Viewed mockingly by some, since they were not accompanied by a powerful Space Navy, these unique defenses were nonetheless a highly effective form of planetary cover. Invented by Dark himself, in conjunction with the exiled physicist Tolstoy (both men had chosen not to reveal the full discovery to their native governments, and were therefore outcast), they were based on a combined series of shields and orbiting Artillery Stations, similar to, but more highly integrated than those of the East Germans, in that the shields themselves were wrapped about the great mace-shapes of the Stations like nets of energy strung between harbor mines.
But what made them effective was the source of their power. Not only did they feed off the sun, but also used the very energy of assaulting blasts to strengthen the fields, and channel the drawn-off power into a reverse stroke by the corresponding station—-like an aimed mirror of aggression. The harder an opponent struck, the harder was the blow returned.
Though much of the final figuring had been Tolstoy's, the inspiration and early experiments all belonged to Dark. The idea had first come to him during one of his many visits to the Taoist monastery near his home in Manchuria, where he had been raised by his father, a stern U.C. Army Captain stationed there. Of all the things he had learned (the Shao-lin had let him ask all the questions he liked, though they seldom answered directly or in full), one precept of the Kung Fu style of fighting had always intrigued him most deeply:
If a man, in hand-to-hand combat with another, could turn the force of his opponent's assault back upon him, adding to it the strength of his own spirit, why couldn't a machine, or even a defense field, do the same? He had carried this thought through all the years of his scientific and worldly education, and while serving in the Commonwealth Space Navy during the Manxsome conflict, had seen first-hand the need for such a defense: a way for the week to hold off the strong.
He had also been severely wounded, and nearly died, when his ship's own force-shields had been broken, and the exposed vessel riven with agonizing heat. The next four years had been spent in hospitals and operating rooms where, remarkably, he had slowly recovered with no permanent (physical) damage.
In fact, though his life totaled only twenty-nine Earth years, they had been lived with such intensity and trauma, through no conscious choice of his own, that while he was considerably younger than most of the officers under him, he was, in his way, more experience, time-wizened (and weary of life) than nearly all of them. If hope, despair, and nearness to death are the great teachers of this existence, then here was a student who knew the lists by rote.
He stood now in the engineering room of Power Station One, at the heart of the Fences surrounding the planet Ten Hsiao-p'ang, examining damage reports. The Cubans, after trying for a week to storm the defenses of both planets at once, had decided to concentrate their forces upon Teng along, believing, correctly, that once it fell, the power of the other would be diminished as well. Though Dark's shields still held, the outlook was not bright. For even a mirror may be destroyed by a well aimed and determined laser; and the colonies had to hold out for another month at least.
"I don't know why I try," he muttered to himself. He switched off the last tracer diagram, leaned on the railing heavily.
IT'S FUNNY, REALLY. LIKE A STUPID GAME I CAN'T POSSIBLY WIN. I JUST PLAY IT BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO. This assault had become a symbol, and more than a symbol to him. If these planets fell, crushing forever his last dreams of a home, then the efforts of a lifetime had been wasted.
Here he had resolved to make his final stand. No more running: fleeing from his body's weakness, and before the haunting loneliness, the creeping paralysis of a life without love, companionship, or the simplest human feeling of attachment. Here he would stand, until he was either conquered or set free, or surrendered in death the slender sinews that knitted his soul to flesh. A defeatist's attitude, some might say, but for this important difference. He had spent a lifetime learning how not to surrender, and he did not intend to lose.