The room is vast, with an echoing high ceiling, sparse furniture, and walls painted in white, and pale grey, and even paler blue. Because God forbid anyone on Andoria should forget what ice looks like, of course. The temperature is comfortable for Andorians, which means roughly "meat locker" for the likes of me.
The imposing man behind the imposing desk is Ves th'Oziph, the Chancellor of the Andorian Empire - Andoria being one of those Empires which gets along so much better without an actual Emperor. Th'Oziph is tall and statesmanlike and handsome - he looks like a Chancellor. The black-clad man standing beside him is short and rather tubby; his name is Thelev ch'Haras, and he looks more like an accountant than the High Marshal of the Imperial Guard, but the High Marshal is what he is. Then there's me, looking like a cyborg bag lady as usual, and Stileg, looking like one very scared Vulcan.
"It still seems incredible," th'Oziph murmurs.
"Incredible or not," ch'Haras says, "we need to be prepared." A practically-minded man. I could get to like him.
"Right," I say. "So. I guess we need to work out what sort of attack's coming, then. Unfortunately, we don't have much of a clue, there. I'm thinking Andoria is better prepared than Bercera IV was for a conventional attack...."
"Weapons on Andoria Spacedock," says ch'Haras, "smaller weapons platforms in planetary orbit, and outlying stations further out into the system... by the time any tricobalt bombers got past those, there would be very little left for the Imperial Guard to shoot. Besides, Andoria's planetary shields are second to none."
"Right, right. But, however good they are - could they stand up to a relativistic strike? That's the classic method of killing planets. In theory. Right?" A mass, launched at a speed approaching that of light. Usually a mass of lightweight material - ice is good - so that it doesn't just punch right through the planet, but deposits its whole kinetic payload in one job-lot of mass destruction. The Chancellor and the High Marshal exchange glances. "Don't tell me you can block a c-fractional strike... wouldn't you need, I dunno, an inertial damper about the size of Jupiter?"
"Not block," says ch'Haras slowly. "But... we believe we can deflect them."
"The Enfilade Network," th'Oziph says. "A number of sensor and deployment satellites spread through the outer system. The sensors register any mass travelling at excessive speeds, and signal the deployment devices to send countermissiles in by subspace jump. Reaction speeds need to be fast... but we believe they are adequate. The countermissiles are, essentially, nothing but overloaded warp engines - striking from above or below the system's ecliptic."
"Oh," I say. "Oh. Neat." You can't stop a relativistic projectile, not with anything short of a planet - hitting one will convert it to a mass of plasma, moving at near enough the same speed as it had originally. But if you hit it hard enough, far enough out from its target - at astronomical ranges, even the tiniest deflection in a course translates into a clean miss. And aiming from off the ecliptic - the plane in which most of Procyon's planets revolve - means the incoming missiles will be knocked straight off into interstellar space. "Real neat - so long as it works."
"We have some level of confidence. Though of course," ch'Haras adds dryly, "it is a little hard to give it a full-scale test."
"Hmm. Is it vulnerable, though? Data subversion attacks, that sort of thing? T'Laihhae reckoned the accident at ESD was down to deliberate sabotage...."
"There are precautions in place," says ch'Haras.
"And of course you're not telling me everything. Quite right too. The Arctic trails have their secret tales that would make your blood run cold. OK, so direct attack and c-fractional strikes seem to be covered, so what else might they try?"
"Forgive me." Stileg speaks up for the first time since we viewed the datachips. "I am - I just - well, it seems to me that T'Nir is a Vulcan. She will approach this - this issue - logically -"
"I'm not entirely sure I trust Vulcan logic, just now," says ch'Haras.
"What I mean is," Stileg says, "it is unlikely that any plan of T'Nir's will have a single point of failure. There will most probably be an attack along multiple avenues simultaneously."
"We have the full resources of Andoria and the Imperial Guard," says th'Oziph. "Those are most certainly equal to any military threat. If you can give us some insight into T'Nir's thinking, to show us which avenues she is most likely to explore, that will be a considerable help."
"I - I am sorry, Chancellor," says Stileg. "I - do not follow T'Nir's logic in this matter. She was a friend and a colleague - I find it impossible to understand how she can -"
*/*decentralization of assets is key to successful strategy---avoid definable failure modes by ensuring multiple critical pathways to objective success*/* Pipe down, Two of Twelve.... I frown. "Stileg. Something you said."
All three of them turn to me as I chase down the fugitive thought. "Single point of failure. Does Andoria have one? Some critical spot, some jugular vein that T'Nir might go for?"
"Hard to think of one," ch'Haras says. "Andoria Spacedock is unique, of course, but it is not our only military asset in orbit, not by a long way."
"The planetary capital, perhaps," says th'Oziph. "Though we have normal disaster-recovery and fallback options in place - and many of our citizens would not be all that unhappy at the loss of most of Andoria's politicians...."
"Losing the capital, or the space station, wouldn't be fatal. Is there anything centralized and vital?"
"I suppose the fertile farmlands on the planet's surface are... smaller in area than on most worlds," says th'Oziph, "but they are not small enough to be considered centralized. The datanet, the planetary shields, the power generation network, all of these are distributed to a considerable extent." I can feel Two of Twelve approving of this. "I suppose there is Storm Command, but...."
"Well, don't keep me in suspense," I say, "what's Storm Command?"
"When we first developed weather control technology," th'Oziph says, "there was only one suitable location for placing the jet-stream moderators. An extinct volcanic caldera, high up, close to - well, the meteorologists would know the details. Over the centuries, it has been elaborated, but it is still the nerve centre of our planetary weather generators. Storm Command."
"Oh. Right. Sounds like a vulnerable point, then?"
"A single point," says ch'Haras, "but not a vulnerable one. We have always been fully alive to the potentialities for sabotage or damage. Storm Command is one of the most closely guarded areas on Andoria - the actual installation is shielded by a duranium alloy dome, five kilometres in diameter, and absolutely impregnable."
"Never liked that word, impregnable," I say. "Too much like unsinkable. We'd better check it out, however unlikely it sounds to you."
Th'Oziph and ch'Haras exchange glances again. "Technically, it is off-limits to anyone except a properly cleared Andorian citizen," th'Oziph says. "An exception might of course be made -"
The door of the office hisses open. "Sirs." A flustered-looking aide pokes his head through. "Two ships have entered the system - a Charal-class escort with Starfleet identification, and a Romulan Republic warship -"
"Ah, right," I say, "that'll be more of the good guys. Come to think of it, my buddy Tylha is an Andorian citizen, so you could send her off to look at the weather machines." Andoria's climate is managed? You wouldn't think so to look at the place. I take care not to say that in my out -loud voice.
Ch'Haras smiles thinly. "And are we expecting any more help from Starfleet?"
"I wish I knew," I mutter. "Tylha must have got the word out, somewhere, but... our communications were in a lousy state before Earth Spacedock got broken, so I don't know what they must be like now." I find it hard to meet his eyes. "We'll... do what we can. I hope it's enough."
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