“It’s a small corvette, nothing to fear really despite the name. Jovies say it’s a diplomatic ship but they demand to land in Cheyenne One.” said the General Reynolds of the Imperial Guard.
“And why can’t we just turn them into vapor?” asked Governor Cooper and slammed his fist into the table.
“Jovies have at least a dozen more asteroid aimed at us, sir. We’ve depleted our arsenal down to a few nukes, we just cannot risk our last defenses against this one little ship.” scrambled the general in his defense.
“Okay, let those bastards land,” reluctantly said Governor Cooper, “but make sure your imperial guard keeps “Shiva’s Trishula” in scopes all of the time. And, of course, divert most of the Prometheus’ power for frying anything approaching Earth larger than a tennis ball!”
Governor Cooper again slammed white-knuckled fists on the table, the papers flew from his table in different directions as a dole of doves. The Judgement Day, when at least a dozen of rocks was sent onto the overpopulated Earth, was still fresh in his memory, even after five years. Billions died, most of the Earth became barren, except for several lucky patches that avoided the tsunamis, earthquakes, persisted through the Darkening. The war wasn’t over yet, it reached a stalemate on the verge of mutual destruction: jovies had more rocks to send Earth-bound, the Earth had a rag-tag fleet and the Prometheus system of mirrors and collimators that powered solar sails of most ships in the System but could also be focused on Jovian settlements vaporizing them with the colossal energy of concentrated solar rays.