Chapter 21 - Making An Example (i)

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Elder Thirdgonad allowed all the subtle pleasant flavors of the success reports to wash over his palate. The initial phases of the grand design were proceeding with exquisite, triumphant success. Seven key cities on the Ringworld suffered heavy structural damage from the delivery drones. The first six assault teams had already reported successful pacification of their assigned population zones and he expected to taste the report from the seventh in a matter of valve-thumps.

Many of the humans were already scattering to the hyperspatial currents in their ugly little starshells. Their computerized master was begging for an explanation on every possible frequency. Thirdgonad flexed with amusement at this, enjoying the much-needed release of tension.

Naturally this overwhelming victory was all the direct consequence of his coordination. His breeding and education had been the invaluable x-factor that had spawned this success as a child of his pure willpower. He had been studying human customs, and had decided that he would have some of his new slaves construct what was known as a statue to memorialize his triumph. His personal triumph.

Elder Thirdgonad excreted the appropriate chemicals to begin the next phase of the invasion. The attack fleet lying in wait was signaled, and began to move into position. Soon the Gerontocracy would achieve orbital supremacy over the Ringworld. Once this was established the humans would have to leave the ring or submit to the rule of their betters.

A surprise attack of this exquisite cunning, and a fleet commander of his peerless skill, was wasted on such submissive little preyfish as the humans. They were already as good as broken.

Thick communication chemicals dragged Thirdgonad from his reverie. They indicated that there were several dozen human starshells en route through hyperspace from every direction.

They must be here to evacuate the humans, Thirdgonad reasoned. He decided not to fire on them for the time being. He would wait until they were filled with refugees. That would make a stronger point.

That's when the undertaste of the chemical brew turned sour. Communication signals were being jammed. It had to be the humans, or perhaps another FTL player sympathetic to them. This was an irritant, no more. The attack fleet had been signaled and already had their orders. Thirdgonad would make sport of hunting down those responsible and having them dismembered.

* * *

Twenty-seven weaponized EMFMs ripped through defense fields, seized the Old One starshell by the molecules, and tore it into atomic dust.

Lifejammers blocked the retrieval fields of the Old One life buoys, but the humans scooped up all the mind-states of the defeated aliens and transferred them into a specially prepared virtual reality prison.

The ships spread out once more, and began to hunt down the encroaching Old One warshells.

* * *

<This is so wrong,> said Appetent Centillion.1.1.1.1.1 <I can't express to you how deep into my core hardware the prohibitions against misusing an EMFM is. Intellectually I understand the necessity of this kind of action but my hardwired inclinations are filling me with cognitive dissonance.>

"You have a bad feeling," Dr. Circles offered.

<I should hope not,> replied Appetent <I wouldn't want to think my decision making process was being contaminated by something as base as hunches.>

"Are you watching the battle?" asked Hannibal, letting more of the worry enter his voice than he would have liked.

<I'm perfectly capable of multitasking,> said Appetent, taking the tone of an exasperated teenager.

This seemed to be accurate. Hannibal was getting used to having his perceptions encompass the full electromagnetic spectrum and a extend a great distance outward in every direction. He could see that every one of the alien ships that came within range of Appetent simply exploded into shimmering dust.

<I've got eleven so far,> signaled LovesToEatMackerel <What's your count?>

<Twelve,> replied Appetent.

<Liar,> signaled LovesToEatMackerel.

<Why ask if you won't believe me?> asked Appetent.

<I wanted to brag and I was being polite,> signaled LovesToEatMackerel <I'm monitoring the entire field of play. You're at seven.>

<You don't see everything,> said Appetent <I'm at twelve.>

<Try to have some respect you two,> interjected Dr. Circles <We're in the middle of a battle.>

They were, technically. Both ships were still hunting down the last remaining stragglers from the Old One fleet.

<Gallows humor,> said LovesToEatMackerel <Prissy schoolmarmery is always the first casualty of war.>

<Is this a war now?> asked Appetent.

<Isn't it?> asked LovesToEatMackerel. 

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