Read Online The Phantom in the Deep (Rook's Song) by Chad Huskins - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Chad Huskins
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fellow’s sacrifice isn’t in vain, however, because the door is blown partially open. More air jets past them. The Leader and his two remaining operatives remain magnetically locked to the walls until the Sidewinder’s AI also shuts off airflow to the corridors beyond. Ten seconds later, it’s done, and the Leader cautiously floats over to the gaping, superheated metal frame where the thermite burned through. He inspects the false junction box, and the plastic explosive, which still has yet to go off, either because the detonator is faulty or it is a trap never completed.
The Leader looks at the charred spot along the wall where the lockers were only seconds before. Why would he do it? His weapons were in there . He can’t have many more left .
It is a question the Cerebrals always asked themselves when dealing with humans. It is no different with the Phantom. The Phantom, whoever he is, has left the more obvious traps as decoys, no doubt knowing it would draw their attention, yet placed a far deadlier bomb inside a storage locker, destroying his weapons cache entirely. Being so isolated, he must be incredibly limited on resources . So why do it?
After a moment of introspect, the answer is obvious. Because he knew we wouldn’t expect it . It was counterintuitive. Worse, it was counterlogical.
Cerebs don’t do battle this way. They are blunt. They contemplate operations from the moment of inception so that they don’t have to over think them in execution. Calculations are completed well beforehand; the ratio of enemy resources to their own is always measured first, then remeasured, not only by supercomputers but by the Calculators and the Conductors.
With Cerebs, what you see is what you get. Just as mathematics are a universal truth throughout the cosmos, so too are motives and actions. This is their philosophy. Their motives are to destroy lesser, problematic species, and there’s no reason to pretend otherwise. Subterfuge isn’t a trait commonly favored amongst their people; guile has only ever bred mistrust amongst members of a species, and thus a species—a proper species, they feel—must have a focused goal, untainted by deception. Without that focus, true uniformity is lost. That is why races such as human beings develop cloaking technologies—to hide—and superior races such as the Cerebrals do not.
Yet humans revel in this blasphemous counter-logic, and the Leader’s fellow paid the price for his lack of understanding in it. Nothing is more frustrating than watching a calculation not pan out. His two remaining operatives look to him now for guidance. Few are trained to think like a human, and it appears even the Leader, as advance as his training is, hasn’t been trained enough.
It matters little . We have the superior numbers and resources . We exterminated the rest of them . He has nothing and no one left to help . Humans have always fled from them, or dashed madly into suicide missions. There is nowhere left for this one to flee to, and should he attempt a suicide run, it would benefit him none at all.
The Phantom is alone in the universe.
But a cold tingling sensation travels up the Leader’s spine—this is not one of the good sensations that enraptures his people, either. It is a shiver of portent. Being so sensitive to environmental changes is just one of the items that has kept his people one step ahead of their enemies for millennia now. Though logically he knows the Phantom is alone and outgunned, he also knows a formidable opponent when he sees one.
Carefully, the three remaining Cereb commandos move into the cylindrical corridor, all of it made by the hardy metal humans called compristeel , an alloy of immense strength, yet with the capability to give under the high pressures of space travel and combat.
Well versed in zero-gravity combat, the three of them move inside, using their thrusters to adjust themselves in
The Leader looks at the charred spot along the wall where the lockers were only seconds before. Why would he do it? His weapons were in there . He can’t have many more left .
It is a question the Cerebrals always asked themselves when dealing with humans. It is no different with the Phantom. The Phantom, whoever he is, has left the more obvious traps as decoys, no doubt knowing it would draw their attention, yet placed a far deadlier bomb inside a storage locker, destroying his weapons cache entirely. Being so isolated, he must be incredibly limited on resources . So why do it?
After a moment of introspect, the answer is obvious. Because he knew we wouldn’t expect it . It was counterintuitive. Worse, it was counterlogical.
Cerebs don’t do battle this way. They are blunt. They contemplate operations from the moment of inception so that they don’t have to over think them in execution. Calculations are completed well beforehand; the ratio of enemy resources to their own is always measured first, then remeasured, not only by supercomputers but by the Calculators and the Conductors.
With Cerebs, what you see is what you get. Just as mathematics are a universal truth throughout the cosmos, so too are motives and actions. This is their philosophy. Their motives are to destroy lesser, problematic species, and there’s no reason to pretend otherwise. Subterfuge isn’t a trait commonly favored amongst their people; guile has only ever bred mistrust amongst members of a species, and thus a species—a proper species, they feel—must have a focused goal, untainted by deception. Without that focus, true uniformity is lost. That is why races such as human beings develop cloaking technologies—to hide—and superior races such as the Cerebrals do not.
Yet humans revel in this blasphemous counter-logic, and the Leader’s fellow paid the price for his lack of understanding in it. Nothing is more frustrating than watching a calculation not pan out. His two remaining operatives look to him now for guidance. Few are trained to think like a human, and it appears even the Leader, as advance as his training is, hasn’t been trained enough.
It matters little . We have the superior numbers and resources . We exterminated the rest of them . He has nothing and no one left to help . Humans have always fled from them, or dashed madly into suicide missions. There is nowhere left for this one to flee to, and should he attempt a suicide run, it would benefit him none at all.
The Phantom is alone in the universe.
But a cold tingling sensation travels up the Leader’s spine—this is not one of the good sensations that enraptures his people, either. It is a shiver of portent. Being so sensitive to environmental changes is just one of the items that has kept his people one step ahead of their enemies for millennia now. Though logically he knows the Phantom is alone and outgunned, he also knows a formidable opponent when he sees one.
Carefully, the three remaining Cereb commandos move into the cylindrical corridor, all of it made by the hardy metal humans called compristeel , an alloy of immense strength, yet with the capability to give under the high pressures of space travel and combat.
Well versed in zero-gravity combat, the three of them move inside, using their thrusters to adjust themselves in
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