evidently saw what Alpha Six saw. Reported: “Drones appear to be getting inside the containment zone by displacement.”
“How?” Weld demanded. “Are they jamming our jammers?”
“No, sir. We don’t have any jammers outside the stations. The station jammers are all functioning. We just never put jammers in the empty space between the stations.”
“We have a fifth column,” Weld concluded. “Who planted displacement receivers in space?”
It had been known to happen before—the placement of Roman landing disks (LDs) in space. No bigger than dinner plates, LDs looked like space debris. This attack had been three months in the approach. The local mole had three months to figure out how to sneak LDs out there between the many stations of the space fort.
“Merrimack. Merrimack. Merrimack. This is Fort Eisenhower Control. Seek and destroy displacement equipment in the vacuum.”
“Fort Eisenhower. This is Merrimack. Already on it. Aye.”
The voices coming over the Marine channel sounded like kids on a coin hunt, calling out their victories.
One Swift fired on a displacement disk at the precise instant that a Drone flashed into existence on the disk. Vaporized both of them. “Yahtzee!”
“Didja see that! Didja see that!”
A boom tremored the deck of the command center. The sound came from a com, not from an explosion within the station, but so loud they all felt it. Six more explosions in chain reaction followed.
“Not encouraging,” said Weld. “What was that?”
A missile silo on the perimeter had taken a shot up the nose. And its magazine had an insufficient firewall to contain the eruption of its contents.
Because of the distortion shroud, the command center was having trouble assessing the damage.
Tactical reported: “Horatius back in range.”
Weld’s graying brows gave a little lift, marking Farragut’s successful prediction. The command center was receiving feeds from various U.S. media transmitting from Near Space. One featured interviews with anxious families at Fort Ted waiting for their loved ones stranded in the Deep End. The reports lamented in dire tones the inability of the U.S. to send reinforcements to the besieged Fort Eisenhower while the Shotgun was shut down. They forecast what destruction of the Shotgun could mean to the U.S., its people, its economy.
President Marissa Johnson made an appearance, decrying the attack. Her staff had immediately figured out that this attack began before the declaration of war. She called on the League of Earth Nations to break its neutrality and take a stand against the belligerent Roman Empire.
General Weld glanced up at one of the monitors. Saw the Near Space media feed cut over to visuals of the missile silo at the perimeter exploding. “Are we on broadcast?” Weld asked, then answered himself, wearily, “Of course we’re on broadcast.”
The perimeter explosions were out there for the whole galaxy to see.Then rerun, because they were spectacular— the initial blast, six more explosions, the anxious voice of the reporter with background screams inside the station.
“That’s it,” said Farragut.
Fire ships clustered round the Shotgun, spewing blue fire suppressant onto the piers. The sensor stations were coated with the stuff. Tire displacement equipment belched enormous plumes of smoke into space. The dirty clouds spread, curled inward at the energy grid. Bottled inside the energy barrier, the thick clouds made Fort Eisenhower look like a gargantuan murky crystal ball portending an ominous future.
The media picked up the images, sent them across the known galaxy in an instant on resonant feed with the news:
FORT EISENHOWER SHOTGUN DESTROYED
The dialogs. III.
A: There is no elsewhere. This is the universe.
JMdeC: If there is no “elsewhere,” then whence the original Bang? It is terribly parochial to think that this is the only everything there is. The Greek word cosmos meant universe. It also meant world. Because the
“How?” Weld demanded. “Are they jamming our jammers?”
“No, sir. We don’t have any jammers outside the stations. The station jammers are all functioning. We just never put jammers in the empty space between the stations.”
“We have a fifth column,” Weld concluded. “Who planted displacement receivers in space?”
It had been known to happen before—the placement of Roman landing disks (LDs) in space. No bigger than dinner plates, LDs looked like space debris. This attack had been three months in the approach. The local mole had three months to figure out how to sneak LDs out there between the many stations of the space fort.
“Merrimack. Merrimack. Merrimack. This is Fort Eisenhower Control. Seek and destroy displacement equipment in the vacuum.”
“Fort Eisenhower. This is Merrimack. Already on it. Aye.”
The voices coming over the Marine channel sounded like kids on a coin hunt, calling out their victories.
One Swift fired on a displacement disk at the precise instant that a Drone flashed into existence on the disk. Vaporized both of them. “Yahtzee!”
“Didja see that! Didja see that!”
A boom tremored the deck of the command center. The sound came from a com, not from an explosion within the station, but so loud they all felt it. Six more explosions in chain reaction followed.
“Not encouraging,” said Weld. “What was that?”
A missile silo on the perimeter had taken a shot up the nose. And its magazine had an insufficient firewall to contain the eruption of its contents.
Because of the distortion shroud, the command center was having trouble assessing the damage.
Tactical reported: “Horatius back in range.”
Weld’s graying brows gave a little lift, marking Farragut’s successful prediction. The command center was receiving feeds from various U.S. media transmitting from Near Space. One featured interviews with anxious families at Fort Ted waiting for their loved ones stranded in the Deep End. The reports lamented in dire tones the inability of the U.S. to send reinforcements to the besieged Fort Eisenhower while the Shotgun was shut down. They forecast what destruction of the Shotgun could mean to the U.S., its people, its economy.
President Marissa Johnson made an appearance, decrying the attack. Her staff had immediately figured out that this attack began before the declaration of war. She called on the League of Earth Nations to break its neutrality and take a stand against the belligerent Roman Empire.
General Weld glanced up at one of the monitors. Saw the Near Space media feed cut over to visuals of the missile silo at the perimeter exploding. “Are we on broadcast?” Weld asked, then answered himself, wearily, “Of course we’re on broadcast.”
The perimeter explosions were out there for the whole galaxy to see.Then rerun, because they were spectacular— the initial blast, six more explosions, the anxious voice of the reporter with background screams inside the station.
“That’s it,” said Farragut.
Fire ships clustered round the Shotgun, spewing blue fire suppressant onto the piers. The sensor stations were coated with the stuff. Tire displacement equipment belched enormous plumes of smoke into space. The dirty clouds spread, curled inward at the energy grid. Bottled inside the energy barrier, the thick clouds made Fort Eisenhower look like a gargantuan murky crystal ball portending an ominous future.
The media picked up the images, sent them across the known galaxy in an instant on resonant feed with the news:
FORT EISENHOWER SHOTGUN DESTROYED
The dialogs. III.
A: There is no elsewhere. This is the universe.
JMdeC: If there is no “elsewhere,” then whence the original Bang? It is terribly parochial to think that this is the only everything there is. The Greek word cosmos meant universe. It also meant world. Because the
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