“I’m planning to launch a surprise at the missiles.”

  Ningal raised her eyebrows. “That doesn’t make sense. We’re braking hard due to our yet great velocity. In that situation, how can one launch anything at the missiles?”

  Assur looked away, pulled his hands apart and leaned back in his chair. “I’m deliberating the idea. In simple terms, it means launching our only dreadnought we brought with us from the old star system. We could only launch it after decelerating even more. Then, the dreadnought would have to decelerate harder than the Akkad in order to meet the missiles first.”

  “Oh.”

  “News of the aliens might make the plan more difficult.”

  “How’s that?” asked Ningal.

  “It should be obvious. We might need the dreadnought against the star system aliens. Instead, we’re going to sacrifice it to take out a missile.”

  “Aren’t there other warships in storage we could utilize?”

  “A few,” Assur said, “but only one dreadnought.”

  “Couldn’t we build another dreadnought?”

  “You’re referring to the disassembled factories we’re carrying in the holds?”

  “Oh, you’d need a world to assemble and use the factories.”

  “I’d need large moons if nothing else,” Assur said. “The point is that would take time. Would the aliens give us that time?”

  Ningal yawned. In truth, military strategy bored her intensely. That hadn’t always been so, but it was now. All this talk about things that were at least sixteen years away, maybe more—

  “I’m getting old,” Assur said suddenly.

  Ningal rubbed her eyes, becoming alert. It was in the way he said that. Was this some sort of ploy on his part? Did he say that in order to gauge her reaction? If so, what was Assur trying to gauge in her?

  “I don’t know if I’m the man I used to be,” Assur added blandly.

  Did he watch her slyly? It seemed possible.

  “Don’t be silly,” Ningal said, “of course you’re the same man. If you’re feeling old, it’s just the responsibility of all this weighing on you. But you must realize that no one else can do what you’re doing. More than ever, the ship needs order and unity that only you’ve been able to give us.”

  “That’s true, I suppose…” Assur said.

  “It is true,” Ningal said. The surprising thing was that she might even believe that.

  The Akkad was the opposite from a pirate vessel as it had been after Enki’s takeover. Now, everything was rigidly ordered. Would the increased order help them defeat the Vim missiles and later the new aliens?

  “You believe I should continue to strive then?” Assur asked.

  The question startled Ningal from her reveries. She smiled to gain time to think, and said what he obviously wanted to hear, “With all my heart and soul I do.”

  Assur nodded, and he stood abruptly.

  A test, Ningal realized. He was testing me. Why did he think to doubt my loyalty to him? Should I fear my son?

  “That will be all for now,” Assur said. “I’ll keep you informed if I learn anything more about the aliens.”

  Ningal almost asked Assur if he wanted her to pray to the gods for assistance. He might not care for the joke, though. She asked such things in public. Assur might take it as an insult if she said it to him in private. Worse, he might think she was serious.

  Then, for the first time, Ningal realized that she’d come to believe in the gods. She was serious about the unspoken offer. Assur had first appealed to the old gods long ago. Yet, might he have done that under their secret guidance? That was an intriguing thought, one she needed to pursue.

  Ningal rose, inclined her head to him and sedately headed for the hatch. What an interesting theory. It pushed out her momentary wonder if she should fear her son. Instead, Ningal wondered how she might test the gods and their real power.

  With that in mind, Ningal took her leave, soon exiting the bridge as well and heading for the gene labs.

  -36-

  1.45 LIGHT YEARS FROM EARTH

  10 YEARS AGO

  Ningal officiated and blessed the crew of Dreadnought Gilgamesh. It was a warship from the old star system, a relic of the People’s once-great military prowess. Surely, the old gods looked down from wherever they lived. The old gods would seek vengeance against the terrible Vims for wrecking everything worthwhile in the former home of the People.

  Ningal spoke at length for a grand assembly of the People. It was in the royal hall where Chief Marshal Assur had first gained command status. He’d slain a devil of an imposter back then, saving the Akkad from demonic oppression.

  That was how the legend had transformed over time. Ningal and Assur knew the truth, and perhaps a few ship historians did as well. The People, however, learned the legend as truth.

  Ningal wasn’t sure she cared for these…fables. Assur had assured her long ago that this was the correct way to handle these things. He’d studied the histories of the old star system. From it, he’d gained his cunning on ruling.

  In a slow procession, in their dress uniforms, the crew of the Gilgamesh approached so Ningal could lay hands on each of their heads. She prayed for each of the crew, as they were a suicide squad attempting to buy life for the People. Everyone knew that at best, the Vim antimatter warheads would detonate and destroy the dreadnought. That would be a grand success. Should fortune favor the People, the crew of the Gilgamesh might manage to destroy one Vim missile. If the People were unlucky, the Vim missiles’ defensive systems would destroy the dreadnought.

  No matter what happened, the crew of the Gilgamesh would never return from their mission to oblivion. Assur had long foreseen the need of impeccable morale for these saviors of the People. Assur had selected and had Ningal consecrate the chosen at the start of their training, demanding they receive the best of everything. The chosen crew’s social awareness had been especially important. Each had faced many tests throughout the training years, and their religious instruction, crucial for maintaining morale on their perilous mission, had been the most intense aboard ship.

  During this time, the best engineers had modified the Gilgamesh. The hull had extra plating. The engines would burn hotter for longer, to allow the dreadnought greater deceleration than the Akkad. The Gilgamesh had to face the missiles before the Vim missiles reached the generational vessel.

  Three hundred and sixty-eight crewmembers were boarding the Gilgamesh tomorrow, ship time. The dreadnought would launch two days later. Everyone aboard the Akkad would pray for the success of the crew.

  Now, here in the royal hall, paeans of praise and victory played loudly for the listening savior crew.

  Old Mother Ningal had given her blessing. Chief Marshal Assur had given the speech of his life.

  Now, as the music played, as throngs called and cheered, the crew of the Gilgamesh made their last journey down the Akkad’s corridors. Everyone cheered and outwardly blessed the savior crew. These were the chosen of the People: the soldiers who would face the evil Vim missiles. Those missiles were monsters of the deep launched two hundred and forty years ago in the old star system.

  Feeling wearier than ever, Ningal looked around her.

  One of her acolytes, who must have recognized the signals, brought a stool, setting it beside her.

  Ningal practically collapsed upon the stool. The robes of high religion were heavy and regal. Giving such an extended blessing and prayer had exhausted her.

  Ningal’s eyesight blurred. She’d been feeling so much older these past few years. The Rim-Sin Treatment, the immortality serum, would she have to create a second batch and take it again? She felt as if her cells had forgotten how to divide properly.

  Ningal accepted a glass of water from an acolyte, drinking greedily. Her throat was so desperately dry. She handed back the cup.

  The acolyte took it and retreated.

  That seemed odd.

  Chief Marshal Assur stepped up. Ningal hadn’t noticed his approach. In a whisper, he said, “You did fantastically, Mother. I salute you.”

  Ningal glanced at him in his severe black uniform. She noticed a few more lines on his face.

  Perhaps feeling the scrutiny, Assur studied her in turn. “What’s wrong?” he said.

  “How did we manage to rule for so long when all the others failed?” Ningal asked quietly.

  With an open palm, Assur touched himself on the chest. “That was my doing. Never doubt it.”

  Ningal’s gaze narrowed.

  “You do doubt it,” he said.

  Ningal shook her head, hearing a threat in the statement. Was her son becoming paranoid?

  His nostrils flared. “I’m a political genius, Mother. It’s both a gift and a curse.”

  Despite her resolve to walk softly with him, she heard herself ask, “How is it a curse?”

  “The responsibility lies heavy on my shoulders. You once said so yourself. Do you think the responsibility doesn’t weary me sometimes?”

  Before Ningal could stop herself, she asked, “Son, have you begun to lie to yourself?”

  Assur glared at her.

  Fear stabbed Ningal’s heart. What was wrong with her? She was so weary, saying things she should not. She needed to guard her speech.

  A moment later, Assur laughed. “You saw through my little joke just now, did you?”

  Ningal nodded, smiling, but she didn’t think he’d been joking. A subtle change had taken hold of Assur. When had that started? Abruptly, Ningal realized it was when the techs had first discovered the aliens on the planet they called Earth.

  During the last three years, there had been a breakthrough regarding the main planetary language of English. Then there had been a TV reception breakthrough and the techs watched images broadcast by the Earthlings. It was a relief to see that humans looked remarkably like People, if in strange hues. The humans had smaller heads, however, in relation to their bodies. Did that indicate stupidity?

  Whatever the indication, Earth was filled with soldiers and sophisticated war machines. Thankfully, however, there were only a handful of spacecraft, primitive machines compared to the Akkad and Gilgamesh.

  For some reason, all that had struck Assur and unsettled his equilibrium. His once cunning mind seemed to have clothed itself with the belief that his genius was extraordinary and sublime. He seemed to seek political foes in order to subdue them quickly. He believed others lusted for his power, and that if he fell, the People would surely fall with him.

  Why hadn’t her equilibrium been struck by these revelations? Perhaps her increased belief and knowledge of the old gods had fortified her mind against such inner tumults.

  “Will the Gilgamesh succeed in its holy mission?” Ningal asked. She felt it wise to change the topic. Her son was definitely becoming more paranoid that he used to be. Lately, she’d been treading carefully with him.

  “The strategists estimate the Gilgamesh’s chances of success at one in three,” Assur said.

  “What? We’re sending the crew to their useless doom?”

  “No matter what happens, they are doomed, yes.”

  Ningal shook her head. “I mean a useless death.”

  “But it isn’t useless,” Assur said. “We must maintain high ship morale until the moment of crisis. Have no doubt, Mother, madness could easily sweep through the ship unless I…unless we all keep good mental hygiene.”

  “Even if that means sacrificing the brave soldiers in the Gilgamesh?” asked Ningal.

  Assur smiled tightly. “Now you know why it’s hard being the Chief Marshal. Help me, Mother. Help me bring the People to victory against the Vims and then against these bloodthirsty, small-headed humans of Earth.”

  It took Ningal a half second. Then she said, “Don’t doubt, Son. We’ll win in the end.”

  Assur stared at her until he grinned. “Yes,” he said. “We’ll win, because we’ll do whatever it takes to survive everything the universe throws at us.”

  “Amen,” Ningal said, wondering if those words were a secret threat against her.

  -37-

  EARTH

  10 YEARS AGO (THE YEAR 2050 A.D.)

  From A History of Space War, by Bjorn Valentino Larson:

  It is interesting that Earth history has an event that shows, in a broad strategic sense, what happened with the arrival of the alien Valiants when Earth was at one of its weakest moments. Even though the arrival was ten years in the future, 2050 A.D. was a pivotal moment for humanity, with a historical analog.

  Back in time, during the 7th century A.D., two empires squared off against each other. The Eastern Roman Empire, or what became known as the Byzantine Empire, fought against the Persian Empire. The two had been struggling against each other for what seemed like time immemorial. In the heyday of the united Roman Empire, the legions and their centurions hadn’t been able to subdue the Parthians, and later the Sassanids, who controlled ancient Persia.

  In the era of the early 7th century, the Persians had gained a psychological and military edge over Byzantine armies. Winning one victory after another, the Persians occupied critical parts of the opposing empire in Egypt, the Levant, and Turkey, or as it was known then, Anatolia.

  In response to all this, the Byzantine Emperor Heraclius threatened to move the capital to Carthage in North Africa. The Patriarch of Constantinople extracted an oath from him that he would never abandon the city. After Heraclius made this oath, the city’s populace was filled with a sudden outburst of religious zeal and a desire for a crusade against the infidel Persians.

  Despite that, in 626 A.D., hordes of Avars, Slavs, Bulgars, and Gepids laid siege to Constantinople in concert with the Persian forces at Chalcedon. By dint of hard fighting and due to the city’s massive walls, Emperor Heraclius saved the city and the next year launched an invasion of Persia by way of Azerbaijan, using the Black Sea to get there. The Byzantine Empire always had the better navy. Instead of facing the hardened Persian horsemen ravaging the Byzantine Empire, Heraclius swept through the enemy country and won a critical battle at Nineveh.

  The key point here was that both empires ravaged the other, exhausting one another in brutal and devastating war.

  Heraclius slew the nobles and knights that made up the core of the Persian kingdom. Unfortunately, the Byzantine Empire lost much of its land, gained a debased coinage and lost far too many cities and soldiers. The two empires were like wrestlers who had fought to the finish where neither could raise his arms to pin his foe.

  That was the state of these empires when a prophet named Muhammad passed away. Afterward, what were normally rabble Arab armies were unleashed upon the world, beginning with the nearby Byzantine and Persian Empires. The early Arabs, with their fanatical zeal and contempt of death, fought several close battles with both Persian and Byzantine armies. In each case, Islamic valor overcame Persian and Byzantine professionalism and their superior armor and armaments.

  Though these battles were near-run things, in each case, the Arabs won, unleashing a new and powerful force upon the world: Islam. Its militant and aggressive horsemen swamped Persia. Though Byzantium stood for many centuries against the Muslim onslaughts, in the end, against the Turks, the city of Constantinople fell.

  Islam, in its glory, spread along North Africa up to Spain, barely stopped at Tours by Charles Martel in southern France. In a different direction, Suleiman the Magnificent reached the very gates of Vienna, in Austria, before the tide of Islam at last retreated to a degree.

  The point was that both empires that would have no doubt easily withstood the onslaught of fanatical and brave Arab irregulars under normal circumstances had exhausted themselves against each other, and had thereby succumbed in the end to the new invaders.

  How does that relate to the invasion of the alien Valiants into our star system? The world in 2050 had been at war with itself for many decades. What had started in Ukraine and Russia, the Gaza Strip, and the Israelis and Iran, had grown tremendously. For years, onslaughts had sapped the strength of various nations. All the while, the heads of global corporations continued to amass strength as the nation-states bled themselves against each other.

  New inventions appeared on the battlefields. The perfection of laser systems, and then magnetic railguns, came to fruition. Both were a powerful antidote to the drones that had chased airplanes from the skies and made it nearly impossible for armies to do much, because the drones would swarm en masse against any concentration on the ground.

  The laser systems, railguns, improved radar-directed machine guns, as well as missiles, finally put an end to the reign of the drones. These systems also made the idea of full-scale nuclear war more feasible, as each nation erected huge laser, railgun, and missile defenses. Thus, one could conceivably defend against any nuclear retaliation.

  At last, in 2050, it all came to a pitch. Just as in the days of Heraclius, the records are sketchy. But the nations of Earth unleashed their intercontinental ballistic missiles. They unleashed their submarine-launched missiles. The Russians in particular, launched deadly Poseidon missiles. As a result, a fiery holocaust engulfed the planet.

  Many railguns and laser systems destroyed incoming ballistic missiles, even though they were MIRVed. Even though one ballistic missile warhead, as it re-entered the atmosphere, detached so that one became ten bombs. Enough nuclear payloads reached great metropolises, reached important ports and ignited. The fallout caused devastation to many crops and herds.

  Was that the annihilation of Earth in 2050? Was that the end of the nation-states as they hammered each other? No. But the nations became like exhausted wrestlers falling to the mat, unable to lift their arms to pin their likewise exhausted opponents.

  The global corporations, with their cunning, wealth, and dispersion, recovered faster than the nation-states or the splinters of nation-states that emerged from the short but devastating nuclear war. Millions upon millions perished, although billions yet remained. This became a time of trouble for Earth, a time of weakness, as mankind tried to shrug off the mass destruction of the nuclear bombs.