Commander Baine stepped to the officer's bridge of the Gettysburg joining Major Mattson, and took his position before the fleet operations table.

"All reporting in and positioned, Commander" snapped Major Mattson.

The Fleet was ready. Fourteen idling ships of the line trailed the Gettysburg, each with a flight deck packed with sixteen fighters. Flanking these, thirty-six Cruisers held station. Trailing this fleet were two military cargo carriers surrounded by a swarm of twenty gunships.

"Commence operation, "Baine announced, and the fleet smoothly moved from orbit in formation. At the appropriate moment, the fleet engaged slip fields and vanished into subspace. Major Mattson turned to face Baine with a stiff nod.

"Now that we are underway, I am instructed to provide your sealed orders." The terse Major handed Baine the 'Red Letter' packet and stepped back.

Lionel took the packet and laid it flat on the situation table, peeling open the zip string tape. A sheaf of documents came free and Commander Baine sat and read through the packet's contents. A series of alternately surprised and baffled expressions moved across his features as he read.

Commander Baine shot a glance toward Mattson, asking, "You knew about this?" Mattson responded calmly. "My clearance gives me some advantages. I helped to form the plan as it happens. Do you need anything clarified?"

"Clarified?" Baine Purpled. "They want to begin by a display of arms and afterwards to parlay. Initially they want me to...these are the exact words...'offer Gregory St Croix amnesty in exchange for the immediate surrender of all materials and technology involved in the strike against Earth'. Failing that, I am to mount a capture and contain campaign to seize all major properties of St Croix on or near Vega three. If, in apparently your judgment Major, this effort fails, only then am I to prosecute an attack to termination."

Baine held his hand before Mattson and raised one finger. "The man is evil." He raised another to join the first. "He attacked us and is responsible for the death of hundreds of infants and elderly citizens." A third joined the first two. "He is holding a world at hostage. We are to start by exposing our forces to fire and offer to let him off scot-free? If Gregory decides not to just give up, we are left to try to sneak up on him? Or scramble to adopt an offense? If all else fails, blow the place up? What the hell kind of orders are these!" Baine stared angrily into the cool and placid face of Major Mattson.

"It's not the man that is the threat. It is the power he wields - the technology. We need to take his toys away. Find a nice deep pit to bury them in for a while. At least get our hands on them, so we can study them, learn to defend against them. Whatever else may come, we must remain safe, Baine." The Major shrugged. "My men will take care of capturing the base and securing the technology, that's why the success or failure of that contingency was left to me. I am not here to look over your shoulder. If we can't acquire what we need here, we must obliterate all signs of it. That last part is for you to prosecute, should all else fail. This is war after all. It's what we do."

The fleet dropped out of slip space, arrayed in all its glory, per instructions, and the farce began.

The ALADDIN hung like a piece of fruit above the broad curve of Avon. Gregory squinted at the forward display as the Earth ships appeared, and, ignoring the request for parlay, immediately got to work. Sensors reached out and defined every ship in the fleet, noting the position and speed of each. Four ships of the line disappeared from sight, to be reconstituted in the core of Avon's star, where their tons of mass vaporized instantly.

"Wasteful," mused Gregory. The result wasn't very spectacular anyway, as the ships disappearance was silent, un-chaotic, the re-materializations hidden, therefore not instructive. He could do better. Five gun ships wavered, disappeared, then reconstituted in the same hull space occupied by one of the cargo ships, exploding like a nova into a raving flash of radiation that swept the nearby complement of lighters in a destructive tide, then dissipated to leave behind only an expanding front of thin, super-heated gas and plasma.

Opening a common band communication channel, Gregory initiated a prerecorded sales pitch, while conferring with the armament operators at their sub-station consoles around the room. It is, thought Gregory, important that they know I will defend my claim on Avon successfully, but after they capitulate, know the systems used are for sale.

In the flagship Gettysburg, the drone of Gregory's macabre commercial was picked up and aired for the bridge crew, for whatever tactical advantage might be gleaned from it. Baine listened with half an ear, eyes fixed on the tactical displays, frantically trying to take in the extent of the disaster they detailed.

Over a background of military marching music, the voice of an announcer proclaimed. "The problem with all previous offensive and defensive armament has always been its limitation to the quantity of materials on hand. A single ship or small force is almost always obliged to retreat before one better supplied or equipped, when tactical considerations do not dominate."

Baine's eyes flickered constantly over the situation display. A tight frustrated look haunted his features and his lips moved constantly as he relayed orders through the command channel pickup at his throat. I am facing a madman! The battleships were now deploying their fighters, attempting to enclose Gregory's odd ship. A deep thrumming vibrated through the Gettysburg's structural members as a thousand dandelion missiles belched from the fusilier bay. The missiles spat out, riding their initial explosive charges, then fired their propellant burn cycles and sped off toward the specified orbital paths around Avon.

"Enter St. Croix Military Division's new age battle systems! Completely free of material constraints beyond those required for installation of the system itself, St. Croix technology leverages the materials of war instead of maintaining cumbersome inventories of them. A single ship can deploy the destructive armament equivalent to a fleet of any size..."

Major Mattson turned to Baine. "Clear me an orbit to ground path! I need to get my marines down to that base of his."

"I deployed dandelions to sweep the orbital paths clean of mines," said Baine. "They should start cleaning up in about ten minutes."

Gregory's infomercial continued brightly in the background."... tailor a response to any attack or defense, without the tell-tale traces of deployment left by other weapons!"

A plane of nuclear fire a tenth of an inch thick and several hundred miles square appeared suspended between the swift rush of the dandelions and the planet's atmosphere. Winks of fire blossomed as the missiles touched the screen and dissolved into vapor. Elsewhere, a thousand small chunks of asteroid debris were silently dissolved to fuel the nuclear violence of the ghostly shield.