“You don’t like what I’m doing, do you?” Petty asked.

  Huber hedged. “If you think that’s the best idea—”

  “I do,” Petty said, interrupting. “I feel better just saying it.”

  “Then I suggest you make this change sooner rather than later.”

  “It’s been good talking to you.” With that, Petty turned sharply toward the door. He was going to reinstate Admiral Tojo and have him position the black ice-coated missiles beyond the Moon.

  Petty did not think of himself as Napoleon or Hannibal or any of the other great commanders of history, but he believed he knew which man should be in which position for the fatal encounter. He had been right last time. He just hoped he was right this time as well.

  -12-

  After a month and a half in his new command, Admiral Tojo was leading three Orion ships. After the great humiliation he suffered years ago, he was now in command of three mighty warships.

  It was good to have ships under his control again. Yet, Tojo had a long memory, and still felt bitter about what Petty had done to his otherwise pristine reputation. He’d wanted to command the Orion ships even more than gain revenge, however, and thus had placated the CEO all these years. Yes, he had been biding his time swallowing his pride countless times.

  As Admiral Tojo in his white uniform stood on the bridge of the Plato, he knew that he would never let anyone relieve him of command again. To that end, he had been working secretly to form a cadre of like-minded officers, fire-eaters who knew the Orion ships could destroy the aliens. Many of them were on the Plato and the other two Orion ships.

  Tojo pushed off, floating to his acceleration couch. He had worked hard this month to get the right space marines on his flagship, but he hadn’t been as successful in that.

  Tojo twisted and pulled himself down to the couch, strapping himself in. This was an independent command. Admiral Wilson commanded the other four Orion ships.

  Tojo despised timid Wilson, but he hid that as well. Thinking about it made Tojo seethe. It was hard to tell by his features, though. They always remained the same, as if he were bitterly angry. He seldom smiled, and never since Petty had stripped him of command seconds before a great battle years ago.

  If the CEO had listened to him back then, this would not now be happening. Tojo would have defeated the aliens at the Moon. He would have turned around back then and smashed any Phoenix attack from Earth. He knew how to wage space war better than any man or Valiant in the solar system.

  This was the beginning of Admiral Tojo’s legend.

  Thinking that, the admiral allowed himself a tight little grin. Perhaps this was a transport mission, but it would be a shakedown cruise for his command. He would practice out there and make sure everyone on the three Orion ships knew that he was the master and commander of the Orion ship squadron.

  Each Orion ship was a nuclear-pulse propulsion spaceship of around 100,000 tons. It carried more than 3,000 0.5-kiloton nuclear devices.

  Petty had told him to husband those. It was getting harder to find anyone to construct more nuclear devices down on Earth.

  Tojo’s flat nostrils flared. He would use more nuclear devices than he should, because he knew his people needed hard, simulated combat training. Better to use the last fuel to train the crews to a fine pitch than to have plenty and not know how to run your warships.

  The Orion ships carried special cargo this time, and that did not include any space marines.

  Normally, an Orion ship carried between 500 and 800 space marines. The 800 had been when the fleet attacked the Valiants at Neptune. The 500 had been the disastrous Saturn System Assault.

  This time, they needed all the cargo space they had to bring as many of these black-ice coated missiles as far as possible past the Moon. This time, each Orion ship would have considerably more mass and weight than a fully loaded USS Gerald R. Ford, the largest U.S.N. carrier ever built.

  Each Orion spaceship looked like an exaggerated cone from an old-style rocket. The cone was thicker and heavier than any rocket cone launched from the Earth’s surface, and far, far larger.

  The key to the Orion design was a heavy and massive pusher plate. This would have to absorb the nuclear blasts that would propel the ship each time. Each pusher plate had thick absorbers so the marines and crew on the other side would not shake to death.

  The pulse propulsion was simple in theory and savage in reality. A bomb dropped out of a center chute, moved away and detonated. The blast pushed the pusher plate and through it the entire vessel.

  In some ways, that was similar to the alien Enforcers. They used constant acceleration with more controlled fusion. The Orion ships were faster, though, and far, far rougher on the crews.

  “Everything is ready, Admiral,” one of the bridge officers said.

  Tojo nodded tightly. The war was nearing. First, they had to prepare the battlefield.

  “Begin,” the admiral said in his curt voice.

  Soon:

  WHAM

  WHAM

  WHAM

  The nuclear bombs dropped out of the chutes and detonated. The explosions pushed against the pusher plates, propelling the mighty warships away from mid Earth orbit and out toward the Moon.

  Tojo sucked in his breath, and slammed against his acceleration couch. Impossible as it was to believe, but he’d forgotten what it was like running under full combat acceleration.

  He nodded tightly. This was just what he and the crews needed.

  WHAM

  WHAM

  WHAM

  This wasn’t like making a small adjustment around Earth. This was moving fast, building up velocity.

  WHAM

  WHAM

  WHAM

  The last explosion took the admiral’s breath away, making Tojo fight for it. When he sucked it down, he felt relief.

  Was he getting too old for this?

  Admiral Tojo snarled, although no one would have been able to tell by looking at him. He would die in the harness if that were what it took. Yes, he would push the ship, the squadron and everyone in it, including himself. They needed to prepare for the aliens who sought to butcher the human race.

  -13-

  Three Orion ships surged past the Moon. The Plato, Duke Wellington, and Ulysses S. Grant were not ordinary vessels; their nuclear pulse propulsion set them apart.

  “Prepare for deceleration,” Admiral Tojo commanded from the bridge of the Plato. The bridge was abuzz with activity, the officers and technicians monitoring various systems.

  Each of the Orion ships had rotated so their heavy pusher plates were aimed in the direction of travel. Now, nuclear charges tumbled from each chute and detonated sequentially. The explosions produced fierce flashes of light, followed by the concussive force that hammered against the thick pusher plates. The ships jerked and slowed, their enormous mass responding to the nuclear detonations.

  “Deceleration in progress,” the helmsman reported, his hands moving over the controls.

  The bridge crew watched as the ships’ velocity indicators dropped, the detonations slowing their advance.

  It took several more explosions until the helmsman said, “Deceleration is complete, Admiral.”

  Tojo nodded, satisfied. They had taken the Orion ships farther than initially intended, to five million kilometers beyond the Moon. That was well over ten times the Moon’s average distance from the Earth.

  The Orion ships began to deploy their black-ice coated missiles. Each missile, nearly one hundred meters long, was coated in a special layer of black ice, a material designed to absorb radar and infrared signals, making teleoptic visuals nearly impossible. These missiles were stealth incarnate, invisible to most detection methods.

  Hydraulic arms extended from the ships’ hulls, gently releasing the missiles into space. The black ice absorbed the sunlight, their surfaces diffused light in a way that made them blend with the backdrop of space.

  “Missiles deployed,” the weapons officer said. The tactical display showed the missiles drifting in their designated positions, forming an invisible net across the expected path of the enemy fleet.

  With the missiles in place, the Orion ships rotated one hundred eighty degrees, preparing for their return journey. Soon, a series of nuclear explosions erupted, starting their velocity back toward Earth.

  As Orion ships moved away, the tactical displays tracked the alien Enforcers. These ships, having traveled for seventeen months from Saturn, were now braking, their propulsion systems flaring as they decelerated.

  Tojo watched the tactical display, calculating. There were seemingly endless variables that would determine the outcome of the upcoming battle. Which would prove critical?

  As the Orion ships moved away, Tojo knew that the coming weeks would make or break humanity, as the battle for Earth was about to begin, and there was no turning back.

  -14-

  As the deceleration aboard the Marduk lessened and then became one G, Chief Marshal Assur sucked in a painful gasp of air. He expelled it just as quickly. He ached from all the prolonged, heavy deceleration.

  They had changed the deceleration schedule for the Enforcers because the asteroids had gained greater acceleration during the mid-course of the journey than they’d anticipated.

  There had been recalculations, followed by a miscalculation, as the Enforcers hadn’t slowed down enough. Now, a mere month from Earth, the Enforcers and auxiliary vessels were braking harder than at any other point during the journey. That had been hard on Assur.

  He struggled upright.

  Then the hatch to his cabin opened, and two medics rushed in. They looked concerned, moving to him before he could speak.

  Assur had tried to speak, but the fatigue from deceleration was too much.

  They probed him with cold instruments, glancing at each other with concern.

  “I’m fine,” Assur mumbled.

  “Chief Marshal,” the senior medic said.

  “Help me up,” Assur said, ignoring the comment.

  The two gently helped him sit up.

  Assur tried to move his arms, but they felt like useless appendages… like the famed Tyrannosaurus Rex he had been reading about from Earth’s prehistoric past.

  “Sir,” the senior medic said, “the deceleration strain is telling on you. We may not be able to coordinate the assault exactly as you wish.”

  “Nonsense,” Assur said. “Give me a stimulant. That will do the trick.”

  “I do not recommend that, sir,” the chief medic said.

  “A stimulant,” Assur said, with his voice hardening. “That’s an order.”

  The senior medic looked at the younger. The younger’s face was blank. Finally, the senior produced a hypogun and gave Assur an injection.

  The stimulant took longer to take effect than Assur thought normal.

  “Did you give me a regular injection?” Assur asked, knowing that his voice had strengthened.

  “No,” the senior medic said, “just a half dose.”

  “The next time I order a stimulant—” Assur gasped as he barely raised a hand to touch his chest over his heart. His heart thumped hard. He could feel the thuds in his brain, too. They increased… and suddenly subsided.

  “Your heart raced,” the senior medic said, looking at Assur closely. “You’re risking that every time you use a stimulant. If I had given you a stronger dose…” the medic shook his head.

  “Fine,” Assur said. “I feel fine now. Don’t hover over me.”

  The last order seemed too much for them. The medics retreated from his quarters, likely glad to leave his presence.

  Assur got up and went through his morning rituals: washing, meditating, and sitting and thinking. This was not good. If the Enforcers continued to brake at the stronger rate—

  Assur scowled. He wasn’t going to be the reason they failed to match their trajectories in proper sequence. They needed to time the Earth Assault just right. The Enforcers would blaze a path through the enemy fleet, even if that meant sacrificing all six Enforcers and all the auxiliary vessels behind them.

  The key to everything was to obliterate humanity. Certainly, Assur wanted to enjoy the victory. The greater goal was to win at all costs. This victory would be his greatest achievement, honored throughout the ages.

  One way or another, this was it. He didn’t believe he would survive a return voyage to Titan. So he didn’t even consider one.

  That got him to pondering. If this were it… should he allow the Valiant high commanders to fight and possibly murder each other as the new chief marshal struggled to appear? Of course, this was after he died. Under those conditions, would the others awaken the Chess Master from stasis?

  After a moment’s contemplation, Assur chuckled. If he were in their place, he would make sure Naram Sin died in the stasis unit. Therefore, he had as good as sentenced the Chess Master to death.

  Assur pursed his lips. Was that why he’d interned Naram Sin to the stasis unit? No. It had been an honest deal. Therefore, if he wanted the Valiants to have the best chief marshal rule the colony after his passing, Assur needed to waken Naram Sin now.

  Assur nodded. Yes. He needed to awaken the Chess Master and fill him in regarding the situation. Maybe he needed to spend time with the Chess Master for old time’s sake.

  With that in mind, Assur left his quarters, shuffling through the corridors, with his bodyguards behind him, until he reached a viewing port.

  He sat down and looked at the Earth. It was larger than he would have expected at this point in the journey. Soon, that would be their new homeworld. Earth would receive an improved race of the People. Some thought the Earthers and Valiants were close cousins. Assur was going to annihilate the ideal and the Earthers, making the Valiants supreme in the solar system.

  After he was gone, the Valiants could expand, preparing themselves for the mighty war against the Vims. This was just the beginning. Someday the Valiants would have to face the Vims and defeat them.

  Assur shook his head. That was centuries down the road. Would there ever be a faster-than-light (FTL) drive? He did not see how that was possible. Instead, there would be Not As Fast As Light (NAFAL) fleets leaving the solar system, hunting down the Vims throughout the generations. What a glorious future awaited his Valiants.

  “As long as I can win here,” Assur said aloud, “it will all come to pass. But if I fail here, if we fail against these mongrel humans—these smaller, weaker, stupider humans—then perhaps we deserve to fail.”

  Assur scowled. Such a thought was indecent.

  Therefore, Assur grunted as he stood. It was time to awaken Naram Sin and see what would come of that.

  -15-

  Soon, Assur boarded a shuttle. A hatch opened on the Marduk, and the shuttle traveled among the Enforcers.

  All the ships in the fleet had the same relative velocity, so it was like a normal journey for the shuttle. In one sense, when a ship took off from Titan, Titan also had its own velocity as it and the other planets and the sun all moved throughout space. It was an interesting exercise in celestial mechanics, but in another sense, it was as simple as could be.

  Soon, the shuttle docked in the Enkidu, the ancient vessel from the old homeworld. In time, with a special guard of Valiants—the biggest and strongest—Assur went into the bowels of the Enkidu.

  Several of the Enkidu’s officers were present, leading Assur and his guard to a small cargo chamber. There, at Assur’s orders, medics began the process of restoring Naram Sin to consciousness. Would he be the same after those long months in stasis?

  Assur waited impatiently, watching the process take place before him.

  ***

  Gradually, Naram Sin felt consciousness return. He had been dreaming for what seemed like an eternity. Now, he groggily became aware that those dreams had indeed been fantasy, not reality.

  So very sluggishly, he opened his eyes and saw frosted glass before him. Then he heard a creak. It sounded like the boom of creation. The lid to the stasis unit opened, and blazingly hot hands clutched him. The Valiants drew him out, laying him on a table.

  Naram Sin heard hisses. Soon, he shivered uncontrollably and groaned.

  “He’s coming around,” someone said. It was like the voice of some distant creator god. Would that be An’Kar? Naram Sin did not think so.

  As greater consciousness returned, Naram Sin became aware that medical personnel were working over him. He groaned as memories flooded back, remembering how he’d entered the stasis unit. Did this mean Chief Marshal Assur was dead? Were assassins awakening him? Yet, that did not seem logical, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. Perhaps they did it in order to mock him.

  “Hello, Naram Sin,” a voice said as from a long distance. The voice sounded familiar.

  Chief Marshal Assur’s face swam before Naram Sin’s eyes. This Assur was different from the one he remembered. He had a long, drawn face and seemed tired and old.

  “Can you hear me?” Assur said. “Are you cogent?”

  Naram Sin realized this was the real Assur. He moved his lips without speaking.

  Assur turned to the others. “Naram Sin is coming around.”

  “He could be an imbecile,” one medic said.

  “Or worse, a retard,” another said.

  There were faint chuckles, but a word from Assur stilled that.

  Naram Sin regained full consciousness, but he was helpless as a baby as he looked at all the people crammed into one small medical chamber.

  “You are awake,” Assur declared.

  “Yes,” Naram Sin said in a hoarse whisper. “The asteroids…”

  “The battle has not yet taken place,” Assur said. “We are a little less than a month from contact.”

  “Why… wake me?” Naram Sin asked.

  “Because…” Assur grew silent.

  Naram Sin’s mind began to click and whir. He looked once more at Assur and saw the withered leader. Chief Marshal Assur was dying. Is that why he had woken him? Did Assur want to kill him, gloat about his victory over him? No, Naram Sin detected something else. He didn’t know what, but he could sense it was something.