Chief Marshal Assur sat in his command chair. The bridge officers were all at their stations.

  Ningal observed everything from her throne-like chair slightly behind her ruling son.

  A month ago, the Gilgamesh had destroyed one of the hated Vim missiles of the Annihilator class. Today, they would try to deal with the last one.

  “Are the EW buoys operational?” Assur asked.

  The Chief Communications officer swiveled in his seat to face the Chief Marshal. “Yes, sir, they have started broadcasting as the Akkad.”

  Ningal watched her son.

  Assur gripped the armrests of his command chair, his breathing quickened—a sign of anxiety he tried to conceal.

  “Dear old gods—” Ningal began to pray aloud.

  “Mother,” Assur said sharply, interrupting her.

  Ningal ceased praying, opened her eyes and looked up at him.

  Assur had swiveled around to stare at her.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “Please shut up for the moment,” Assur said tensely. “If you can’t, you’ll have to leave the bridge.”

  Ningal was taken aback by the words. She looked around. It appeared that several of the officers looked shocked as well.

  Assur glanced over his shoulder. Perhaps he noted that, too.

  Ningal waited for his apology. This would take his authority down just a notch. That would be a good thing.

  “You can believe in the old gods all you wish,” Assur said, facing her again, with contempt ringing in his voice. “But don’t try that here on the bridge. We’re military men, and we have scientific minds. That sort of claptrap isn’t going to work here at this propitious moment.”

  “Are you an atheist?” Ningal whispered with horror.

  Assur eyed her, hesitating perhaps. At last, he said, “Perhaps there are old gods. I can believe that is so, even if their authority or power has weakened since we left our old home. Whatever the case, I don’t want to hear any of your mumbo-jumbo today. Is that clear?”

  Once more, Ningal looked around. The bridge officers appeared to be watching and listening closely to their exchange.

  It’s happening, Ningal realized. This is a power play. Assur wishes to diminish awe of the old gods so I can’t supersede him in power.

  “Have a care, son,” Ningal said quietly.

  Assur opened his mouth to retort.

  “Sir,” a sensor officer said, interrupting. “The missile is almost here.”

  All eyes focused on the big screen or on private monitors.

  Ningal wanted to continue the argument. She believed this the most pregnant moment of the Great Journey. Instead, her gaze was glued to the screen like everyone else.

  The gigantic, Type Four Annihilator missile zoomed at twenty percent light speed. In the Earth terms they had learned, the missile was thirty-two kilometers long and eight kilometers wide, a giant cylinder that dwarfed the Akkad. The Vim missile appeared to have zeroed in on the EW pods before the gas giant. Behind and before were in relation to the missile. In this case, the Akkad was behind Saturn.

  Ningal held her breath. She was sure everyone on the bridge did likewise. They’d waited several lifetimes for this moment. Now, here it was. It was almost impossible to believe.

  Did the Vim AI in the Annihilator missile realize its mistake? Did it understand that it targeted EW pods and not the real deal generational vessel? Exhaust left the missile’s thrusters. It began to turn.

  It was too little and far too late.

  The Vim missile, the last of the three, passed the EW pods and the beautiful rings of Saturn. At that point, the missile plunged into the gas giant’s atmosphere.

  The dense hydrogen and helium of the inner gas giant struck the nosecone of the missile. Nanoseconds passed. The AI decided. The antimatter warhead detonated even as the kinetic energy of the huge missile released its payload as it shredded apart.

  The energy released was greater than all the wars had released on Earth throughout the ages.

  The intensity of the sun flashed inside Saturn. That cast a shadow on all its rings and moons. Massive amounts of gases fled from Saturn and into space. The shock wave changed the gas giant’s atmosphere. Yet, such was the monstrous volume of Saturn, that the energy didn’t destroy it, not even close. An incredible amount of radiation and heat flared inward and outward, however.

  This was a catastrophic event for the Jovian planet. The rings nearest the explosion shook. Some of the ring objects blew outward, but not that many in relation to the whole.

  The bridge officers, Assur and Ningal waited in dread anticipation for what would happen next.

  On the big screen, everyone on the bridge saw the ripple of the explosion rip through the gas giant’s atmosphere, moving plenty of substance around.

  “Well?” Assur said in a hoarse voice. “What are the radiation readings? Are we all dead but just don’t know it yet?”

  The Chief Technician swiveled around to face him. A huge smile spread across his face. “Chief Marshal, I wish to report that the mass and density of the gas giant—”

  “Use its name,” Assur said, interrupting.

  “Yes. Yes. Ah… Saturn’s mass and size have absorbed the kinetic power of the missile and the energy from its detonated antimatter warhead. We have survived the Vim missiles, Chief Marshal. The Akkad has done it. We are here, and we are all quite alive and will remain so, as the radiation levels are minimal out here in space.

  An audible gasp from all the bridge officers filled the chamber.

  Ningal felt tears pouring down her face. Everyone had feared for so very long this terrible moment. They had lived under a pall of death all their lives, as each of them had been born under the threat of the Vim missiles.

  “We just beat the Vims,” Assur said in awe.

  “The old gods beat them,” Ningal said.

  Assur swiveled to face her. “No. We beat the Vims. We did it.” He slapped his chest.

  “Just their missiles,” Ningal countered. “We only beat the missiles.”

  Assur brayed with laughter, jumped up and threw his arms into the air. “We did it! We won. We’re here in a new star system. This is a mighty day indeed. Let us sing the paean of victory.”

  No one said anything.

  Assur turned to the officers. “Sing, I tell you. We have done it. Now, we shall conquer the humans and make this star system ours. We are the Valiants, and we challenge the universe.”

  At that point, the officers began to sing lustily, smiling and laughing due to their tremendous victory.

  Ningal sat back, thinking. Yes, it was good they had won. It was bad that Assur hadn’t assigned the victory to the old gods. That was a mistake. Likely, it meant he would try to clip her wings—of power, that is.

  Despite the welling of good feelings in her, Ningal knew that now more than ever she was going to have to watch her step. The People of the Akkad had defeated the Vim missiles. Now, what would happen when they fought the Earthlings for control of the solar system?

  Phase Two: The Fight

  -41-

  EARTH

  2060 A.D.

  The corporations had grown in strength and sophistication since the nuclear exchange of 2050. In some ways, the short but bitter war had given the corporations the boost they’d needed against the soverists of the world.

  That wasn’t to say the corporations ruled everywhere. They didn’t. But they did control the laser and nuclear launch satellites, or orbitals as they were known, ringing the planet. They controlled most of the world’s industrial base and had the best technology and newest inventions.

  Despite all the cash and propaganda, the corporations lacked one critical ingredient. They did not enflame men’s hearts with sincere passion, the selfless kind, at least. They bought people, exchanged the souls of men and women as spoken about in Revelation, the last book of the Bible.

  Then, in July of 2060, the cool heads of the corporations—the CEOs—received troubling news from astronomers: it was regarding a flash of brilliant light from Saturn and a torrent of energy.

  Scientists began to pore over the data. Soon, many of them reached a startling conclusion. It wasn’t because of the Saturn Flash, as it became known. The conclusion resulted from the intensive tele-optic study of Saturn and its surroundings.

  The study resulted in the sighting of the Akkad. No one on Earth knew the vessel’s name or origin, but they could see it was there. The corporation scientists were speechless at first. This was incredible. That was an obvious alien starship. It was moving around Saturn, parking at Titan, the largest moon. The telescopes zeroed in even tighter. The largest telescope was in Earth orbit and indicated that masses of equipment were moved from the obvious generational vessel as science fiction authors used to write about, and unload onto Titan. What did the aliens put on the large moon and why did they do it?

  Perhaps as interesting, astronomers discovered smaller spaceships heading for some of the other Saturn moons. The smaller ships definitely used fusion drives. After several weeks of unloading, so did the big generational vessel. The big vessel headed outward, picking up velocity as if it meant to go to Neptune or the Kuiper Belt possibly. Might the generational vessel leave the Solar System altogether?

  How fast could the generational ship go? Might it be able to reach a reasonable percentage of light speed? Was that what had caused the Saturn Flash, a second generational vessel slamming into the gas giant?

  Fierce debates raged following these amazing revelations. Finally, one group of scientists said the aliens were going to park their starship—the generational vessel—far from Earth, likely for safekeeping.

  The rest of the spaceships, the small ones that had left the generational vessel, concentrated around Rhea and Iapetus, moons of Saturn. Meanwhile, no one on Earth knew what was happening on Titan with all that unloaded alien equipment.

  The astronomers informed the corporation CEOs that Titan was the second-largest moon in the Solar System, with a diameter of 5,150 kilometers. Titan had a dense atmosphere, with more nitrogen in it than Earth’s atmosphere. Rhea had a diameter of 1,527 kilometers, while Iapetus had a diameter of 1,471 kilometers. They were the second and third largest moons orbiting Saturn.

  Clearly, the aliens were using Saturn’s largest moons for something.

  “Why do you think they’re doing that?” one of the most politically powerful CEOs asked at a central planning meeting for the Council. This occurred in northern India near the Himalayan Mountains. The CEO’s name was James Petty, a square-shouldered man with short, gray hair, intense dark eyes, and bulging muscles. Many believed him a steroid freak.

  “I can think of a number of reasons,” a diminutive scientist with a huge head replied. The scientist had long, unkempt hair and rather squished features in the lower third of his face. That was due in part to his abnormally large brain, with a slightly bulging forehead. The CEOs had nicknamed him Rumpelstiltskin. He hated the name but lacked the authority or the courage to challenge it.

  “Give me the most likely reason the aliens are using the Saturn moons,” Petty said.

  “To build colonies and possibly an industrial base, on Titan particularly, I would think,” said Rumpelstiltskin.

  “Why an industrial base?” asked Petty.

  “If the aliens are like us in any way, they’ll want Earth sooner or later. To take it from us, they’ll need weapons and military vehicles, probably tons of them. Thus, they will have to manufacture them.”

  “You mean the aliens plan to attack us?” Petty asked.

  Rumpelstiltskin glanced at his fellow scientists seated against the far wall before regarding the powerful CEOs studying him from behind their long table.

  Rumpelstiltskin possessed one of the highest known IQs on Earth and was a polymath, a person with expertise in a wide and divergent number of subjects.

  The diminutive, hippie-looking scientist cleared his throat. How should he explain this? “Think of it this way,” he said. “Columbus and then other Europeans in their carracks and caravels used gunpowder cannons and muskets against arrow-wielding Indians in North and South America. Cortez and later Pizarro crushed the Aztec and Incan Empires respectively, the grandest and most powerful and warlike societies in the New World. In other words, the Europeans used their superior technology and materialist philosophies to great advantage. What will happen when the technologically advanced aliens come to Earth?”

  “Depends on which movies you watch,” said a different CEO from James Petty.

  Once more, Rumpelstiltskin cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to be rude or imply anything undue, but what would you do if you came to a rich planet you needed and weak aliens with inferior tech held what you wanted?”

  The CEOs glanced at each other. They got the point. As a rule, they were cold, rational, and ruthless to have reached the pinnacle of power in their corporations and then a seat on the Ruling World Council (RWC). They were also used to dealing in all types of cargoes. They grasped how a higher tech competitor trying to set up shop in their neighborhood was bad for business, bad for them. Thus, it was time to form and implement a plan to deal with these silent aliens. The fact the aliens hadn’t tried to contact humanity seemed telling and ominous to Rumpelstiltskin, who explained it to the CEOs.

  “Should we wait for the aliens to attack us?” one CEO asked his fellows.

  “Hell no,” said James Petty. “Let’s strike them before they realize we can reach them.”

  “We must be cunning,” Elaine Barth said. She was a slender woman in her fifties who had maintained her stunning beauty. That beauty had helped insinuate her into many a powerful executive’s bed. From there, she’d learned many critical facts and foibles, and because of her intelligence and cold-bloodedness, had used it like a master fencer to extinguish opponents and climb higher in authority. “We must use a two or three-tiered approach against these aliens,” she said.

  “What are you suggesting?” Petty said.

  Elaine Barth was quiet for a time, probably pondering it. Then, she began to speak, telling them how she thought they should do it.

  “We should vote on this,” Petty said. “Then we should ready a missive and send it to Director Anwar Gray for approval.”

  They did. Elaine Barth’s plan passed. Rumpelstiltskin was ordered to write up the plan and present it to Director Gray at the first opportunity.

  -42-

  EARTH

  SEPTEMBER 2060

  Colonel Mike Steele of the Western States of America sprinted across a rubble-strewn street in Reno, Nevada.

  He was a lean man of middle height, his blond white buzz cut hidden under a helmet. The colonel’s equipment and combat armor clattered. A small blinking red light indicated that his RPG was armed and ready.

  Steele vaulted over the rusty frame of a motorcycle that lay in the street. He dropped hard onto the pavement, twisted around and laid the launcher over the battered motorcycle, sprawling behind the vehicle.

  Sergeant Jones—a gorilla of a soldier at six three and 260 pounds—lumbered like a half-charging bull out of an abandoned bank. The sergeant seemed like an arsenal of weapons and advanced combat armor.

  Jones picked up speed, heading for a low wall of stone well behind Steele. They were practicing an over-watch maneuver to protect each other while moving.

  Behind the fallen motorcycle, Steele used a sleeve to wipe sweat out of his stinging eyes.

  He wondered if the Corpocratists—people aligned with corporations or believers in a corpocracy. Had the enemy found a way to control the weather yet? He could almost believe it. In recent years, the corporations have fielded incredible advancements.

  From across the street, Steele heard treads clank. Seconds later, a hunter-killer broke through the old bank building. Concrete blocks exploded outward. Before the last of the debris finished raining onto the street, a small turret with twin .50 caliber machine guns swiveled. A targeting laser projected a red dot onto the sergeant’s broad back.

  At almost the same instant, Sergeant Jones vaulted over the low wall of stone, dropping behind it.

  With a horrible, soul-cringing chatter, the hunter-killer opened up, its heavy bullets smashing against the wall, beginning to demolish it.

  Still behind the fallen motorcycle on the street, Steele sighted the hunter-killer and pulled the RPG trigger. The rocket grenade whooshed from the launcher and hit the hunter-killer with a deafening explosion. The colonel had already lowered his head so the helmet absorbed the concussion blast. He waited two seconds before looking up.

  The turret, with its .50 caliber machine guns, clanged onto the street, bounced and finally came to a rest.

  They had survived one more encounter with the enemy. Unfortunately, the bipedal robots were still coming. They had a few more minutes of grace…maybe.

  “Mike!” the first sergeant shouted. They avoided calling out ranks here in the field or wear any insignia on their uniforms. There was no reason to help enemy snipers or drones pinpoint a richer target.

  A tired smile spread across the colonel’s features. Sergeant Wyatt Jones had iron lungs. No one shouted louder than he did.

  They would have used comm-sets to communicate, but the Corpocratists were jamming heavily today. The enemy wanted the Nevada governor—the woman Steele’s elite team had inserted to extract. Jones and he were acting as decoys to give the others time to extract the governor to a safe place.

  Steele allowed himself one more deep breath. Afterward, he shoved up as if doing a pushup.

  “Mike!” the sergeant roared.

  Steele looked back.

  The big sergeant peered over his section of wall, pointing.

  Steele looked where Jones did.

  Across the street near the ruined bank lay the hunter-killer on its side, with smoke pouring where the turret used to be. One of the machine’s treads still turned slowly.

  From behind the smashed motorcycle, Steele studied the opposite side of the street. He didn’t see anything threatening. Thus, he climbed to his feet and hurried to the wall were Sergeant Jones had gone over. Jones had already moved to another position.