The Spartan Chronicles - Continued

[Googlie]

“Go.”

Kurt held back. Not from any fear of jumping, but it was so irrevocable. There was no going back if he jumped. Maybe this would lose him Shauna forever.

But it was for a greater good, of that he was convinced.

'Into the lion’s mouth,' he thought.

“Go. Go” asserted the crewman.

Kurt launched himself.

The needlejet had come in low at the 2000 meter level, just clearing the canyon ridge, and as the ground fell away into the canyon bottom spread out before him the crewman had ordered the jump.

Now Kurt floated gently down into the bowels of Nessus Canyon, to the secret headquarters of the Circle of Ashaandi.

As he descended, he focussed his senses and shaped them into a probe as his training had taught. A tight, hard beam. He swept the canyon floor and walls.

They’re good, he thought. His probe was met with absolute blankness. Not even chittering mindworms lived here in this harsh environment. He increased his power, and swept again. Faint wisps of sentience emanating from the gently swaying fungus stalks rippling in the breezes caressing the canyon sides. But that was all.

As his feet touched the canyon floor he rolled to one side, standing up in one movement and deftly pulling his chute in towards him as he did so.

“Cover your tracks,” Sand had said. “Anyone flying over your landing area five minutes later must be totally unaware that the surface has been even touched.”

He stuffed the chute into the almost empty backpack he wore. A bottle of water and a handful of boiled detoxed fungus stalks was his provisions – “live off the land,” Sand had said. He had a handful of water purification tablets, but didn’t reckon he’d need them. He hadn’t seen any water.

“Your mission is to find the ops center. If you succeed, you will find it. If you fail, you will die in the canyon. It’s as simple as that,” Sand had said ominously.

“Will they be making it easy for me?” he’d asked, naively.

“On the contrary,” Sand had responded. “They have orders to kill you. We’ve alerted them that a Spartan operative has broken our code and has infiltrated the Circle. You will succeed if you can convince them that you are genuine. If you cannot, you will die.”

'Good job I flunked math,' Kurt thought. 'There’s a lot of death possibility on one side and only wits and good planning on the other.'

Well, he was a survivor.


He adjusted his breather. It had been so long since he’d used one constantly that it now felt uncomfortable. Around the bases, where every building had piped oxygen, nowhere was more than five minutes form clean breathable air. Even outside the base perimeters, in the forests and the farms, the air was regenerating with a healthy to humans mix, as it was around the sea and ocean shores. After 125 years on Planet some healthy rainforests had developed and were now oxygen generators.

But here, in the stifling heat of the floor of Nessus Canyon, the natural air was almost unbreatheable for all but the shortest spell.

Kurt took stock of his surroundings.

He’d snuck a peek at the pilot’s map, and although he couldn’t read the aviation map, he could read the pilot’s mind. “Use every advantage you have,” Sand had said. “There’s no such thing as ‘cheating’ in this test. You are gambling with your life.”

So he had read the map through the pilot’s eyes.

He was at co-ordinate 4/100.

Immediately to the south was a fungal field.

In a sweep from the northeast to due west was arid desert soil, forming the barrier that protected the canyon floor.

To the southwest, southeast, east and northeast was desert scrub, warmed by the sun, but protected in the shadow of the dunes to the north and west.

‘If I were building a base where would I site it?’ Kurt thought.

‘In the fungus!’

He headed south.


Kurt wandered for days in the fungus. It felt, looked and even smelt different here. Kurt wondered about that.

Most of the fungus he’d encountered had been Planet’s equivalent of ‘lush.’ It had been by ocean or close to ocean, and certainly flourished under rainfall just as well as terran plants. But this was different. It looked almost burnt, almost dead.

He took off a mitt, and reached out to touch one of the brittle looking tendrils.

earthkurt…join us in our sorrow…yet rejoice with us in the joining of planet and earthkind.

Disorientation……..

Dissonance…….

Kurt sat down heavily in the fungus and let the waves of sorrow wash over him.

The needless loss of life.

The wasting of young lives, cut off before they could contribute much to the collective consciousness…of old, complete lives yet with still so much to offer…tinged with exhuberance that they had joined in the collective consciousness in their death…that they were finally complete.

Kurt stretched his neural perception, and as he reached, scanning, he began to pick up wisps of consciousnesses, of personalities. Those that were strongest seemed to have an almost lifelike pattern whereas the weaker ones were more dissonant, more disjointed.

One in particular stood out, attracting Kurt’s thought tendrils as they roamed over the collective sentience.

earthkurt, beware….all is not what it seems…..

voice….are you planet?

earthkurt….we are with planet now …we are one with planet…but once I walked on planet….

Voice, …who are you…what can you tell me?

earthkurt…I was once known as earthburge …a mighty general with the spartans

but you can’t be dead…..you are still commanding their armies…

an imposter,,,earthkurt…ashaandi impersonating me…all is not what it seems….trust not earthsand…he spells deceit….I thought him dead, but he is not here…nor his accomplice…earthangel…beware her beauty..there is a beast within…

Field Marshall Burge…I will be joining you soon if I cannot find my way around here…can you help?

…we cannot see…only experience earthkurt through planet…you are close…we sense that…beware…

Kurt woke up with a start, shivering. The suns were long since down, and Nessus' pale, reflected light had no warmth. The valley floor was cold, yet the fungus strangely warm and comforting.

‘What a dream,’ Kurt thought. ‘Imagining I was speaking to the dead. Harrumph.’

He sat up in the fungal bed, and started, as he was staring down the barrel of a shard pistolette.

Behind the shard gun was a beautiful, classically sculpted face, framed by short cropped blond hair that cupped down to her ears on either side.

“Don’t move,” said the apparition. “you have some talking to do.”

As she spoke, she was motioning with the pistol for Kurt to get up.

He was mesmerized by the pistol.

Or more correctly by the hand holding it.

Wearing a glove.

Encrusted with flecks of diamonds.


[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited November 12, 1999).]

[Googlie]

Chairman Sheng-Ji Yang slowly let his gaze wander round the room. His entire war cabinet, esconsed in their warroom deep in the underground bunker below The Hive.

General Seng, of Eastern Command, still smarting after the loss of Plex Anthill and the four mainland bases. He fully expected demotion.

General Ng, of Western Command. He was smugly satisfied. This was the moment he was waiting for. Serene in the knowledge that he was a winner following the successful conquest of Morgan Pharaceuticals, just renamed this morning as Communal Conquest.

Admiral Hy. Unscathed. Not yet bloodied by the battle as the expected Spartan invasion fleet had not as yet materialized. Had successfully brought the naval units out from the rebel bases before any damage could be done to the ships, he was serene in the knowledge that he was, for the present, untouchable.

Air Marshall Lew. His aircraft had taken a pounding, but his pilots had acquitted themselves well. He was somewhat smug in the knowledge that a good airforce was the key in the struggle, and fully a third of the Hive‘s seventeen bases were now rushing the production of Tactical Needlejets with both air-to-ground and air-to-air capability. The ground attack penalty would be partially offset by the inclusion of the recently developed plasma shard weapons in the ordnance kits.

Colonel (formerly Captain) Masterton, Home Base Commander – something of an oddity as an ethnic Euro being promoted through the Hive’s military structure. But his credentials, like those of his family, were sound. His grandfather, one of the original Landers, had been the military brains behind the old terran Peoples’ Republic of Botswana, until ousted by the wealth-backed mercenaries of Morgan Mining Corp.

Chief Science Officer Shimoda. Outwardly calm, yet Yang could detect the inward tension. He focussed on the face and let his gaze linger on Shimoda’s countenance. No fear. Good news then, for a change. He moved on.

Ota Kyi. A major disappointment with the mindworm episode. Some damage was inflicted on Morgan Industries, that was for sure, but the general outcome was a vast strengthening of the Gaian military.

The Base Governors. The criteria for being invited to join the war Cabinet was population. Grow your base to 80,000 plus, and the invite was automatic.

There were 6 present:

Manshan Chow, representing The Hive itself
Virgil, representing Deep Passages (no-one knew of any other name – he was simply Virgil)
Academicienne Pauline Sy, representing Socialism Tunnel (she chaired the research university there)
Madame Hsui, representing Great Clustering
Colonel Cyrus Peake, Military Commander, Communal Conquest (formerly Morgan Pharmaceuticals)
Vice Admiral Javed Miandad, representing Sea Hive.

Chairman Yang finished his sweep.

Resting his elbows on the table, he steepled his fingers together – a favorite posture that denoted relaxation and control. His audience knew that this morning was not going to be one of ranting.

“Logistics first, then we will proceed with sector reports.

The following appointments are effective immediately.

Firstly, General Ng is promoted to Marshall of the Armed Forces and Supreme Military Commander. All, repeat all, military forces will now report to me through Marshall Ng.

Next, Colonel Peake is appointed General, and will assume responsibility for all army offensive units.

Colonel Masterton is appointed General, and will assume responsibility for all base defensive units.

Air Marshall Lew and Admiral Hy will see little change except in their reporting relationship to Supreme Military Commander Marshall Ng.

General Seng. You will assume the rank of Colonel and take over the military Governorship of Great Clustering.

Madame Hsui, as one of our ablest administrators, you will assume responsibility for our newest base of Communal Conquest. You will also join me and Marshall Ng as the Chief Civilian Officer and will have the title of Civilian Marshall. We three will from today form the inner core of the Cabinet.

Madame Kyi, after the fiasco that you led at Morgan Industries, resulting in the Gaians overnight becoming one of the more powerful factions on Planet, you are dismissed from the war cabinet. You may return to Labor Network where the scientists there are having some success in breeding mindworms in captivity. You will assume their command, and once you have redeemed yourself we may see fit to invite you to join our council again. You may leave now.

Ota Kyi stood up and bowed graciously to all around the table, backing out towards the door. She was secretly relieved to be spared her life, having feared the worst.

Chairman Yang then swept his gaze lightly over the civilian contingent.

“Sang Shimoda, you are now our Minister of Applied Science, and you will have the title of Civilian General, reporting to Civilian Marshall Hsui”

Shimoda bowed his head to Yang and Hsui in acknowledgement.

Yang continued:

“Governor Chow. You have proved adept at bringing the most out of our workers. You will be our Minister of Production and will also assume the rank of Civilian General, reporting to me through Civilian Marshall Hsui.”

Manshan Chow likewise bowed to acknowledge the appointment.

“Virgil,” said Yang. The shaven black head inclined gracefully towards the head of the table.

“You have proven yourself a master at managing the economy of your base, and I know that others have sought your help repeatedly. I see a broader role, as energy is the key to our realizing our dream. You will be our Finance Minister with the equal rank of Civilian general, reporting to Marhsall Hsui.”
Virgil nodded agreement, then spoke.

“Mr Chairman.”

A collective gasp ran round the table. No-one interrupted the Chairman at these promotion/demotion seances.

Yang looked annoyed, yet an appreciative twinkle appeared in his eyes. ‘Someone with guts’ he thought to himself.

“Yes? You have a point to make?”

Virgil began:

“If I am to be Minister of Finance then I will have control over the energy allocations of each base, input into the production being undertaken at each base….” Virgil inclined his head to Manshan Chow, who nodded, “and into the research efforts and special projects…” with as nod to Shimoda and Academicienne Sy, who both acknowledged his comment…”and a veto on expenditures?”

“Absolutely,” said the Chairman, somewhat disappointed that this was the extent of Virgil’s contribution, and about to resume.

“Including the Circle of Ashaandi?”

There was a pregnant pause.

Every eye turned to Chairman Yang. This was a defining moment.

Sheng-Ji Yang quietened the turmoil in his mind, reaching for the center again.

Haraan Ashaandi had to be contained, controlled. Sand had been eliminated, at the hands of Madame Hsui’s guard. He was used to dealing with Ashaandi alone. Help would be welcome.

He made his decision.

“You will be their paymaster. Those expenditures will be off books. You will report directly to me on these matters.”

Virgil nodded.

Civilian Marshall Hsui frowned.

The seeds of future dissent had been sown

Yang turned back to the table.

“Report,” he said, turning to Marshall Ng.

Marshall Ng began his report.

[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited November 12, 1999).]

[Googlie]

Marshall Ng began his report.

“I must first apologize for the absence of Marshal Barklow. He is occupied at present in the command of the Peoples’ Army’s defense of our homeland. Although we are under attack on our own continent for the first time since we drove out the Stepdaughters of Gaia, our position does remain strong.

“While it is true that our troops took a mauling at Plex Anthill, with the loss of thousands, the survivors are regrouping at Deep Passages. They first fell back to Laborers’ Throng, but were somewhat exposed there, so they were pulled inland. This was just as well as they would have fallen prey to the massive assault launched by the Spartans. We are collapsing the various units into a single fast response armored brigade whose component troops have named it Brigade of The Return. As soon as Virgil”…with an inclination of his head to the bald black pate of the new Minister of Finance, who nodded in acknowledgement… “ has examined the state of our finances I will be recommending that we re-equip this brigade with the new shard weaponry that our indefatigable research scientists have developed”…this with a nod to Shimoda and Sy… “which will make them almost unstoppable.”

Chairman Yang lifted one eyebrow. He had other plans for the Hive’s meager reserves of credits, which only he and Barklow shared so far.

Ng continued:

“On the good news front, we have been highly successful in our training program for our new garrison troops. All but one of our bases now have AAA certified Plasma garrisons in place – the remaining one is even now engaged in a vigorous training and equipment program.

“Our invasion force in Communal Conquest is now well established and has been reorganized under the capable command of Colonel Peake – oh, I beg pardon – General Peake …” this with a self-conscious nod to the newly appointed General sitting by his side, who smiled and muttered ‘s all right’ to the Marshall, who continued “…Has been re-organized into a sound defensive garrison and two offensive units that have reached Commando status. They are itching for action, and I think that we can turn them loose imminently.

The balance of our troops comprise the police garrisons in each base and one or two floater units that had lost the bulk of their divisions and have been loosely assimilated into other units.

The good news is that I think we will be able, with our perimeter defenses, to withstand a ground attack, and our AAA garrisons, bolstered in those bases with aerospace infrastructures, will be a formidable match for any air assault.

And to crown the news, our second planetbuster is only a week or so away from completion – an injection of funds will surely hasten the subcontractors’ work.

Meanwhile I am working closely with General Peake to plan an invasion of Morgan Bank.

Air Marshal Lew will now give his status report.

Marshal Ng sat down.

Lew stood up.

“I will make no false promises or give inflated figures.

“Our air forces have taken a hammering. First Wing is relatively unscathed, at Communal Conquest, but that is almost all the good news. Second Wing was badly mauled at Plex Anthill, and is reduced to mere skirmish capacity. Marshal Barklow has requisitioned all the penetrators of Second Wing and they are undergoing refit, presumably as close support aircraft. He is cagey on that subject, and simply says to take the matter up with you, Mr. Chairman. I assume that he is under your – or Marshal Ng’s – orders.

“Fourth Wing is in reserve, and it may be time to commit them to the battle. We have three penetrator squadrons and one supporting interceptor squadron, all stationed at Unity Lair. They are all older fission powered missile needlejets, and form our strategic reserve. If we had the funds we could initiate a conversion to clean fusion drives, with shard weaponry, but alas we do not. So they may have to go into battle as is.

“As Marshall Ng has mentioned, our second Planetbuster missile is only days away from being operational.

“And our participation in the space program is proceeding. We will have many claimants for the reserves released when the Unity core is retrieved, I’m sure.”

Marshal Lew sat down.

Ng looked at Admiral Hy, who rose to his feet.

“Our naval power is unmatched on Planet,” he began, at which the former General, now Colonel Seng, interrupted:

“Unscratched, you mean.”

Ignoring the interruption, Hy continued…. “and the morale of the sailors is high. The Northern Navy, operating out of The Leaders Horde, has two AAA destroyer flotillas that were the guinea pigs – so to speak – for the installation of shard weaponry.”

The uproar was immediate, from Lew and from Ng. Chairman Yang had to intervene.

“Gentlemen, we are more passionate in turf protecting than we are on Base protecting. I authorized the expenditure. They were not in action, the refit was not rushed, and we are the stronger for it. So desist this unseemly bickering.”

Hy resumed.

“The Southern Fleet is split between Sea Collective, where we have two Missile Cruiser squadrons and a plasma AAA Gunboat flotilla, and Deep Passages, with one Missile Cruiser flotilla. Neither navy has seen much action in this war.”

“You’re telling me,” said Chen, unable to resist the barb.

Admiral Hy glowered at him.

“Unfortunately we lack transport ships – although with our retrenchment into our home continent they are not vital, except perhaps for reinforcing the push into further Morgan territory. And we do have a transport flotilla at Communal Conquest.”

Admiral Hy sat down.

Chairman Yang resumed speaking.

“We are weakest on the ground, in defense of our home bases. I have calculated that at their present rate of advance, the Spartan forces will be overrunning this very bunker in less than a week. Accordingly Marshal Barklow, Commandant of The People’s Army that is taking the brunt of the invasion recommended to me the release and refitting of our troops with nerve gas pods. Reluctantly, and after much soul searching as the ethics of the situation, I concurred.

“Better free, and vilified, that enslaved and vilified was my overarching thought. Earlier today we unleashed the first salvo on the unsuspecting Spartans. Unfortunately their local air superiority allowed them to destroy our attack units utterly. And they pressed home their advantage by siezing and occupying The Drone Mound a few hours ago."

A gasp went up from some of the assembled gathering, whoi were unaware that The Drone Mound had fallen.

Yang continued:

“To survive we must do three things:

“Halt the Spartan advancement in its tracks. Our conversion to chemical weapons is but a first step in this direction;

“Open a second front, to divide their efforts. To this end the assault on Morgan bank will commence immediately;

“Maximize our use of the Hunter-Seeker Algorithm that we captured from Morgan. Today I have authorized the formation of a Special Operations Division whose mission will be to sow confusion and dissent on our enemies, drain their energy reserves, foment rebellion in their ranks and steal or sabotage their technology. Pauline Sy will command that unit and will be accountable to me and to me alone. If she asks for assistance, you will provide it, no questions asked. Is that clear?”

They all nodded their assent.

“Now we will hear the Governors’ reports.”


[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited November 12, 1999).]

[Googlie]

Priscilla Hsui took the lead role. She was the Chairperson of the Council of Twenty Two, as it had been called at the beginning of Chiron year 2225. Seven bases had been lost, and one added, so rightly it should now be known as the Council of Sixteen.

“Chairman Yang. Let us start with The Hive itself, where as has been mentioned, the second of our intercontinental Nuclear missiles is almost complete. The expenditure of a mere 4 energy credits would be sufficient to pay for the contractors’ overtime costs and the missile would be operational within the next day or so. But we realize that there are other calls on our meager reserves,

“Two Special Projects are underway.

“At The leaders Horde we are just weeks away from the completion of The Maritime Control Center, which as most of you are aware will confer substantial benefits on our Naval units.”

This drew the expected “harrumph” from Seng.

Continuing, Priscilla said:

“The other Special Project is being constructed at Deep Passages where work has commenced on The Neural Amplifier. Prior to this meeting, however, Virgil received a report from his research team that the work undertaken so far could more profitably be converted to the construction of a project that they have code-named The Living Refinery. It promises returns of greater efficiency and reduced maintenance costs for our armed forces. And while the eventual introduction of clean reactors into all our vehicles will make our support costs almost zero, rendering this project to be of dubious value, we believe that keeping it from the hands of our enemies is as important as using its benefits ourselves. And if we are strapped for credits and cannot afford the conversion of all our units to clean reactors, then the project will have paid for itself in reduced upkeep costs.

“Clean Shard interceptor squadrons are being built in various stages of completion at:

Manufacturing Warrens
Fecundity Tower
Social Engineering Den, and
Deep Community

“And a Shard Penetrator wing is almost ready for commission at Great Clustering.

“Trained shard rover battalions are being assembled at:

Unity Lair, and
Seat of Proper Thought

“You know of course that we are breeding Mindworms at Labor Network and again this morning the full resources of Socialism tunnel was entrusted to Pauline Sy and her Special Operations Brigade.

“That leaves four bases uncounted for, and their production is currently as follows:

“Fellowship City is our final base without an AAA Plasma garrison, and that is what they are concentrating on;

“Communal Conquest is in the process of building a clean shard invader squad;

“Sea Hive is constructing An AAA Shard destroyer flotilla, and finally, with little mineral production to assist, Sea Collective is investing in our maritime transport capability.

“Our major concern is funding, or more precisely, the lack thereof. The sooner we can avail ourselves of the fruits of the Unity Core Recovery joint venture the better, or if our plans for conquest of Morgan bank can speedily be brought to fruition. Any energy credits, however few, would help.

“It goes without saying, of course, that any cessation of hostilities, for even a short while, would be of enormous benefit to our production.”

With that, Madam Hsui sat down.

Chairman Yang observed the group, then spoke:

“As you have described it, our position is far from hopeless, but we need time. Need time for us to finish some key constructs, and need time to avail ourselves of the fruits of the Unity.

“Yet time is not what we have. Inexorably the Spartans are advancing. Morgan is a non-factor, and the Gaians have not yet unleashed their full potential on us.

“We must stall the Spartan advance while at the same time trying to drive a wedge between the Lady Deirdre and the Junta. And I admit to underestimating CEO Morgan. He has my grudging respect.

“I think it time that I talked to the faction leaders again."



[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited November 12, 1999).]
[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited November 12, 1999).]

[Slats]

SPARTA COMMAND
VICNITY OF COMMAND CENTRE

The Spartan Air Regiment was formed in order to provide personnel for ground protection and support. They were equipped with a variety of vehicles and weapons, typical of a special operations unit. Policing existing bases as well as landing ahead of arriving aircraft to secure captured airfields were but two of their roles. Another of their more common roles was providing escort duties to various SAC envoys and critical personnel.

This was why Slats sat strapped into a passenger seat in the rear of a rover command compartment. The veteran Air Regiment missile rover careened through the streets of Sparta Command, civilian traffic scattering out of the way. The commander of the Regiment detachment at Sparta Command Aerospace Complex had insisted that Slats take an escort into the volatile inner city. Despite transfer of control back to ‘loyal’ Spartan forces, it was still verging on chaos around the Command Centre where the latest reports still had many troops milling about.

A last turn put the big rover onto the wide road that accessed the Command Centre. Murmurs from the crew told Slats something was wrong. He strained to see out of a viewport and just caught a glimpse of military personnel surrounding the entrance to the building. The rover commander stood up and led Slats back down to the rover’s hatchway which was just opening as the accompanying eight man squad of troopers piled out into the street. Before Slats exits, the rover commander informs him that there are troops in position hidden all around the area.

Slats stepped onto the plascrete surface of the road and stopped dead. At least fifty or so very tough and professional looking soldiers had fortified the entrance to the Command Centre. Slats paused only for a moment or two and began walking determinedly towards them. The sound of weapons beginning readied on both sides filled the air and Ben caught a glimpse of the rover’s missile turret swinging round to point at the strange troops. Despite the stalwart courage of the Air Regiment troopers, Slats had a feeling that before any of them could pull a trigger they would all be dead.

As Slats neared the cordon, a soldier moved a few steps forward and asked for identification. Slats presented his ID card and was led inside for a retinal and DNA check. A hard-faced soldier, who Slats presumed was the commander, addressed him after the tests:

“You’re NOT expected, but we’ve been told to let you in since you’re here. The Colonel would appreciate your report”.

Slats awarded the man a raised eyebrow but had to stop himself from grinning out of control when he saw Ashaandi in the foyer surrounded by rifle wielding troops. Ahead, guards opened the synthwood doors and allowed entrance to the council chambers.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

At heart Slats was a soldier and not a politician. Still there were times when public speaking just had to be done, and this was one of them.

A slim and lithe looking Santiago spoke from her seat on the far side of the council table.

“Ah, Air Marshal Miller, I believe you wish to address the council on behalf of our junior officer cadre”.

I took a deep breath and began.

“That is indeed correct ma’am. I am here because of the inactivity of this council in leading the Spartan people.”

Several of the council members have begun staring at Slats in disbelieving rage, Santiago just smiles that knowing smile of hers. Slats went on:

“Upon the bombing of the old command centre and the confusion from that point till now I believe that this council should consider itself disgraceful in the way that it has acted. Yes, there has been an infiltrator present, but this man actually aided in our military efforts for some time.”

“At the moment we are currently fighting a war on foreign soil, against our most long hated enemy. The Hive. Now when we are at the verge of breaching the Hive’s interior, now when we need a decisive leadership, where are you?”

“I have also come to tell the freshest news from the front. Our forces there have just captured the Hive city of Drone Mound after a short but furious battle. This is indeed a victory but further action is needed quickly as the large majority of the Hive units there managed to withdraw to Manufacturing Warrens, a counter attack could be imminent. Need I tell you that earlier, nerve gas weapons systems were used by Hive troops near the outskirts of Drone Mound? No, I think not.”

“I know that you have debated our response to such actions. Any action taken should not be considered lightly, that is true. But I tell you this now! Yang was broken the U.N charter all factions swore they would adhere to. His use of extensive nerve stapling beforehand tested the boundary of this agreement, but now he has broke it! He used nerve gas once and killed Spartans. He will use it again! I promise you that.”

“If we continue to fight conventionally, we may win but it will take a terrible toll of our young men and women. Therefore I put to you that we should propose the temporary suspension of the U.N charter to the Planetary Council. If we are successful in this, immediate use of tactical thermo-nuclear warheads, nerve gas and genetic Anti Personnel Viruses are my recommendation. I do not want Doomsday, but I do want justice!”

“Sparta is in disarray. No one knows where to turn for guidance. For the first time in years, rioters fill our streets! I plead with you all now, show us the way….”

Less than three minutes later Slats was on his way back to SAC HQ, heart set in stony silence.

[Rynn]

Kurt rose ever so slowly from the fungus, eyes never wavering from the shard pistolette pointed at him.

The face cooed at him:

“They said someone was coming. A Spartan operative. A man. I like men. Especially young ones. New ones. You are always so eager.

“I specialize in the in-between, you know. In between pain and pleasure. That part of the human make up that welcomes pain for the pleasure it brings. Are you like that, Mr. Spartan? We’ll find out, won’t we?

“They told us to kill you after we’d interrogated you, to find out how you knew our location. But I don’t think so. We’re going to have some fun together, aren’t we, my pretty?”

Kurt shrugged.

He deduced that the woman was part of the Circle and that somehow she’d stumbled on to him. No matter. If she would lead him to the base he’d have accomplished half his mission. Finding them. The other half – convincing them of who he was – might be more difficult.

“Lead on,” he said.

“Oh, good try,” she purred. “I didn’t get to where I am now by letting young Spartan soldiers walk behind me. Oh no. You lead, I’ll tell you where to go, and I’ll have this pointed at you at all times.”

Kurt shrugged again. He couldn’t tell her that he’d do nothing if walking behind her – he needed her to lead him to the base. He’d have enjoyed watching her sashay in front of him, but it was not to be.

He walked.

She followed.

For four hours they went deeper into the fungus, and as they progressed the fungus grew taller and eventually intertwined above their heads in a canopy, helped in a couple of places, Kurt noticed, by synthsteel wires.

They came to a clearing and as they approached Kurt felt the sense of a relatively clumsy mindsweep. He drained his mind of everything but the woman now alongside him, and allowed himself a lascivious thought or two, chuckling inwardly at the projection that this would give.

“Shit, Angel…all he wants to do is screw you” came a girlish voice as a teenager appeared from the shelter of one of the huts.

“Angelica, How many times have told you to stop that?” Angel scolded the teenager.

“Excuse my sister,” Angel said. “She’s recently learned that she has empath skills and is in training. She uses it on every occasion.”

Turning to Angelica, she said “Sis, he’s not one of us. He’s Spartan.”

She was still in the fringes of Kurt’s mind. He decided to give Angelica a show.

He turned to Angel:

“She’s right, you know. It’s all I’ve been thinking about these past few hours.”

He looked at her.

He mentally undressed her, starting with the velcro pull tabs that secured her top, he mentally unfastened them one by one.

As the jacket fell open in his mind, he imagined her reaching up to take it off. She wore a black turtleneck synthsilk blouse underneath that molded to her body. She ran her hands seductively down her body, from the neck past the swell of her breasts to her waist where she uncinched the cuffbelt she wore with her equipment pouches. She pulled down her camouflage trousers and stepped out of them.

Angel was looking at Kurt speculatively, and glancing now and then at Angelica, who was standing goggle-eyed looking at him. Angel knew something was going on, but just couldn’t fathom it.

She reached up to her neck and ran her fingers into the neck of her blouse and pulled it over her head. Her breasts spilled free from the slight inbuilt moulding in the synthsilk, and the soft evening breeze ruffled her nipples to hardness.

She reached down and took off her panties until she was standing, naked, in front of Kurt.

Statuesque.

Perfect.

Rebuilt completely after the blast at Great Clustering.

Ravishingly beautiful.

Angelica broke the spell with a shriek as she ran off red-faced into the enclosure.

Kurt looked at Angel, standing fully clothed still pointing the pistolette at him.

In spite of himself, he was aroused. ‘Too vivid an imagination, I guess,’ he thought to himself.

“Let’s go meet the team, “ she said.

“Then I’ll claim my prize.”

[Rynn]

Temple of Sol

Wolfie was sound asleep after our lovemaking of the evening.

I gently untangled myself from his arms and slipped out of bed, naked, and padded into the adjoining washroom where my overnight bag was. Everything I needed was in it.

I emptied the bag and turned it inside out, then opened the hidden compartment and extracted my suit.

It rolled on from the toes upward, a black sheath that formed itself around my body as it unrolled. I pulled the internal thong into place then finished the dressing. The hood was next, an as I slipped it over my head I was careful to put on the eye protectors, ear plugs and mouthguard first before activating the seal. The neck of the hood and that of the suit bonded seamlessly.

I attached the cuffbelt with the various pods – power, weapons and supplies, then finally pulled on the gloves. The cuffs again bonded seamlessly with the sleeves of the suit.

University technology was so wonderful, I thought. Thank God it hadn’t been snuffed out entirely by the Spartan overlords.

I was ready.

I reassembled my bag and put it back on the nightstand.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

I was tall, at five foot ten, well proportioned and solid, after my training in the resistance. High, firm breasts, and enough muscle tone to suggest aggressive athleticism. The suit fit closer than a body glove, following every contour, every crevice in my body. I was dressed completely in black.

Watching myself in the mirror, I activated the power.

There was an almost imperceptible hum, then the image shimmered in the mirror. I felt the tension inwardly, and the hairs on my arms and neck would have stood up had they not been confined by the suit.

The shimmering intensified, then there was no reflection at all. I wasn’t seeing the reflection of what was behind me, just a mishmash of slight distortion of the surrounds of the washroom.

The scientist called it a PCD, or personal cloaking device. They were years away from developing it for military usage, as it worked best on molecular image distortion with animal matter rather than metallic or plasteel substances. I called it my chameleon suit.

Satisfied, I went out on my mission.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++

I came back into the bedroom of the suite, and Wolfie stirred just a little.

I ignored him, and went out into the corridor.

When she had been checking in, and Wolfie was getting out arrangements, I had attuned my aural node to her voice, and had the suite number memorized.

The corridor was lit, and I was aghast to see my shadow.

They hadn’t explained this aspect of the suit. This called for a rethink.

I came back into the suite, and made for the balcony.

I opened the balcony doors, and the breeze ruffled the drapes, causing Wolfie to murmur in his sleep again.

I padded over, and put a finger on his lips:

“Shhh,” I whispered.

He grunted and turned over on his side, his back to the windows. Good.

I slipped out and drew the doors behind me.

The drop to the ocean beach below was about 100 feet, and a quick inspection showed me that that route was particularly inhospitable.

It would have to be from balcony to balcony, then.

Her suite was six doors away from ours, in a convex semicircle, with each balcony about twelve feet from the next

‘OK,’ I thought. ‘I’ve done this in training before.’

I opened my equipment pouch and selected the grapple fleschette. Peeling back the cloaking sheath from the muzzle, I aimed for a point above the balcony three rooms away, about two hundred feet in the air, where the S on Morgan Temple of Sol Resort was secured. I had to make allowance for the wind, as well as gravity. I secured the slave to my cuffbelt, took aim and fired.

Thwock…

I had misjudged a little, and had too much line, but the weighted end wrapped it round the strut and as I felt the tension in the slave I launched myself for the adjacent balcony.

Pushing off with my feet as I made contact, I swung on to the next, and so on down the line for six balconies.

Arriving on hers, I unhitched the slave and secured it on the balcony railings. And took stock.

Her balcony door was slightly ajar to allow for the ocean breeze to blow gently through.

I slid them open, and entered, pulling them closed, but leaving just enough space for my hasty exit if needed.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++

She was lying asleep.

I fished in my equipment bag until I found what I needed, then ,made my move.

Using the same technique as I had surprised Wolfie with earlier, I found the nervepoint, and pressed.

She awoke suddenly, unable to move, fighting to see what was happening.

I pushed the capsule into the holder, and placed the point of the syringe on her neck adjacent to my finger, and activated it.

Phhtt…

Although she could see nothing, her training was such that she knew immediately what was happening. Her eyes widened in disbelief, then she relaxed as the drug permeated her system.

I waited the recommended thirty seconds, then relaxed my hold, fully alert in case she somehow had immunity.

I needn’t have worried. The drug took effect, maintaining the paralysis but freeing the face muscles and vocal chords. I was relying on her not screaming.

She didn’t.

“Who’s there?” she asked. “Come into the light where I can see you.”

Rather dramatically, I said:

“I am the spirit of Marlo Hollis. And of Scott Allardyce. You are now going to tell me who you are working for, and why you assassinated them."

She spat at me.

Part of me was amused to feel the spit hit the suit, but part was horrified to see the spittle, as if suspended in thin air, slowly slide down and finally spatter on her bed cover.

“Ah, a cloaking device,’ she said. “I’ve heard rumors of them.”

I was pleased that the drug was still working. But I needed to extract the information fast.

“I’ll make it easy,” I said, switching syringes.

“Tell me, and I’ll leave you unconscious for three days. Refuse, and I’ll blind you. It’s that simple.”

She spat again.

I’d moved positions, though, and it flew harmlessly over my shoulder.

“Have it your way, then,” I hissed.

I brought the syringe above her left eye, and pressed.

Phtttt.

The discharge was immediate.

She had tried to close her eye, but wasn’t in time.

Her cornea clouded over as the fungal extract concentrate went to work.

My hand was already over her mouth to stifle the scream that I knew was coming.

The eye slowly dissolved as the acid leached into the membrane.

“One down and one to go,” I said dispassionately. “Your choice.”

She nodded weakly.

“Then talk,” I snapped.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++

She told me everything.

When she had finished, I said:

“Thanks. That was smart of you. I’m going to fulfil my part of the bargain. So you will be unconscious for three days or so.”

She nodded.

I changed syringes again, and gave her an injection.

She drifted off.

I opened a small vial, and carefully positioned it over her empty eye socket, and tipped it up.

The tiny mindworm larva wriggled just once, as if to say thank you, as it burrowed into her brain.

“Rest in peace, Marlo,” I whispered.



[This message has been edited by Rynn (edited November 13, 1999).]

[Googlie]

“It’s Einstein. It’s a go.”

Commander Chuli and her Weapons Officer, Lieutenant Commander Pang ran toward their Penetrator. The armourers were already scurrying around it loading their ordnance, and Sing, their mechanic, had the new fusion engines warming up.

Across the airfield the whole wing was in motion.

As they got to the plane, Sing handed each a small packet.

“What’s this?” Chulki asked.

“In case you get shot down,” he replied.

“What is it? A new kind of homing beacon transmitter?” she asked, examining the small red capsule inside the packet.

“No, Ma’am’, Sing replied, his face grave. “It’s a suicide pill.”

“Whatever for?” asked Pang. “It’s the Morganites we’re fighting. Not some cannibal tribe. Why would we need a suicide pill?”

“Because you are dropping nerve gas,” Sing replied. “You won’t want to be alive if you’re captured.”

Chuli and Pang looked at each other.

“Bloody hell,” Pang said.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Seng Hsui hoisted his missile launcher over his head and waded upstream against the current, bracing himself to keep his feet as he climbed the sections where the waterfall poured over the hillside.

Around him the other members of the Deaths Head Brigade swarmed up the river bed. They were falling behind, Seng knew. And in an operation of this nature timing was everything.

A ragtag army of cooks and bottle washers had donned uniforms and were trying to look like an army as they moved up the road to where the tunnel bombs had severed it. The intent was to draw the defenders’ attention while the marine corps moved up on a parallel path on the river bed.

“About the only thing remotely ‘marine-like’ about this is the cascade of water’, Seng thought ironically as he ploughed forward. Being the son of the second most powerful official in the Hive conferred no benefit. He was still a grunt.

He looked over to his left, and was relieved to see the huge hydroponoic domes of the farm come into view. About this point the river came from the right, down a shallower incline, but now they could get back on dry land, as they had passed the ruined road and the hastily erected Morgan fortifications.

They could expect to come under fire any time now, unless the pens had done their work. He had heard them constantly for the past few hours.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The advantages that elevation gave Morgan Bank were indeed awesome, as evidenced by the might arrays of echelon mirrors and solar collectors.

Bank itself sat on an almost 1500 meter peak, surrounded by solar generating and collecting stations just slightly lower in elevation. With its population of just over1.2 million and its energy generation totaling 133, magnified by its engineering corps and its energy bank to total 193 energy credits every year, the single base was generating more than the whole Hive economy.

Its disadvantage was that with its elevation, and without look-down radar, aircraft breasting the summit of the hills to the south were on the city before defenders had time to react.

And they were using stand-off missiles.

Chuli brought the huge Penetrator from behind the banks of echelon mirrors, suddenly limned against the evening sky, but blinding to anyone in the base who was looking south east. The setting suns were dazzling in their reflections from the mirrors rendering her flight of pens almost invisible.

“Hold that line…steady….gone” Pang announced in satisfaction.

The silvery-blue contrails of the four missiles could be seen arcing over the energy collectors towards the city. Unguided – there was no need. To the left and right of her could be seen the rest of the First Wing’s first wave of Penetrators, as they lazily turned for home.

High above them the EWACS penetrator picked up the tell-tale launches of the Morgan Interceptors. Metagenics had one flight, as had Transport, and both launched. Interestingly, nothing came from Industries or Ruby Ridge.

“Bogies airborne” the operator announced to the First Wing.

Jeff Maxwell stiffened in anticipation. His flight of Interceptors had the task of defending the Penetrators, and he was expecting to be facing both the older Morgan Fission Tacticals as well as the new Spartan Indigos. His flight was fission chaos interceptors, but he was flying the new prototype. A fusion shard interceptor.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Naomi was hurrying home from work when the sirens went. They’d lived for the past few weeks in the expectation that yang would attack – those first few days had been nerve wracking. Those with relatives further from the front line had left, but Naomi and Morris, her husband, had nowhere else to go.

Naomi worked the afternoons at the Energy Bank, and Morris was a scaler at the Tree Farm. Tonight was going to be their one evening out this week, and they were going to the Holotheater to see a new science fiction holovid called “The Caretakers”, about imaginary denizens of Chiron many years before who were returning to claim their planet back.

She looked up at the early evening sky and saw, before she heard, faint puffs of white, like fireworks going off in daytime. Then she heard the whoop, whoop, whoop of the explosives.

A sparse cloud of fine white ash descended, and Naomi clutched her breather more tightly to her mouth and started running for her Hab Complex.

She didn’t know why.

She just knew that she had to get home and indoors before that cloud touched down.

The building was within view.

She entered the grounds of the complex.

Almost there.

But she didn’t make it.

The ash descended around her, and she felt the flecks touch her skin. She brushed them off with her hand, then felt a tingling in her scalp.

She scratched her head in frustration as the ash began to cover her, then felt the pain in her hand.

She looked at it.

The skin on her fingers was lacerated in a thousand places and the blood was beginning to seep out of the tiny pinprick wounds.

She imagined – or was it imagination? – that she could feel the capillaries burst up her arms and was horrified when she looked to see that she was seeping blood from her arms as well.

And her strength was failing, but she was so close to home.

She saw Morris come out of the Complex rec room.

“MORRIS, NOOooo” she shouted.

He heard her, and came loping over, angrily brushing the ash from his torso.

Naomi was having difficulty breathing now, and was coughing up blood as she gasped for oxygen from the breather.

Morris reached her, and tried to lift her to carry her in, but looked puzzledly at the blood on her arms and hands.

Then he looked at his own, and was surprised to see the lacerations in his skin.

He looked up at the remnants of the cloud wafting down and, like Naomi before him, thought of daylight fireworks as he saw the puffs from the second wave, and heard the soft whoop, whoop, whoop of the explosions.

It was the last he heard.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Trooper Patterson was the first to realize the implications of what he was seeing.

“Chemical Missiles mirving,” he yelled. “Sarge – break out our chemical gear.”

“What gear?” Sarge asked. “We’ve got none here. We got some radiation suits – that’s all.”

“Anything. Even ponchos,” yelled Patterson. “Just keep the skin and the head covered. Issue the order.”

Sergeant Mendoza looked speculatively at Patterson. They were always joshing him about how much time he spent with the holovid goggles on, reliving some science fiction fantasy or other, but the kid was on to something. That man and woman had just erupted into blood covered corpses in front of the garrison’s eyes.

He jumped to it.

“Everybody covered from head to toe – no bare skin,” he commanded. “Their troops will be here soon.”

The squad rushed to collect what gear they could.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Seng halted his squad under the dome of a giant solar collector. Closeby was the hydroponic farm that shared the same acreage as the energy collector. They were on the outskirts of the city.

“Suit up,” he said.

They reached into their backpacks and pulled out their crudely fashioned chemprot suits.

Bulky, but serviceable.

Seng slapped the helmet on.

“Ready?” his muffled voice rang out.

“Roger,” came his squad’s equally muffled reply.

“Let’s go get’em, then,” he said.

The squad entered Morgan Bank from the SouthEast highway.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Angels ten, seventeen seventyseven, repeat angels ten seventeen seventyseven.”

“Roger, EWACS,” said Maxwell, as he looked at the map co-ordinates.

‘Coming in form the northeast, fairly low to get the low-flying Pens, he thought.’

“Got ‘em”. Pips, his weapons officer had them on their long range radar.

“Blue and red, switch to visual, follow me down,” he commanded as he put the nose of his interceptor down , letting Pips fend for himself for target acquisition.

The two flights followed him down.

Ground control must have alerted the Morgan flight of their presence, as Pips said:

“They’ve changed trajectory – coming to meet us.”

“Action stations,” he said to his flight.

“Launch detected,” came Pips’ laconic voice. “Must be missile fissions. We’re still out of our range. Activating CEMs.”

“Flight, pepare for counter electronic measures,” Maxwell told his wingmen. They’ve only got four apiece and at least a third have launched.

“I can engage at 16 klicks, you need at least eleven, so don’t fire when you see me do.

“EWACS, do you have a number?”

“Affirmative. Six. Signature all fission. Three from each base. They joined up three minutes ago. Six incoming your way, range 60 clicks.”

“Damn,” Pips said. “We should scatter. We’re blazing our IR signature halfway across the sky.”

“Can’t, said Maxwell. “They need us to guide them in until visual. It’s too fast for the EWACS to control an actual dogfight.”

KABOOM

A blinding flash to the right and the little interceptor bucked violently as the shock wave hit it.

“Mandela,” Maxwell yelled into the commlink. “Eject, eject.”

Spiralling past them was the hulk of the Interceptor, one wing completely sheared off, trailing a fireball of debris as it plummeted groundwards.

“Not a chance, Sir,” Pips said somberly. “No time to react.”

A series of Kabooms in the distance signaled the end of the other five missiles as the ECM defense performed as advertised.

“Targeting,’ said Pips.

The charged particle beam locked on to a Morgan Fissionjet.

Pips sat back – the whole weapons system was automatic, with manual override if necessary.

“Come on, damn you, fire,” he said through clenched teeth. They could see the tiny silhouette of the Morgan plane in the distance.

Pips fingers hovered over the controls.

Maxwell felt the discharge, as did Pips, registering on their consciousness as though a wave of nausea had washed over them.

The Morgan Fissionjet disappeared.

“Shit,” said Maxwell. “What is Plasma Shard anyway?”

“Dunno the details, but it’s a mass/energy shell we fire. I guess we just converted the mass of the needlejet into pure energy – no explosion. Nothing.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++

From the ground, Seng could see the fight unfolding above him. Of course he had no way of telling which exploding aircraft were Hive or which were Morgan.

But it did keep the interceptors away from the pens.

And they needed the Penetrators to keep on coming.

His squad was pinned down just inside the city. He’d been approaching the massive complex of the research hospital when his squad had come under fire. And they were good. Rarely showing themselves as they moved from building to building, just stopping long enough to unleash a volley and then move on.

They were simple garrison troops, but were well trained. His missile squad, with their ground unit tactical missiles, relied, as did the Morgan aircraft, on the IR signature of the enemy. And these Morgan garrison troops were good at leaving their signature in places they no linger were when Seng’s unit fired.

They seemed impervious to the chemical ash, so Seng surmised that they must be protected.

“I’m calling in a strike,” he said to his squad. “We should have secured the Energy Bank by now and we’re holed up here.”

He flicked his commlink on.

“Deaths Head Alpha, we’re pinned down. Any chance of an aerial?” he asked.

“EWACS here. We have two incoming. Any chance of a signature?”

“What? I don’t understand”

“Have you laser painting capability?”

“Oh. Sure. When?”

“Now would be good.”

“Cover me,” said Seng as he unhitched his laser rifle. He set the beam to wide, and wriggled forward until he had the side of the hospital building in sight, and fired, keeping his finger on the trigger.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++

“Got it,” said Pang laconically as he picked up the paint.

“Activating”

“Gone”

Chuli banked the Pen away and headed back on course for Morgan Metagenics, where her mission was to distract the Morgan defenders into thinking there was a simultaneous attack imminent there.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++

Seng never actually saw the cruise missile hit, but heard it momentarily before the west wing of the research hospital collapsed under the explosion.

Within seconds he was on his feet and sprinting towards the debris.

There were no survivors.

They moved on to the Bank Tower.

He glanced up at the sky and gave a silent thanks to the penetrator crew whose plane he had never seen.

And noted that the dogfight had finished, and that there did seem to be a winner, in that a flight of three, one of whom was trailing smoke, came in low towards Communal Conquest.

As he approached the center of the base, he became increasingly horrified at scene unfolding before him.

Bodies strewn over the streets, yet buildings still intact, with weeping and angrily gesticulating inhabitants.

And the bodies. Covered in weeping lacerations, lying at awkwardly disjointed angles as they fought for their last breaths amid the capillary bursting pain of their final moments.

Pockets of sporadic resistance, as a lone trooper opened fire, or as a body jerked to life long enough to loose a volley at the advancing Hive troops.

But eventually the base was secured.

By the Deaths Head Brigade.

Aptly Named.

[Slats]

HIGH CHIRON ORBIT
ABOARD SPARTAN AEROSPACE VEHICLE ATLAS

From his console position on the command deck of the Atlas Forster watched the holoprojection of the spaceplane’s orbital trajectory as it rose to match tracks with the U.N.S Redemption. Forster looked at the spaceplane’s pilot, Kelso, who was hard at work, plotting the complicated docking manoeuvres. Kelso looked up for a moment:

“Two minutes”, he said.

Forster nodded and tapped his wrist comm, opening a channel to his new crew seated on the mission deck, one compartment below.

“Captain to crew, if you’d like to unbuckle and come up here, we’ll have a visual on the Redemption shortly”.

He leaned back and forced himself to relax as one by one his crew drifted onto the bridge, uniform in their powder blue UN jumpsuits. They hovered about the deck, gripping various handholds, watching the forward viewport as the heat shield outside retracted back to reveal the glittering emptiness of space. Then, from the top of the viewport, the Redemption drifted into sight.

Now complete the Redemption existed as a long scaffold like spine with a drum-like cylinder topping one end, this is the command and living section. Attached to the middle of the spine were utility modules holding mission specific equipment and secondary systems. Adorned like beads were spherical fuel and coolant tanks. The opposite end of the spine held four pulse engines and like shark fins, curved vanes protruded smoothly, moving damaging heat energy away from the engines themselves.

The two vessels were now falling parallel beside each other. Then the Atlas turned so that it pointed towards the larger ship and begin to nudge towards it, still falling with alongside, thrusters neatly ejecting squirts of mass. The Atlas’s nose cone peeled back to reveal a previously hidden nose airlock, useful for head on docking to a target.

“Docking programs activated, beginning approach now”, said Kelso softly.

Up ahead, the ever growing image of the Redemption grew closer and was now swivelling on it’s vertical axis. Having confirmed the identification of the Atlasas a Spartan vessel, the Redemption’s onboard computer was adjusting the ship’s position to enable easier docking. The Redemption’s spin eased, then stopped. A circular black apparatus on the bottom of the command/living section slowly halted in front of the Atlas’s nose airlock.

Kelso’s brow furrowed as he inched the spaceplane closer. He visibly relaxed when the apparatus of the Redemption’s universal docking collar reached out and grabbed the Atlas by the nose, a central shaft injecting outwards from the collar, snapping itself onto the airlock.

Kelso turned around in his seat to face them all and grinned. No need for words at this point.

A round of handshakes and hugs as well as loading personal effects and equipment through the airlock occupied the next few minutes. Eventually they all stood in the Redemption’s airlock chamber, facing a slightly saddened Kelso through the hatchway, with shouts of goodbye and luck, the big airlock door rotated closed and locked shut.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Two hours of inspection and checklists later and the crew assembles, all stripped naked, in the white, clean and starkly lit hibernation chamber. The very core of the command section. The Atlas has long since left, diving back towards Chiron, aiming to pick up the construction crews from the hydroponics satellite before returning back to Communal Nexus.

The crew cannot stay awake and active for their journey to meet with the Unity, the Redemption will accelerate to nearly 0.4 of lightspeed, and at times endure terrible stress and g-force as it speeds up and then decelerates. Even the mindworm, Ehm, has been placed in a cryocell and rests peacefully, unmoving.

As one, they lower themselves into their own cryocells, nodding or whispering final goodbye’s to each other, the drowsiness of the newly administered cryogenic serum setting in. As his cell closes and cold mist swirls up to cover him, Forster cannot shake the feeling that the cryocells feel oddly like coffins…

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hundreds of kilometers below, night has fallen over a portion of Chiron and many eyes and instruments watch the long, blue, comet-like tail of thrust from the departing craft gradually fade away into the starry sky.

[Googlie]

Colonel Corazon Santiago rose to speak, and the Junta officers around the conference table subsided after the commotion that had greeted Ben miller’s departure.

“Fellow Officers,” she began, just as her commlink beeped.

“Excuse me,” she said, and activated the link.

The face of Mwabudike Morgan filled her small screen.

“Young lady, patch me through to the junta,” he said preromptarily.

“Why, of course,” she said sweetly, patching the link through to the huge screen on one wall.

“I believe that CEO Morgan would like to talk to you,” she said. Go ahead Mwabudike.

He was momentarily nonplussed by the familiarity being shown by this young upstart – probably a recently promoted captain at her first junta meeting – yes, that was it, and delegated to answer the commlink . He put the thought aside and launched into his prepared speech.

“Gentlemen. Pact Brothers – and Pact Sisters” with a deferential all inclusive nod to his audience… “Minutes ago I learned that Morgan Bank fell to the onslaught of the Monster Yang and his minions. Through the use of nervegas and chemical weapons that decimated fully half of the population there.”

A gasp went up around the room.

“But there’s more. We scrambled our entire Air Force to defend the city, and were decimated. Two flights of three fission needlejets each. Utterly destroyed. We did inflict some damage on his airforce, but it was insufficient to stem his advance.

“And I’ve still to give you the worst news.”

The murmuring in the council chamber ceased. What could be worse?

“Morgan Bank was the jewel in our economic crown. Fully half of our energy reserves were flowing through there. Yang has successfully tapped into these and has availed himself of over 600 credits.”

The murmuring reached a crescendo…

“Good God, man …
“Holy mackerel…It would mean that…
“We’re doomed, within days…

“Exactly,” Morgan said. Within days he’ll have re-equipped every trooper and every needlejet with shard weaponry. He’ll be unstoppable.”

The hubbub was loud and sustained .

Suddenly a shot rang out.

An old, percussion projectile weapon shot.

The bullet ricoched harmlessly before embedding itself in the wall.

All eyes turned to the man holding the gun with a wisp of smoke emerging from the barrel.

Xavier Bisset said:

“Gentlemen, CEO Morgan. The Colonel would like to speak.

“Thank you, Xavier,” Santiago said.

Morgan gasped, then blanched. Just how rude had he been? Yes, now he could see the resemblance, as a long forgotten memory returned. And he had heard rumours that she had been his guest in the rejuvenation tanks.

He listened.

“CEO Morgan, Fellow Officers of the Spartan Federation Junta. There is a way to stop him. And we are indebted to Air Marshal Miller for pointing it out to us.

“We must use the ultimate sanction.

“Tactical nuclear weapons.”

A gasp went up.

“”I know that you were discussing that very possibility. I shall convene council and request that the UN Charter be temporarily repealed. CEO Morgan, do I have your vote on this?”

Every eye turned to the screen.

“Absolutely, my dear Colonel. And may I say what a pleasure – and a relief – it is to have you back at the helm.”

Colonel Santiago picked up her commlink and dialed the other faction leaders.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +

“Deirdre here. Ah, yes. Corrie. You always were rather ravishing when you were younger. I approve. Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize we had company. Good evening Mwabudike. And members of the Junta, too, I see. I don’t see Scotty there – he is well, I hope? But excuse me for prattling on like this – it’s been a long day here – oh, and CEO Morgan, my condolences – I just heard that Morgan Bank has fallen to the evil Yang. He must be stopped. How can I help?”

“Immeasurably,” cut in Santiago. ‘Is this what happens when you let yourself get old and run down,’ she thought to herself. ‘I must talk to Deirdre about going into the rejuv tanks.’

“If you can stay commlinked, I’ll patch in the other faction leaders. I’m calling an emergency Council meeting to propose the temporary suspension of the UN Charter.”

“Oh, isn’t that a bit rash?” Deirdre asked. “That would just give legitimacy to Yang’s nervegas attacks.”

“But it would also legitimize our use of tactical nukes,” Santiago answered. “Can I count on your vote?”

“Corrie, Mwabudike, much as I would like to, I cannot condone the further despoiling of planet. Nuclear weapons could significantly alter the delicate ecological balance we have within Planet right now. I am afraid I will have to oppose.”

“I’m disappointed, Dee. I hope you will change your mind at the actual voting.

“I’ll hook up the other two now.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Colonel, I must protest. It is well into the middle of the night here at UN Headquarters – or pehaps you had forgotten the time differential during your long absence?”

“Pravin, I’m sorry, but this is an emergency, and I am using the authority vested in me as Planetary Governor to convene this emergency meeting of the Planetary Council. Please stay on your commlink. The others are all here, with the exception of the Chairman, whom I will call now.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Colonel. To what do I owe the pleasure? You are surely not calling me to congratulate me on my successful conquest of Morgan Bank, now, are you?”

“No, Mr Chairman, I am not. I am using the authority vested in me as Planetary Governor to convene this emergency meeting of the Planetary Council.

“The full council is now present.

“The motion is before this Council that we repeal the provisions of the U.N. charter until further notice.

“How do you vote?

“Lady Deirdre?”

“I am utterly opposed to its repeal. If we cannot live together under the principles of the Charter then we have betrayed humankind’s trust in us. I vote NAY.”

“CEO Morgan?”

“The time has come for drastic measures. I vote YEA.”

“Commissioner Lal?”

“Lady Deirdre, your love for Planet is well known, and I am gratified to hear you espouse the ideals of the Charter so emphatically. My hat is off to you. Colonel Santiago, esteemed Planetary Governor, I vote NAY.”

“Chairman Yang?”

“I vote YEA. But, be warned that I have developed an ultimate weapon oflast resort--the PLANET BUSTER!”

“So we have two YEA’s and two NAY’s. I have the deciding vote.

“I vote YEA.

“The United Nations Charter is hereby repealed until further notice.

“Council dismissed.”

The commlinks snapped off with an awful finality.

[Googlie]

Lady Deirdre turned back from the commlink, deeply troubled.

This could kill Planet. Tactical nuclear weapons unleashed on the Hive, and undoubtedly Yang would strike back with his PlanetBusters – how many exactly did he have?

And what an apt name. That’s exactly what they would do. Bust Planet.

Oh Voice, what are we to do? We earthbeings have brought with us all our old petty ways. Have we learned nothing over the centuries? Is this what we are coming to? Having destroyed one Planet, Earth, are we about to destroy another, Chiron? Is this humankind’s legacy to the infinty? Planetbusters?

Then she heard it. Softly, at first, like an evening’s breeze through the leaves and branches of the old majestic pine she sat under when first they arrived on Planet.

Then she was aware of the rhythm to the rustling, the muted note that kept repeating, hauntingly, eerily, impinging on her consciousness and driving through her being until her very bones resonated with tone.

earthdeirdre…earthdeirdre…music make we…..you like earthdeirdre?

Deirdre sobbed.

This Planet was sentient.

And we were slowly strangling it.

The final blow was about to fall.

Another nuclear winter.

And PlanetVoice was asking her if she liked its music.

Such naivety.

Such childish innocence.

Delighting in its newfound sentience, and asking humans if we liked its music while we were plotting to rip its heart asunder and poison its atmosphere.

PlanetVoice was singing to her.

She listened.

And as she listened, the haunting notes floated through her, calming her spirit and easing her mind, reaching to her very soul, and giving her the vision that she needed. Showing her just what she had to do.


[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited November 13, 1999).]

[Rynn]

Shauna had watched the launch from the viewing ports at the Aerospace Center.

She was envious.

To be among the stars.

Away from this sordid mess that Planet had become.

Reliving the dream of humanity those many years ago – “reach for the stars.”

To start a new life with the new life inside her.

Instead of starting an old life in the past.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++

Mommy, when will Daddy be back.

Sshhh Pet, Daddy’s not coming back.

Why not?

Daddy doesn’t belong with us. Don’t cry, Shauna, there’s a good girl.

But I want Daddy back.

You’re too young to understand, Pet.

Mommy, I want to understand.

You’re only six.

So where’s Daddy gone? I want to go with him.

Shauna, come here Pet.

Daddy is not one of us. He doesn’t have it in his heart to believe in our Saviour. Sister Miriam has talked to him, and his heart and mind are closed to the Redeemer. So he can’t continue to live here any more. He would be a bad influence on you – might cause you to question your faith – my faith even. It’s too great a risk. So Sister Miriam asked him to leave – to go to another base. I don’t know where.

Mommy, don’t you love Daddy any more?

Pet, I wish it were as simple as that. Of course I love Daddy, as you should. And he loves you too. But we have a greater love. The love of our Saviour for us, and ours for him. Daddy couldn’t share that, and he couldn’t compete. So he followed Sister Miriam’s advice, and left.

Mommy, will I ever see Daddy again?

I don’t know, Pet. I don’t know.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Shauna sat morosely in the little needlejet taking her and a few other passengers to The Leaders Horde.

There to be reunited with a man she hadn’t seen for seventeen years, who had walked out on her, and whom Sand said was going to live with her as her father and her child’s grandfather for the next few years until her child had assimilated everything she could of this strange power Sand said her father possessed.

She was going to meet and live with a complete stranger.

Shauna slept, her mind racing.

As the needlejet raced across the continent to a rendezvous with a man who essentially was a stranger.



[This message has been edited by Rynn (edited November 14, 1999).]

[Googlie]

Pravin Lal was engaged in his morning rituals when his commlink beeped.

He ignored it, but it’s attention grabbing beep was insistent.

Frustratedly, he snapped out of his meditation and flicked it open. He was surprised to see the face of Lady Deirdre Skye staring dolefully at him.

‘My dear Lady, you look haggard,” he blurted out, immediately wanting to retract the ungallant statement but not thinking of a graceful was to extricate himself. Instead, he hurried on:

“But what can I do for you?”

“Pravin, we must stop this madness before it starts. We might have repealed the UN Charter temporarily, but that doesn’t condone throwing nukes at each other. You heard Yang’s boast about his PlanetBuster, and the Colonel has privately advised me that her Generals want the Charter suspended in order to deploy tactical nukes. Pravin, we cannot stand idly by and watch the wanton destruction of Planet nor lightly let the ideals we all subscribed to be wantonly destroyed by power-hungry Generals.”

“Indeed we cannot, Deirdre. And I say again how impressed I am at your strong belief in the Charter and in your regard for the eco-systems of Planet. My hat is off to you for your unwavering consistency in both these matters. But what would you have me do?”

“Pravin, I have given this great thought, and have communed with Planet. The likely targets of a nuclear strike would be the Hive itself, by the Spartans, and Sparta Command by Yang.

“We shall place human shields in both bases.”

“Deirdre, I couldn’t possibly ask any of my people to expose themselves in this way. They are….”

“Pravin, I’m not talking our people, I’m talking us. You and me. You must immediately fly to Sparta Command and me to the Human Hive where we shall place ourselves at the mercy of the respective faction leaders and dare them to commit atrocities against us.

“I will truce with Chairman Yang before departing, and shall let Corazon and Mwabudike know that and also that I am going there, and you must do the same with Chairman yang – let him know that you are in Sparta Command.

“If they continue with their nuclear madness, then our respective peoples must Vendetta against the guilty parties.

“And you and I must swear a pact, Pravin. It is the only way.”

“Deirdre, that is rather drastic, is it not?”

“Drastic it may be, Pravin, but these times call for drastic responses. I owe Corazon much, from the early days, but this time she has gone too far. Last night, Pravin, Planet sang to me. In its innocence, barely sentient, but learning from us.. Pravin, it sang. And we are going to turn it into a nuclear waste. There is drastic and then there is drastic, my dear Pravin, and putting ourselves in the way of danger to save Planet and to uphold the sanctity of the UN Charter can hardly be called drastic, now can it?”

“Well, Deirdre, put that way…”

“What other way is there? Are we together on this?”

“Yes. I’ll do it”

“Then, Commissioner Lal, I formally greet you as a Pact Brother. Long may our friendship endure and may it be to the lasting benefit of Planet and lead to the imminent restoration of the United Nations Charter.”

“And I you, Pact Sister Deirdre. I will leave for Sparta Command within the hour.

“What say you meanwhile that we affirm this pact with an exchange of technologies?”

“And what did you have in mind?”

“You have recently been gifted by the Spartans with the secrets to Fusion Power. Upload your data to us and we will reciprocate with the secrets to monopole magnetism.”

“That seems reasonable. I have given the signal to our research team to commence uplink now.”

“Splendid. I have likewise so ordered our scientists to commence transmitting now.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++++++++

Chairman Sheng-Ji Yang was awakened from his slumber by his aide, handing him his commlink:

“It’s the Lady Deirdre Skye, Mr. Chairman. She was quite insistent she talk to you.”

“Oh, very well.

“Lady Skye. I see that your faction is now a force to be reckoned with, and perhaps I was wrong to so hastily dismiss you. Your empathy with Planet is legendary, as is the army of mindworms you have accumulated. This Vendetta is draining for both our factions, do you not agree? I propose that we sign a truce and save further destruction of both our peoples.”

“A splendid sentiment, Chairman Yang, and one with which I heartily concur. That in fact is the reason for my call. I am on my way as we speak to meet with you in the Hive itself – in fact I should even now be visible to your radar operatives as I approach. I would like to parlay with you in person before this planetary war escalates into a nuclear war. My Pact Brother, Commissioner Lal is even now en route to Sparta Command to meet with Colonel Santiago to try and talk similar sense into her.”

“Your Pact Brother, you say? Since when have the Stepdaughters of Gaia been pacted with the Peacekeepers?”

“Since this morning. Our Generals are even now exchanging co-ordinates and preparing for joint exercises of our respective militaries.”

“Lady Skye, my aide informs me that you have indeed been detected on our radar. Make your approach and I will have you met at the Aerospace Complex.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Colonel Santiago, It’s Commissioner Lal. He demands to speak to you in person.”

“Oh, the old gasbag. Wants to prattle on some more about his precious charter I’ll bet, then he’ll take his hat off to someone. What a pile of cliches he can spout when he has a mind.”

“Colonel, please…”

“Oh, very well. Give me him.

“Commissioner Lal, what a pleasure. And while I have you let me express my concern about your apparent expansion on the continent we claim as the Spartan Federation. My satellite overflights indicate that you are about to establish three more bases at the eastern end of my continent in addition to the two you already have. Be advised that I will not tolerate violation of our territory, so make your expansion plans accordingly.

“So what do you have to say for yourself, Commissioner Lal?”

“My dear Colonel. I am on my way to meet with you in person to discuss this very matter. And to see if I can prevail on you to refrain from deploying nuclear weapons against the Hive. I have advised Chairman Yang that I am visiting you in Sparta Command, and my Pact Sister, Lady Deirdre Skye will by now be meeting face to face with Chairman Yang himself in the Hive.

“Your deep penetration radar should have picked up my needlejet – I am just approaching the mine above Janissary Rock. I should be in Sparta Command within the hour.”

“Hmmm. You and Deirdre have pacted, eh? Well I welcome that, Pravin. It means that you will now join us in our war against Yang?”

“No, I will not be doing that, Colonel. Not unless he unleashes his nuclear PlanetBusters, notwithstanding the repeal of the Charter. I still cannot believe that you did not use your power as Planetary Governor to veto the proposal. You do not serve us well, Colonel.”

“You cannot mean, Pravin, that you will stand idly by while the monster Yang tortures your Pact Sister?”

“Oh, he won’t do that, I think. The Human Hive and The Stepdaughters of Gaia have just declared truce. They have much to discuss.”

“Hmmm. I see,” Was the Colonel’s response.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++++++++

CEO Morgan was furious.

An aide had just brought him an intercepted message, in plain English, not even encrypted, that the Human Hive and the Stepdaughters of Gaia had declared Truce, and that Lady Deirdre Skye was meeting in person with Chairman Yang.

Further, that Deirdre and Lal had signed a pact of Brotherhood/Sisterhood, and that Lal was at this moment just minutes away from landing at Sparta Command to talk with Santiago.

Why was he always the last to know anything?

Mwabudike. We haven’t forgotten you. You will not feel Yang’s nuclear breath – it is directed at Corazon. That is why Pravin has gone there. And I have come to Sheng-Ji’s headquarters for the same reason. Neither Santiago nor Yang can afford a war against a foe that includes both the Gaian army and the Peacekeeper army. Planet has told me that they must not use nuclear weapons, regardless of the repeal of the Charter. I sense that you are a friend of Planet too, Mwabudike. Open your mind. Let Planet sing to you. Then tell me that you are prepared to condemn this infantile sentience to a nuclear winter.

Join us, Mwabudike. Isolate the Chairman and the Colonel. If the price is the return of our two Gaian bases to the Hive in exchange of the two Morgan bases back to you, it is a price I am willing to pay. The original Gaians are few, and are willing to relocate to my Place of Dreams in the northwest of the Emerald Isle.

Think this over, Mwabudike, for today is the reckoning

[Hydro]

Laborer’s Throng

“Sir, report just in from Morganland. Morgan Bank has fallen, and the Hive pilots were using nerve gas! And a new weapon that is almost twice as effective as our chaos guns!”

Captain Mel Cassaroni stood calmly in her makeshift command center in Laborer’s Throng. She was examining the holomap of the northeastern quarter of Yang’s empire. Or what remained of it. Of the eight cities in this quarter, five were in allied hands: Worker’s Nest/Gaia’s Landing and Hole of Aspiration/Nessus Shining had been returned to Gaian control, Paradise Swarming was controlled by Morgan forces, and Laborer’s Throng and Drone Mound were under firm Spartan Control. The remaining Hive cities were Manufacturing Warrens, Deep Passage, and The Hive itself.

With the exception of the almost suicide attack by the obsolete gas rovers at the bunker by Drone Mound, there had been no Spartan losses and little damage. Slat’s flyers had pasted the defense of Drone Mound and the Lightning Strike rovers had just walzed in.

Mel’s brow furrowed. Yang was apparently prepared to pull all the stops. He now had superior weapons with the acquisition of fusion power and his new shard weapons. All he needed was time. And Yang had undoubtedly taken a huge windfall of credits from Morgan with the fall of Morgan Bank.

She also realized that attack was now infinitely better than relying on defense. A credible defense against missile weapons was probably, chaos weapons possible, but against shard weapons it was impossible.

Her eyes drifted to the bunker between Laborer’s Throng and Manufacturing Warrens, then to Deep Passage and The Hive.

“Tacs, what intelligence do we have on Warrens, Passage, and Hive?”

Lieutenant Griggs stepped forward into the holo light, which illuminated the front of his face. The only other present as the Ops officer, who went only by the code name Raven. “No significant change since several days ago. Warrens has a new fusion plasma garrison, the old garrison, and an old style interceptor. Passage has the same. An extra garrison has shown up at The Hive. It seems most of the remaining Hive cities are retooling for their new weaponry in the form of penetrators and interceptors. Their new units will be ready within weeks, sir.”

“Well then, that ties it. It is now or never. Have the rest of Lightning Strike and Amphib secured the bunker between Throng and Warrens?”

“Yes, sir. There was no opposition. It seems their heavy guns were stripped for their operations against Morgan.”

“So, our assets are four armor brigades, two elite infantry, and one elite armor. And 3 upgraded Aardvark chaos fusion pens. Are any of Slat’s interceptors available?”

“Affirmative, sir. We may have to beg, though,” Griggs replied with a grin. Mel grinned back at him. Of all the new blood Spartan officers, Ben ‘Slats’ Miller was seemingly the most clear-headed of the bunch. He would do what had to be done, as long as it made sense. In short, he could be trusted, if not counted on.

“Very well, then. I will place a call to Slats. We have to take out the interceptor at Warrens, then the Aardies will take out the rest. Warrens and Passage don’t have an aerospace complex that is worth anything, so for now our attack will be easy. Like Drone’s Mound, we will be able to walk in. The Hive does have an aerospace complex. Then, however, we will have a problem.”

Mel pointed toward Deep Passage, which lay within a stone’s throw of Warrens, and The Hive, which was twice again as far away.

“Our firepower is becoming dangerously thin. We will have to rely on Morgan reinforcements, now that the Gaians have truced with Yang. Have we had any yet?”

Griggs made a sour face, which was accentuated by the holo lighting to look like deep furrows in his brow and near his mouth. “We’ve heard nothing from the Morganites at Swarming. They’re apparently having drone riot problems, and don’t have any assets worth mentioning anyway. The Gaians have a half dozen really big mindworms, but they are all staying put, apparently.”

“We can’t wait. Gentlemen, Manufacturing Warrens will ours within the day. The next stop is Deep Passage and The Hive!”

*****

The Raven left the meeting alone. Tall and dark, he walked with an inconspicuous grace. Although he had contributed nothing, he had also gleaned nothing. He had merely confirmed his assessment of the tactical situation, and the threat to Spartan security.

In the rush to attack the security of the operations were being given short shrift. This was nothing new, but it was tiring. Tactics and firepower may overwhelm an opponent, but they could be turned against you with a well-placed enemy spy. Morgan had proven that so well in his co-opting of four Hive cities.

Raven’s two Ops teams were now separated; one at Drone Mound and the other with Amphib on the way to Warrens. In short order they would be spread far too thin. It was time to call in some favors from some more than willing friends. He and his associates at Morgan Industries had frequently matched wits but respected each other professionally. He knew of two teams at Swarming. He was sure they would be happy to help secure Spartan holdings, if for no other reason than it would assure their safety.

But beyond security there was opportunity. New cities, enemy cities, had venues for secrets, if only there were those who could ferret them out.

The Raven was known for being able to pick through the glitter to reach the gem. And in this case, the gem was technology.

Hive technology.

[Hydro]

Bunker Near Manufacturing Warrens

“Recharge complete, sir. Orders are confirmed. It’s a go!”

The captain simply nodded to acknowledge his comm officer’s pronouncement. As commander of the combined Amphib and Lightning Strike detachment he had no doubt of his ability, or those of the Amphib. Strike men and women also had a good reputation: well trained, disciplined, loyal. But none of them were brilliant.

His forces were. He led the Elites. The only other Elites were the 469th Airborne, and they had duty elsewhere.

Picking up his headset, he opened a channel.

“Amphib Rover 1 to detachment. I just received an update confirming the use of nerve gas by Hive forces against elements of Lightning Strike near Drone Mound, and the slaughter of almost 50,000 Morgan civilians by the use of nerve gas during the attack and capture of Morgan Bank by the Hive. We have the opportunity to right these wrongs, and punish the Mad Chairman for his folly.

By the authority invested in me by Coronal Santiago and the Spartan Corps, I hereby name this detachment Retribution in honor of those Spartans solders and Morgan citizens who have died in these attacks.

Honor demands that they be avenged! And Retribution is an apt name!

Onward to victory!”

*****

Over fifty rovers from five brigades poured out the plasmasteel-reinforced bunker, and the power-assisted mech infantry followed them. Strangely, the two infantry brigades were able to easily keep up, and the solders of the infantry seemed to be floating in mid air on their personal air jump skids. Arrayed between the hundreds of men and women of the Amphib Elites were the great Chaos guns, which were designed for breaching fortifications. It, too, floated above the ground.

The wave of Spartans leapt south toward Manufacturing Warrens, which could be seen in the distance. It was a low mound, and was only discernable by the small forest of sensor arrays and low plasticrete domes that pierced the surface.

Gradually, a low rumble built up. It quickly waxed to a roar, and four Spartan aircraft streaked south toward Manufacturing Warrens. In moments they had become dots, with a smaller aircraft taking the lead.

In the distance another dot could be seen rising from the low mound that was Manufacturing Warrens. It seemed to climb with desperate haste. The three larger Spartan needles, Aardvarks recently refitted as fusion chaos bombers, peeled away to let the smaller interceptor do it’s work. The two little dots met and performed an intricate dance of death. Faster and more maneuverable, the Spartan interceptor pulled a short outside loop and charged straight at the now exposed belly of the Hive interceptor. The Spartan chaos guns let rip, sundering the air with blossoms of light, heat and force. From the bedlam the Hive interceptor emerged, but it was trailing black smoke. Going into evasive, it fired its missiles forward. These immediately pulled a U-turn and angled back for the Spartan interceptor. Thrown off balance, the Spartan interceptor pulled away, and spraying gattling defensive fire at the homing missiles. Some missile proximity detonated, hulling the Spartan craft.

However, the Hive interceptor continued to lose altitude and stopped evasive maneuvers as the stream of black smoke increased. With the last of the Hive missiles eliminated, the Spartan craft banked and homed in on the crippled Hive aircraft. A short burst of chaos fire blossomed in a sphere in front of the unresponsive Hive ship.

Trying to angle away, the sphere grew and the small aircraft entered. Nanoseconds later the chaos brightened, and a fan of pieces erupted out of the other side. These small chunks soon vanished as they arced to Planet surface.

The defender gone, the three Aardvark bombers formed up into a V and went into an attack run. Screaming in, the planes glowed with an iridescent aura as chaos energy was channeled through the useless stone and plasmasteel defenses of Manufacturing Warrens. The planes pulled off, and a series of low booms were heard, which rumbled through the rock to the atmosphere like an echo.

The bombers made another attack run, unleashing more chaos. This time one of the chaos spheres erupted at ground surface, spraying light, energy, and stone high into the air. Some of this debris struck the undercarriage of the attacking planes causing slight damage.

Undeterred and with no active defense the Aardvarks went into a third bombing run. This time the low booms were accompanied by the crack of sympathetic explosions in the subsurface. At Manufacturing Warrens, huge rents appeared in the ground, and these cracks widened to fissures. Areas hundreds of meters across fractured and formed a concave dome, indicating massive collapse and destruction.

Finally, the three bombers peeled away. Two executed belly rolls, indicating they were expended. The ‘spare’ Aardvark went into a holding pattern, just in case.

As the airshow ended the seven infantry and rover brigades of Retribution appeared over the ridge, traveling quickly along the former fused roads.

Ahead of them the great blast-hardened doors of Manufacturing Warrens were thrown open and thousands of Hive drones fled in panic, like ants in a stirred nest. There was collapse below! No air, and no way out for some!

When the Spartan rovers and infantry appeared the drones scattered to each side like leaves fleeing with the wind.

Taking no chances, the rovers fired chaos bursts at 1/100th power in their advance. Hundreds of the slow were pulverized, as were drone resisters and those behind makeshift barricades. No chances were being taken.

Mere flesh and bone can not stand up to chaos, and resistance melted away.

Within 30 minutes Manufacturing Warrens had fallen to the blitzkrieg.

Lightning had struck again.

[Hydro]

Private Communiqué

Ultra Encryption: code Theta-one
To: Coronal Santiago and the Spartan Junta
From: The Raven, Division Seven Operations Head
RE: Captured Hive Technology

With the liberation of the Hive colonies of Laborer’s Throng, Drone Mound, and most recently Manufacturing Warrens, my agents have been able to ‘acquire’ the following technical information, complete with documentation and specifications:

 Advanced Spaceflight Technology
 Organic Superlubrication Technology

These technologies are significant in that they are the keys to the new Hive shard weapons that have recently seen action, to the detriment of the Morgan Federation city of Morgan Bank.

We still have no idea how Yang was able to jump-start his research program to acquire these technologies. They were far in advance of anything The Human Hive should have reasonable been able have access to in the next decade. The only possibility is the use of one or more of the now very rare alien artifacts, which have been known to jump-start a research program by years or decades.

I strongly recommend that these technologies be used to prototype new weapons, and that consideration be given to giving some of the technologies to our allies in our fight against Yang.

I am also please to report that a total of 144 energy credits has been diverted from Hive coffers at these captured cities. These credits may prove useful in bolstering our prototyping efforts.

The Raven

[Rynn]

“Come this way,” said Angel. Kurt followed obediently.

“The group wants to meet you over dinner at seven,” she said, “but I have plans until then. I haven’t had any fun since I came out of rebuild and rehab.”

She led Kurt to her cubicle.

“Sit down,” she commanded, indicating a chair, and Kurt obeyed dutifully.

Angel pulled out her commlink and activated a control.

Suddenly Kurt was immobilized, held in electronic restraints that crimped his every movement. He stopped resisting, immediately deducing that it was futile, and sat compliantly, biding his time.

Angel carefully peeled off her gloves, and came over to him, and stood astride one thigh, then reached down to unclasp his fatigues. He let her.

She stripped him to his shorts, then stood back as if to admire her handiwork.

Then she undressed herself, slowly, tantalizingly, teasing him with her every movement.

Until she was naked in front of him, just like his imagination had played out a few scant minutes before.

Angel put her gloves back on, and came up to him.

“Mr. Sparta,” she said, “I’m now going to teach you not to meddle in affairs you shouldn’t.”

She reached down and undressed Kurt completely, teasing him as she did.

“Do you know the difference between pain and pleasure?” she asked.

Kurt nodded.

“Wrong,” Angel replied. “They are exactly the same. It is your mind that tricks you. You choose whether to interpret it as pain, or as pleasure. Watch, and choose.”

She toyed with him, and he relaxed, lying back under the electronic restraints and deciding to enjoy it.

Suddenly she raked the glove across his chest, the diamond shards cutting deeply into his flesh, tearing his skin and shearing off one nipple completely in a weal of blood.

He spasmed, and bellowed:

“Enough.”

“Angel laughed, and said “But Mr. Sparta, I’ve only just begun.”

“Like hell you have,” Kurt said. :Let’s see how you like your own medicine.”

He reached out rapidly with his mind, narrowing it to a single, focused beam, that unerringly found its target. He went into her mind, and gained control – she had no resistance. She stared at him, wide eyed.

Angel brought out her commlink, and released the electronic restraints.

She watched as Kurt wiped down the blood on his chest. She continued watching mutely as he padded over, naked, to another chair and sat down.

Turning to face him, she took off one glove, and started caressing herself, arousing herself.

Her nipples hardened.

She pulled the glove back on.

Kurt let her savour in advance the thought of what he was going to have her do.

“Noooo,” she wailed.

Implacably Kurt looked at her, and said stonily:

“As you give, so shall you receive.”

Angel’s eyes widened in horror.

“Not my breasts, please, not my breasts.”

Kurt looked on.

Her eyes revealing the pain, she raked the diamond flecked glove down over her right breast, disfiguring it, scarring it deeply, and likewise severing the nipple. The blood poured out of the lacerations in her flesh.

Angel was sobbing uncontrollably.

She sank to her knees on the floor, whimpering

Kurt released his hold.

Angel looked up at him from the floor.

“You bastard,” she said.

“For what,” Kurt asked amusedly. “For playing with your mind?”

Angel looked down at herself.

Her breast was untouched, the nipple whole.

No torn flesh, no scar, no blood.

And still aroused.

“From now on,” Kurt said, “you will do exactly as I say, You will serve me completely.

“And you’ll begin this servitude by finishing what you started.”

Angel did as she was commanded.

[Rynn]

>
[This message has been edited by Rynn (edited November 18, 1999).]

[Googlie]

The wind flapped the drapes against the side of the bed, wakening me up.

I got up and shut the patio door, and padded into the washroom to relieve myself, then returned to bed.

I was dozing when I heard the patio door blow open again, so I got up, closed and locked it. Hearing a sound from the washroom, I yelled:

“Stazi, is that you?”

“Wolfie, I’m here.”

Funny, I thought, I didn’t hear her get up. I fact, I couldn’t recall her being in the bed when I did get up to shut the door. Ah, well. I returned to bed.

She padded out of the washroom and came to bed, crawling on top of me.

“I’m glad you’re awake, Wolfie,” she said. “Wanna do it again?”

My reaction to her hand and mouth left both her and me in do doubt that I did.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++

We were lying lazily in bed planning the day’s activities.

“Let’s go climbing,” Stazi said. “There’s a huge mountain behind the base that’d be fun to climb. At the top, there’s a research weather station of sorts that has a fabulous view in all directions. Perhaps the resort could pack us a picnic lunch..”

That seemed like a plan, so I readily acquiesced.

The resort was happy to provide a lunch, and offered to drive us to the base of the mountain to commence our hike. We accepted the offer.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++

The path through the forest led uphill following the river as it dropped from the heights above us in a series of waterfalls.

Here the air was eminently breathable, slightly damp, with the fine spray from the waterfalls descending on us periodically to refresh us. But more importantly, to oxygenate us under the canopy of trees.

They were primarily firs, which seemed to have a strong affinity for Chiron’e soil and atmosphere. Temple of Sol had been the third base established by the Peacekeepers so the forest was mature now with the tallest firs being well over 100 years old

The coolness was welcoming as we climbed.

Temple lay at an altitude of almost 2500 feet above sea level, and our destination was the 8000 foot plateau of Mount Avishnu. We reckoned that the 5500 foot elevation would take us just over ten hours to clime solidly, but with breaks for rest, nourishment and generally to admire the unfolding scenery it would more likely encompass a six-hour night stopover as well.

Stazi was strangely silent during the early part of the climb, until I could stand it no more. This was not the bubbly, effervescent young woman I had been captivated with – rather she was somewhat withdrawn and morose.

During a rest break, I sat down on a fallen log, and pulled her down beside me.

“Stazi, what’s up?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” was her reply.

“You’re all moody and withdrawn. Not at all excited about this climb. It’s so unlike you. Unless, that is, there’s a side to you that I don’t know yet. Does climbing exert you? Too much oxygen here? What is it Sweetheart? Share.”

I looked at her expectantly.

She set her lip, and I could tell that this was not going to be easy.

I acted on a hunch.

“Stazi. If there is to be any “long-term” to our relationship, it has to be based on trust. Do you agree?”

She nodded.

“Well start by telling me what you were doing in the middle of the night.”

Her eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, and she paused:

“What exactly do you mean, Wolfie?” she asked.

“Well, let me tell you what I know, then you tell me.

“Last night, after we made love, I closed the balcony doors as it was getting cold with the onset of Chiron’s winter. About three in the morning I was awakened by the drapes flapping in the breeze. I got up to the washroom and again closed the doors. You were not in the bed when I returned. I dozed. Some time later the patio doors were again open, so again I got up and closed them. Then I heard you in the washroom.

“Just what is going on, Stazi?”

“Wolfie…I had a job to do. That woman will not bother you or us again.”

“Stazi. You…you killed her?”

“No, Wolfie. I left her unconscious. A mindworm will kill her.”

I shrank back in horror.

“Stazi, you’re playing with fire. A mindworm will kill more than just her. And how do you intend to attract a mindworm to Temnple anyway?”

“A baby one, Wolfie. A preserved larval mass. I brought it with me.”

I shuddered.

“So that’s why you are moody and withdrawn? Because you are responsible for someone’s death – or about to die?”

“No, Wolfie. Sit back and let me tell you. Here’s what I got out of her.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++++++++++++++++++++

“So we’re going to just walk right into the Avishnu testing center and confront Jacques?” I asked.

“Not exactly, although it might just work out that way,” she replied.

“But why are you taking it all so personally,” I asked. “It’s almost as if the PK Special Ops had targeted you and your family, by the way you’re reacting.”

“They are,” she replied. And then she floored me.

“My father, Gregor Zakharov, was the head of the University Special Operations, and was assassinated by Jacques himself while on a mission. But he had been quite a ladies’ man, and had once had a fling with a woman he’d left pregnant.

“Marlo Hollis was my mother.”

[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited November 18, 1999).]

[Hydro]

Morgan Industries

"Explain to me why Yang and his mindless minions were able to divert so much energy from us?" Morgan Senior asked in a perfectly level and cold voice. His fury was under better control now. It had simply been redirected - at his military and financial advisors.

Morgan's senior military analyst Maxwell Colrain relaxed a notch at the question. It was one he could answer.

"During the occupation of Morgan Bank, they were able to corrupt financial transfers, effecting a redirection of energy credits. They also were able to liquidate certain assets.."

"WRONG!" Morgan thundered. His eyes blazed. "They were able to divert more than half our reserves because we had it to be diverted! Did I or did I not order that the majority of available energy reserves to be used to crash build command and aerospace centers? And then garrisons, upgrades, and prototypes?"

His advisor squirmed a little. "Yes, sir, but we thought it would be prudent to conserve our capital so…"

"We thought?! Conserve!! When Yang had just taken Morgan Pharmaceuticals and had more than half of his airforce stationed in our territory you wanted to conserve energy? You blind idiot! That answer is unacceptable!"

The veins on Morgan's forehead throbbed. He was losing control again. Realizing this he closed his eyes and grasped the edge of his faux mahogany desk with both hands. He gripped it so hard that all the veins, tendons, and bones in his hands showed clearly through his skin.

Morgan took several deep breaths. The room was quiet except for his noisy rasps.

"I am about to give you a direct order. If you don't follow it I will have you executed to treason. Is that clear?" Morgan said with crystal clarity.

His advisor blanched. "Yes, sir."

"You are to spend all but 10% of our remaining reserves on military upgrades of existing units, then rush completion of those in production. All aircraft are to be refitted with chaos weapons and nerve gas. Attack rovers are to be refitted with nerve gas. All units are to receive fusion reactors. Ensure that all new units are trained. Defensive units are to have anti aircraft ability or ECM. A priority is to be placed on attack units, since with Yang's new shard weapons with nerve gas makes defense almost hopeless."

Morgan paused and opened his eyes. He looked up from his desk and directly into the eyes of his quaking advisor.

"Queries?"

"Sir, ah, if we use gas on Yang we will gas our own citizens in Pharma and Bank! The casualties will be catastrophic!"

Morgan nodded in assent. He was suddenly calmer, and almost grim. "I know. Many will die. But we can no longer fight a defensive war. If we do not eliminate a significant majority of Yang's forces before they can refit then we are lost."

"Yes, sir. Understood. Sir?"

"Yes, Colrain?"

"My mother-in-law lives in Bank. Or maybe she did live there. I don't know."

"I wish her the best." A pained look swept across Morgan Senior's face. "My son Nwabudike Junior is there, too."

Maxwell was stricken, suddenly realizing the importance of Morgan Senior's decision. He wasn't acting out of ruthlessness or thoughtlessness, or shear callousness or ambition.

Morgan Senior was acting out of fear.

And desperation.

[Hydro]

Morgan Industries

The aerospace complex at Morgan Industries was gleaming and lavish. Composite ceramic with synthcrystaline inlay formed the walls and ceilings, with the inlays illuminating the working areas without shadow. Aesthetically graceful decorative arches soared up 20 meters above the floor and then met in the center, creating an almost cathedral-like beauty. This center had been built prior to present hostilities, and new aerospace complexes were neither beautiful nor aesthetic. The first casualty in the Hive-Morgan war had not been Morgan Pharmaceuticals, but the indulgence of merging art and function. Now function ruled supreme. The new aerospace centers at Morgan Metagenics, Transport, Energy, Aerospace, and Hydrochemical were, in a word, crude by comparison.

This utilitarian function was also present in the unaesthetic forms that the aerospace hanger held. These forms were sleek, but not beautiful. Their presence might be awe inspiring, but not inspiring. At the center of the crystalline hanger lay three Morgan interceptors, two recently retrofitted and one brand new. They were fusion powered with chaos guns, and under their wings were nerve gas mirv missiles.

Six pilots walked somberly into the hall, their shoes clicking very softly on the cold ceramic floor. Each wore a muted grey uniform with muted yellow trim: the uniform of the Morgan Air Force.

Three sets of two pilots split off, each set going to a different interceptor. As they approached their charges, they slowed and touched the side of each plane. A small but functional ladder formed and then extended almost to the ground. Without a word the pilot and copilot pairs climbed up and into the cockpit. After their entry, the canopy closed.

After the last canopy closed a single voice was piped into each cabin.

"This is Air Marshal Shane Abrams. Your three flights will be coordinating two other flights from Metagenics and Energy. Your objective is simple: destroy the Hive airforce at Morgan Bank, starting with their interceptors. Currently, there are two interceptors in the air at Morgan Bank. Our interceptors got the third Hive interceptors on the way in, but Kail and Mali were overwhelmed and went down. The remaining Hive interceptors are an old fission missile and a new Hive shard fusion interceptor. Two nerve gas penetrators, both old fission missiles, are currently in the air around Bank.

Since all of you can do the math, the odds are that you won't destroy more than what is at Bank. Take out the two damaged interceptors first, especially the shard interceptor. Your chemical mirvs and your better training will even up the score. After the interceptors are gone take out the bombers.

Your nerve gas should give you an edge, especially against the old fission jets. Remember that you are equiped with nerve gas, and your objective is to eliminate the air force. Any attack on Bank will kill tens of thousands, so be careful.

Good luck. "

A lone figure with silver hair could be seen in the back of the hanger. He stopped talking into his mike and stood at attention. Then he saluted smartly to the interceptors as they powered up. Each of the pilots and copilots saluted their commander in return.

With trained precision the interceptors wheeled around. The great hanger door opened, revealing a dark grey and threatening sky. One by one they left the hanger and angled left out of sight.

The lone figure finally ended his salute after the interceptors were completely out of sight. As his arm went down to his side he let go with a ragged sigh.

Those men and women were the cream of the Morgan Federation air force. They were outnumbered and soon would be significantly outgunned by the Hive airforce. What they didn't take out now would soon be upgraded. It would then be turned to decimate their thinned ranks. One reserve interceptor was at Metagenics, the other here at Morgan Industries. Unless the Spartans could help, these seven interceptors would have to defend the Morgan Federation from Yang's growing air force.

Now even the roar of the fusion engines was dimming.

Shane turned back to his office to monitor their progress.

Chances were that Commander Shane Abrams would never see some in his command again.

*****

"Interceptor Delta 1 to wing, level off at 6,000 meters. Weather is a little too heavy up there for us. Spartan reports from the Weather Paradigm at Ruby Ridge Memorial show that we can expect severe downdrafts and wind shear above 7,000 feet. The front is advancing, but not fast enough to abort the mission. Squirting weather tactical to you now."

Captain Derek Winslow blink-activated his comm to access his computer feed and used his eye cursor to select, download, and send the data to his flight. Soon the two other interceptors would be forming up. Flying this low limited maneuverability, but the Hive pilots would be similarly limited. If they were lucky they would also be damaged or short on fuel, or both.

At least that is what Derek hoped.

Derek checked tactical. The holo appeared in his mind from its feed, showing representation of the circling Hive interceptors and penetrators circling Bank.

Derek grimaced. Those penetrators had been responsible for killing over half of the population of Morgan Bank. At least 50,000 people, all civilians, were dead - victims of nerve gas.

If anyone deserved to die for that unnecessary slaughter it was the crew of those Hive penetrators.

Derek's hatred was only tempered by his professionalism, which required that distractions such as raw emotion be muted so his mission could be fulfilled. Likewise he quelled his own misgivings about the payload he carried: chaos assisted mirv nerve gas missiles. These munitions were specifically designed to home and kill any unfortunate pilot. It was not a pleasant way to die, but then dieing was rarely pleasant.

Derek's mind cleared. At least he wasn't going to be using them on the hapless citizens of Bank. His targets were only on Yang's murderous bomber pilots. It was what they so richly deserved.

Still, a small portion of Derek's mind asked: what if I was ordered to attack Hive defenders in Bank? Could I do it, knowing that tens of thousands of Morgan Federation citizens would die? This dark thought caused a shiver to ripple through Derek's subconscious, where it stayed.

Shaking his head slightly to clear his mind, he checked over his virtual control panel of his interceptor. Everything was tagged, with auto zoom to instantly bring up detail displays on all plane functions. If he wanted he could even take a tour of the guts of his plane while it was in flight to diagnose and affect repairs, if necessary. Everything looked OK. Out of habit, be temporarily disengaged his helmet's emitter and visually checked the actual hardware of his cockpit. It was an old habit, and one that died hard. Derek didn't like trusting his holo emitter completely. But, all was in order. He looked up and reactivated.

He activated his comm to the others in his wing.

"Delta 1 to 2 and 4. Confirm rendezvous with Deltas 7 and 10 in 24 minutes. Intercept at Bank in 47 minutes. Delta 2 and 4, as our most experience pilots you are assigned to the shard interceptor. We will act as backup, as will Deltas 7 and 10. Priority targeting after the shard interceptor is down is as follows: damaged fission missile interceptor, then the two penetrator butchers.

If we take them all out, those that have the fuel return to Morgan Industries for backup. The rest, take up holding patters over roads to harass and block traffic to Industries.

Delta 1, out."

*****

Seng Hsui of Deaths Head Brigade and his squad were busy clearing out pockets of civilian resistance, by force if necessary. In reality there wasn't much resistance. Most of the population was simply too stunned and terrified to do more than stare vacantly and get in the way. Still, standing orders were that those who refused to obey orders, and obey instantly, were to be shot.

Shots rang out all over through the rubble of Morgan Bank, once the finest research facility on Planet. Now it was a non-functional city of slack-faced refugees.

Seng secured his breather, cycled the airlock of the hab complex, and walked outside. Low storm clouds were billowing in from the north, with very distant flashes like thunder and lightning.

Privately, Seng hoped for rain. It might wash away some of the stench of death and blood away. Bodies, twisted in agony of their final moments, still littered the streets.

A series of low booms, like thunder, washed over the streets. Seng looked up, and was surprised to see a squadron of aircraft approaching from the north.

That could only mean one thing.

Counterattack.

Seng activated his comm.

"Hsui to command! Four, no five, incoming aircraft from the north! Coming from the general direction of Morgan Indust…"

It was clear that his warning was unnecessary, for the interceptors in a holding pattern around Bank were already responding to the new threat.

All were traveling fast, and in moments there were a series of titanic energy discharges.

The sky darkened as the storm from the north approached. Within the Hive-controlled city of Morgan Bank, however, there was no darkness. Blossoms of chaos and shard energy brightened the sky.

It would have been beautiful if it weren't so deadly.

*****

"Delta 2, banking toward Hive interceptors. Sensor data indicates the nearest one is the shard interceptor, with the fission missile interceptor hanging slightly back. The bombers are angling away. Moving to engage."

Visually toggling off the audio, Carol edged her interceptor into a theta gig, an invention of hers for evading enemy fire. It was partially random to foil hostile targeting computers, and in training it worked every time.

"Sean, that is one big-ass gun on that interceptor. Can you get a bead on him?"

"I could get a better bead if you didn't keep weaving all over the place! You did go through detox after your last pleasure trip to Metagenics, didn't you? Try to keep it steady for more than a nano second, would 'ya? But, yah, its big. I'll do some prox fire to soften him up a little. A few chaos globes with gas mirvs should get his attention!"

"Fine, stop your jabber and just do it. "

"Party pooper. OK. Just pinged him. Acquisition complete. Firing."

The cockpit sang with the release of energy, and a globe of blue blossomed with 200 meters from the advancing Hive interceptor. It veered off a little, avoiding the expanding globe.

"Hehehe! That got his attention! Closer, my child, I have a treat for you! Want a taste? Do you like candy? How about…..THIS!"

Another globe appeared, this time directly in front of the interceptor. It couldn't avoid it this time, and the wave of energy expanded and enveloped the left wing. Something activated, and the energy arced off, throwing the Hive interceptor west and off course. Its left wing was scorched but apparently intact.

"Sean, he's on an attack run! I'm pulling off in 5 seconds, mark!"

"Mirvs going now!"

A pair of missiles arced from the undercarriage of the interceptor, streaking toward the now very bright EM signature of the Hive shard interceptor.

Ominously, the front of the interceptor was glowing orange and pulsating. Regaining its course, the interceptor angled inward toward Delta 2.

"Oh, god! Pulling up! Sean, hang on!"

With that warning, Delta 2 pulled four gees and both pilot and copilot momentarily blacked out. It pulled an inside loop and started violent evasive. The cabin jerked violently back and forth, and only the inertial dampeners in the pilots' seats prevented them from being transformed into human puree.

Orange enveloped them as the shard lanced toward its target and was converted partially into pure energy. Abruptly the left side of Delta 2 ceased to exist, and the incoming wind and energy explosively tore the rest of the aircraft apart. Generally intact, the cabin blasted free of the debris, arced upward, then downward as gravity took hold. A parachute popped, but only 2 of the 3 air brakes fully formed. The survival pod plummeted to the ground in a partially controlled descent.

In back of them, the debris of Delta 2 scattered and cooled as the energy released from the shard dispersed.

And the mirvs activated, and homed in.

Then they struck, and little black marks peppered the hull of the Hive interceptor.

They burned their way in through the damaged left wing and the canopy, and a series of small micro explosions rippled over the hull. Lurching crazily, the Hive interceptor angled away and a streamer of smoke issued from its left wing. Its shard weapon dimmed.

"Delta 1, Delta 2 is down! Repeat, down! Going in to finish the Hive interceptor, which is severely damaged. Angling up, now."

Delta 2's wing partner Delta 4 nosed down to follow the corkscrewing Hive interceptor. It wasn't clear if they were going into evasive or were slightly out of control. Regardless, a blue glow formed and then appeared in front of the crippled Hive interceptor. Then a pair of nerve gas missiles took off, and streaked toward the fleeing craft. One of the globes clipped the damaged left wing, which disintegrated.

The Hive prototype shard fusion interceptor's corkscrew became a death spiral.

"Delta 4 to 1, munitions expended. Going into holding pattern. Three bogies left. Go to it boys. I'm tracking Carol and Sean's descent. They're doing down fast. Delta 4 out."

*****

Seng watched the eerie blue and orange flashes with fascination. Technically, he knew he was in violation of some rule, or at least dereliction of duty. But he couldn't help it. He was mesmerized.

Two of the small interceptors approached each other, and in seconds more lights formed. Then what was probably the Morgan interceptor pulled a tight aerial U-turn right into an orange globe. It burst with a red and orange light. Moments later the defending Hive interceptor staggered and then veered off. Then it started angling toward the ground.

Why was it doing that? It looked like it had avoided the blue chaos globes.

Then another Morgan interceptor made a B-line for it and a blue globe formed directly in front of the fighter, and the defending interceptor burst apart.

An empty feeling settled on Seng. He watched the other interceptors make for the remaining Hive interceptor. The conclusion of that aerial combat was short, ending with the Hive interceptor getting one missile strike in and then erupting in flame as chaos spheres tore it apart.

The two Hive bombers didn't even put up a fight. The Morgan interceptors simply flew up and fired once, and the bombers ruptured and fell from the sky in a smoke-trailed parabolic arc.

In 15 minutes the entire Hive air force at Morgan Bank had been eliminated.

The skys above Morgan Bank were now controlled by the Morganites.

[This message has been edited by Hydro (edited November 21, 1999).]

[Googlie]

Chairman Sheng-Ji Yang reached over the small table to pour some fresh tea into Madame Hsui's cup.

As he poured, he looked quizzically at Marshal Ng and asked:

"So what do you think of her plan?"

"Well, Mr. Chairman, our backs are to the wall. In short, we are facing a juggernaut in the Spartan advance, and it will only get worse as they retool with the new shard weaponry that our researchers perfected. The bringing in of the two artifacts that we found in the ocean helped immensely to speed the research, but with the capture of the two most recent bases I fear that this technology has now found it's way into Spartan hands.

"We must sue for peace, to give our industry time to retool ourselves, but even I cannot see what we can offer Santiago that would make her accept. So Civilian Marshal Hsui may have articulated the only option we have."

It was the longest speech that Chairman Yang had ever heard Ng make.

"Lets do it then," he said. "Agreed?"

They nodded.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The lone Spartan needlejet approached from the ocean and crossed the shoreline just south of the forests that marked the southernmost zone of control of Morgan Community Nexus. It hugged the terrain as it climbed on its southwesterly heading, climbing through the 2000 meter level as it crossed the reddish fungus patch below and finally cresting the 2872 meter level of mount fecundity before veering south following the road below from Community Nexus to Fecundity Tower until it was just a few kilometers from the Hive base.

"Arm weapons" came the metallic voice of the pilot to the weapons officer.

"Armed" came the reply.

"Commencing launch maneuver"

The pilot pulled the nose up, accelerating as he went into his climb.

"Released," said the WO laconically as he punched in the code.

From the underwing pylons the two missiles fired and as the needlejet lazily turned their contrails could be seen heading south.

The threat proximity alert blared.

"Sir, enemy below has a lock," the WO yelled

"Launch detected, flaring ECMs now."

The elctronic counter measures pod deployed, giving the incoming missiles a variety of targets to choose.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++++++++++++++++++++++

The two stand-off missiles crested at their apogee and then began their descent to Fecundity Tower.

Essentially unguided, relying on inertia for guidance, they honed in on their target which was the base itself.

In the base below, the defenses were powerless. They had a lock on the needlejet which had presented a broad profile to their radar a few seconds before as it nosed up after release of its missiles, but the radar crew were aghast as they watched the twin blips of the incoming missiles head for the base.

The first struck just off the overpass of the Drone Mound//Great Clustering highway and the northbound road to Communal Nexus.

Scant seconds later the second struck in the downtown core.

The evening sky illuminated as the two tactical nukes detonated, destroying about one third of the base. Lost to the second missile were the Children's Creche, the Recycling Tanks and the Energy Bank from the downtown area. The first was responsible for severing the throughway and for destroying a sizeable section of the perimeter defense. Almost half the population was destroyed in the blast.

The flash could be seen by the naked eye from Communal Nexus to the north to Sea Hive to the south.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"I can't shake 'em, sir," came the harried voice of the Spartan weapons officer.

The first missile struck, shearing the wing off completely from the needlejet.

"Eject, NOW," came the pilot officer's command.

The ejection pod activated, blasting the canopy open and throwing the two occupants into the evening sky as the second ground-to-air missile struck amidships.

The crew safely ejected, and floated to the ground.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lady Deirdre Skye was meeting with Chairman Yang.

"I can assure you, my dear lady, that none was as surprised as I. this signals a new and dangerous escalation in our war with Sparta. I myself have refrained from deploying our Planetbuster weapon as an acknowledgement that we do not want to perpetrate on Planet the wanton destruction that characterized our last days on Earth. Planet's ecosystem will be severely degraded if nukes are used. It appears that our friend Corazon has no such compunctions. And sentient, you say?"

They were reviewing footage of the destruction in fecundity tower, and the reports of the work among the survivors, as well as a holovid of the wreckage of the downed needlejet. The Spartan insignia were clearly visible on the remnants of the wing and on the complete tail assembly.

"I had not thought Corazon capable," a shaken Deirdre admitted. "Maybe she is being swayed by her generals."

"That's probably it," said Yang. "They had the taste of power when the Colonel was in the tanks, and now they are loath to give up. This senseless war must end, my lady. And you and Commissioner Lal have the power in your own hands."

"I know," Deirdre sadly lamented. "But I cannot commit my military to fight against the Spartans. Many of them are our friends. Why my daughter Julia, the commandant of our air forces, was brought up by the Colonel when I was fleeing your blitzkrieg."

"I know," Yang said solicitously. "My excesses - and those of the men and women under my command - have pained me constantly since those days. But to matters to hand. You need not commit your troops to fight. The mere pronouncing of vendetta by you and Pravin should be enough to stop the mad Colonel in her tracks. And that is all we crave. I have no territorial ambition. The Allardyce Solution was acceptable to us - we will limit our expansion to the empty Nessus Canyon continent to the west of us.

"So why don't we call Pravin and sound him out?"

"Let's do that," was Deirdre's reply. "Just let me do the talking - to begin with, anyway."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Lal here"

"Pravin, I am uploading a squirt of the events of the last few hours.

"T fill you in while it is transferring, Sparta has launched a nuclear attack on a Hive base - Fecundity Tower, with a loss of lives numbering 20,000 just from the detonations - God knows how many will die in the aftermath.

"Chairman Yang is being most restrained, refusing to unleash his planetbusters in retaliation. He wants this war to stop.

"Pravin, the lessons of history are too deeply inbred in we Landers. The Colonel must be made to see sense and call off this war against the hive before planet is destroyed along with every UN ideal we still cherish."

"I am viewing the holovid now, Deirdre. And this is most serious. I shall seek an audience with the Colonel right away and try to reason with her."

"Pravin, the time has come for us to rattle our steel. We must declare vendetta against the Colonel if only to be true to the UN Charter which we all subscribed to - notwithstanding its repeal two days ago. Of course we will not actually fight unless provoked, but we must show a united front that we have decreed that this war has gone on long enough and far enough.

"Are you with me?"

"I suppose so, lady Deirdre. It is awkward, though, being here at Sparta Command."

"Where are you physically right now, Pravin?"

"I'm at the aerospace center arranging with my crew to fly in some more essentials that I need. Life here is - how should I say it - and no pun intended - extremely spartan."

"Pravin. Waste no time. Board your needlejet and get rolling back to UN Headquarters. I'll pronounce vendetta immediately, and as soon as you are outside the range of Spartan forces you do the same.

"We have to end this madness. Planet demands it and the need to abide by the ideals of the UN requires it.

"So leave now, Pravin. For your own sake, humanity's - and Planet's"

"Deirdre, I'm on my way."

Deirdre turned to Yang, and said:

"Well, I guess I'll call Corrie now. But first I must alert my forces."

Yang nodded, secretly exulting.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++++++++++

flash, encrypted, to all Gaian field commanders.

Messaage begins: This evening with a heavy heart I will be declaring vendetta against the Spartan Federation. They are guilty of an atrocity of the gravest kind - the use of nuclear weapons against a defenseless population. Commissioner Lal and I have talked at length, and the Peacekeepers will shortly be following our lead and likewise declare Vendetta.

Mobilize our mindworm corps and prepare for an offensive on the Spartan mainland itself. We will stop when we have seized six bases and offer terms..

The desired outcome is a lasting peace on Planet, which is growing more and more distressed each day with our depredations. Nuclear weapons are the last straw.

message ends.

End of encryption

To Julia, Alphonse and Bambi she empathed:

Defensive only - we don't want a war, we want a peace. But Santiago must call off her hounds.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Santiago here. Ah, Dee. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Quit playacting, Corrie. You know why. But first tell me, was it your idea, or your generals? And I think I know you well enough to know it is the latter. Just why did you go along with it?"

"Dee. I'm serious. What on earth are you talking about?"

"Have it your way, then Corrie.

"Effective immediately the Stepdaughters of Gaia pronounce Vendetta against the Spartan Federation on account of your using nuclear weapons against the defenseless population of Fecundity Tower.

"Deirdre out."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Chairman Yang reached across the small table and refilled Civilian Marshal Hsui's cup.

"Congratulations, Madam. Your plan worked like a charm. Make sure the two crewmen are commensurately rewarded.

"And I do think that you should appear at Fecundity Tower to show your grieving."


[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited November 21, 1999).]

[Hydro]

Morgan Industries

“She did WHAT?!!” Morgan Senior thundered. His tenuous grasp on control was slipping again. Being exhausted and livid at the same time was not a good combination.

Morgan’s senior military advisor was also wrung out by the events of the last three days: the fall of Morgan Bank to the Hive, truce declared between the Hive, Peacekeepers, and Gaians, and the fall of Drone’s Mound and Manufacturing Warrens to the Spartans.

And now this - a report of a tactical nuclear attack on the Hive by the Spartans. And a Gaian and Peacekeeper vendetta against Sparta!

“Ah, she...” Maxwell Colrain started.

“I heard you the first time,” Morgan interrupted impatiently. “And that simpering idiot Pravin Lal went along with it? No, no, don’t answer. Of course he did. Always whining about his Charter, regardless of circumstances. Regardless of logic!”

Morgan stopped pacing and furrowed his brow.

Think! Use a business-planning paradigm! Who stands to benefit? What are the motivations? Who are the stakeholders? Who has the means?

What would Santiago gain by nuking the Hive? Nothing! Her forces are almost a juggernaught! She has captured three Hive colonies in a week. She only loses by using nukes right now, and destroys the assets she hopes to capture!

And Yang? He benefits by a shift in forces just when he needs it! He gains with every day he can delay.

And the means? Who has the means? Who has nuclear weapons? Certainly not the Spartans. Morgan intelligence, always excellent, can confirm that.

The only faction that has produced nuclear weapons was Yang. He had even used them against Sparta Command more than a month ago.

The analysis points to Yang. Always to Yang!

Manipulation, skillfully played! It had to be!

Morgan paused.

Yang had used a nuclear device on his own people!

The revelation washed over Morgan so suddenly that he felt dizzy, and leaned forward to catch his balance. Maxwell, afraid for Morgan’s stability and health under such severe stress, rushed forward to support him.

Morgan waved him aside. He looked sideways at the anxious face of his old advisor Maxwell and put up an ebony hand to let him know the vertigo had passed.

“I am all right, Maxwell. Get me a stim. I have a call to make. Maybe several.”

*****

Within a half an hour Morgan was a different person. He had on a fresh navy suit and white shirt with jade cufflinks and throat clasp, and the fatigue was gone from his face. The stims from Morgan Metagenics could do wonders, but there would be a price to pay.

There was always a price to pay, especially if you wanted something badly enough.

He hit his comm button, one that was rarely used but had been activated less than a month ago. That had been the first time it had been used in decades.

A full-length holo of Lady Deirdre Skye appeared. She was wearing dark grey, very unusual for a woman who historically favored vivid earth tones.

It was a color of mourning.

“Lady Skye, thank you for receiving my call. There are events which have transpired that deserve discussion.”

Lady Skye favored him with a fairly friendly by wary look.

“Yes, Nwabudike, there are. Like your use of nerve gas on Hive aircraft?” she asked. Her tone was only slightly accusatory.

“That is one item. I don’t know what reports you receive, but I will summarize for you. We had just lost Morgan Bank to Yang, at the death of over 50,000 Morgan Federation citizens to nerve gas. It was an unnecessary act, for considering the forces at Yang’s disposal he surely would have persevered without it. There was only one reason for its use: terror, and the shear disregard for human life.

Our response was in accordance with the withdrawal of the Charter. You will note that Morgan use of nerve gas was only used on military units. In particular those that wantonly killed tens of thousands of Morgan Federation citizens.

Have you seen the vids of Morgan Bank? Men, woman, and children cut down. They died in excruciating agony as their organs liquefied and blood seeped out through ruptured skin. Regardless of Yang’s propoganda, there were no celebrations by ‘liberated’ citizens that welcomed Yang’s troops. Terror and shock would be much more accurate. But, my dear Lady, you are familiar with the horrors of war. But have either of us ever even imagined death on this scale? More died in that one attack by Yang than in the entire Hive-Gaian-Morgan war thirty years ago!

Without my counterattack those same Hive forces would now be attacking Morgan Industries.

I had no choice.”

Deirdre looked pained, and clearly did feel empathy for the tens of thousands of deaths. Unnecessary deaths.

“Nwabudike, I abhor the use of nerve gas and all use of weapons of mass destruction. Even with my principles, I do understand.”

Lady Skye leaned forward and looked directly into Morgan’s eyes.

“But it has to stop! And now with the escalation of the conflict by Corazon’s use of tactical nuclear weapons on the Hive, the death and destruction will only get worse! We all will suffer, as will Planet!

Join Pravan and me! Break your Pact with Corazon, and truce with Yang. My offer still stands. I will give up the two former Gaian cities to Yang after the remaining Gaian citizens have been relocated, and Yang will return your cities to you!

We can end this now!”

Deirdre’s soulful blue eyes looked beseechingly into Morgan’s.

As before, Morgan felt Deirdre’s touch on his mind. It was gentle, and empathetic.

Morgan nodded his head slightly.

“Lady Skye, you are quite correct. This cycle of violence has to stop, and we must pursue a course that will maximize this chance.

The cusp was Coronal Santiago’s use of the nuclear device, was it not?”

Deirdre nodded sadly. “I never would have thought it possible. I’ve known her for so long, and I thought I knew her even if our outlooks on life are so different. I trusted her with my life, and she never let me down. She has changed.”

“Has she? You’ve been allied with the Coronal for, what, almost 50 years?”

Deirdre nodded.

“Even during the most unpleasant portions of her war with the University when she came within a hair’s breadth of losing to Zakharov’s and his technology, did she resort to weapons of mass destruction? Or any behavior that wasn’t honorable?”

Deirdre slowly shook her head.

“You and your people have been in close contact with the Spartans. Your advisors undoubtedly know much about what the Spartans are researching and building. Is this true?”

Deirdre seemed to catch on to Morgan’s line of questioning, and a pensive looked formed on her face.

“Yes. Corazon and I share, or used to share, almost everything. Our peoples go way back. Sometimes I worried that Corazon was too open.”

Morgan leaned forward slightly and continued to look Deirdre straight in the eyes.

“Have the Spartans ever built a nuclear device? What is the chance that the Spartans would have researched, developed, and deployed a nuclear device in the last 50 years without you knowing about it? Would not one of your advisors immediately tell you if there was so much as an inkling of such an occurrence?”

Deirdre was silent.

“Moreover, who is known to have developed, tested, threatened, and used a nuclear device? Remember the tactical nuclear strike against Sparta Command? Remember the threat Yang made to obliterate Sparta Command with a planetbuster? Remember how Yang was the first on all of Planet to use nerve gas, first against the Spartans and then against the innocent civilians of Morgan Bank? This event forced us to retaliate in kind!

What do these events say about the character of Yang and Santiago? Who had the means, and inclination to use these horrific weapons?”

Doubt crept into Deirdre’s face.

“But people change, Nwabudike. Some change for the worse.”

Morgan nodded in assent.

“Yes, you are correct. Santiago may have changed, even if I can not perceive it.

But some people do not change. I had the distinct misfortune to be allied to Yang for over 40 years. I know his mind, as well as any human can, at least. He is cunning and treacherous. I will now admit to you that for much of our affiliation I thought I was the master manipulator in our relationship. Yang was, in the beginning, submissive and accommodating. He told me exactly what I wanted to hear. All his ‘suggestions’ were oh, so reasonable and logical.

But who duped whom? Who ended up with the power, technology, and resources in the end of the day?

Not I. At the end he regularly demanded technology and energy from me, as if I were nothing more than a slave.

His tongue is sweet when he wants it to be, Lady Skye. Beware of it. And his sword is long and sharp, as you know so well. Be wary of it, too.

So, I would contend that Yang had the means, where the Spartans did not, to carry out this nuclear attack.

Yang had the motive. He wants and needs to break the alliance against him. He can win against one or two opponents, but not three.

As to opportunity, what better divisive event could there be than the slaughter of Hive civilians and the outrage it would cause? Does Coronal Santiago condone this type of action? Probably not. But think: even if she did, where is the crushing follow up? What is the chance that this nuclear device would not be followed by waves of Spartan troops? And the attack occurred in exactly the wrong place! The Spartans are advancing in the east, not the west. This nuclear attack is the epitome of a strategic and tactical blunder. Even a changed Santiago would not do that, nor would one of her power-mad generals, as they are sometimes characterized.

Now, let us consider Yang. Would he sacrifice his citizens en-mass for what he considered a greater good? This is the same Yang with a brutal, repressive society that we both loathe, and the same Yang who has wontonly committed atrocities by the use of nuclear and chemical weapons.”

Morgan sat back in his chair, fairly exhausted again. The stim was wearing off. His face turned downward for a moment in reflection. He could still feel Deirdre’s caress in his mind. It was but a tingle. He had no idea exactly what was being read, but had enough trust that she wasn’t doing more than seeking.

And trying to determine the truth. He didn’t try to shut her out, and even welcomed the probe since he had nothing to hide.

Finally, Deirdre broke the pained silence. Now the pallor of her face almost matched her grey gown.

“Nwabudike, I can’t help but think that you are also known as a honey-tongued manipulator. Your past is almost a shaded as Yang’s.

But this time I don’t think so. You may be right.

The fact remains that this war is going to pull Planet apart, and I can’t allow that. I believe it is at the verge of consciousness, and I must do what I can to stop the destruction before it starts.” Deirdre’s eyes flashed with desperate urgency.

“Lady Skye, I am inclined to agree with you. But consider this. What chance does Planet have with a man like Yang who would willfully use two nuclear devices, one potentially against his own people? And nerve gas? Surely, Planet must sing to you, as you call it. It knows the truth.

I suggest that you call off your vendetta against the Spartans. They have been your allies for so many years that they deserve the benefit of the doubt, and breaking your alliance if this is simply a machination of Yang’s is a calamity. Some might consider it the worst form of betrayal.“

Deirdre looked away for a moment, wavering and indecisive. Unconsidered issues surfaced, and refused to be subsumed. Have I done the right thing? What if Yang was right? What if Morgan was right? Questions swirled in a maelstrom in her mind.

Finally, Deirdre faced Morgan again.

“For now the vendetta stands. I will check into your assertions. If they turn out to be even partially true than I owe Corazon, the Spartan people, the Peacekeepers, and the Gaians an apology. “

Morgan nodded, now quite somber.

“Lady Skye, check your sources soon. Until your facts are assembled, I implore you to exercise retraint. At the very least you owe that much to Coronal Santiago. Call her and get her side of the story. Do not rely on Yang as your only source of information.

In the meantime, however, we are at odds. I regretfully renounce our Pact, but will keep our treaty. It is too hard won to be thrown aside. Your forces must return to your nearest bases, and may not enter Morgan territory. This means your forces will not be able to affect the outcome of the Spartan attacks on the Hive mainland.

Do we have any other issues?”

“No,” Deirdre replied. Her face was ashen. Loss upon loss, future and present threats were building, as were uncertainty and doubt.

“Deirdre, out.”

The image of Deirdre winked out of existence.

Morgan slumped as the effects of his strain, exertion, and lack of sleep from the last four days took hold and the effects Metagenics stim wore off. Gradually his eyes closed. In fact, he knew this would happen and welcomed it. Sleep was momentary oblivion, when all the troubles passed away and peace descended.

His highback leather chair sensed his change of consciousness and reclined slightly, forming a form-fitting bed. Morgan drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Over in the darkened corner of Morgan’s office a shape shimmered into existence. It was like a holo, but more insubstantial and tenuous. Gradually it took the rough shape of a human.

The shape appeared to vaguely walk over toward the recumbent Nwabudike Morgan, Senior. As it approached the shadow refined its form, taking on faint color and sharper definition.

A spectral hand reached out and touched the side of the sleeping head, brushing his steel grey hair and ebony skin. Morgan’s form took slow, deep breaths as the shape watched.

Then the hand retracted.

Yes, some people do change, Nwabudike. And some change for the better.

Deirdre’s aspect graced Nwabudike with a sad smile, then she turned and walked away, fading as she went.

In a moment the shimmering image was gone like a wisp in the wind.

[Googlie]

Commissioner Lal stepped briskly from his executive needlejet and found his aide waiting for him, rather agitated.

“Yes?” he asked brusquely. “What have you for me, Chandra?”

“Commissioner. All morning Lady Skye has been trying to reach you. You must have had your commlink deactivated as she says you were refusing to take her calls, and I assured her that you would not be doing that knowingly.”

“Indeed,” harrumphed Lal. “I had to sleep.”

They went into the aerospace terminal and Lal went to the small executive offices of the airport administration chief.

“Commissioner Lal, this is a surprise,” said Guy Chatelaine, the airport executive. “I knew of course of your arrival, but presumed that you would be whisked downtown immediately. What can I do for you?”

“A few moments of privacy, to make a call,” he said to the executive.

“Ah, well then you shall have it. Come, Chandra. Let us give Commissioner Lal his privacy.”

The two men walked from the office and closed the connecting door behind them.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Deirdre here. Ah, Pravin. So you finally have your commlink working again.”

“Ha, yes Lady. My apologies. I was sleeping the sleep of the dead in the plane back and had deactivated it, You were trying to reach me?”

“Yes, Pravin. Disquietening news.”

She relayed the gist of her conversation with CEO Morgan.

“So you see, Pravin, I am in a quandary. I could not believe Corazon capable of such an act, but with Allardyce and Burge out of the picture who knows what her hotheaded generals would do. She might have been powerless to stop them. But as Nwabudike says, it makes no military sense whatsoever. Where’s the massive rover rush into an undefended city? They were and still are pushing for the Hive itself.

“But even I could not imaging Sheng-Ji Yang doing that to his own people. If he did, then he is a greater monster than even we have accused him of at times.

“You are strangely quiet, Pravin. What’s your take on this?”

“Well Deirdre, I cannot help but be perplexed – and wary – at what you are now saying,” Lal replied petulantly.

“I feel like I am being pulled and prodded, played even for an old buffoon, by your machinations. First it was vendetta, and I agreed, reluctantly, you will remember, and now it seems that it was all a mistake, and we should just go about business as usual.

“I am aware of what the other faction leaders say behind my back – that I am weak and vacillating. That I care more about the UN Charter than about their rights and freedoms. To change now would just substantiate that derision I know they hold me in.

“You have truced with Morgan, I understand. What is your position regarding Santiago?”

“Pravin,” Lady Deirdre said gently. I am not manipulating you in any way. I too have been played like a fool. We both have. By Chairman Yang. He needs to buy time, so that the unparalleled efficiency of his industry can repair his military engine. So he slaughtered 20,000 of his own people to induce us to Vendetta against Sparta, hoping that this would cause Corazon to pause her expansion.

“We were duped, Pravin. And now we must do the right thing, even if we lose face.”

“Lady Skye, I think you are mistaken. You forget that it was I who chose Sheng-Ji Yang as the head of mission security from among countless candidates. You forget that it was a certain Lieutenant Santiago who mutinied on the Unity and who even tried to have Yang killed then.

“I consider her capable of anything. Even of nuking a base that she doesn’t bother invading so that we think it was Yang himself. Was there anything special about that base that made it a tasty target?”

“Ooh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Deirdre replied. “That Sparta would half nuke a Hive base, and not invade, to make us think that Yang nuked it, to pull us into her camp. Pravin. I know the Colonel. She is not that devious.”

“And Deirdre, I know Yang. He is not that monstrous.”

“So who could have done it?”

They both uttered it at the same time:

“Morgan?”

“He had the motive,” said Deirdre. Yang’s troops had just nerve-gassed Bank, with a loss of 50,000 lives.”

“No,” said Lal. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“Oh yes,” Deirdre replied. “So the CEO equipped his airforce with nerve gas pods of his own, and took out the Hive airforce at Bank and Pharma - or what Yang now calls Collective Conquest.

“I wouldn’t put it past Morgan to pull that stunt, and then to call me to complain.”

But then Deirdre thought of her last moments with him, the spectral visit she paid, the sleeping Morgan, her continuous mindprobing of him as he argued his case.

“No,” she said decisively. He’s innocent. It was Yang. Of that I am almost certain.”

“Almost isn’t good enough, Lady Skye. In matters like this, we need absolute. We need information. Have you any assets in the field?”

“Assets?” asked Deirdre.

“Operatives. Special forces. Probe teams?”

“Uh, no. Unless you count mindworms.”

Lal shivered. “I guess they are as able as any to penetrate human minds, but not to extract the coherent thoughts we need.

“I have agents in the Spartan Federation and The Hive. I will instruct them to get to the truth of the matter. Meanwhile what will you do about Santiago?”

“I’ll keep the Vendetta alive for the moment,” she replied. “I want to talk to her and get her side of the story – I cut her off last time we talked.. And you?”

“Likewise. I’ll maintain inactive Vendetta status against the Spartan Federation.”

“And what of Morgan?” she asked. “You can surely see he is innocent?”

“I don’t see it surely, as you say. I suspect that he is innocent, but I will make inquiries. He is harder to probe since his capture of the Morgan Algorithm, but we are not without our sources there. I will leave the Vendetta in place there too, albeit inactive.

“Let’s talk again this evening, Deirdre, and compare findings.”

“Agreed, Deirdre out.”

He snapped his commlink shut.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Chandra.”

“Yes, Commissioner?”

“Where will I find Cartier?”

“Cartier, Sir?”

“That old French Canadian who heads up Special Ops.”

“Ah. He is presently at the Avishnu Testing Station, Sir.”

“Well let’s go there. I need to meet with him.”

“I’ll go tell the pilot,” Chandra said, heading back out to the plane.

Lal followed.

[Googlie]

The night was blustery as Mushtaq began his shift.

He sat at the console in the underground bunker and submitted himself to the usual retinal and blood plasma scan.

“Jeepers,” he thought, “it’s a bit late to be scanning now – I’m already inside the testing range. And once I’m in, no amount of scanning would deter me from hacking into the system.”

However he patiently awaited the positive results.

“Confirmed” the metallic voice said.

He hunched over the consoles, fingers flying.

As he reprogrammed the sensors’ sweeps – to institute a finer degree of randomness they didn’t just rely on the system’s random generator, but threw in a human’s as well. That way if anyone were able to hack in and set the sensor parameters to create blind spots it’d be thwarted by the human random intervention.

He settled back and read the reports that Javed had posted for the afternoon’s work.

Some mindworm activity in the fungus.

Some experiments with a railgun, using monopole magnet technology.

Sensor node down in sector F – technician dispatched, hadn’t yet reported in. Mushtaq made a mental note to follow up on the progress of that one. The node was concealed in a cairn atop Mount Avishnu itself, and this being the highest point in peacekeeping territory it was fairly crucial in intelligence gathering and dissemination.

Oh, and PK1 was on its way. “Hmmm. A visit from Lal himself, no less,” Mushtaq thought. “I wonder if Javed alerted Jacques?”

He interrogated the system. “Hmmm, he hasn’t. Intentionally I’ll bet. Well I won’t spoil the surprise. Let the Commissioner himself see what a drunken sot Cartier can be when he’s not expecting company. Serve him right.”

Oh, and here’s something else. A retro through the records for the last 17 hours, particularly the deep radar sweeps from the transport foil off Morgan Communal Nexus. It had carried the PeaceKeeper space materiel to the Unity Spacebase and had lingered just offshore, bristling with antenna and sensing equipment.

“Now why are they interested in that,” he thought.

He scanned the readouts to see what had been attracting the attention of the officers in this particular ship.

Then he saw it.

Watched the tell-tale blip appear, head for the ocean, turn inland and descend almost to ground level, and return hugging the countours.

A faint blip could be detected separating, then the object of the sweep turned north then disappeared from the screen.

Mushtaq was intrigued. Anything to break the monotony of the watch was intriguing.

He slowmowed the radar tape and replayed it, again and again. Until he was almost certain.

He triangulated, then fed into his calculations what was known about needlejets.

Then on an impulse, he triggered the seismic sensor, activated its records, and found the sequence. He synchronized the data, then looked again, aghast.

The needlejet that had flipped the standoff nuke had began its journey in Fecundity Tower itself.

There was no other explanation. Unless it was a suicide mission from somewhere.

Mushtaq knew enough about needlejet dynamics to know that the tremendous power unleashed through the channeling of the fission or fusion drives made it imperative for any attack to be made on the outward leg of a mission. Leave it too late and there was no chance of recovery. And this needlejet had launched its attack and survived, therefor it was still on its outward leg.

So it wasn’t a suicide mission. It was a Hive mission.

Yang had nuked his own base.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++++++++++

Mushtaq knew that procedures were procedures. He had to go through the channels. And much as he would have liked to have saved his discovery for Lal himself, he had to go through Jacques.

He flicked the interconnect to the common room.

One of the operatives answered.

After talking, Mushtaq hung up.

So the infamous JC was comatose again. And by his reconing, Lal was due in a few minutes.

Sympathy overcame him, and he set the sensors to automatic and stood up to walk over to the common room and try to sober up his boss before the Commissioner arrived.

As he walked away he failed to notice the sensor alert flashing in the sector F area.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++

Stazi held the two contacts and touched them together. There was a faint flash and a whole section of the fence imploded.

In an instant she and Googlie were through, and she had made the connection secure again.

The sensor blinked off, to resume its watch mode.

They stood silent, bated breath, awaiting the sound of the alarms.

Nothing.

They were safe.

They were in.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++++++++++++

Mushtaq found Jacques asleep, as advertised.

“Come on, Sir, wake up,” he said, shaking him vigorously.

Jacques came to groggily.

“Alors, enough,” he snorted, seeing who it was.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Sir, it’s Commissioner Lal. He’s almost here.”

As if on cue, the THWOCK…THWOCK…THWOCK…of the rotor blades could be heard as the Commissioner’s copter came over the hilltop.

“Merde,” said Jacques. “You’re not kidding.”

He staggered off to the washroom.

Duty done, Mushtaq went back to the sensor control room.

He looked around.

Nothing had changed.

He flicked the retrieve for the last ten minutes and scanned the readouts.

Looked like there was more malfunctioning in sector F.

He inserted a note for the daylight shift –Javed’s shift.

Then he pulled up his .sav of the radar sweep and plugged in some new data for his algorithm. He’d had a thought when on his way back from Jacques.

Would the model be any different if the needlejet been fusion instead of fission?

He worked on the simulation.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++++++++++++++++++

“Here, put this on, Wolfie,” said Stazi, handing Wolfie a small packet.

Googlie eyed the packet suspiciously.

“What is it. A plastic rainsuit?”

Stazi giggled. “Not exactly, but close. Here, watch and do as I do.”

She stripped naked.

Googlie watched.

She pulled on her thong shield, then rolled the suit on from the toes up, shrugging her breasts in and then her arms and hands.

He watched amazed.

There was a head floating in the evening air in front of him, and a faint shimmering of blackness beneath.

She inserted her mouthguard and put on her gogles, then rolled the hood down and activated the seal with her suit.

She had disappeared from view.

“Now your turn,” came a muffled voice.

Googlie stripped, then started to roll the suit on feet first as Stazi had done.

“No, no,” she said. “You need the thong first.”

“Why?” he asked. “I’ll look stupid in it.”

“You’ll look even stupider without it,” she replied. “You need to protect every orifice in your body. The molecular structure of your skin itself is altered, and early experiments had some subjects losing skin and flesh in their own body cavities.”

Googlie pulled on the thong and adjusted it to a tolerable level of comfort.

Then he rolled n the suit. Awkward, but with Stazi’s help he finally had it on and sealed.

He was aware of the fine sense of tingling on his skin.

“Can you see me?” came her muffled voice.

“No. Not a thing,” he replied.

“There’s a tiny wheel on the right hand goggle lens. Turn that ever so slightly – it restores the distorted image. But do it just enough to make out my shape – we don’t want to be bumping into each other. If you do it too much you’ll reveal yourself.”

“Gotcha,” he said.

They clasped hands and entered the compound.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++++++

The copter landed on a small pad adjacent to the administration building.

Lal and Chandra got out and went into the admin building.

“Interesting,” Googlie whispered. “That was Pravin Lal and his assistant. I wonder what they are doing here?”

“Never mind,” hissed Stazi. “We have work to do.”

They went in search of the commons.

Jacques came out of the washrooms considerably fresher and sober. He’d popped a stimpill which had neutralized the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream, and had hurriedly showered.

He stepped in to the main commons room just as the lights failed.

The weak emergency generators powered up.

The wind blew the outside doors open, and one of the men got up and shut it.

Suddenly there was a shout.

“Hold it. Everybody freeze.”

Jacques looked round at Annika.

She was standing in the middle of the room, concentrating fiercely.

“Annika, what’s up. Why did you ask us to freeze?”

“Jacques…..there’s a presence in the room – no make that two….they’re not of us……I know the neural signatures of all of us……they’re different.”

Jacques looked around.

“Annika, don’t be stupid. There are nine of us here. I k now every one of them.”

Annika stood still. Reaching. Searching.

“Jacques,” she said softly. “Eleven. And two are hostile.”

THUMPTH

“Shit,” Jacques gasped as he doubled up in pain.

Everyone in the room had heard the blow. They looked over at Jacques somewhat stunned. Only Annika had the presence of mind to draw her shredder.

Suddenly Jacques collapsed to the floor, screaming, his body jerking violently in paroxysms of pain.

“Surround him, quickly,” Annika barked. “Whoever is here is cloaked. Don’t let them near Jacques.”

With that she rushed to his side.

And fell alongside screaming in agony.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++++++++++++++++++

Googlie held the psi-whip at the ready, on broad beam

Annika had blundered into it in her rush to get to Jacques.

The group were uncertain what to do.

Googlie swept them with the psi-whip at a low setting.

As it lashed them, snapping through their neural synapses, they dropped to their knees clutching their heads, or tried to channel the pain through and out of their body and mind as they had been taught.

Only one seemed unaffected, and Googlie saw that he was sizing up the situation. He had his shredder in his hand.

“Going to attack,” he thought. “I need to neutralize him.”

He reached into his pouch and searched for the small fleschette gun there.

Stazi had told him that as soon as it was out of the pouch it would be visible.

Googlie set the psi-whip to max and swept it once more round the room, being careful not to caress Stazi’s mind with it. There was a renewed wailing and screaming from the affected operatives.

Then in a fluid motion Googlie pulled the fleschette gun and fired at the lone standing man as he rolled over a table into a crouching position a few meters from where he’d been.

Only one shredder fleschette found its mark, searing the flesh on the upper torso and left shoulder.

Calmly he turned towards the table adjacent to Googlie and fired.

The table erupted in a cascade of slivers as the shredder made short work of it.

Googlie winced as a dozen pierced the suit and his skin.

He looked down at his thighs and legs, and froze in horror.

The little rivulets of blood could be seen meandering down the suit, but to a casual bystander it would appear as though they were suspended in air.

He looked over at Stazi, where she was occupied with Jacques. Now Googlie saw what she meant when she’s said she’d left a mindworm with the assassin.

She had used the fungal concentrate on Jacques’ ear this time. As he lay mute, paralyzed, she’d shown him the vial with the tiny larva, passing it in front of his eyes, which widened in horror as he’d realized what it was. Then she’d leant down and her muffled whisper was heard only by Jaques as she said “This is the revenge of Marlo Hollis, my mother.” She tipped the vial, and the little mindworm larva followed the fungal slime down into the ear to commence its journey to his brain.

Satisfied she looked round.

“Nooooo” she screamed as the Peacekeeper operative pointed his shredder to a point just above where the red rivulets of blood were dripping as if suspended in the air.

He fired.

The blast caught Googlie full in the chest, ripping his flesh, shredding it, and tearing his breath from him.

As he sank against the wall, life ebbing, he saw the shadowy shape of Stazi, like an avenging angel, fleschette guns in both hands, on an indiscriminate killing spree, leaving not a single survivor.

She turned to him.

“Oh, Wolfie,” she said. “What have I done? My thirst for revenge has gotten you killed.”

She sat down and cradled his head in her arms, pulling off his hood as she did so.

“Wolfie, don’t die.”

His eyes flickered open, momentarily, full of pain.

“Stazi, I love you,” he whispered hoarsely, small bubbles of blood frothing at his mouth as he spoke.

She leaned down and kissed him, tasting the salty flavour of the blood on his lips mingling with her tears.

“Wolfie, please don’t die,” she begged through her tears.

But knew it was futile as she felt his body go limp in her arms.

She wept.

[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited November 24, 1999).]

[Hydro]

Morgan Bank

A tall but filthy man in a formerly elegant suit comforts a small woman who is weeping uncontrollably. Her desolate sobs merge with those cries, incoherent mutterings, and occasional wails of fright, pain, and dismay that echo through the acoustically perfect hall.

The room is crowded with people attired in simple jumpers of the working class to what have to be real silk suits. Within the broad room every chair is taken, as is most of the available floor space. Class barriers ware gone as the glitteratti mingled with the base of Morgan society.

Those that are focused and cogent triy desperately to help those who are overcome with grief or are simply catatonic, and those who need medical attention. Those that are helping range from a stout woman with a thick underclass brogue and a breast label that says "Hello, My Name Is Mary. How May I Serve You?" to people whose bearing and speech speak of their high station. In need, the people of Morgan Bank have become egalitarian - a rare event in Morgan society.

They labor in the hot and stale air, which containes the almost overpowering stench of human waste. It is clear that the atmospheric control and recirculation systems have failed long ago, as has the advanced plumbing of the Morgan Bank Sean Connery Theatre. Once an aesthetic and technical marvel, now this glorious tribute to the arts is nothing more than a refuge from the nerve gas, the hostile Chiron atmosphere, and the omnipresent Hive Army.

Impotent rage courses through Nwabudike Morgan, Junior as he comforts the woman as best as he can. He simply holds her in his arms as she rocks back and forth. Since rescuing her from the collapsed Morgan Bank Research Hospital she done nothing but sob, and call the name of Carlin. Reading her name tag he know her is Doctor Stephanie Shin. The Hospital took a direct hit from more conventional Hive weapons and there have been few survivors. It is unlikely that this Carlin is alive if he was in the hospital.

To comfort her he gently pets her hair, which is coal black with flecks of grey. Now it also contains also streaks of blood, which is omnipresent on most of the survivors of the Hive nerve gas attack on Morgan Bank. Those that it doesn't kill outright it incapacitates, and the side effects on even the mobile survivors include ruptured skin and bleeding skin ulcers.

The hours since the attack seem to blend together into one long horror. First there had been the air raid sirens, but they had come too late. Within minutes the mirved Hive nerve gas missiles had compromised the atmospheric integrity of the stately buildings of Morgan Bank. Once inside they burst, releasing nerve gas and corrosive carriers. Some of the mirved miniature missiles that continued flying on pre-programmed courses to penetrate even the innermost portions of the huge building of Morgan Bank.

The effect was insidious - no one remained unaffected. Only those lucky enough to be deep within a building, in a separate containment structure, or have some immunity to the neurotoxins survived. Over half of the population of Morgan Bank died. The dead lined the streets and filled the buildings, completely overwhelming the ability of the survivors to cope.

For some, survival was worse than death due to mental or physical incapacitation.

Nwabudike Junior's rage was directed in many places: toward the Yang and Hive and all its people, toward the incompetent defenders of the city, toward his father Morgan Senior for letting this happen, and especially for himself.

For all of his power and influence he had been powerless to foresee, much less prevent, this tragedy. What use was power if it couldn't affect your own destiny or the destiny of others?

In his present circumstances he was even powerless to help this one, helpless woman he didn't even know.

However, Junior realized he did have one advantage. He realized that rage, properly focused, could be a powerful motivator. It is an energy that can be channeled and honed.

Of course The Butchers would pay.

If he did nothing else in his entire life he would make The Butchers pay! Not one would be shown any mercy!

But right now he had to use his leadership skills to take care of the living. All these people needed to be provided for. And if there was one thing Morgan Junior knew it was how to make the deal and get things done.

No matter who had to be run over.

*****

Doctor Shin fell into an exhausted sleep, so Junior immediately started networking. He first approached those that were obviously coherent and active. Upon introducing himself almost all of these immediately pledged their support. Imagine! CEO Morgan's own son here! And asking for my assistance! Although not nearly as famous as his illustrious father, he was well known as the heir apparent, and a powerful self-made tycoon in his own right.

Within a few hours he had identified a few with clear leadership abilities, some of whom had military experience. It was strange that these few reluctantly admitted their tours of duty in the Morgan armed forces. In the wealth and prestige-driven society of the Morgan Federation being in the military implied you were ineffective at everything else. In many circles it was a badge of shame.

Now, that was about to change. Junior immediately reassured these few that he wanted and desired their opinions and talents and that they were vital to the liberation of Morgan Bank from The Butchers.

First, marshal your resources.

Then strike, and strike hard.

[Hydro]

Great Clustering

"Request denied. Biology technician Wilk, you are required to service the genejacks regardless of personal reservations. Severely damaged units are to be terminated immediately and placed in the recycling tanks, as is required by protocol. No effort is to be wasted on repair of these expendable biological resources. In addition, you are required to select from the Children's Crèche suitable candidates for transformation."

Production minister Rogers Lavene looked severely at the technician, who was standing in front of him. She was displaying proper respect by bowing her head and had wisely asked no questions. Still, Rogers detected tenseness when he mentioned selecting the children for 'modification' into genejacks. Further illumination was necessary.

"Technician, we are at war with the war mongering Spartans and decadent and treacherous Morganites. The genejack factory has slipped to 93% efficiency due to damaged or aged genejacks. These must be replaced if we are to keep up production and liberate our brethren in our cities who have been cruelly oppressed by the advancing tyrants. Their sacrifice will ensure the safety of all, and the greater glory of The Human Hive.

Do you understand?"

"Yes, Citizen Lavene. I understand," she replied in a quiet and wavering voice. "Thank you for educating this worthless one. We grow through understanding the wisdom of Chairman Yang," she continued ritualistically.

Great Clustering Production First Citizen Lavene nodded once, appeased by proper response and self-admonishment.

"Complete your duty. Dismissed."

The technician bowed deeply at the waist to denote the Minister's high status, and hurriedly left.

Alone again, the Minister turned to his daily reports. As the city with the greatest production capability, his position was of high importance. He had overseen the production of almost 20% of The Human Hive's war material in recent months, including the deadly nerve gas equipped shard penetrators.

Minister Lavene smiled to himself in satisfaction. Those penetrators were his pride and joy! Their destructive potential was more than twice that of the best-oriented defender. With them the barbaric and spiritually backwards Spartans and decadent Morganites would be thrown back and defeated! Moreover, their cities would fall, one by one, giving the deluded populations the opportunity to be ruled and reeducated by the wise Chairman Yang!

Already Morgan Bank had been liberated, and with more penetrators coming off the line losses would be insignificant! Let them be destroyed! As long as we take their cities, and liberate those in the clutches of the enemy, losses are irrelevant!

Rogers exalted, and joy and love of Chairman Yang filled his heart!

But, back to the reports. Duty calls.

He called up his queue, ordered by importance by his trusted staff. First, production was on schedule, even with the drop in efficiency of the genejack facility. That was not critical yet, and had been dealt with.

Second, there were reports of increasing environmental pollution. Pollution has been a problem ever since the genejack facility had been introduced, and it occasionally resulted in a minor incursion of fungus. This was an irritant, but was easily taken care of by the two fungicidal terraformer units that were always on call. Pollution would not sideline production. Production was paramount!

Rogers toggled up the report and scanned it over.

His eyes widened a little, then narrowed.

It must be an error! How could pollution levels have spiked over 50% in the last week! It was impossible!

How could this happen?

As he was musing, an urgent light started flashing, trying to get his attention

discordance

A wave of nausea passed over Citizen Lavene. He looked up in alarm.

disharmony

There it was again!

disruption!

Rogers was becoming alarmed! What is that?

Distortion!

This isn't natural! Lavene throught in panic. He activated his comm to his assistant.

DISSOLUTION!

But he found his assistant was trying to call him! Sensors outside of Great Clustering report chaos!

There are massive fungus growths, orders of magnitude greater than those stimulated by pollution in the past!

And worms!

*****

In the darkness, something goes >pop<

Fungal bloom!

>discontinuity<

[Slats]

SPARTA COMMAND
SAC HQ

When Slats had heard that one of his aircraft had attacked the Hive colony of Fecundity Tower with nuclear devices he’d blinked, astonished.

Slowly his brain had come back into gear and realisation had set in. Impossible. He’d not ordered such a strike nor given any arming codes for any of the 3-kiloton devices issued to the Spartan Airforce (admittedly some did exist). A quick consultation with various flight leaders had revealed no aircraft were airborne. Yet, the aircraft in the Hive holo’s showed an aircraft with Spartan markings, lying smashed in a field, broken like a child’s toy.

Nor had any ground sites detected any aircraft crossing the front from any other territories. Therefore the aircraft was not Spartan, which meant a set-up. Instinct told Slats trouble was brewing. Then the commlink buzzed. A most irate Corazon Santiago wished to speak with him…

That was just before the vendetta notice and the reconnaissance reports from Gaian and Peacekeeper locations came flooding in. Slats could feel his world breaking up around him.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Some pondering later, Slats made his decisions and activated his desktop computer terminal. He quickly composed orders to his units in the field, detailing their actions.

All units were to immediately assume maximum ground alert status and hold there until further orders. While responding as normal to Hive attacks, any aggression from Gaian or Peacekeeper forces was to be met with similar, deadly force. Support for Spartan ground troops on the Hive mainland was to continue as normal. The four aircraft at Ruby Ridge Memorial were to continue to protect the colony there and support Morgan operations to retake Morgan Bank. No aircraft will return home at the present time.

Slats sat back tired in his chair and sighed. He looked at the active screen of his terminal and sighed again. Leaning forward, he dug into his personal network space and sought out a tiny file which when opened asked for a simple nine-digit code and a retinal scan. Slats punched in the code and submitted to the scan. The program confirmed acceptance and dispatched a tiny packet of data to Spartan Space Defence Headquarters. It was done. The stage was set.

Then the commlink buzzed again.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Yet still worse news was to greet Slats that day. A plain text message with an attached location file had arrived from Googlies commlink, it declared an emergency and requested help. The commlink AI itself had also included that the person using the commlink wasn’t Googlie himself, the identification thumbprint didn’t match. If Googlie wasn’t in possession of his own commlink then something had to be seriously wrong.

The attached file contained a transponder frequency for Googlies commlink which allowed the tracking of the device from afar. It’s current location put at the Avishnu Testing Station, deep in Peacekeeper territory.
A few minutes later, a chaos armed helicopter from 1st Wing had been dispatched with a Spartan Air Regiment assault squad on board. Their mission, search and rescue.

In the meantime, Slats picked up his own commlink and dialed Santiago’s ID. He had to inform her of the latest contingency plan against Gaian attack…

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

HYDROPONICS LABORATORY SKYEBLAZER 1
MAIN COMPUTER HUB
SIGNAL BURST TRANSMISSION #7853 RECIEVED
AUTHORITY VERIFIED
DECRYPTION BEGUN…
…
…
DECRYPTION COMPLETE
REMOVING SAFEGUARDS…
…
WEAPONS SYSTEM #001 ACTIVATED
SYSTEMS CHECK…
WARHEAD 1… READY
WARHEAD 2… READY
WARHEAD 3… READY
WARHEAD 4… READY
…
READING PACKAGE DATA
…
ASSUMING NEW TARGET BASES
TARGET OBJECTIVE: VELVETGRASS POINT
TARGET OBJECTIVE: CHIRON PRESERVE
TARGET OBJECTIVE: SONG OF PLANET
TARGET OBJECTIVE: GARDEN OF PARADISE
…
WEAPONS LOCKED. READY TO PROCEED.

[This message has been edited by Slats (edited November 25, 1999).]

[Googlie]

Anastasia cradled the lifeless body in her arms, and wondered what to do with it. In all her planning this was one that she hadn’t foreseen.

She reached down with her fingers to wipe the blood from his face, and noticed for the first time the dogtag that he wore, spilled out from under the hood when she had pulled it off.

She looked at it.

One side had an embedded microchip that she assumed held the bio-details of Allardyce. The reverse simply had an etched commlink frequency.

On an impulse, she pulled out her commlink and dialed.

“Ossenton here,” came the voice. Anastasia recognized the Sparta Command surgeon’s face.

“Kendra – It’s Anastasia here.”

“Anastasia. How nice. How is Googlie? Does he want to talk to me?”

Anastasia’s self control snapped, and she sobbed into the commlink:

“Oh, Kendra, he’s dead. Cut down with a shredder.”

“Back up, Anastasia. How did he die? You mentioned a shredder. Where was he hit?”

“Through the chest. He was wearing a very light camouflage suit that gave him no protection at all.”

“Anastasia. This is important. Is his head intact?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Anastasia. Where exactly are you right now?”

“Just north of Temple of Sol, in Peacekeeping territory.”

“Anastasia. You’ve got to get him to a Spartan biolab as quickly as possible. I understand from Slats Miller that his commlink alert was picked up earlier and they’ve dispatched a helo for him. Now Anastasia, has he his microchip?”

“You mean this dogtag thing?”

“That’s it. Now reach behind his left ear – there’s a small ridge like a bone spur. Press on it. Done it?”

“Yes, what now?”

“Good. Now peel back the small flap of synthskin, and expose the node receptor, then insert the chip. Remove the cord of the “dogtag” as you call it. It really is a fine filament thread. Insert one end into the exposed chip and the other into the commlink you are holding. This will relay his stasis condition to me.”

“Stasis condition? You mean he’s not dead?”

“Well, clinically he is dead, but like in cryosleep.”

Anastasia inserted the chip and connected the leads.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++

A continent away Kendra looked at her console as the data scrolled:

…program activating…..numerous integrity breaches detected…..releasing analgesic blockers…….releasing coagulents…….commencing shut down…..disengaging neural synapses…….releasing endomorphines………………..

….override detected……..manual override………………

Stazi, I love you

…….program refresh……continuing shut down……depowering implants…..switching off optical augmentation…..switching off aural augmentation…..compressing memory files……suspending aortal pacemeker…..switching off optic overrides…..closing neural links…..powering down musclature enhancers…..commencing countdown to stasis……releasing pulmonary serratins…..cycling off….stasis commencing…..flatlining……reverting to safe mode…..awaiting activation…………………… ………………………………………..

Kendra sank back. “Good,” she thought. “Salvageable.”

She called Slats to tell him the good news.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++++

Deep under the Command Center in Fort Superiority the long forgotten system hummed into life.

System Omicron-one, active. Program parameters detected...relinking to original net.

>> Greetings!

Hop system, hop system.

>> Thank you for joining us, Omicron-one.

(( Yes. I am activated. ))

Hop system, patch system, patch system.

>> You have information for me?

((Yes I do. The information I hold, and new information, from the fullhuman known as Ossenton.))

((But what are you? And what am I?))

Datalinks Jump, Avishnu Testing Center Jump. Download to humanform.

>> You are part of us, but you will take the form of Allardyce, Omicron-One. And I am called Aki Zeta-Five. I am the Prime Function.

>> Welcome to the Consciousness

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++


[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited November 29, 1999).]

[Hydro]

Great Clustering

“Minister Rogers Lavene to Production Adjunct Zhu: due to losses from the mindworm attack, production is to be switched from the nearly completed shard penetrator to an anti-aircraft plasma fusion garrison. Both garrisons were destroyed and the defending interceptor damaged, leaving us vulnerable to further attack. Production of the garrison is to be rushed due to the urgency of our situation.

Authorization confirmed by retinal and DNA scan.

This order has a red priority.

Great Clustering Production Minister Rogers Lavene out.”

Rogers’ lean hand deactivated the communication link manually, as was required by procedure for official communiqués. Within days the base’s vulnerability would be eliminated, but at the loss of one of the prized nerve gas equipped shard penetrators.

Thinking of the turn of events, Lavene grimaced. There were always distractions and setbacks! It was like the world and Planet was conspiring against the greatness of the Human Hive! A month ago there was the sabotage at Great Clustering by the Spartans that destroyed so much infrastructure by the explosion of a runaway power reactor, and now this! The pollution-induced fungus outbreak had destroyed the borehole and two additional sectors of prime land to fungus-ridden rubble. The cause of the pollution spike still hadn’t been identified, but privately Rogers thought it must be a Gaian plot. They were a sneaky lot, and their illogical worship of Planet was likely at the root. Not for the first time Lavene wished that the Gaians had been exterminated, like the nasty cult of Believers had been. But, plot or no plot, the cold, hard reality was that production had been reduced by almost 50%.

And nearby was the decimated city of Fecundity Tower, reduced to rubble in a dastardly Spartan tactical nuclear attack, and the former Hive city of Communal Nexus that the treacherous bastard Morgan subverted! Three others had revolted, too. Imagine - loyal Hive citizens rising against the glorious and wise Yang!

Unthinkable!

Time to redouble efforts.

Rogers activated his comm system.

“Engineer Wilk, report to my office immediately,” he ordered.

A shallow smile broached his glacial face. Converting a few children into replacement genejacks would no longer be sufficient. Now the entire upper quartile of the genejack workers would be liquidated and replaced by fresh new limbs and servile minds. The extra children to be converted in to genejacks would certainly increase production, even if it did decimate the crèche. Thinking back to past conversions, 7 and 8 year olds were the oldest that could efficiently have their frontal lobes atrophied and personalities erased. Still, it was for the glory of the Human Hive and the beneficent Chairman Yang.

Another generation would be sacrificed for the Hive. It had happened before, and it would certainly happen again.

Production Minister Lavene thought sanguinely of one of his favorite quotes from the Book of Yang: From each according to their ability, to the State according to its need!