will begin with our guided munitions?” I asked.

“Yes, these preliminary tests will be using partially-modified existing warheads. The goal of these tests is to determine if the existing antimatter stabilization mechanism can survive moderate acceleration loadings.”

With the enormous costs in both time and energy to produce antimatter, I had to wonder at the wisdom of live tests.

“Can we spare the antimatter?” I mused out loud.

“Barely. Note that the warheads used today have only partial load-outs of antimatter. Just enough to verify the integrity of the containment fields. We will also attempt to recover any antimatter that survives the testing.”

Hannah and I chatted as we waited until the test began. We were both anxious and nervous. Although the dangerous parts of the tests were happening nearly a third of a light-year away at the location of the receding Hemru probe, there were still risks just next door at the Phobos installation.

The big wormhole would be transferring the fully-armed antimatter missiles from the Trojan munitions depot and then sending them on to the Hemru probe site. And while the duration of the transfer was short, an accidental explosion at just the wrong time would be catastrophic for the immediate war effort.

Luckily, or maybe intentionally planned for by the AIs, the Elon II station would be around the horizon of Mars when the transfer time came. I suddenly remembered that my ex-wife and Ambassador Riho were still on Phobos.

“Riho?” I spoke subvocally after activating my implant’s message center. “Where are you and Uxe?”

After a delay of nearly three seconds, I heard her response. “We are in a secured bunker at the bottom of this moonlet’s largest crater, John,” the ambassador replied.

She must have deduced why I was asking and that I was worried because she added, “Uxe assures me that this bunker can withstand any accidental detonation at the wormhole site.”

The bunker must have been in Stickney crater, the gigantic impact crater which was the moonlet’s most notable feature. The crater’s diameter was about half that of the moon itself and its location was almost directly opposite the wormhole facility’s far side location.

Riho and I chatted for the next few minutes with the alien dominating the conversation by relaying her impressions of the wormhole complex. Not only was the Hemru impressed, but I also sensed from her excitement that her outlook on the pending offensive had improved.

“We are about to activate the fission magneto-plasmadynamic power generators again to begin sending the test munitions through, John,” Ohmu said.

I looked to the window but quickly realized that the lower and faster orbit of the space station had indeed taken us too far ahead of Phobos and that it had set behind the curve of Mars. I’d have to settle for watching Hannah’s viewscreen unless I wanted to join the active virtual forum. I knew that Hannah would avoid the virtual forum, so I decided to stay present here and watch it with her.

I closed my private chat with Riho after wishing her and Uxe good luck and joined Hannah on her large couch. The display now showed two images. One was showing the large wormhole apparatus located on the far side of Phobos. The installation was impressive, partially buried to solidly anchor it firmly in the microgravity of the small moonlet. The other view was focused on a deployed target.

The caption on this second view was flashing ‘live’ which meant that the Sarissa wormhole must be active to relay the imagery. The target’s location was currently holding parallel to the course of the receding probe at a distance of approximately fifty thousand kilometers.

The powerful telescope showed the target drone clearly but I noted the stars beyond looked ... strange. I scanned the data being displayed and noted a number indicating the current Doppler shift factor. There was the answer to the strange-looking image! The relativistic effects of both the drone and the probes nearly eight percent light speed was warping the stars beyond.

I remembered something Uxe had mentioned about the warhead guidance system. “Ohmu, are the Doppler distortions the main reason we have to run these tests at a similar velocity to the Assemblage Ark?”

“Yes, John. The star trackers used on the missiles to augment the inertial guidance have to be tested in a similar relativistic state to the Ark,” Ohmu replied.

“Seven percent of light speed causes enough distortion to be an issue?”

“Even though relativistic effects are slightly less than five percent, the high closure rates of the planned interceptions require that the tests take place in as close to matching conditions of the Ark as possible. The Hemru probe’s velocity is one-half of a percent of light speed higher than that of the ark, so we will be sending our munitions through with a proportional increase in speed.”

“How long until the first warheads are sent through to the target drone?” I asked. Whether it was coincidence or as a response to my question, a countdown display appeared below the image showing the large Phobos wormhole engine. The display was showing just under two minutes.

“Is Uxe in deep interface?” I asked out loud.

“I’m interfaced, John, but only deep enough to monitor the higher-level data feeds,” my ex-wife announced via the room speakers. “I should be able to communicate freely throughout the tests as all the heavy lifting is being done by Truffles and Praxcia.

As the countdown dropped below fifteen seconds, the massive wormhole machine began energizing. The momentum coils began spinning up the exotic matter far earlier than I had witnessed in the past. This was for two reasons: The first was because the amount of matter needing to be accelerated to relativistic speeds in the big wormhole mechanism was far greater than I’d ever witnessed before.

The second reason was that the spatial compensation speeds we would be sending the munitions through would be the fastest yet attempted by wormhole. At almost eight and a quarter percent of light speed, or 25,732 kilometers per second, the munitions would be traveling approximately 620 kilometers per second faster than the target drone. The delivery wormholes would be formed at a varying distance from the target.

The closest would be just over fifty thousand kilometers from the target which would result in a time to intercept of about eighty seconds. During that time, the warhead sensors would have to track and steer the weapon as it took aggressive evasive actions.

The small but powerful thrusters installed on each missile had enough capacity for only one decent maneuver, a continuing spiral that hopefully would end with an impact on the target. Our test today was to fine-tune how fast to make the turn, or better put, what maneuvering forces could the warhead’s containment system tolerate.

The countdown reached two seconds and the Phobos launcher area became very busy. The main six-meter wormhole was fully energized and opened, causing the imaging sensor to shudder slightly. Simultaneously, a second smaller wormhole formed only meters above the larger aperture. The smaller wormhole was the munitions transfer or shunting wormhole, and it was needed to transport the weapons from the depot out at the Lagrange point to the bigger wormhole.

At “zero” I barely saw the blur as the small munition missile shot through the gap between the two active wormhole apertures. Almost instantly after, both wormholes shut down with the smaller physically pulling back and away from the larger as it closed.

The larger wormhole closed with a second visible tremor as the imager dealt with the shockwaves from the cycling of enormous power relays located nearby. The rapidity of both the missile transfer and the wormhole shutdowns were to reduce the risk to the Phobos installation if one of the warheads spontaneously detonated.

The two images on the view screen merged into one single view as the action was now focused out at the edge of the solar system. I noticed that the missile emerged out of the wormhole terminus a second after the Phobos end was shut down. Even with the communications micro-holes, the data still took time to be relayed to Hannah’s wall screen.

“Missile one has safely transitioned through both wormholes and is now orientating itself,” Ohmu reported, acting as our guide for the busy AIs overseeing the tests. “The warhead is now fully armed and the unit will begin active maneuvering in four seconds. The maximum force experienced by this missile will be approximately thirty gravities.”

The telescope tracking the missile was able to remain locked as the unit began firing its thrusters. A large red reticle appeared as an overlay to help show the tiny receding blip of light. The blip began to curve wildly.

“Maximum forces now being experienced. Warhead will pass the target in five seconds,” Ohmu explained.

I held my breath and waited. Nothing happened as the blip passed by the expanded target drone. “Um ... did something go wrong?” I asked. Hannah looked confused also.

“No. The missile performed perfectly. As predicted, the warhead containment field tolerated the thirty gravities of acceleration experienced in this test with ease. The missile will now be disarmed and go dormant. In the near future, it will be retrieved via wormhole and the warhead refurbished and restored into inventory,” Ohmu said.

I remembered that Ohmu had mentioned that the antimatter would be saved if possible. Hannah reached over and held my hand. I returned her smile.

“This is exciting! We are so close to finally being able to attack!” she explained.

The tests continued with another missile being sent through approximately every four minutes. Each test saw the warhead exposed to increasing evasive maneuvers. Ohmu had relayed that the predicted failure point of the existing antimatter suspension mechanism was around thirty-six gravities. Sure enough, on the fourth test with the missile experiencing just over thirty-five gravities, there was an incredible flash which caused the telescopic camera to blank out for a moment.

“Missile four has failed,” Ohmu stated flatly. “Its final telemetry indicated that a cascade failure began in the containment system once the warhead was subjected to just over thirty-five point four gravities.”

The image recovered and we could see a rapidly dimming globe of brightness. I noticed that there was no visible expanding shockwave or mushroom cloud like from an atmospheric nuclear test. Next, the image panned back to the deployed target which was now rippling as it deflected the particle blast from the nearby explosion. An overlay appeared which highlighted the damage the target disc had taken.

“The energy release occurred at a sufficient distance so that the target disc remains intact enough to continue to be useful for additional tests. We will now begin testing the upgraded containment mechanism,” Ohmu stated.

Hannah and I chatted and checked messages as we waited. Over the next half hour, we followed eight more missile tests. The AIs incrementally increased the forces each missile was subjected to until another exploded at just under eighty-four gravities. We’d reached the limits of the redesigned suspension field.

“Will eighty gravities be enough to allow the missiles to reach the Ark?” I asked.

Instead of Ohmu answering, a voice I recognized as that used by Praxcia AI spoke up over the room speakers. “Much remains unknown about the actual defensive capabilities of the Assemblage Ark, John. From the current data we have of the enemy’s technology, the AI advisory council estimates that the missiles will require over two hundred gravities of maneuvering capability to have a ninety-nine percent probability of evading interception from any anticipated defenses.”

This was sobering news. We had a long way to go with our antimatter stabilization methods.

“Can we build warheads that can withstand that much acceleration?”

“That remains unknown at this time. Three possible methods are currently under development although none are far enough along to even estimate when a prototype would be available for testing.”

“Will we wait or will we try attacking with the improved warheads which currently exist?” Hannah asked, mostly to me.

“The AI advisory council has been unable to reach a consensus on that, Ms. Crather. I recommend that we proceed using existing warheads. Stellux and Minervus recommend that we delay any attack until the warheads are improved to withstand higher maneuvering forces.”

“Using the existing warheads, can we still attack the Ark from the stern as planned?” I asked. The intent of that was to mislead the assemblage into believing that our first attack was simply another launched from the Hemru system long ago. I preferred this option, especially if chances were high that the attack will fail.

“Yes, John. Additionally, I advise that such a stern attack be followed by an attempt using the passive kinetic impactor weapons,” Praxcia replied. “That method will also be unlikely to be attributed to the Earth.”

The latter method was the tungsten rods we planned to insert in front of the Ark at near-zero spatial velocity. The enemy would run into them causing great harm or be forced to deflect or destroy them. Either way, at the speed the Ark was traveling, they would not be able to scan or retrieve one of the penetrations and therefore, would likely conclude that the penetrators were just random space debris.

And, even if we missed, we’d learn a great deal about their forward sensors and debris defenses. I thought for only a moment before concluding Praxcia’s recommendations were sound. “Do you need me to mandate that we continue with both attempts?”

“The attack will be delayed unless you act, or unless something new arises that breaks the current impasse in AI advisory council,” Praxcia stated.

Ah, it occurred to me why I was now speaking to Praxcia directly instead of the information being relayed through Ohmu. The war AI was stymied at the impasse and sought my direct intervention.

“Naomi?” I subvocalized. As I did so, I realized that I could have just spoken out loud. I did not care if Hannah heard and also, there were no actual secrets between the AIs. If Naomi wanted privacy, it would simply instruct the subordinate AIs to ignore the data and erase it from their memories.

—I remain neutral on the subject, John. While attacking now would potentially end the threat of the Assemblage earlier, delaying would allow for potentially new and safer methods and technologies to be developed. The risks to your person balance out either way, therefore, the decision on whether to press on with our attack plans remains yours.—

I had already realized that delaying would be to our benefit as far as the prospects of continued amazing technological developments. As we’d already demonstrated with our development of wormhole technology, the paired intellectual capability between our AIs and our smarter humans was remarkable.

From what we had learned from Picket, it was likely that the Assemblage lacked any such potential. Having been in flight for millennia, our conclusions were that our enemy was seriously short on resources, both energy and operational intellectual capacity. Of course, this was just speculation, but it was logical to assume as much.

“Have you modeled the current will of humanity regarding the issue?” I replied, this time out loud.

“Yes, John,” Naomi answered, also vocally. “Current projections are that forty-eight percent would choose to proceed with attacking the Assemblage as soon as possible. The remainder would prefer to wait with the duration of the delay ranging from weeks to decades.”

At first, Hannah looked confused at Naomi’s statement coming out of the blue but she quickly parsed its meaning. I noticed her expression change as her confusion switched to anger at any possible delays and held up my hand to forestall her pending outburst.

“We will proceed with the original plan of launching an attack on the enemy ark from the rear using our current missiles. I still believe that the Assemblage is critically short on resources and even if the attack fails, we will learn much of their defenses and will have time to change our tactics. My hunch is that the risks versus rewards are still well in our favor.”

“Of course, John,” Naomi replied in a matter-of-fact manner, as if the matter was trivial.

Hannah seemed to calm but clearly still had questions over the ongoing conversation.

“Thank you, John.” Praxcia AI’s voice spoke next. “Eight original-design warhead munitions which have been held in reserve at the Lagrange arsenal will now be readied for wormhole delivery to the Assemblage as soon as energy reserves at Phobos and Vesta allow. Current estimates place the optimal commencement for the attack at just under two martian days from now.”

Again, that the war AI presented the data itself rather than relay the data through Ohmu or Naomi was telling. It almost seemed eager for the bloodshed to begin and I was not sure if I should be worried. Still, I felt excited that we would be ready to launch our first attack in two martian days!

Hannah raised her eyes at the news. “Did I just miss something?”

I shook my head. “Not really. We just clarified our thinking on the original attack plan. Last minute jitters and all that.”

In a timely change of subject, Ohmu reported that all was ready in my own quarters. Hannah rose with me as I told her I would see her later tonight after I freshened up. When I opened the apartment entry door to leave, a young boy who looked three or maybe four came running in. He skidded to a stop, giving me and Ohmu a questioning look before beaming when he spied Hannah still standing by the couch.

“Nanna Hannah!” the youngster said as he ran into the arms of the now-kneeling Hannah.

“Oh Bastion, Nanna missed you! How have you been?” Hannah cooed as they hugged.

“Nanna Hannah?” I whispered to Ohmu. The android just smiled. I also smiled as I watched the previously warrior-mode Hannah transformed into the mothering mode I was familiar with from when she helped me raise my daughter Larissa Daring.

“Bastion! You should not just run into someone else’s quarters, even if it’s Nanna Hannah’s,” a young woman called out. The newly-arrived person was standing just inside the open doorway and she smiled nervously at Ohmu and me before looking sternly at the young lad.

“I’m sorry Momma, but it’s been almost a week!” the young fellow ... Bastion, said.

“John,” Hannah said, standing again while still holding Bastion on her hip. The pose screamed grandmotherly and I smiled even more. “This is Bastion Williams-Pompas and his mother Wilma. They live over on Elon’s other arm so we don’t get to see each other nearly enough.

“I get to spend the night!” Bastion said excitedly.

“Only if you’re polite, young man!” Wilma said. She then turned to me. “Hello, John Prime. I see you’ve finally come to Mars. Word on the station is that your arrival portends that the war is about to start?”

She’d said the last as a question and I nodded as I approached and shook her hand. “Very soon. Nice to meet you ... have we met before?” I asked.

“Yes, about thirty years ago. I was a preteen male at the time and going by the name William, although I was probably introduced to you as Billy.”

At my blank look Hannah spoke up, “Billy is one of my rearlings, John. I brought him along once three decades ago when I went to see Larissa. You happened to be visiting your daughter also at the time.”

Hmm ... I thought I remembered. While Hannah had gestated and delivered hundreds of babies over the centuries in her role as a midwomb, rearlings (children she was commissioned to help raise to maturity) were far fewer.”I think I remember you now Billy ... err, Wilma. Sorry,” I apologized while quickly glancing at Bastion. The lad hadn’t noticed my slip.

Wilma brushed the gaff aside. “Billy’s fine. I’ve kept the nickname for use with my friends. Also, Bastion is fully aware that I gen-switched to have him.”

“Yeah, but I need to learn to be more circumspect. Some parents don’t want their kids to know such details until they are older.”

“I’ve never bought into that mentality,” she replied. “Although I do believe in not permitting children to swap genders until they’ve reached base maturity.”

We chatted for a bit longer with Hannah mostly entertaining Bastion while I got to know Wilma. She asked me a few questions about myself but most were about Riho. I was used to not being the center of attention now and answered as best I could. I was smart enough to invite both her and the young boy to visit when the alien ambassador finally arrived. I knew Riho would tolerate her questions well and would truly enjoy spending time with the youngster.

I learned that Wilma was an engineer with a vacuum construction specialty. She was working with the group designing and building the Phobos and Deimos launching tethers. The longer Deimos tether was already under construction on that outer martian moon while the shorter Phobos project was delayed due to the war effort.

When both tethers were completed, it would reduce the energy needed to launch heavy cargos from the martian surface towards destinations as far as Jupiter. Similarly, incoming cargos could be decelerated into a lower martian orbit or even dropped to the surface without having to shed as much delta V via friction in the thin atmosphere.

The system would improve efficiency so much that it had maintained its priority even with wormhole technology. In fact, I learned from Wilma that the orbital range wormholes had accelerated construction of the project, allowing her to spend more time with her son and less on orbital travel than would have been possible previously.

A half-hour later, fresh from a shower and wearing freshly printed station pajamas, I called my son Ben. We planned our meeting tomorrow and he informed me that he had a surprise for me. After our virtual terminated, I was polite enough to not spoil Ben’s surprise by asking Naomi what it was. After that, I fell asleep with the aid of my implant. With the recent business on Vesta, I had a serious case of jetlag and four hours of imposed REM sleep was just what the doctor ordered.

Fifty-one hours later I was hosting a war party in my new station quarters. My guests were a mixture of family and friends. Ohmu was in attendance, of course, and I counted my android companion as family although we’d been together so long she was in a category of her own.

My son Alek and my grandson Ben were in attendance and were also clearly family. Next was Uxe and Hannah who were arguably closer to family than friend. My friends in attendance were Ambassador Riho and Adele Sol Chilean. Lastly, rounding out the guest list was Dejah, Ben’s surprise and current life partner. Ben had introduced me to Dejah yesterday; I was still making up my mind.

Adele’s presence was also a surprise. She’d been with Ben and Dejah when they’d arrived on the Elon II station via shuttle for our meeting. Apparently, she’d arrived in Mars space via wormhole three days earlier while I’d still been on Vesta. She had come to document the beginnings of our retaliation as seen from my perspective. She was able to split her duties between friendship and a media representative and kept the latter functions very unobtrusive.

I had yet to classify Ben’s partner Dejah Neothoris as a friend. Dejah was true martian royalty and she certainly acted like it. The Popular Martian Congress had elected her to fill the role of Princess of Mars just three years earlier. Until Ben had introduced us, I had been unaware that they had become partners.

As a lifelong Mars resident, including having been born here, Dejah’s shell was tall and slender. Along with her natural beauty, which had undoubtedly helped her win her title as Princess, her martian lung augments provided an optimal display pedestal for her impressive breasts. She was topless, as was fashionable on Mars and I had to actively work to keep from staring at the display, especially after I noticed Riho frowning at my repeated slips.