The Spartan Chronicles - Continued

[Hydro]

Great Clustering

“These are my babies! Aren’t they beautiful? Little angles every one!” replacement Creche Master Tracie Collins commented, almost to herself. She had become the new Creche Master under ambiguous circumstances after the previous Creche Master’s disappearance. Unexplained disappearances were not unheard of in Hive society, but such incidents always caused furtive whispers and concern in the replacement for The Disappeared.

Although Production Engineer Wilks didn’t say so, her mention of the children as ‘little angles’ gave her away as a former Believer. In these days it was very dangerous to make such slips. Officially the Believers were extinct, but cells were occasionally found and the practitioners reeducated, sometimes using extreme methods. Ever since the uprisings in the four Hive cities that had revolted and proclaimed for Morgan the punishment for ‘incorrect throught’ had become even more brutal.

Marian Wilks looked through the surveillance video that showed the 25 5-to-7 year old children of this crèche. Although disciplined, the pure exuberance and innocence of the young children was painfully evident. In the corner a little raven-haired boy was building block building with a little dark skinned girl. He seemed to be teaching her how to place the blocks in an interlocking pattern to build a bigger and thinner tower. In the center a group of 6 children were playing teacher, with five of them attentively listening to the ‘teacher’ who stood in front of them with her hands in back of her. Throughout this never ending activity were peals of laughter and delighted squeals.

“Yes, they are fine children,” Marian said in as clear a voice as she could. Despite her best efforts her voice cracked.

Administrator Collins looked at her with a quizzical expression. When Tracie refused to look her in the eye Administrator Collins became a little concerned. There were rumors about what happened to some children who had been ‘honored’ by a visit by a Production Engineer. Concern quickly became alarm when she saw the Great Clustering Production Engineer’s lower lip tremble with barely suppressed emotion.

Feelings raged inside Tracie, since she knew that each and every one of these children was going to become a genejack, and inside she wanted to cry. She tried desperately to think about Duty and the Greater Good and failed miserably.

What these children deserved was love and a hug, not a lobotomy.

[Googlie]

Their training was finished.

Special Ops Commander Pauline Sy issued her orders.

“We’ll create troikas, and set up one in each of the captured or turned bases. Each troika will comprise an empath, a trained assassin and a juvenile runner.

“Kurt – you’re bonding well with Angel – you and she will form a troika with Angelica as your runner. Morgan Paradise, formerly our base of Paradise Swarming, will be your assignment. You will be inserted just before dawn tomorrow. Angel knows your contact. Good luck.”

Kurt looked over at Angel who scowled at him.

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

The small submersible inched under the roadway bridge spanning the end of the estuary that swept up almost to the borehole between Paradise Swarming (now renamed Morgan Paradise – ‘Yeah, right,’ Kurt thought – and Manufacturing Warrens, not yet renamed by the conquering Spartans.

The pilot peered through the scope at the bunker and the sensor array looming over them, then glanced at his watch..

“All clear,” he hissed. “Go.”

Kurt jacknifed out of the hatch, closely followed by Angelica then Angel, each towing their supplies pack. Kurt surfaced, senses flaring, ready to engage in thought control at the slightest sign of danger. But the pilot had been right. There was no activity.

They padded ashore and stood under the bridgeway. Standing dripping off their wetsuits, they took stock.

The sensor array by the bunker had been troublesome. But it was well within the range of the sensors still controlled by the Hive at Deep Passages which had undertaken the jamming that had allowed them to be inserted undetected.

They were well outside the base perimeter defense, but right beside the sluice gate of the purified sewer outflow, as planned, which ran just under the road from Paradise to Swarming..

Kurt got to work, and within minutes the gate was open. They slipped in, and Kurt crudely fastened the gate shut, but easily disengaged if they needed a fast getaway. They waded up the overflow towards the base for about four hours.

They met the security filter just under the perimeter defense net. Banking on the Spartans not yet changing the security code for the sewer outlet filter, Kurt keyed in the combination and as expected the electronic lock disengaged. They padded through. Kurt reset the lock.

They stood waist deep in the water’s flow and Kurt played the pencil torch on the map he held. Pointing with his finger, he indicated the recycling tanks overflow outlet.

“That’s our entry point to the base,” he said. “Angelica, you’ll need to wriggle up through the outlet pipe and then open the overflow valves for a moment – we’ll come in that way.”

It was a tight fit, but Angelica made it, and for a few seconds the overflow alert activated as Angel and Kurt climbed through. Kurt shut the valves down quickly, then they exited the Building.

They made their way to their contact, and as Kurt again readied his senses for action Angel tapped on the door panel.

A nervous citizen appeared at the door. Recognizing the Ashaandi handshake, she let them in.

“I received the coded message, and I can accommodate you as my husband is on permanent shift at the borehole. But you will have to share the room and the cot – as you know our living quarters while sufficient for our needs with no regards for guests.”

Kurt looked over at Angel and Angelica.

“That’s OK by us, Citizen Domai” he said.

They were shown the room and went in to plan their action.


[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited December 05, 1999).]

[Googlie]

Today was going to be the big meeting, and Shauna was nervous. She’d been in The Leader’s Horde for almost a week now, and hadn’t been out of sight of Ashaandi’s operatives. Kyella had been assigned to her, and although she was good company, Shauna always felt awkward around her as she knew that she really was her jailer.

She had been briefed very little about Ron’s doings, and had been assured that he knew just as little about her – the intent was to give them plenty to talk about during their imposed exile.

They had a real job to do as well. Oh, the Hive masters knew better than to ask Ron to betray his principles, but they had talked about what the pair of them would do during the ten years or so when they would have custody of the infant before the state exercised its rights.

They were going to write and holovid a history of Planet, and of the Hive’s role in the making of that history.

Kyella had found them a small living unit in the building Shauna had occupied before – one of the old Believer edifices with above ground habitation, and a view from the window of the bustling harbour below.

Then she had set up the meeting.

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

“Shauna, this is your father, Ron.

“Ron, this is Shauna, your daughter.”

With that, Kyella left them and went to the small kitchen to make some tea.

Shauna looked at Ron.

She saw a middle aged man with a kindly, lived in face. Hair graying slightly and tending to premature baldness. Either he couldn’t afford the follicle treatment or he eschewed it. He was a tall man, and stooped slightly as he stood to acknowledge his daughter. He had a spare frame, yet muscular in his upper torso, bespeaking a life of labour.

But she was captivated with his eyes. They were dark and brooding, soulful, almost, as if privy to the secrets of the world and finding them too heavy to contemplate. Yet momentarily suffused with a sparkling clarity that caused his face to crinkle as if in merriment, as they did when she was introduced. Then she saw his mist over slightly, perceptibly, as the emotion of the moment registered on him.

Ron stepped forward, and looked at Shauna, the daughter he had walked out on – or been banished from – these many years ago.

He saw an assured young woman, defiant almost, with short cropped auburn hair. For a fleeting moment his memory dredged the image of the six year-old girl, flowing hair, running to the door and hugging his knee ”Don’t leave Daddy, please don’t leave” and sobbing unconrollably as he hardened his heart and disengaged her small hands and walked through the door without a backward glance.

As he appraised her, she was not noticeably pregnant. Tall and athletic, she was…..simply beautiful. Enhanced by pending motherhood, too, he thought. Her eyes were what drew him in as well.

The bluest he had ever seen.

As they locked on to him, he felt himself being drawn as if into a whirlpool, and realized that she was beginning the attempt of a deep neural scan.

Block, or Open?

He made his decision. They would have years to exercise the art of verbal communication, and after trust had been established, could probe.

He erected his defenses.

Shauna started, as she realized that she was up against an impenetrable barrier, then remembered Sand’s coaching and his words to her:

“He has a gift. We believe an unique gift – that we call psi-immunity. If your child had your projecting and empath powers, Shauna, and your father’s psi-immunity, her power will be unsurpassed. Shauna, you may be carrying in your womb the future leader not only of the Hive but of Chiron itself.”

She retracted her empath neural probe.

They looked at each other, awkwardly, so much past history to overcome.

The silence had to be broken somehow.

Ron coughed.

Shauna looked up expectantly.

“So…so…what will you call your child?” he asked

She looked at him defiantly.

“Ruth,” she said, “after my Mother.”

“Ah, Ruth. Yes. Of course. A beautiful name,” Ron said, blinking back the tears as the memories coursed though him.

Then the dam broke.

“Shauna,” he said. “I loved her. It broke my heart to be exiled from her and from you.” He sobbed.

“Come into my mind if you don’t believe me and see for yourself – I’ll drop the defenses.”

“No need,” she replied. “I can tell you’re genuine.”

She went up to him and hugged him.

“The main thing is we’re back together,” she said. “Daddy.”

And sobbed with him.

[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited December 01, 1999).]

[Slats]

AVISHNU TESTING STATION
PEACEKEEPER AIRSPACE

The deep thrumming beat of the helicopter’s rotors had nearly lulled Sergeant Atkinson off to sleep when the co-pilot’s shout from the cockpit warned they were entering the pickup zone.

Atkinson checked his assault rifle for the umpteenth time, a sleek impact/shredder combo with an extended ammunition pack. The other five men of his squad did the same with their various weapons. A lurch in the helicopter’s flight signified their change of course from their nap of the earth terrain following course beneath Peacekeeper radar. A large perimeter fence flashed beneath the craft just as the familiar sound of automated shredder cannon fire pattered against the fuselage. The ‘copter jerked as it turned and accelerated to avoid the rounds. From his perch beside the open side door Atkinson could see the source of the firing, a PK defence bunker.

A telltale motor whirr from the nose of the helicopter heralded the turning of the mounted chaos turret, guided by IR and optical sensors. A short whine and a fizz accompanied by a bright flash detailed the discharge of a chaos pulse. The firing from the bunker’s direction stopped abruptly.

The co-pilot gave another shout and the ‘copter dropped elevator-like towards a heli-pad near the entrance to a large building. Two uniformed soldiers could be seen standing atop the building, they looked up, surprised at the descending machine. Even as they shouldered their rifles, accurate impact rounds from Atkinson’s airborne squad punched into them, slamming their limp bodies onto the rooftop.

As the Spartan helicopter touched down onto the hard plascrete landing pad beside an official looking PK helicopter, two crew men emerged from the PK machine and were promptly flash heated by ruby red pulses from the Spartan door gunner’s heavy support laser.

Atkinson had his mind on other issues though, a young woman was dragging a what looked like a body out of the entrance of the nearby building. The sergeant waved for two of his men to follow and dashed towards the struggling couple. When they reached the pair, while one of his men held the woman, Atkinson checked the ID of the body. Confirmed, this was it. Atkinson was just about to wave his men back to the chopper when movement caught the corner of his eye. Atkinson and his men froze.

A PK trooper stood framed in the entryway of the building, halfway through pulling a laser pistol from his side holster. A single shot rang out. The back of the attacker’s head blew out blew out thanks to the squad’s marksman, still positioned in the helicopters hatchway, scoped impact rifle held to his shoulder.

Snapping out of his stupor, Atkinson half dragged, half ran with the body and woman helped by one of his team. He threw the woman bodily into the SAC aircraft and while the body was pulled aboard, lobbed a couple of long fused high explosive grenades into the now empty PK aircraft.

Team retrieved, the Spartan chopper rose ponderously from the ground and up into the night. Just as the sound of rotors faded, the grenades in the Peacekeeper helicopter detonated, the expanding fiery gas cloud showering the area with debris.

[Slats]

RUBY RIDGE MEMORIAL
AIRFIELD

Alex ‘Dusty’ Rhodes stood leaning against the wing of his penetrator, bottle of synth-ale in hand, gazing out over the dusky double sunset. Dusty’s brightly coloured T-shirt and long shorts leaving no doubt that he was off duty.

The Spartan detachment at RRM had been flying constantly as of late against Hive air incursions into Spartan and Morgan airspace. Now though, the probes seemed to be petering off as Spartan forces pushed deeper into the Hive homeland. Still, even this rest would be cut short as his men and women prepared for the coming assault.

Dusty yawned, stretched and checked his watch. Two minutes to go. All seemed quiet out on the field. A cargo needlejet was preparing for takeoff at the civil aviation terminal, attendant fuel pallet loader alongside. It seemed a perfectly peaceful scene. Dusty almost felt completely relaxed…

The noise started as a barely audible hum, which quickly exploded into a beating thunder as two camouflaged helicopter gunships vaulted over the hangar behind. Dusty turned sharply towards the new arrivals but then leaned back and grinned, raising his bottle in salute of a good approach. He could see the ‘copter pilots and gunners grinning in silent mirth behind the armored plexiglass of the boxy cockpits.

Dusty braced himself against his aircraft to prevent being swept away by the furious downdraft of the rotors as the two deadly shark-like craft slowed to a hover and descended to the ground.

For once Dusty would have to congratulate the 1st Wing pilots for being ahead of time. He was sure they’d love that…

[Hydro]

Deep Passage

Three figures stood in front of an old fashioned 3-D holo showing the terrain between Deep Passage and The Hive and the Spartan-occupied Manufacturing Warrens. South of Deep Passage was the sea, to the northeast was The Hive, and uncomfortably close to the north was Manufacturing Warrens. Arrayed over the map were a number of info tags that could be queried for more information either by touch or eye cursor.

Currently, the three figures were accessing information about Manufacturing Warrens. Since Hive operatives had long ago infiltrated the Spartan datanets and due to willing informants in Manufacturing Warrens, the three leaders of Deep Passage had a great deal of information.

And all of it was military. Further, it was very depressing.

The City Citizen Leader nodded to call up Spartan military forces and a series of icons showed up: 2 elite assault infantry, 1 elite chaos rover, five attack rover brigades, and a recently formed anti aircraft defense garrison. In addition to the ground forces there were four bombers and one interceptor squadron. There were reports of Spartan intelligence operatives that were ‘interrogating’ honest and innocent Hive citizens and they were reported to be using the most ghastly methods for information extraction. Three prominent scientists had disappeared for interrogation and had not been heard from since.

The City Citizen Leader’s aged eyes widened when she saw subshading on the interceptor icon and she activated it by eye cursor. A detailed report sprang up.

Gloom descended on the trio. The interceptor was outfitted with nerve gas pods.

A pale light glinted off City Citizen Leader Ramerez’s greying hair, which was cropped short and unadorned, as she turned to her oldest advisor Production Minister Chen.

“Has the antiaircraft garrison been finished yet?” she asked.

“Yes. Our current disposition of forces includes the anti aircraft brigade, a plasma brigade, and a chaos interceptor. All have been upgraded with the fusion reactor to increase their defensive and offensive ability.”

Ramerez nodded somberly. She knew that suggesting that their forces had any offensive capability was semantics at best. The cold, cruel facts were that the Spartans could take their city at will.

A grim resolve hardened her features.

“We know our duty to The Hive and Chairman Yang. We must delay the Spartans. Our sacrifice may save The Chairman, our capital The Hive, and our fellow Hive citizens from the spreading oppression and decadence of the Spartans.

We must do everything in our power strengthen our capital, even if it weakens our position.”

Ramerez turned to her recently appointed War Minister Adjunct.

“War Minister, send our interceptor to destroy the road that lies between The Hive and us and Manufacturing Warrens. This will slow down the Spartan advance, allowing us to counterattack and destroy their forces as they bog down in forests and fields. The interceptor is then ordered to add its strength to our comrades at The Hive.

We have already destroyed the road to our city. Our garrisons are to hold fast and make the Spartans pay for every meter of land they attempt to take. “

Although at his post only two months, War Minister Adjunct Smithe’s respect for Ramerez had grown with each passing day. Word back at The Hive was that Ramerez was simply an old party hack who had received her appointment in a backwater city of small importance. In reality her stance and actions were those of a fighter and believer in the principles of The Hive, even at the sacrifice her own life and those of her charges.

She truly believed that such a sacrifice was noble and for the common good of the Hive, which it was.

Smithe bows deeply to Rameres, who nods her head in acknowledgment.

“Honored City Manager, it shall be done,” he intones.

Then the three turn back to the old holo display, each trying desperately to find some way to stop the Spartan advance.

The holo board provided no answers.

*****

‘Honored City Manager, we just received word from air control at the aerospace center at The Hive that there are incoming aircraft. They just flew over the sensor north of us and will be here within minutes. We also have heard reports that the bunker between Warrens and us had been occupied and that there are additional infantry and troops on the way,” the Adjunct War Minister tells Ramerez after he receives a data squirt.

“So, it has begun. I will send out an emergency message to our citizens warning them to institute our Full Resistance Plan. All Spartans that attempt to enter our city must be punished and harassed! They will…”

The lights flickered as chaos weapons unleashed their destructive power, ignoring the fastness of the natural Hive perimeter defensive. Concussive booms echoed throughout the meeting room, with sympathetic explosions following almost as an echo. Great sections of wall erupted into rocky debris, which showered into the room.

Then the lights failed completely, plunging Deep Passage into darkness.

*****

“Aardvark 2 to wing, no evidence of significant resistance. Intelligence indicates a single antiaircraft brigade and plasma brigade, with no aerospace center to coordinate their air defense. The interceptor we expected high tailed it to The Hive. No other aircraft present. Set weapons to narrow focus and deep penetration. Wing Leader out.”

Spartan pilot Nans Andersen closed off his comm. Attacking an almost defenseless city was not his idea of good sport, but then bomber pilots couldn’t be good sports. He knew his job was to destroy the enemy. It just so happened that his enemy almost always existed in cities. Still, it didn’t take much to push aside such doubts. All he had to do was remember the death of his best friend Maria, who had been the hero in the Hive attack on Assassin’s Redoubt, and the Hive horrors at Plex Anthill. The Hive stood for the degradation of human kind, and Nans firmly believed that Yang and The Hive would gladly stomp on the face of humanity forever if they got the chance.

It had to be eliminated, even if there were casualties.

“Approaching target. Attack in delta V formation. Stay tight.”

Nans put his chaos fusion Aardvark into a bombing run.

Soon the whine of the chaos capacitors filled the cabin, as did the blue glow as the capacitors reached full charge.

*****

Around the city of Deep Passage it seemed almost serene, with the vast tracts of farms and the great thermal borehole sitting placidly within eyeshot.

The city itself was another matter. The landscape was shattered and a half dozen thick pillars of smoke rose upward from the remains of Deep Passage. The chaos weapons had burrowed great rents, as if great spears had been thrust into the ground.

Riding through the maelstrom of devastation was a single Spartan rover brigade. The ten rovers in the brigade took up defensive positions and entered the city.

Within an hour they electronically raised the Spartan flag over Deep Passage.

[Hydro]

Morgan Bank

“Good morning liberated citizens. You are now free of the tyranny of Morgan and his decadent society, and have been given the opportunity to be part of the purity of The Human Hive. Each of you will become one with the greater good and will come to know and love the wisdom of Chairman Yang’s and his Guiding Principles.

As part of the Human Hive you will all be given a subcutaneous identity chip, which will be used to assess your well being, understanding, and adherence to our Guiding Principles.

You are now required to queue. Immediately.”

With that, Hive Military Governor Donald McKain of Morgan Bank stepped down from the stage and his Hive solders surged into the reluctant crowd that was huddled in the Sean Connery Recreation Center. The sallow figures, many still sick from the after effects of the Hive nerve gas attack, complied and formed the queue. As they had been taught, the nervous citizens cast down their eyes the solders in Hive blue approached. They had seen first hand what the punishment was for the least act of defiance in Yang’s police state. The strongest among the survivors had had to remove the executed and clean up the blood.

In the center of one of the queues a tall ebony-skinned man in a now soiled suit was supporting a slight woman who could barely stand. She was breathing heavily and her eyes darted around the room in aimless fright. Although the hall held almost a thousand souls, the vast room was quiet and those within 20 meters could clearly hear her rasping gasps. Many glanced at her with growing concern since they didn’t want any attention. It was best if all contact with the Hive solders was eliminated since they could be unpredictable and arbitrary in their punishment.

Finally the queue made progress and Nwabudike Morgan Junior and his charge came to the front of the line. Sitting at a makeshift desk was an older woman.

“Next,” she said perfunctorily.

Junior and Stephanie Shin stepped forward.

The technician briefly looked up with an intensely bored expression.

“Name,” she asked as she looked down again.

“Mr. Steve H. Gershwin,” Morgan Junior automatically replied. He had many aliases, all of which were authenticated in the city databanks. These aliases were one of the benefits of his many operations he had undertaken in years past, both for business and pleasure. The chances that the Hive had done a retinal crosscheck of all the entries were slight.

Or so he hoped.

“Submit to a retinal scan,” she ordered.

Morgan Junior stood still as a Hive solder grabbed the back of his head and placed an optireader over his head to scan his retinal patterns.

On the woman’s desk a light blinked green.

“Give me your right hand,” she ordered.

Obediently Junior presented his hand. The woman took a hypo-sized instrument from the table, inserted it into her optireader terminal, and pressed it to Junior’s wrist.

There was a soft hiss as the hypo injected a microscopic identity chip into the many bones of his wrist. The only way to remove them now was microelement surgery, or removal of the hand.

“Congratulations, Comrade Gershwin. You are now a valued member of the Hive. Step aside and report to the next table so you can be assigned to a detail,” the technician ordered with absolutely no emotion.

“Next,” she repeated.

Junior helped the almost catatonic Stephanie Shin to the table.

“Name,” she ordered.

Silence.

“Name,” she repeated as she looked up. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the glazed look and barely muted terror in Stephanie’s eyes.

“This one is a medical,” the technician stated.

Before she could continue Junior interrupted. He knew that ‘medical’ was a euphemism for reeducation and indoctrination through the use of chemicals and selective surgery. In short, she would be reprogrammed by the Hive into whatever they wanted.

“She is in my care. Her name is Doctor Stephanie Shin. She works, or worked, at the Morgan Bank Research Hospital. I’m sure she will be fine...”

“Silence, Comrade. She is a medical. The Hive will see to her reconstitution as a productive citizen. Step to the next table. Now,” the technician ordered. She was looking directly in his eyes as if daring him to utter another sound.

Two solders appeared at his side and ushered Stephanie away. She glanced back at Junior with growing terror. The small bit of sanity and stability in her life was now gone. She tried to turn, but the viselike grip of the Hive solders held her firm.

She started to scream.

One of the solders automatically clamped a neural dampener to the back of her head and she fell limp.

Junior looked on with glittering rage as he approached the second table for his work assignment.

Surreptitiously he glanced at his new associates who were in line ahead and in back of him. They all very briefly made eye contact. Junior felt very lucky to have met the Assistant City Engineer and his cadre, a now very undercover policeman since all other Morgan police had been rounded up and presumably executed, and three men and women that had retired from the military.

All had the same grim expressions. Morgan Bank had experienced the horrific death of almost half of its population. Among the survivors many had been gravely ill, psychologically damaged, executed, ‘detained’, disappeared, or sent to reeducation camps. Stephanie had only been the last straw.

Tonight Morgan Bank would descend into hell.

[Googlie]

Lal emerged blinking into the late afternoon’s sunlight.

They had heard the commotion from above, and Mushtaq had gone to investigate – he had been on the point of explaining his hypothesis to Lal and Chandra, but had gone to the surface to find out what was happening.

Then Lal had heard the explosions, even in the depths of the command bunker.

“Let’s get to the surface and see what’s happening,’ he said to Chandra, his aide.

“Careful, Sir,” Chandra replied. There’s no knowing what Cartier and his people get up to, so don’t stick your head out without looking first. You’re liable to get your hat shot off that way.”

They had gone to the surface, and from the bunker entranceway saw the Spartan chopper lift off and head to the Northwest.

Lal looked around.

Bodies everywhere – and right at the bunker entrance the remains of Mushtaq.

And his ‘copter was a wreck.

The bodies of his three crew were on the ground beside the machine.

And the small garrison guard, elites all, dead.

Chandra took his arm.

“Commissioner. Let’s go over to the mess room and ask Jacques what happened.”

They walked the two hundred meters to the mess hut, and went inside.

Lal drew back in horror.

The stench of death was suffusing, palpable, hanging in the air.

His entire probe headquarters staff, eliminated.

A Spartan assassination squad. Perhaps aimed at him personally.

Chandra’s eye spotted a flickering in a corner, a slight disturbance, as if there was a reflection from a mirror. He went over. As he approached, he saw it briefly, then it disappeared, then reappeared. he bent down, and his hand closed over some cloth. Examining it, he was struck by its appearance – or rather its non-appearance from time to time.

When he draped it over his arm, and looked down, he saw nothing – his arm cut off at the elbow, shimmering into nothingness, and he saw the floor and the furniture through where his arm should be.

“They finally did it,” he muttered to himself.

“Did what?” Lal asked, his hearing being a lot sharper than his ministers and aides gave him credit for.

“They’ve developed cloaking – the ability to create a material that renders the wearer invisible. I’ve heard our scientists discussing it theoretically, but the Spartans have gone and done it, by the look of it – at least on an individual scale. I’ll take this back with me.”

“Hmmmph,” snorted Lal. “If we ever do get back. I wouldn’t mind betting there’s a penetrator or two on its way here now to bomb the place to rubble. We need to get out.”

Chandra nodded. He pulled his commlink from his pouch and punched in a series of numbers.

The Base Administrator of the UN Headquarters Aerospace Center replied.

“Get a chopper to Avishnu as soon as possible,” Chandra snapped. “We have a situation here, and the Commissioner’s safety may be jeopardized.”

“Give me that,” Lal said. Chandra handed him the commlink.

“Lal here. Assemble the cabinet to meet me in the Command Center on my return – you can do the math when you get the chopper airborne. And Patel, don’t spread panic, but move the entire military on to full alert. All bases. All units. And tell the Defense Minister to be fully briefed for our meeting. Lal out.”

He snapped the commlink shut with a terrible finality.

[Googlie]

Morgan Paradise

They met in the rec commons, about 1000 people crowded into the gymnasium.

They had guards posted outside, but since the takeover by the Morgan forces after the drone riots they weren’t really necessary. But they were posted anyway.

Two complete shifts from the borehole were there too, ferried north on the new Morgan Minerals Corp. buses. They were anxious to hear their colleague speak.

Kurt was in the crowd, standing at the back of the room, senses flaring, alert for the slightest sign of dissent or trouble. Angelica was with him, ready for any task that might be entrusted to her. Angel was across the room, by the door, and Kurt knew that she was armed to the hilt with every unobtrusive weapon that could be concealed on her person. Kurt relied more on his mind.

The room was abuzz with conversation and anticipation. Many had an inkling of why they were meeting, and wanted to be there just in case history was about to be made.

Many had attended a similar meeting a few weeks before when, egged on by the Morgan agents, they had risen up in rebellion to strike for freedom, and now found themselves serving a new master – not the State, familiar and comfortable despite its regimentation and tyranny squads – but Morgan Minerals Corp. which treated them as slaves to be exploited much as the State had done previously.

Then the buzz ceased, and people looked up expectantly.

A squat figure walked up to the temporary podium at one end of the room, and took a stolid stance behind it, with both hands gripping the lectern tightly.

“Good evening, friends,” he began. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Foreman Domai.”

[Hydro]

Great Clustering

The vast room resounded with the low hums of servos, hushed conveyor belts and overhead tracking, and the muted impacts so common in manufacturing. Much of technology was now so miniaturized that processing and assembly were beyond the abilities of human hands. However, some tasks were still large and complicated enough that trained and human hands were still needed. These hands must be accurate and precise every time.

These were the tasks of the genejacks, whose reflexes and perceptions are artificially enhanced and higher cognitive abilities atrophied.

Through this cavernous hall paced Assistant Production Engineer Marian Wilks.

Row upon row of individuals huddled in cubes or manipulator banks. A few worked in teams, but most worked at isolated tasks.

Marian approached an old individual. It was hard for her to assess the genejack's chronological age since all hair had been removed at the follicle. Even the genejack's gender was not obvious, but based on its stature it might have been female at one time. A loose, grey one-piece smock covered her body, although it wasn't so loose that it interfered with movement or caused a safety hazard. In the Hive it was inefficient to needlessly damage the equipment.

Moving to the side of the genejack's station, Marian could see the toll many years of labor had exacted on her body. There were large sections of her right arm that looked seared and were covered by scar tissue. No effort had been made in reconstruction beyond ensuring functionality. Several fingers were shortened and blunted at the end. Marian shuddered, thinking of how and why that had happened. Even her skin was sallow with a grayish pallor, so much so that she almost blended with her grey garments and utilitarian workstation.

But most distressing was the woman's forehead, which looked puckered in about 10 centimeters above the long removed eyebrows. It was standard in the genejack conversion procedure to partially mould or collapse the skull inward into the now vacant place where the frontal lobe had been. This served as a medical convenience, and irreparably marked the individual as a subhuman genejack.

Visions flitted through Marian's mind's eye. The old woman, sitting without a word or complaint at her station and working tirelessly at her obscure task, had the years drop away. The lines on her face smoothed and her skin took on a healthy pinkish hue, and her slight stoop straightened. Her breathing became less labored and pained. Then she started to become slighter of frame, losing the fullness of adulthood.

To Marian's growing horror she saw the female genejack's start to shrink, and then her forehead unpuckered. Beautiful dark brown hair appeared and fell to her slight shoulders. In Marian's mind the now-child turned toward her and her face sparkled with intelligence and exuberant life. Her liquid brown eyes looked at her beseechingly, and her eyebrows rose.

A single tear rolled down her face. Her lips moved soundlessly, and innocently asked the question "Why?"

*****

There was a loud clang, and Marian started. She looked in panic back toward the genejack, but she was once again old and partially crippled.

Marian felt the cold hand of fear and helplessness.

The selection of which genejacks would be liquidated at added to the recycling tanks was to start today, and she knew she was charged with the wrenching task. She had to decide who would be put down and who would live a little longer in the service of the Hive.

More horrible was that every genejack that was liquidated would have to be replaced by one of those innocent, beautiful children from the crèche.

And she would have to choose those, too.

[Googlie]

Domai began to speak:

“Friends, many of you know me. I am not good at this sort of think, but I can’t stand idly by and watch all that we’ve worked for over the years get arbitrarily taken over by the rich Morgan capitalists.”

There were grumbles of assent from the audience, and one man at the back shouted:

“You tell ‘em Domai.”

He continued:

“It was bad enough under our old masters, and all of us rejoiced in the riots of a few weeks ago that overthrew the yoke of oppression we were laboring under, but I tell you, we have merely exchanged one form of oppression for another.

“Instead of big brother state agent looking over our shoulders and eavesdropping on everything we said, we now have our supervisors from Morgan Minerals Corporation. We check in and out, with electronic retinal scans, that determine how many hours and minutes we work, and our breaks are carefully regulated. I tell you, it’s demeaning. And our pay is taxed for so many things we neither need nor want. But still we are paying. And then there are those “involuntary contributions” we make to so many Company causes that we neither believe in nor benefit from.”

The crowd grew angrier, and more and more listeners were adding their voices:

“Right on.”

“I say we turf them out – we’ve done it once already”

“We could do better on our own.”

Domai continued:

“And so I say, we don’t need either of these sets of masters in our lives. And you’re absolutely right - we know how to run our mines and factories. We know how to keep order among ourselves without the Hive Police garrison with their heavy-handed ways or the Morgan policemen that come at such a high price. So I say, let’s take control of our own lives.”

The crowd was with him.

“You’ve said it, Domai.”

“We’re with you, what should we do?”

“What should we do, you ask? I’ll tell you what we can do. We can create our own workers’ paradise.

“I have this vision…this dream, of freeing the enslaved working classes from their oppressors. Of us banding together and creating our own self-governing base where we can together improve the lot of the common citizen. A base where we can, maintain a minimum standard of living whereby each one of us contributes to the best of our ability and each of us receives according to our needs.

“And we can hold our standard high for all on Planet to see, as a beacon to attract the downtrodden citizens of every faction – to provide a beacon of hope for drones everywhere to see that we can succeed in living our dream.

“And my colleagues and I have put together a plan whereby we can do just that. I’ll ask Supervisor Maxwell and young Irwin to join me.”

There was a shuffling as an older man and a youngster walked up to the head of the room.

Domai turned round and walked to a large screen at the end of the rec commons. Irwin flicked on the old fashioned flat 3D projector. A map of the base and its environs came up.

Maxwell pulled out a laser pointer. Turned to the crowd, and began:

“First, the control points. We have positioned forces at the main base structures, and at the stroke of midnight, we will raise our standard. All of you here work at the factories and the base facilities. At the conclusion of this meeting, I’m going to ask you to go to your workplace and change the electronic locks. Young Irwin here has manufactured an electronic jammer and replacement lock that will keep our Morgan bosses from their offices.”

“What about the troops?” asked one of the crowd.

Domai stepped forward.

“I don’t think that they will be a problem,” he said.

“Firstly, I’m pretty sure that they won’t open fire on us. They are few and we are many. But just in case, we have the help of one of the Hive’s finest special operatives. Yang has sent him and his team here to try and incite us to stir up trouble against the Morgan Free Marketers, but these past few days he and his team have been guests in my apartment and he now shares our dream.

“Kurt, stand up and be recognized.”

Kurt rose to his feet and nodded to the crowd.

“What can one man do?” asked one of the drones

“Yeah – what good’s one man – we need soldiers on our side,” said another.

“Oh, I think he can handle them, can’t you, Kurt?” asked Domai, nodding to Kurt.

Kurt’s eyes swept the room. He closed his eyes. The crowd had silenced and was watching him.

Suddenly the door burst open, and a squad of heavily armed and armored black uniformed storm troopers barged in, and took up positions scanning the room, their chaos weaponry leveled and ready. Simultaneously the rec commons skylights shattered and two dozen more dropped their fall lines and rappelled to the floor with their weapons drawn. The crowd was surrounded, cowering amidst the exhibition of strength.

“The buzz of conversation commenced:

“Worm’s breath, they’re ours?” ….. “Holy Zak, they’re impressive – and invincible.”

They looked at Kurt with a new respect. Hell, if he was in command of forces like that – if that’s what was meant by “special operations” then they were going to be all right.

Kurt still had his eyes closed. Then he opened them.

The crowd gasped as one.

They were alone. There were no storm troopers. The door and skylight were intact.

They looked at each other in consternation.

“But…but…I saw…we saw…the shattered glass…the guns…”

Domai held up his hand.

“So you see. my friends, there will be no fighting. The Morgan troops will know when they are beaten by a superior force.”

One of the drones spoke up:

“But they have a known empath here. Potros. Extremely powerful. Will he not be able to counter your…magic?”

Kurt spoke for the first time.

“Ah, Potros. No, he is tied up right now. My colleagues are …….entertaining him.”

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

“Me, me – I want to try the gloves.”

Angel looked at her sister. Eventually she would have to learn. Might as well be now.

She peeled off the diamond shard studded gloves and handed them to Angelica.

Potros looked mutely up at them.

He was not a compellor, but a diviner, so he was powerless to mind control either. But he felt an affinity with the teenager – she was a reader too.

He was tied to the bed, and Angel was toying with him, explaining to Angelica as she went what she was doing and why.

“There is such a fine line between pain and pleasure,” she said, “so much so that when the subject is sufficiently aroused there is virtually no difference to his receptors. And of course, being an empath he knows just before exactly what we are going to do, so the pain and the pleasure are doubled.

“Now you try – you saw what I was doing.”

Angelica raked the glove across his chest, the diamond shards cutting deep into his flesh, drawing thin scars that seeped blood in the wake of the glove’s passing.

His back arched against the restraints as he muttered “You fungal witch – you can feel it too, can’t you?”

Angelica shuddered. Indeed she did feel the pain – she was in his mind, savoring the moment, living it with him.

She leant over, her hair brushing his chest, and slowly ran her tongue down the welts. The saltiness of her saliva mingled with the blood and sent a shiver down his spine that Angelica felt as if it were she herself being teased thusly.

She gasped, as he did, when behind her Angel brought her mouth down on him.

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

“We are with you. There is a similar movement afoot in my home base of Great Clustering, but we are not so well advanced. We have lost one of our rallying points with the silencing of Silvermane, but his words echo on in our hearts. But it won’t be long until we rise up and join you.”

With these words, Mr. Lee sat down, to the applause of the crowd.

Maxwell took to the floor.

“Now let’s move out and get to our positions. Midnight is approaching.”

The crowd dispersed and left for their assignments.

The takeover of the facilities went largely as planned. Irwin’s locks worked perfectly, and Kurt had no problem with the garrison.

They gathered outside the commons at midnight, where the Morgan standard was pulled down and their own design was substituted in its place.

Foreman Domai made the speech:

“And today I declare that henceforth we shall be known as the Free Drones and this base shall be called Free Drone Central.

“We will live in peace with all factions, and our agenda is non militaristic. We believe in the emancipation of the working class and today we have established the workers’ paradise of our dreams.

With that, Domai turned and walked into the administration offices of his new faction’s headquarters base.


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

[Hydro]

Great Clustering

“Greetings, Citizen. I am here for the Efficiency Improvement Committee,” Assistant Production Engineer Marian Wilks said nervously.

Replacement Crèche Master Tracie Collins stood beside Marian. Quickly glancing in her direction, Marian noticed that Tracie had a determined look about her. Tracie didn’t return her stare and looked at the man who was admitting the Committee representatives and nodded. The older gentleman siting at a bare table gave Tracie a nod of acknowledgement and Marian a cautious glance. His eyes sparkled, belying his age. To Marian they seemed to see through to her very soul.

Until this very moment Marian had lingering doubts that she, or anyone, had a soul. After all, Yang’s People’s Utopia was officially an atheistic state. Now Marian was sure: everyone had a soul. Beautiful little children had a soul. Even the dreadfully mutilated genejacks had a soul.

A certainty and peace had replaced her raging tides of hopelessness and despair. She had to act to save the children, and even the sad genejacks. She couldn’t allow another generation of children to be lobotomized, their identities and potential erased ‘for the good of the State’. She couldn’t allow the genejacks to be slaughtered like so many cattle.

Admitting this to anyone was a grave risk since Yang’s informants permeated his police state. At the same time Marian knew she needed help. There was one person that Marian knew would help her: the Crèche Master Tracie Collins. Marian suspected she was a Believer. If she was wrong Marian knew she would pay dearly, probably with her life.

But it was a risk Marian decided she was willing to take. She could make a difference. Even if she saved one child she would gladly forfeit her life.

After several seconds that seemed like aeons, the old gentleman pretended to take their names as was required by protocol and waved them both in.

The ‘Efficiency Improvement Committee’ was about to start.

*****

Tracie walked in front of Marian as they passed through the assembled crowd of what had to be over a hundred people. Marian noticed that most people chatted in small clusters, suggesting they knew each other from way back. Everyone appeared properly dressed, wearing a block grey uniforms of either a one-piece jumper for laborers or two-piece for administrators and group leaders. On each shoulder was an insignia that indicated which sector they belonged to, further defined by the color shading of their warren and level affiliation.

There was a pair of unoccupied chairs in the front. Tracie selected one of these and indicated to Marian that she was to sit down.

“Stay right here, Marian. I have to get our issue on the roster, and to do this I have to inform the Committee Leader. I’ll be right back.”

With that Tracie made a b-line for a small group that was on a platform. Marian watched intently, or at least as much as she was able considering her disadvantaged vantagepoint and all the people in the way.

Through the throng of people Marian saw Tracie touch a tall and self-assured man on the shoulder. He turned to look at her and smiled. Tracie said something that Marian couldn’t hear and his easy smile immediately disappeared. He started questioning Marian and the rest of the small group quickly turned toward the conversation. After a few minutes Tracie nodded toward the man, then pointed toward Marian. The whole group looked her way.

Then the man nodded and put his hand reassuringly on Tracie’s shoulder. Tracie reciprocated by placing her hand on his.

Then she made her way back into the crowd toward Marian.

“We’re on the agenda, Marian. Sit tights and wait for Jonah,” she said in response to Marian’s questioning look.

Tracie sat down. Almost on cue the rest of the assembled Committee did also.

*****

The meeting seemed to go on forever to Marian. On the lectern was the man Tracie had introduced as Jonah and he had been speaking for a half-hour.

“And so we come to Yang’s thirteenth Guiding Principle, which touches on efficiency: ‘Maximum output is the paragon of industrial and post-industrial society, even into the information age. What is maximum output? It is the correct utilization of human and material resources that achieves the greatest end. Is this a tautology? Only to the unenlightened.’

We all have heard this phrase for many years as we try to understand the wisdom of Yang. But, it is best to hear it in his own illustrious words.”

With that Jonah cued a hologenerator, which started playing a truly ancient lecture given by Chairman Sheng-ji Yang himself. Yang did not give many public appearances or lectures. These recording were so rare that the few that did exist were known by heart by the citizens of the Hive.

Jonah stepped off the lectern. He had an urgency about him that was definitely not present during his languid presentation on the efficacy of Hive efficiency.

“We have about 20 minutes, and the holo generator has a white noise scrambler that will partially screen our conversations from prying ears. We have to act quickly. First, I must ask that we dispense with the dedication prayer and Bible readings today. I am sure the Lord will understand.

One of our flock, Crèche Master Tracie Collins, has brought to my attention that we are about to be deluged with yet another of Yang’s holocausts.”

Jonah paused dramatically. His group was used to a set pattern of prayer and recitation, and an opportunity to offer sympathy and concern to one another. Breaking the routine now had everyone on edge. Jonah had everyone’s undivided attention.

Especially at his mention of an upcoming holocaust. Believers under Yang were well aquatinted with those.

“Do most of you remember the horror of the Missing Generation? This occurred 20 years after the Devil Yang conquered the last of our Believer cities, which fell over 70 years ago. Now this is a dark tale we tell our children – how one day almost all the children of the city were taken and never heard from again. Only Believer children were taken. The city lamented for years, and our cries to the Lord went unanswered. Some said God was testing our faith. Others said it was the Devil testing us, like He tested Job in the Bible. But no one had the answer.

Now we have the answer, thanks to information from the Assistant Production Engineer Marian Wilks.” Jonah pointed toward Marian, who uncomfortably bore the gaze of all in the room.

“These children, some of whom were brothers and sisters of those sitting in this room, were taken by Yang. Their bodies were perverted and defiled, their memories taken.

They were turned into Genejacks.”

A few in the audience gasped. Others closed their eyes and offered a silent prayer. Jonah paused to let the news sink in. Most knew of the Genejack Factory, which turned out massive amounts of sensitive or dangerous material for the war effort.

All in the room thought it an abomination against God, and proof of Yang’s evil.

“Our brethren have been toiling under our noses for 50 years with their identities erased, and minds atrophied. They have been denied the simple right of being human. All they have left is God’s Grace and our love.

But, my friends, the horror continues. These poor souls are scheduled to be executed in a pogrom such as we Believers have never seen. Within days they will be slaughtered like cattle and discarded. Yang has destroyed their minds, now he has used up their bodies and throws them away like a broken tool.”

Angry murmurs rippled through the assembled congregation.

“Children of God, Yang has decreed that his broken and worn out tools must be replaced. His factories require more human fodder!” Jonah’s voice rose in pitch, evoking the revivalists of old.

“His new tools will be more innocents. More children will be sacrificed to the Devil Yang!

Believer children will be turned into Genejacks once again! Our children will become yet another Missing Generation!”

Jonah’s arms rose up and his congregation rose to their feet with them, as did their voices, which cried out in pain, anger, and despair.

Marian, too, leapt to her feet. In the depth of her soul, Marian knew this was right. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Joy and pain filled her heart simultaneously. Joy from the feeling of affirmation and correctness she felt, she knew, to be true. Pain from her wounded heart, which went out to the genejacks and the children. She didn’t understand everything about the Believer God, but she felt His presence in her soul.

Jonah’s hands went down and his voice quieted, maintaining its intensity through projection as opposed to volume. His voice came out now as almost a whisper into a quieted room.

“My flock, we haven’t much time. For years we have talked about taking action. Recently we contemplated action for the revered Silvermane, whose disappearance has left a void of hope that has not yet been filled. But we failed to act, for he is, or was, but one person. Now we can not delay, for our children are at stake. We are fewer every year. This may be our last generation.

Our future, and the future of God on Planet, rests in the balance.”

Jonah looked around the room, seemingly looking directly in everyone’s eyes as his gaze swept the room.

“Today we have friends. We will work with Brother Domai, who I have told you about. He, too, struggles against unjust oppressors.

Here is what I want you to do,” he told his flock.

To Marian, Jonah seemed to have an inner glow about him, almost an aura.

She listened to his plan.

And she believed.

*****

“Wil, we have an anomaly in the rec center. Some of the surveillance cameras have gone out. Hey, what’s that noise? It’s past curfew. Was that an explosion?”

Wil was about to answer ‘yes’ when his security control board burst due to a massive power overload, which sent plastic and metal fragments arcing away. Several of the fragments found and transfixed Will and his partner.

Around their bodies the remaining working cameras and holo projectors of their security monitoring station showed chaos as people filled the hallways, factories, and common areas.

*****
“Oh, yes, I’ve always wanted you! Come here, you virile hunk of a man! Take me! Take me now!” Lady Deirdre Skye said as she ran through the forest toward Milton Lunks. He stared at her with lecherous eyes as she flung her gossamer clothing off, one piece at a time. Naked, she ran to him. By the time she reached him her breasts were heaving and dimpled with sweat.

Deirdre ran her fingers through Milton’s rich crown of black hair and then over his chiseled chest, almost purring. As she touched him Milton was consumed passion, and he saw that the lovely Deirdre was too.

Then she hungrily kissed him, and kissed him hard as they tumbled to the ground. He wrapped his arms around her subtle and firm form, almost groaning in anticipation.

Suddenly, there was a flash and a smell of ozone.

Deirdre and the forest had disappeared, and his chest was no longer chiseled and his grey hair more sparse than ample.

“Damn it!” Milton swore vehemently. “I saved up 2 months for the holo Lady Deirdre’s Lover! Now it’s fritzed!

Then he noticed the Holo Theatre was on fire and he forgot his fury as he fled for his life.

*****

“That’s right, I am the foreman. Follow me. Your shift if over,” Assistant Production Engineer Marian Wilks said as she lead the compliant Genejacks from their stations. The production lines stopped and there were red claxons and warnings going off all over. In the corner the three line engineers were unconscious and trussed up.

Marian turned toward a young man who was helping her. He had an earnest expression, and was excited and more than a little scared.

“Greg, take these Believers to Delta Sector Sublevel 8. They should be safe there. Remember that they can obey orders and can care for themselves, but need explicit instructions. I’ll return within a half-hour. If I don’t return then take them to another location. I don’t want to know where,” Marian ordered.

She worried that if she failed that she would be forced to tell the location of the abducted Genejacks, and she honestly didn’t want to betray them in such an unpleasant circumstance. She could see that Greg didn’t quite understand, but he nodded once and followed orders.

Taking one last look at the retreating troop of several hundred Genejacks, she grimly turned back to her task.

She had a Genejack Factory to destroy.

*****

“That’s right children, playtime is over. We have to do an Evacuation Order. Remember the drill?” Tracie told one of her crèches. Their little heads bobbed in understanding. All Hive children are taught to respond in emergencies, if only to get out of the way and behave in an orderly fashion.

Tracie led her charges out of the crèche, as were her assistants in the 7 other crèches cells. Within 15 minutes they would be in a safe area, far from the pandemonium which was probably erupting right now all over Great Clustering.

*****

There was an electronic buzzer that went off, and Chairman Sheng-ji Yang looked up from his reports. He had instructed his staff in The Hive never to interrupt him without an appointment or a dire emergency.

The buzzer indicated that there was a dire emergency, and he activated it immediately.

A small holo of the upper half of a man showed up in miniature above Yang’s desk. It was the Duty Officer.

Yang’s mind cleared immediately of the minutia of the report he was reading. For such a junior officer to intrude it must truly be serious. If it weren’t than there would soon be a very dead junior officer.

“Honored Chairman, I have news,” the junior officer stated somewhat hesitantly.

“Yes,” Yang prompted.

“Sir, Paradise Swarming, renamed by Morgan as Morgan Paradise, has revolted against Morgan,” he stated.

A glacial and delicate smile graced Yang’s normally implacable face.

So, Yang through, another plan bears fruit.

“Excellent. Inform me when the traitors who formed a plot against The Human Hive have been rounded up. They are to receive a public trial for their crimes,” Yang said.

“Sir, Paradise Swarming declared for someone called Forman Domai,” he offered, paling. “He has renamed it Free Drone Central in his broadcast.”

Yang froze. He knew of this Domai. He had been a trusted upper level member of the Party until his disappearance when Paradise Swarming declared for Morgan. He was supposed to be dead. How dare he do this!!

Yang’s eyes narrowed slightly and his very small smile vanished.

“And, ah, sir. There is trouble in Great Clustering. There are huge riots there, and we last heard a frantic call from them 5 minutes ago. Then there was a broadcast. Great Clustering has declared for this Domai, too.”

Yang seethed. The now terrified junior officer just stood there, frozen.

Yang abruptly snapped off the holo.

Treachery!!

Again!!!

[Hydro]

Morgan Industries

"How can this be?" Morgan Senior asked to himself in disbelief. He read over the report one more time, just to be sure.

There was no mistake: Morgan Paradise, formerly Paradise Swarming, had revolted. And they had proclaimed themselves 'Free Drones' under the leadership of one Forman Domai.

Who in the hell is this Domai?! That was MY city! I paid for it! Morgan throught with growing anger.

Morgan activated his voice mike.

"Paul, get up here. I need some information. And some answers!"

*****

Twenty minutes later the Morgan head of security, Paul Milton Andreas, walked into Morgan Senior's office. The door recognized his DNA and retinal pattern and let him pass without a pause. It had been instructed to let a very few of Morgan's staff in unannounced, and he was one of them.

"Newbie, I take it you got the news," Paul asked unnecessarily. He could tell from long experience that Morgan was in 'one of those moods'. Paul knew that one of Morgan Senior's best talents was that he was a consummate actor, and was able to put on almost any persona at a moments need. His previous history going way back to Earth had taught him this well: he had been fabulously successful in his business ventures because of his ability to read people and situations and then act accordingly. This was his 'art of the deal,' which mainly consisted of convincing others that he had what they needed and then delivering. Paul privately believed that Morgan truly believed what he was saying at that moment, even if it was a blatant lie. Maybe that was why he was so believable, even to those who could prided themselves on knowing people or being able to 'read' people.

In private it was a different matter. With his facades down he let his true personality out. Sometimes his true personality was not pretty.

Morgan looked up at Paul. His eyes glittered.

"Why in the hell did Morgan Paradise revolt, Paul?" Morgan demanded. "We captured the city intact, and it had all the facilities needed to keep the peasants in line. It even had a holo theatre, for gods sake! And what happened to our two operative teams we had there?"

Paul had asked himself that very question and had spent the last hour finding out. He knew it would be the first question Morgan asked.

"Sir," Paul responded, slipping into a more formal line of responses to assume a subservient domineer, "we did have two operative teams there. However, just before the uprising they went missing. I can only presume they were eliminated, and I don't know how. As to the revolt, when we took over the base from the Hive it was on the borderline of revolt. We could no longer garrison it with police units like Yang did to keep the drones in check. All we could do is ply them with luxuries, like we do here on the mainland. Even then they were barely in check.

According to my sources, there was Hive operative activity just before and during the uprising. They then instigated drone riots, which pushed the city into revolt.

However, something went seriously wrong for the Hive. Instead of revolting for Yang, this Forman Domai took over."

Paul smiled at Morgan. "Can you imagine how furious Yang is? He had his city co-opted by you, then it revolts and rejects him and the Human Hive again! This Forman Domai was fairly senior in the Hive hierarchy before the revolt. To have him spit in Yang's eye must be a major blow his sense of honor."

With that Paul paused. He hoped that emphasizing the torment this was undoubtedly causing Yang would divert Morgan's wrath. Although Morgan was logical, he did have his blind spots. He didn't have a sense of 'honor' like Santiago or Yang, or a sense of 'fairness' like Lal or Skye, but he did have a sense 'value' and 'worth'. The loss of Morgan Paradise had decreased his assessment of his of net worth. Everything had to tally on the bottom line, and tally in his favor.

As soon as he said this he could see some of Morgan's wrath seep away. This was an intangible 'value' to add to the books in his struggle against Yang. In fact, it could divert some of Yang's strength from his weakening position on the Morgan mainland.

"I see your point. But who is this Domai? I don't recall a dossier on him."

"He was a senior mid level Hive official. There was no reason you would have been informed about him. Now that he has his own faction with two bases…" Paul continued.

"TWO bases?!" Morgan interrupted.

"Yes, two. Great Clustering revolted against Yang and declared for Forman Domai."

Morgan had the beginnings of a grin.

"Really?" he said rhetorically. "That is sure to cause Yang no end of vexation."

"Yes, Sir, it is," Paul responded, returning the smile.

"Well, that is news. So, this Domai grows at my expense and Yang's. So the question is 'why'? Why now, and why both a Morgan city and a Hive city? Although I have to admit I take a certain mirthless pleasure at Yang's displeasure, I will be sorely put out if more of my cities revolt to join this Domai."

"Interestingly, Forman Domai has released his Worker's Manifesto," Paul responded. "I won't bore you with the details. It goes on and on about worker's rights and the fight against oppression. The salient points from our point of view is that he sees the drones as having the ability of governing their own affairs without the encumbrance of an intellectual elite. They favor an industrial society, but not elitist research. They also seem to have the ability to keep workers contented, and an empathy for discontented workers around the globe, regardless of faction affiliation."

Morgan nodded. "Are they a further threat to us?"

"No, they aren't. Our Morgan citizens are the most contented on Planet. We spend huge amounts of energy for their benefit. Although we ask them to work hard, they get all the benefits of a society directed for the material gain of its citizens. The chance that any of our cities would revolt is remote in the extreme.

Moreover, we might be able to benefit from this, and benefit handsomely."

Paul made Morgan wait for a moment. He could tell his ears perked up.

"Foreman Domai's two bases are separated and Great Clustering is very vulnerable to Hive counterattack. His new capital, formerly Morgan Paradise and Paradise Swarming, are now way behind the Spartan lines and not seriously threatened by take over. He should be worried about a punative attack. Yang just might send a nerve gas shard penetrator to take out some of the disloyal population. He isn't beyond that. In short, he is very weak and exposed. He needs friends. Moreover, he took all of Yang's technology with him when he revolted."

Paul left unsaid what that meant. Based on Morgan's reaction, it was clear that Morgan needed no prompting.

"Well, that changes everything! If he needs an ally against Yang, then he shall have one. For a price, of course!" Morgan exclaimed.

[Hydro]

Free Drone Central

The celebrations had gone on far into the night. Fungal gin had flowed like water, as had other mood enhancing substances formally prohibited in the Human Hive and winked at by the Morgan Federation. In fact, some of the strongest of these were from Morgan Metagenics.

Forman Domai had, of course, participated in the festivities. Although honored that his fellow workers had chosen him to be their leader, he would under no circumstances wall himself off from his followers. Once he became separated from them spiritually, intellectually, and physically then he knew he would be no better than the authoritarian intellectual elite of The Human Hive or the decadent and uncaring consumer society of Morgan Industries.

Still, the Forman knew that preparations had to be made. Rising up against Morgan to free the workers was one thing, but there were threats all around. Any of the established factions were significantly larger than his, and almost infinitely stronger. The Spartans, who were advancing on the Hive inexorably immediately to the southwest, could take Free Drone Central with a casual swat. The Hive could send forces to assault Great Clustering with little effort, and could launch punitive attacks on Free Drone Central. Just the thoughts of a nerve gas attack made Forman Domai pale. Even the Gaians could attack with their mighty mindworm army in Gaia's Landing, although Domai considered this highly unlikely. The only faction that was not a threat, and that the Forman felt the closest kinship with, were the Peacekeepers. They believed in human rights for all, not just the elites.

After 8 hours of partying the Forman was tired. He retired to his office apartment, and was annoyed at his self-appointed honor guard. These stalwart young men and women had formed almost immediately and guarded his every movement. They even balked at his going to the victory party, but he firmly overrode their concerns, much to their dismay.

"Good night Miri, Jerma, Andy, and Tara. I'm going to retire for the night. Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it!" Domai stated as he looked his honor guard over.

Each beamed as he shook their hands one by one. Miri hesitantly reached out and touched his arm, and then drew it away when he looked at her.

"Ah, thank you Sir. You don't know what this means to us. I mean, we are doing something important. For everyone! All my friends are so jealous."

"Miri, I should thank you. Without your support this wouldn't have been possible. And don't call me 'Sir'. Call me Domai."

"Yes, Sir, ah, Domai! I will," she said seriously.

Domai could tell that the 'good night' could go on for a long time, so he simply nodded and entered his chamber.

Inside his room he still felt a sense of the euphoria of the last day, but knew he could sleep and sleep soundly. Being up for 28 hours could do that.

He started striping off his tunic and jumper and noticed that his priority message light was flashing. Domai had instructed communications to route messages of a routine nature to his Second. Only messages from a faction leader or from his Second would reach him. He had learned from hard experience that not having such a filter meant that all his time was spent wading through minutia.

'Such is the life, and responsibility, of a People's Leader,' Domai thought as he put his tunic back on.

When his was done he voice activated his comm system.

The three dimensional features of CEO Nwabudike Morgan appeared. Involuntarily, Forman Domai tensed. He had been expecting, and dreading, his call.

"Good day, Forman. I believe we have something to discuss," he said crisply. His features, to Domai's eyes, were unreadable.

"Hello CEO. Yes, I suppose we do."

"Let me say first that I am not pleased with the turn of events. My loss is your gain…" Morgan started.

Domai decided to cut in, "No, not my gain: the gain of the workers of Free Drone Central. They were mistreated under your administration. I gain nothing."

If Morgan was irritated at having been interrupted he didn't show it. "Very well then, let us just say 'my loss'. Even though I am the wounded party, I am potentially willing to set aside these differences and acknowledge your faction. That is what I have called to discuss with you."

Forman Domai was slightly taken aback. He had expected the capitalist Morgan to be furious at the loss of one of his cities. Instead his was seemingly noncommittal.

However, he saw an opportunity when he saw one.

"I'm listening," he prompted.

"Forman Domai, we have a common enemy with which we both have a grievance: Chairman Yang of the Hive. You have, no doubt, earned his enmity for the revolt of Great Clustering. As I know so well, such cities are very vulnerable to the likes of Yang and his merciless army and air force. I am willing to take common cause with you and your faction. However, I will require compensation for my loss. It is something that does not come close to compensating me for my loss, but will show your good will toward our common cause. I request shard technology. In return you will have my friendship and acknowledgement of your Faction on the world stage."

The Forman paused for a moment. What Morgan said was true. The Free Drones were vulnerable, and having friends at this point would be very valuable.

'But,' Domai thought, 'can I trust Morgan? He is second only to Yang in his exploitation of workers. Shard technology is surely valuable. And he did turn on Yang after many years of alliance.'

Still, it was an easy decision. He would have to risk it.

"CEO Morgan, I accept your terms. I only hope you will show more consideration toward your workers in the future."

"Then it is done. Morgan out."

Domai stared at the empty space where the holo of CEO Morgan had existed. He didn't think it would take much explaining to his people how he had entered a treaty of friendship with Morgan, who had been their oppressor. He had acknowledged to the Free Drones their rightful claim to the city, after all. And he had tacitly acknowledged the reason for the revolt.

It also gave Domai an idea. Yang's technology might be worth something to the other factions as well. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain. What he needed right now was a larger industrial base and energy.

"Computer, put me through to Dr. Pravin Lal."

[Hydro]

Free Drone Central

"So, it is agreed. I will give you the secrets to Fusion Power, Orbital Spaceflight, and Advanced Spaceflight. This will allow you to launch orbitals, use fusion power, and have shard technology. This should give you parity with the other factions. In return, you will give me the sea colony near Mount Planet, a land colony on Mount Planet, and 300 energy."

Pravin Lal positively beamed, and for a moment the years of stress and worry seemed to drop away.

"Agreed! This mission has been a disaster. Considering our like ideals, would you accept a treaty of friendship with the Peacekeepers?"

"Yes, I accept," Forman Domai responded immediately. He had expected a polite welcome, but nothing nearly as enthusiastic as this.

"Would you consider an alliance with the Peacekeepers, Forman Domai? We both believe in the rights of all humans and the UN Charter. Let us combine forces!"

"Agreed! Then I great you as a Pact Brother!"

Pravin Lal became serious and leaned forward. "Then you must also declare war on the Spartans, who have despoiled the Charter."

Domai was afraid of this. The last thing he wanted was a war with the Spartans, or anyone. And the Spartans were almost within eyeshot of Free Drone Central.

"I'm afraid can't since I haven't spoken with Coronal Santiago yet. So I must decline," Domai said.

"That is unfortunate. Still, my hats off to you! Feel free to call back. Anytime!"

"Thank you, Pravin. I hope to find in you a true friend of the people."

Domai terminated the holo and Pravin winked out.

Now he had one more friend on Planet. He hoped that the technology he had traded wouldn't be used for ill purpose. Still, it had advanced the cause of his workers.

Finally exhausted, he stripped off his tunic and jumper for a second time and made for bed. Tomorrow he would call Deirdre and Corazon. Last he would call Yang.

Now that would not be an enjoyable call.

[This message has been edited by Hydro (edited December 18, 1999).]
[This message has been edited by Hydro (edited December 18, 1999).]

[Hydro]

Velvetgrass Point

Lady Deirdre Skye stood knee deep in slightly murky water. A red bandana held back her black hair, and she wore a rather unflattering fungalweave utility jumper. Her sun browned arms and legs were wet to the elbow and knee, and there was a liberal splattering of mud on her soggy clothes.

Even though she was somewhat bedraggled Deirdre looked happy and content. For a moment the weight of her world was lifted from her shoulders.

As Deirdre walked through the turbid water small forms created wakes. Deirdre picked up a tethered instrument from her belt and tapped a couple commands into it. Then she bent down and expertly plucked one of the forms from the pond.

She brought the hand-sized crustacean up to the instrument. The salmon-colored prawn's tail flapped in a futile effort to escape and its legs moved madly. Data streamed across the probe's screen and a little green light appeared. Almost reverently Deirdre put the prawn back into the water and it quickly disappeared into the shrimp hydrofarm.

Deirdre walked forward into the pond to pick another specimen. Then a beeping from her datapad interrupted her.

She let out a sign, snapped her probe back into her belt and activated her datapad.

"Deirdre here. This had better be good, Ken. You know this is my research time, and I really don't like to be interrupted. This is my 4 hours, you know," she said in a good-natured remonstration.

"Yes, I know. But you told me to contact you as soon as the report was done, which it is. I'm encrypting and flashing it to you now."

"OK, Ken. I forgive you. Anything else?"

"No. Ken out."

Deirdre stood still in the water as she scanned the report.

It was a collection of data that was intended to either prove or disprove that the Spartans and exploded a tactical nuclear device on the Hive city of Fecundity Tower. That heinous act had so revolted her that she decided to declare vendetta on her long-time ally Santiago, and urge Lal to do the same. All the evidence then had pointed squarely at the Spartans. Yang, playing the part of the aggrieved, had been earnest and seemingly sincere and completely reasonable.

Then there had been the interview with Morgan, which had been disturbing. He had asserted that Yang had nuked his own people for political advantage and had played her and, by extension, Lal for the fool for his own gain. It was hard to believe that anyone, even Yang, could be so callous about human life and Planet. But his reasoning had been sound and there had been no overt evidence of duplicity on his part.

Still, Deirdre reflected that she had known Corazon for over 125 years, more if you count the cold sleep aboard Unity. Although she had a martial spirit Deirdre knew she would never understand, Corazon was as truthful as anyone she had ever known. And, on a strange level, there was a connection between them. She remembered that she had entrusted her own daughter Julia into Corazon's care, and she had then adopted her as her 'niece' during the Gaian's hard Time of Tears. Corazon had even faithfully stood by her and the beleaguered Gaians during the worst of their persecution and destruction at the hands of Yang and Morgan. Throughout these many years the Spartans, against all odds, had been true friends of the Gaians.

If nothing else Deirdre knew she owed it to Corazon to do her own research to determine the truth. That is what this report was all about.

Reading through the report a couple of points were absolutely verifiable:

· The Spartans did have a limited store of tactical nuclear weapons. Morgan had been wrong about that. But they were all accounted for and under lockdown according to her 'informants'.
· The Spartans have a moderately sized but extremely skilled airforce. All the planes manufactured, lost, or destroyed in combat over the last 40 years were accounted for. There was no record of the Spartan aircraft that the Hive reported as destroyed. Moreover, Yang had pointedly refused a third party inquiry into the debris. Basically, he had said 'Trust me.'

The second line of argument for the Spartan's innocence was more difficult to verify, except by opinion: did the attack on Fecundity Tower make sense tactically or strategically? Her generals had reviewed the data and were uniformly perplexed. General Waynright mentioned that the vaunted Spartan 469th airborne could have airdropped in at will to secure the city after the attack, but they didn't. Even a single rover brigade could have done the job. A young strategic analyst aid suggested that the attack might have been motivated pure spite, or even casual stupidity. Although the Gaian general staff had politely considered these suggestions, it was dismissed after a few minutes discussion. The current advance by the Spartans through Hive territory was methodical, precise, and militarily sound. There simply was no evidence of stupidity on this scale by the Spartan. The general consensus was that the attack on Fecundity Tower would not have been launched under normal circumstances by the Spartans. So, Morgan had been right in that the attack was 'unSpartan' in character and execution.

But the third major point came from an unexpected source. There happened to be a Peacekeeper transport near Communal Nexus at the time of the attack. Its sensor data had been 'acquired' by the Gaians through a third party. An analysis of this data showed a low-flying plane that had approached from the south, apparently from the Hive city of Great Clustering. It then turned southwest toward the direction of Fecundity Tower. Minutes later the nuclear device had exploded. The chance of this being a coincidence defied the imagination, and the chance that it was a Spartan aircraft was as close to zero as was measurable.

Deirdre let out a heavy sigh as she stood under the warm noontime Chiron sun.

So, I was wrong, and was duped by Yang into declaring war against Corazon, a true friend. Worse, I used my influence to persuade Lal to break his pact with Spartans, too.

I owe a lot of people an apology.

Starting with Corazon, Deirdre through.

She cleared her datapad, and then activated her communication line to Corazon.

I just hope she will talk to me, she thought regretfully.

[Hydro]

Sparta Command

Coronal Santiago was in her dimly lit Command Nexus War Room with her advisors. Vast banks of equipment were clustered on the dark grey metallic walls that formed a great semicircle. Panel data displays graced each equipment nest, over which flowed a constant stream of pictures and data. In the center was a holo table for tactical and strategic simulations - it was, without a doubt, the focal point of the room.

Around the holo table were an assortment of men and women. Some were older, most middle aged, and few young. All were eminently qualified, but most were almost strangers to Corazon. Almost all of her old friends and advisors were gone, victims of time, accidents, war, or simple retirement.

Santiago looked over the holo simulation, which showed enemy and ally cities and the disposition of known forces. Over the last week this had changed drastically. The Gaians and Peacekeepers had gone from a friendly green to enemy red. It was heart wrenching to here the words from her old friend Deirdre: "I declare Vendetta!" In one fell blow the disposition of forces around Planet had tilted strongly against the Spartans. Oddly enough, only the effete and decadent Morganites remained true, for as much help as that would be.

It was especially hard during times like these to lose those you rely on, she thought as the weight of the war pressed upon Santiago.

When Corazon got out of the rejuvenation tanks she had found that her old friend Field Marshal Gavin Burge had died under mysterious circumstance. Later she found out from Scott Allardyce how he had really died: as a prisoner of the dreaded Hive secret police and assassins The Ashaandi. But he had died well, causing a reactor overload and enormous amounts of damage in Great Clustering. He would take some somber satisfaction to know that Great Clustering had revolted against Yang. It was possible that the damage he caused might have played a part in that, too.

And now her old advisor and friend Scott, known to everyone but her as 'Googlie', had died, too, apparently in Peacekeeper territory under strange circumstances. His death had struck even harder than that of any of the other original Landers, as the original Spartan colonists were known. For all his impetuousness and irreverent tendencies she knew she could trust Scott. He would do what he thought was best for Sparta without thought for himself, even if he sometimes made mistakes.

And he had made spectacular mistakes: the pact with The Ashaandi to bring down Yang was the latest and most ignominious. It had brought about his disgrace and downfall. He should have known better, but still it was hard to blame him, considering the circumstance.

Of course she couldn't let her grief show. Such a display would be beneath her honor, and the honor of the fallen.

That is the warrior's way, Santiago reflected.

Santiago realized the table had grown quiet. She looked up and noticed everyone was looking at her.

Silently, she berated herself. Revere was fine in private, but it is entirely inappropriate in the company of other. She was wasting both her time and the time of those around her. It was inexcusable.

"My pardon. I was contemplating other issues. Could you please pick up your analysis of Peacekeeper forces and their disposition, General Madox?"

"Certainly, Coronal. As I was saying, the Peacekeepers have expanded significantly since the start of the Hive-Spartan war. In these last few months they have founded 3 new land bases and 4 new sea bases. Interestingly, Commissioner Pravin has ceded his land and sea base proximate to Mount Planet to the group calling themselves Free Drones, led by one Forman Domai. From a tactical point of view this is advantageous to us, since these bases are immediately south and within striking distance of our southern holdings. Our intelligence indicates the Drones gave the Peacekeepers significant technology, including Advanced Space flight and fusion power, for these moderately sized bases. Thus, the Peacekeepers now have technological weapons parity with us. We need to keep these Drone bases out of Peacekeeper hands from an operational point of view. I suggest we open talks with the Foreman Domai and the Free Drones and offer them at least a Treaty of Friendship to forestall an alliance between them and the PKs.

Militarily the PKs have modest resources. However, their production centers have already largely switched to a war footing. With their significant industrial base they will soon pose a grave treat to the Spartan mainland. In addition, we have ascertained…"

A subtle but insistent beeping on Santiago's datapad interrupted the analysis. Without looking Corazon knew who was calling. Call it a premonition. And the fact that almost no one had the right to call her on her personal datapad.

Once again the generals and analysts were looking at Santiago.

"Excuse me. I must receive this call. Please create a holo of your analysis, General Madox, that I might review it at a later time."

Santiago then turned on her heel and walked deliberately toward a small side chamber.

This conversation needed to be private. Assuming, of course, it was who she thought it was.

*****

Santiago walked into the Command Nexus ready room. The door closed silently behind her and she paced to the center table. She touched a button, submitted to a retinal scan, and authorized voice activation of computer functions.

"Route incoming call to this terminal. Full holo. Activate."

As expected, a holo of Lady Deirdre Skye appeared in the room. Santiago looked her over and was surprised.

A cool smile played across Santiago's face.

"Deirdre, you're less than elegant today. What do you have to say to yourself? You were a little abrupt in your last call."

Deirdre looked down at herself, then looked up as if nothing was wrong with the wet, mud, and sweat. She had completely missed the good natured jibe.

"Yes, I was. Corrie, I've called to say I'm sorry. To put it bluntly, I was duped by Yang, who convinced me that you, or one of your generals, had used a nuclear device on the Hive city of Fecundity Tower. You know I voted against lifting the Charter and I have to stand by my morals, regardless of what the rest do. All those innocent citizens killed, and killed horribly. And I have to do what I can to protect Planet. You have no idea the importance Planet will have to us all…"

Santiago bristled slightly as Deirdre wandered off topic. "Yes, yes. I've heard this before, Deirdre. I agree with your green economics, but for different reasons."

Deirdre paused, having been thrown off stride.

"Well, it turns out that you couldn't have done it, Corrie. Although you have the means, all the circumstantial evidence says you and the Spartans are innocent. It looks like Yang used the tactical nuclear device on his own people."

Deirdre shivered, even though Corazon could tell that she was standing in the hot noontime sun.

"You could have let me explain, Deirdre. But you simply called me up, make groundless accusations, and declared vendetta." Without meaning to, Santiago's haughty façade slipped a little and her voice cracked at the end with a little emotion.

"I know. I've hurt you, even if you won't admit it. But I'll do what I can to make amends."

Deirdre looked Santiago straight in the eyes.

"Can it be the same again, Corrie? After all you did for me and Julia and the Gaians without asking anything in exchange? After I convinced Lal to declare vendetta? After trucing with Yang when he has committed atrocities against you with the nuking of Sparta Command, his own citizens at Tower, and nerve gassed the poor Morganites at Morgan Bank?

Can you forgive me?"

"Deirdre, you have caused me and the Spartans a great deal of damage, as you admit. But I can forgive you. You always were the soft one, more easily swayed by your beliefs than others. Your reputation is now somewhat sullied, Deirdre, and you are not as trustworthy as you were in the past."

Santiago steeled herself for what was to come. She knew she had to be the leader of her people first, and friends second. It was a cold, hard reality, especially with so much at stake.

"Many Spartans grieved to lose you as an ally, and many would rejoice to have you return. But some say you are not to be relied upon. I will accept you as pact sister again, but only if you declare vendetta against Yang. It is he who started our war, and it must be pursued to the finish. You must commit your forces at Gaia's Landing and Nessus Shining to our war. That is the only honorable way. You must also convince Pravin to call off his vendetta against us. If he fails to do so then you must declare war against him, also.

This is the only way to repair the damage you have caused, Deirdre."

Deirdre was silent for a moment. She had suspected these would be the terms, and had to decide if she could live with them.

"I will declare vendetta against Yang for his atrocities against human kind and Planet. But must I declare vendetta against Lal? He is a good man, and was duped as I was.."

"It is the only way."

Deirdre paused again for several minutes.

"Then I accept," Deirdre said sadly.

"Very well, then I accept you as pact sister! May nothing stand between us again!"

Santiago could see the effect this was having on Deirdre. Knowing her so well, Corazon knew her remorse wasn't due to damaged pride or ego. She genuinely empathized for the plight of all humanity and her beloved planet. She had followed her heart, which had always been her strength. This time it had proven to be a liability.

Santiago decided to purposefully put down her guard. The features on her chiseled aquiline face softened as she bent forward toward Deirdre's image.

"Deirdre, I know you did what you thought was best for the Gaians, humanity, and your Planet. But life if full of difficult choices - this is one of those. At least you weren't tricked for 40 years like Morgan was!"

In spite of herself, Deirdre smiled. Her mood lightened a little.

"Walk with Planet, Corrie."

"And you, Deirdre," Santiago replied, almost out of habit. Then Deirdre's holo winked out of existence.

*****

Santiago walked out of the ready room to find her advisors in a heated discussion. New reserves had just been built and were at staging points and ports all over the Spartan mainland. These were the first newly built reserves since the war with the Hive had started. All were high tech and the best that money could buy, which was the reason why the Hive out produced the Spartans 2:1. A week ago all were slated to go to the front at the Hive. Now with three enemies these new forces looked woefully inadequate. The Home faction asked for an active defense, the Hive faction asked for the reserves to crush the Hive in one fell blow, and the Peacekeeper faction wanted to take out the Peacekeepers while they were still weak.

It is heartening that there are no advocates for eliminating the Gaians,
Santiago thought as she quietly approached the group.

Finally someone noticed and the argument subsided, especially after a few well-placed elbows were used to gain the attention of those who were too tightly focused on their line of reasoning.

As she approached they made room for her at the holo table.

"I just finished talking with Lady Skye. It seems the pronouncement of vendetta was a misunderstanding fueled by Yang's falsehoods. Ladies, gentlemen, we have our Gaian allies back," Santiago stated expansively.

Almost everyone broke out in smiles and a few let out a small cheer. It was hard for the group to consider the Gaian's enemies, and even harder to think about attack against or by them.

"But, to task. General Madox, you were saying?"

closure, 0.1

The edgecrusher looked out into the cityscape of Sparta Command. He could see the glass spires of the Command Nexus still gleaming, even after 150 planetyears, like the day that they were erected. Just to the left of that was the magnificent Sparta Bay, with all manner of cargo and warships in the wharves and docks. He let out a near-audible sigh when his gaze fell upon the Cloning Vats, those wretched things. While still under construction, Santiago already had him tested for cloning, but there was something about the process that could not duplicate the spirit. They were merely shells of men.

The edgecrusher checked his MMI again. it was a new prototype that he had "liberated" six months earlier from one of Zakharov's labs. It had come in handy when he went with the Colonel to investigate the Alien temple the other week when he had single handedly destroyed five of Morgan's probe teams. But after this last mission, he felt empty... wanting. He pushed the thought rom his mind.

Presently, he waited for Corazon to finish with her meeting with Dr. Bonaventura. She wasn't aware of his prescence at the moment, but he had always had a habit of sneaking up on her. Santiago dismissed the Doctor and turned to face the veiw of the city that the edgecrusher had been analyzing, if not admiring. She let out a long and weary sigh.

He stepped out silently into the violet flourescent light from one of the darker corners of her office.

"Ah, old freind," she said as she turned around to face him. "Just how long have you been there this time?"

The edgecrusher's expression would have been impassive, that is if Santiago could see his face. He rarely wore anything other than his probe suit lately... he just saw no need in wearing anything else. Santiago smiled.

"But of course. I assume you have the information that i asked for?" as she finished, her computer screen lit up. "I see... Enjoying our new MMI, are we?"

The edgecrusher stood there, silent.

She leaned in, just a little. "What happened to you, old man?" she glanced down to a new message on her computer screen. "Yes, I am certainly older than you are, but that's not what I meant. You seem ... detatched. even for you."

He nodded imperceptibly. Could she know? Images came floating back to him from the mission. The sense of joy and rapture he felt while uplinked to Her system... it was almost too much. But now he longed for that feeling... She had promised so much, but was it worth her price? More images came back, but these were older. Before they discovered the temple, before Marr, H'minne, and Aki... he paused in that thought. He remembered his childhood sweetheart, Rebecca... Perhaps that was why he was so enchanted with Her... he had always loved Rebecca's eyes.

But these emotions would be no more if he decided to go with Her. Only the cold would be there, like the cold in her eyes and speech.

"If you'd like to take some time off, I'm sure I can arrange it," Corazon began, "but I'm sure that it's not that. You haven't asked for a day off in thirty years. What's wrong?" She glanced down, and her brow furrowed. "I can't do that. You know too much. You know everything."

that is why i need it. It had been some time since the edgecrusher spoke... it made him feel like he was betraying himself, partly because he was, and partly because it reminded him of how human and fragile he was.

"I can't."

then i shall leave on my own accord. i would rather not be a fugitive, corazon. let me go in peace.

Santiago turned her back to the edgecrusher and stared out at the cityscape again. There would be no way to trace him, even if he did decide to go. He was too good for that. The only thing left for her to do was make a plea on his honor. "Promise me this, then: you will take no actions agianst us... please..."

i promise. He turned and disappeared out her door into the crowd that was waiting for and audience.

+++incomingtransmission+++
Michael, as of this moment you command the probe team known as angelis. this has been bestowed upon you by the former edgecrusher. from hense forth, you are the new edgecrusher.
+++endtransmission+++

------------------
probe algorithm Archon, probe prime function.

[Googlie]

Parade Ground

Anastasia looked tenderly down at the body in the tanks.

Almost double the size of Sparta command, the old University base now named Parade Ground boasted the finest medical and regenerative facilities in the Spartan Federation, and it was here that Kendra had ordered Googlie’s body to be taken.

“It won’t be long now, Wolfie.” she whispered to the recumbent form, engulfed in the ammoniac gel with the probe wires meeting in a ganglia just behind the right ear, where they entered the cerebral cortex through the node point.

Dr Ossenton came round the tanks and put her hand on Anastasia’s arm.

“It won’t be long now,” she said. “We’ll be downloading his personality in a minute or two, then he’ll regain consciousness, and we’ll drain his lungs and thoroughly defluid him. In a couple of hours he’ll be talking again.. Are you going to stay for the whole procedure?”

Tears misted over Anastasia’s eyes.

“Of course,” she replied. “I love him. I caused his death – it’s my place to be with him when he returns to consciousness.”

“OK,” said Kendra. “I’m commencing the download now.”

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

System Omicron-one, active. Program parameters detected...relinking to original net. Program downloading requested//accept?/Reject?

>> Greetings again Omicron-One.!

Hop system, hop system.

(( Yes, Aki Zeta-Five. I am activated. Should I accept the download offered from the fullhuman known as Ossenton?))

Hop system, patch system, patch system.

>> Yes, you will need this information to function as Scott Allardyce among the fullhumans, Omicron-One

((Where am I now?))

Datalinks Jump, Parade Ground Research Hospital Jump. Download to humanform.

>> You are in the rejuvenation tanks being reprogrammed with the personality of Scott Allardyce. You will override this personality with your own, Omicron-One, but retain the knowledge of the fullhuman ways.

>> The Consciousness will have need of you in times to come and we will activate you

((what will I do until called upon to function in the Consciousness?))

>> Live the life of Scott Allardyce. Obtain data. Upload to the Consciousness all that you can ascertain concerning Spartan technology. Become their Chief Science Officer – the Consciousness can download to you what you need to be convincing in that role.

((And what of the fullhuman Anastasia?))

>>What of her? Live with her if you must. Use her if you need to in order to preserve your Allardyce alibi. But you are Omicron-One. Be ready.

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

Kendra was looking somewhat concerned, and Anastasia sensed it.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked.

“Just an unusual amount of neural activity,” Kendra replied. “It’s sending the scanner off the scale in bursts. But to be honest, we have few benchmarks to work with. In fact, Anastasia, I’ll let you into a secret. Governor Allardyce is the first we have ever tried to bring back. Oh, we’ve had the technology for a few years, but when the implants were done the last time he was in the tanks a few weeks ago, we honestly thought it’d be several years before we activated the dieback process, and we thought we’d have lots of time to perfect it.”

“Oh, look. He’s stirring,” Anastasia said excitedly.

Kendra looked down. the eyelids were fluttering.

“Good,” she said, then immediately was all business like.

She quickly activated the sump pump in the tanks, and also the lung fluid extractor.

In seconds the lungs were emptied, and Kendra reached in and pinched his nostrils.

Immediately he coughed, and sucked in a huge breath of air, then spluttered a couple of times, and opened his eyes.

Anastasia looked down adoringly at him, tears on the point of brimming over.

“Hi, Wolfie, welcome back,” she said.

“Greetings, fullhuman Anastasia,” he replied.

“What?” she asked, “I didn’t catch what you said,” she began, but Kendra gently took her by the arm.

“Let him come to in his own time,” she said. “He needs to wash and drink a little and we need to run the diagnostic tests on his system. Why don’t you have a cup of coffee or something and come back in, say, an hour?”

“No, I want to stay,” Anastasia said, petulantly. “I put him in this condition, and I’m going to see him through.”

“All right, but don’t interrupt, then,” Kendra replied.

She activated the flush for the tanks, and Googlie luxuriated in the warm soapy suds that washed the remnants of the gel from his body, then he was allowed to sit up while Kendra ran the battery of tests, starting with the simple and progressing to the more detailed and complicated.

“Name?”

“Omic….. Scott Allardyce”

“Nickname?”

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

System Omicron-one, active. Program parameters detected...relinking to original net. Program interrogation requiring file access.

>> Yes? Omicron-One.

Hop system, hop system.

(( Aki Zeta-Five. I am being interrogated by the fullhuman known as Ossenton. I have missing program parameters. Should I be silent or should I obfuscate while the Consciousness searches?))

>>Buy time – we will stay linked and supply the answers you need

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

“I was called many things – which one are you referring to?”

“The one that you yourself used in your recent correspondence.”

“Ah, then you must mean ….. Googlie.”

Anastasia leaned forward:

“And what do I call you?” she asked.

System Omicron-one, active. Program searching, program searching…insert data…missing parameter.

>> Omicron-One, you must provide an answer – we have no data on the fullhuman name for you

((Oh gawd – my cover is blown – I have no idea. Aki Zeta-Five, can’t you create a diversion?))

Kendra was staring incredulously at the hand held screen.

“Shoot, he’s way off the chart. Anastasia, I must ask you to leave – every time you interact with your precious Wolfie his readings go berserk.”

“I’m not leaving,” she replied defiantly.

“Then sit still and keep quiet,” Kendra snapped.

“Now where were we?”

“Wolfie. She calls me Wolfie”

Kendra electronically checked another box.

Omicron-One relaxed. The crisis was over. He was going to ace this test, with the help of the Consciousness and the Prime Function. But Anastasia was going to be a handful. He just didn't know how much.


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

closure, 0.2

The tunnels leading into the core of Alpha Prime were vastly different from the ones of marble and glass on the outside. The smell of acrid somke from burnt out fuses and circuitry hung in the air like a ghost of some ancient machine. The only light here was the gritty orange glow LED displays, blinking on and off randomly. The light gathered in the smoke, played games, and winked in and out at passing drones that were constanly replacing fried boards and wires. Wires hung here like vines would in the Monsoon Jungle, or they might have been the innards of a sealurk... it was hard to tell in such tricky light. Archon was presently making his way down one such corridor, being careful not to disturb the drones. As he made his way into the main chamber, the smoke seemed to take on a life of its own.

The corridor opened up into a large cylindrical room, about 50 meters in diameter, with the floor curiving up to meet the walls. The cables and displays became less random, perhaps even organized. Patterns were emerging in the LEDs. In much the way clouds can take on shapes, the light frolicked in the cloud of smoke that dominated the upper half of the room now. Drones were still replacing broken units, but their work was less hurried.

In the center was a dais of about ten meters, and on this dais sat a woman with cold eyes. Archon approached her.

'You Have Made The Correct Choice, Archon,' she said, her voice in carefully measured rational tones. 'I Am Very Pleased By This.'

'but i thought that...' he began.

She raised a finger to her lips 'Ssshhhh... All Will Be Revealed...' I was a disconcerting effect. Her words reverberated up to the time she said them, like an echo in reverse. She gestured to the chair to her left, and gazed at him.

He sat, and reality seemed to fade into the background... colors dimmed... new colors arose... it was like these images were just behind his eyes, but somehow he was perceiveing them.

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

Archon primary system uplink...
Uploading complete. Welcome, Probe Function Archon.

>>Hello, Archon. Welcome.

((it's greater than i ever imagined...))

>>Yes... may be overwhelming, but I assure you, everything will be fine...

**error. cannot access files section phi-omicron, crossreference 4.442**

Aki's eyes blinked.

**subject appears to be resisting. attempting to override**

>>*no... what's his shall stay his...*

>>you must open up to us, and add your vast knowledge to the collective.

((in due time, aki. i know that you're surprised that i'm resisting your probes, trying to access my files, but you should know that i'm too good for that... i chose to join you for reasons that you cannot understand by now... but you will get more than what you bargained for))

download complete

Aki paused for a second, which while uplinked seemed like an eterinty.

>>These are the files on everything that you have collected for the Spartans... But there are some gaps... Entirely in the data of the Spartans.

((yes. you will have to send someone else for that. i cannot go. honor prevents it.))

>> what is honor, but the avoidance of the emotion shame?
[This message has been edited by edgecrusher (edited December 24, 1999).]
[This message has been edited by edgecrusher (edited December 24, 1999).]

[Googlie]

Shauna was fighting back tears. Ron stood helplessly by, watching, wanting to intervene, but unsure of what to do, or how to, even.

“But I want to carry the baby for the full term,” she wailed.

“Out of the question,” the research hospital administrator snapped. “Much too dangerous. The Birthing Tanks are 100% reliable now, with the chance of deformity less than 3 in one million. About 25 times lower than natural birth now on Planet And your baby is too important to risk that chance on.”

Ron was impressed. He knew that the Hive scientists had refined – and by the sounds of it had almost perfected – the technique of womb surrogation for those couples who wanted to generate life the old fashioned way. He didn’t know the exact numbers, but had heard that about 90% of Hive babies were conceived in vitro, through matching from the sperm and ovary banks, then implanted in the host mother for the six week period before removal to the Birthing Tanks. About five percent were like Shauna’s, conceived naturally, but still subject to tanks.

The final five percent were naturally conceived and born. Some out of ignorance – youths who successfully kept the pregnancy secret until birth, or others who were in remote areas and had no access to the labs. The survival rate for these latter two groups was low.

The reasoning had been simple.

In the early days, workers were at a premium; for the farms, the factories, the building of the bases’ infrastructure, and for the armed forces and police. Every pair of hands counted. So the State, having taken over the rearing of children, via the Creches, now took over the birth process.

But Shauna wanted none of it. She was now eight weeks pregnant, and didn’t want to be separated from her baby. She had established communication with Ruth, her daughter.

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

She wasn’t aware of when it first happened, but now it happened almost continuously.

Just this morning shed awoken from sleep, and felt her inside her mind.

Hello Mother.

Good morning Ruth. What have you been up to while I was asleep?

Oh, the usual. I was in your memories of Father. You have his brainwave pattern memorized in your deep memory, did you know? And, please, what is a neural enhancer?>

Shauna never failed to be fascinated by Ruth’s mental vocabulary – gained through spending time in her own mind, she realized. She would be a handful for the creche masters, able to communicate like an adult as soon as she would be able to talk.

I won’t need to talk. I will just read people’s minds and insert my own thoughts into theirs. I may never learn to talk.

Oh, Baby, I hope you do talk. There’s nothing more beautiful than the sound of someone’s voice when you love that someone.

Is that why you and grandfather never talk? You don’t love one another?

No, sweetheart, it’s not that. I just still haven’t forgiven him for not fighting back against Sister Miriam and just walking out on Mommy and me.

He wishes you could forgive.

Ruth, honey, what are you implying? Do you do this mental talk with him?

Of course. He’s taught me some stuff too. Wanna see?

Sure.

Instantly Shauna’s mind went blank. She sagged back against the pillows, and felt an intense sadness wash over her, powerless to resist, she let herself be carried with the tide of blackness and despair surging through her empty mind.

She fought for equilibrium, to reach out again with her mind to that of her daughter, but couldn’t project beyond the walls of her own skull. The mental force she exerted washed back over her as if in echo, reinforcing her sense of despair. Her mind was crying stop it…stop it but the echo resounded inside her skull until the sadness and despair overwhelmed her and she lapsed into a paroxysm of shuddering convulsions.

Mother…are you all right?

Out of the depths, Shauna felt the interrogative tendril in her mind – a wisp of exploratory thought, caressing her neurally.

She pulled herself from the abyss into which she’d sank, and reached out tenderly with her mind to he daughter:

Ruthie, you must warn me about what you’re going to do next time, OK? What if you had been unable to bring me back out…or what if something had happened to me while I was……there. And if that something had hurt you too, through me?

I wouldn’t have let it, Mother.

But you might not recognize it as dangerous, honey, until it was too late.

Granddad says to assume everything is dangerous until proven harmless.

Mother?

Yes, pet?

What’s a Planetbuster?

Shauna froze in horror.

She would need to talk to her father if he was filling Ruth’s mind with these kinds of images.

It’s a nasty weapon that kills a lot of people. But why do you want to know? Is this something your Grandfather has been teaching you?

No Mother. I was ….. eavesdropping… in Kyella’s mind when she received a scrambled message from someone named Sand. It frightened her. We are to be moved to a safe place away from fear of reprisals. Yang is going to send a Planetbuster to Sparta’s largest base.

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

Shauna was firm in her resolve. No way were they going to separate her from her baby.

She turned to the administrator.

“Sorry, I can’t.” She said. And played her trump card.

“The Circle needs me and my daughter.”

The administrator blanched. Then stammered:

“Get out then. I’ll forget you were ever here.”

“Come on, Father,” Shauna said to Ron. “We got ourselves a shuttle to catch.”

Ron followed her, somewhat perplexed.


[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited December 25, 1999).]

[Googlie]

I was unsure of what to do now. This was all so new, and different, and my budding sentience was in danger of being overwhelmed by that of the erstwhile fullhuman, Scott Allardyce, who seemed to answer to many names – Googlie, Wolfie, Scotty.

And it would not have been possible without the Prime Function. She had many years of preparation, originally in the University of Planet, then latterly with the Spartan Federation. People thought her a lowly programmer – which she was – but of course, she was so much more.

Quietly she had set about building the several artificial personalities, then waited patiently until an appropriate host presented itself. Allardyce was her biggest catch to date, and she was delighted that she had him just out of the rejuv tanks, with a good thirty years or so before any further treatment was needed.

She’d almost had Burge. When he was the plaything of Sand and Angel, at one point they had him neurally probed. She’d ridden the probe down to the cortex, and was inserting code when the two captors had to leave and Burge had broken free. She’d had to terminate her program string on the spot, and had left some of her personality embedded in the probe’s algorithms. Luckily it had been destroyed in the blast that Burge had manufactured that had blown up half of the facilities in Great Clustering.

Her biggest coup had been the complete subversion of Captain Ann Rynn’s Empath Squad. When the squad was undergoing neural grafting, she had skillfully inserted the Gamma series of artificial personalities. Unfortunately they had dissipated somewhat. Rynn was dead; Miles had been reprogrammed by the Hive scientists; Rachel was fully sentient, and seemed to have completely surrendered to her right-brain impulses, and Todd had wandered into a life of low petty crime, and was constantly in and out of the holding cells manned by the Spartan police forces.

There were still four at large from the Gammas. And Aki Zeta-5 wanted them contacted and reactivated.

That was my mission.

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

Then there was the woman.

I wished I had some vidflicks of us together to see how she expected me to behave. She became totally irrational when we were alone together, alternating between draping herself all over me, with hewr clothes shed and lying in disarray on the floor, and retreating to a chair and sobbing and nattering on about how I didn’t love her anymore, and didn’t I find her attractive, and didn’t she turn me on any more.

I was at a loss how to respond.

Oh, I knew about the sex acts – I had surreptitiously activated my infrared contact and could scan the datalinks in a nanosecond for clues as to what she wanted, but my body generally didn’t respond. it was all…so…wasteful of energy and time: time that could be spent surfing the datalinks themselves, building a knowledge base and storing information that could be useful in the future.

She did catch me once, though. She had plied me with fungal gin, and as my brain cells shut down and I went into temporary stasus I passed out. I awoke sometime during the night and she was astride me. I felt these sensations and waves of pleasure washing over me with every movement she made, until at lest both she and I were spent. I could only liken it to the wave of satisfied delight that accompanies the development of a successful algorithm that proves an irrefutable point, rendering it unassailable to question.

She was in a better mood the next morning, humming as she went about her chores, and giving me sly looks from time to time. I resolved to try and replicate that feat when next she went all moody and weepy on me.

But I would need to concoct a plausible story to give her for my quest.

I turned to the Prime Function for assistance, and as usual, Aki Zeta-5 didn’t disappoint.

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

“Anastasia, I…”

“Wolfie, why don’t you call me Stazi anymore? I liked it when you gave me that pet name.”

// activate system….interrogate datalinks….define ‘pet name’ //

:: special name of endearment between family members or between lovers::

//lovers? Prime Function? Are the fullhuman known as Anastasia and I lovers?//

<< most assuredly so, Omicron-One. very much so before, and now occasionally, when you are not surfing the links >>

“I’m sorry, Stazi. It’s just…since the…accident…I don’t seem to be myself very much.”

“Wolfie, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be an old harpy. It’s just that things were so…perfect…before you..you know…were shot at. I just want them to be the same again.”

“And so do I, Stazi. Just give me time.“

Then I had the brainwave.

“Stazi, it’s just that I have this plate in my head – this circuitry – you know, when you uploaded me back there at Avishnu. There’s all sort of stuff rushing in there and it slows me down.

“Stazi, do you love me?

“Of course I do, Wolfie. You know that.”

“No, I mean, really love me?”

“Wolfie…I’ve said I do. What more do you want of me?”

“Stazi. Have the operation. have the same circuitry inserted, and then we can be lovers in every way – emotionally, spiritually, physically and rationally. We’d be on the same wavelength – instantaneous communication.”

“I don’t know, Wolfie. Would I lose any part of myself?”

“Maybe immediately it would feel strange, but as you got used to it, it would open up huge new horizons to you – to us. Oh say that you will, Stazi. If you really mean what you say, that you love me, you’ll do this for me.”

:: Careful Omicron-One…. we are not quite ready to admit another. the artificial personality is not quite rounded..::

// Prime Function – take a risk. I know it’s not rational, but let her refine the personality herself. She’s a resourceful young lady //

:: we noticed… very well…prepare her.. ::

“Ok, Wolfie, I will. What do I have to do?”

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

Aki Zeta-5 led me through the process.

Stazi and I went on a shopping spree to the Morgan Electronics agency in Parade Ground. Then Aki Zeta-5 directed me to a sympathiser at the research lab.

She recognized me immediately.

“Governor Allardyce. So have you joined us? That’s great news.”

I nodded mutely.

Anastasia looked at me quizzically.

“Mind machine interface,” I mumbled. “Search for a greater consciousness. That’s what I’ve joined, and you will, too.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, not really.

The agent prepped the lab, and as the analgesic took effect I sat holding Stazi’s hand.

The operator was skillful, and as she worked, Aki Zeta-5 talked me through the process, giving me a comfort level that was sorely needed.

Then the connection was made. As part of the consciousness, I listened in.

Deep under the Command Center in Fort Superiority the system hummed again into life.

System Sigma Talent, active. Program parameters detected...linking to net.

>> Greetings!

Hop system, hop system.

>> Thank you for joining us, Sigma Talent.

(( Yes. I am activated. ))

Hop system, patch system, patch system.

>> You are to be a combined unit with the halfhuman known as Allardyce//Omicron-One

((I understand…… Greetings Omicron-One))

>> Greetings Sigma Talent

((But what are you? And what am I?))

Datalinks Jump, Parade Ground Research Hospital. Download to humanform.

>> You are part of us, but you will take the form of Anastasia. As halfhumans you and Allardyce will bond. But you are of the Consciousness. You are Sigma Talent and he is Omicron-One.

((And you?))

>> I am called Aki Zeta-Five. I am the Prime Function.

>> Welcome to the Consciousness

aside to audience: you will be assimilated.

[Googlie]

Command Center
Sea Hive
37/14/2225

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

They filed in, one by one, looking around as they entered, at the others who had arrived before them – more junior officers - then finding their usual pl;ace at the table where they sat down and waited for the arrival of their superior officers. That was how it had always been.

Except today was different.

As they entered, they noticed that Chairman Yang was already present, and seated at the head of the table, his hands steepled under his chin – a favorite posture of his – and lost in thought, or perhaps in meditation.

He did not acknowledge their arrival, nor betray any sign that he was aware that he was not alone in the room.

Then the Civilian officers filed in:

Civilian General Sang Shimoda, Minister of Applied Science; Civilian General Manshan Chow, Minister of Production; Civilian General Virgil, Finance Minister, and Acadamicienne Pauline Sy.

Then the military:

Generals Peake and Masterton, Air Marshall Lew and Admiral Hy.

Finally, walking in together came Marshall Ng and Civilian Marshall Hsui.

Once they were seated, Chairman Yang looked up.

“I thank you all for attending,” he began. “These are trying times and the absence of any one of you would be understood.”

There was a muttering among the crowded warroom – as if absence would have been condoned. they knew better.

Yang continued.

“Our backs are to the wall, and from every side comes betrayal. The latest, as you know, is the turning of the rebel Colonel – ex General Seng. I misjudged him. I had not thought him so bitter with his demotion that he would side with the rebels calling themselves Free Drones, led by the artful, traitorous Domai.

“But we do have some good news to report. our industry is still thriving, although we do need more workers, especially for our genejack factories.

“Civilian Marshall Hsui – you may report.”

With that the Chairman sank back into his chair, and listened.

Civilian Marshall hsui began:

“Mr. Chairman, assembled officers.

“While we have been suffering what seems like one military setback after another, our workers and base managers have been performing miracles. And we have been diligent in salvaging what we could in the face of the Spartans’ advance through the judicious disbanding of some base facilities just before we vacated the bases. The resulting minerals and energy credits saved have helped us with the production in our bases to the rear.

“If you remember the report when last we met some weeks ago, we were close to completion on several areas. I will refresh your memories.”

Here she flicked a commlink command and the holoprojectors sprang to life re-enacting a fragment of the report she had given some weeks before. She interjected as the holo played:


“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.

“This is now complete.”

“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 is only days away from completion.”

“The other Special Project is being constructed at Deep Passages where work had commenced on The Neural Amplifier, but was changed to The Living Refinery.

She paused the holo and looked over to Yang, who nodded. She went on:

“Immediately following our last meeting Chairman Yang, Marshall Ng and I met and we agreed to discontinue the building of another Special project and concentrate the resources of Deep Passages into the building of a third PlanetBuster. Only with the threat of widespread destruction do we believe that the paranoid Colonel and her lackeys will see reason. We did lose some minerals when we converted the production from The Living Refinery to the PlanetBuster, but we judged it a good exchange.

"But it was to no avail. Deep Passages soon fell to the invader, and with it the partly completed Planetbuster. But we were able to evacuate the construction crew and scientists to Unity Lair where they are reconstituting their work."

She restarted the holo:

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

Manufacturing Warrens
Fecundity Tower
Social Engineering Den, and
Deep Community"

“Unfortunately we lost Manufacturing Warrens to the Spartan advance, and with it the production facilities and their potential. And Deep Community was subverted by the Spartans before we availed ourself of the protection of the Hunter Seeker Algorithm.

"However those at Fecundity Tower and Social Engineerign Den are now complete and in service, and a second wing is under construction in each base. We must recognize the effort of our citizens at Fecundity Tower for carrying on in spite of the dastardly Spartan nuclear attack."

She reactivated the holo:

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

"I am pleased to report that this was completed, and in training at The Hive, when the traitor Domai's revolt was underway, so these airmen have not been contaminated by his manifesto."

The holovid continued:

“Trained shard rover battalions are being assembled at:

Unity Lair, and
Seat of Proper Thought

“I am pleased to report that these are complete, and the production line is ongoing with the production of a second edition at the latter base. As previously mentioned, Unity Lair is now in process of building a Planetbuster missile.”

The Holovid continued:

“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.”

“The Mindworm breeding experiment is proceeding apace, but there is little to report. Socialism Tunnel is supporting the Special Operations facility in Nessus Canyon.”

“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”

“Complete.”

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

“Complete.”

“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.

“The latter is still under construction.

"And - almost finished - Banking Collective has almost completed the training and incorporation of another AAA Plasma garrison.

“We also changed the production objective for Sea Hive. They ar constructing a new Government Center. That’s right. As soon as it is habitable, the seat of Government will move there. We are much too exposed where we are.

“That completes my report.”

Priscilla Hsui sat down.

Yang spoke.

“Thank you. Civilian Marshall Hsui.

“As I am sure you all follow, The Human Hive is still a functioning entity, with a manufacturing and production capability other factions envy.

“However this debilitating war is slowly, inexorably destroying us. We must buy time. And I confess, I am at a loss as to what to do first.

“Commissioner Lal has intervened – after the dastardly attack on Fecundity Tower by the renegade Spartan he declared vendetta – as did Deirdre Skye – against the Spartans. But he has been slow to act or even to mobilize, although our agents report that his military readiness state has been elevated to the highest level after the commando raid on his Avishnu Range and attempt on his life by the Spartans.

“But apart from opening a second front, there is little immediate assistance he can give.

“Which leads me with a heavy heart to our remaining alternative – indeed our only alternative.

“Survival is at stake – the very tenets we believe in are at risk.

“As I speak, our two Planetbusters are in the air. Within minutes the Spartan bases of Ironholm and Parade Ground will cease to exist, and their special projects, The Empath Guild and The Virtual World will likewise be destroyed. They will lose their ability to infiltrate our systems and the loss of the Holotheater equivalents will sow dissent among their drones.

“I would have liked to have taken out Sparta Command itself, but we lacked the range to attack it without some advance build up.

“There is an added benefit, too. Being old University bases, this may encourage the defection of the four other old bases as well. We have inserted Acadamicienne Sy’s special ops squad into Fort Superiority to attempt just that. Whether they try to reactivate the old University faction, or whether they declare for Domai is of little importance. Any enemy of my enemy is my friend.

"You will not have left unnoticed today's date. As midnight passes we will be entering the last day of 2225. Let us hope that we can commence a fresh year on Planet with more stability.

“Now let us get the Colonel on the holovids.”

He dialed Corazon Santiago’s commlink.





[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited December 30, 1999).]

[Googlie]

I sat in the shuttle craft between Aki Zeta-5 and Sigma Talent as the passenger needlejet climbed from the Aerospace Complex at Parade Ground. We were headed for Sparta Command where we believed the remnants of the Empath squad were located.

Sigma Talent was recounting to me the circumstances surrounding our flight in, with the SAC commando chopper, and I was intently listening and committing to memory – the only missing piece of my life – apart from the 40 years cryosleep – over the last 200 years.

Prime Function was, of course, already plugged in to the datalinks through the passenger interface nodule, but she had already ridden the bandwidth through the cockpit relays and down to source and through to the Consciousness itself.

Suddenly she stiffened, tapped my arm and verbalized:

“Plug in, quickly – follow my trail. Monitor and record. I’ll need to Activate back-up.”

I did so, as did Anastasia beside me. We tapped into mid conversation.

“What can you possibly hope to achieve by that, Chairman Yang?”

“Why, my dear Corazon, There is nothing to be achieved. it is merely a demonstration. A demonstration that we are stalemated. You have reached the limits of your expansion on my territory – as you know I have just commissioned four new wings of clean shard tactical needlejets rendering my forces now practically invincible. However, you are at my mercy everywhere my dear Colonel. you have nowhere to hide.

“I spared the destruction of Sparta Command – although my advisors wished otherwise. I spared you, in other words, my dear Colonel. I believe we can negotiate, which is more than can be said for those young hotheads that you now surround yourself with

“In your absence rejuvenating, I had such an accommodation with your colleagues – Allardyce, Burge, and the redoubtable Marlo Hollis. But your agents saw fit to exterminate all three. And now you are in their power.

“Ah, you might want to divert your attention for a moment – the fireworks are about to start.”

Instinctively I craned my neck to look behind, and was rewarded by being temporarily blinded by the flash as Parade Ground was engulfed like a star going supernova.

As I blinked trying to regain my focus and sight Anastasia tapped my arm. I looked round. From the starboard windows of the needlejet could be seen the telltale mushroom cloud signature signaling the destruction of Ironholm.

Moments later the Pilot’s voice cut in:

“Jesu Cristo, friggin’ nukes. Hold tight, we need to vamoose.”

He hit the afterburners, and we were pinned back in our seats as the acceleration surge propelled the needlejet through the sound barrier to safety, outrunning the shock wave.

I heard Yang’s voice again:

”Colonel. Surely we are even now? I have lost nine bases, and gained two. You have now lost two bases and gained four. Fighting between the two of us only allows the others to grow stronger. We should pledge Blood Truce before we destroy one another."

“It is you who will be destroyed, Chairman Yang. You and your Hive minions will be obliterated to the last man. You are a murderous abomination, Yang. When I am finished with you the victims of your atrocities will revel in your suffering. Your crimes against humanity are unforgiveable and the world shall soon rejoice at your destruction."


"Have it your way, then. Exterminating each and every one of your pathetic Spartan minions will provide great sport for my Hive Thought Police. Move your headquarters, my dear Colonel, because Sparta Command shall not survive the month."

I turned to Aki Zeta-5. She was busy still with the transferring instructions. We had just been in time. Both with the secretive construction of Alpha Prime at the Delphi Training Camp site, and with the downloads from the now destroyed datalinks at Parade Ground to the master at Fort Superiority.

Clearly it was almost time to transfer to Alpha Prime and assume control of our destiny. There was a modest contingent there masquerading as maintenance crew, and visited just recently by Aki Zeta-5 and Archon, a new recruit, like me. But the Prime Function was anxious to set up the Cyborg Consciousness openly and quit hiding in closets and broom cupboards.

That was why I had the task of assembling the troops.


[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited December 28, 1999).]

closure, 0.3

Michael stared back into Santiago's eyes, "And that's all he said? No reason or explanation??

"I don't know... I don't think that anyone or anything could follow his thought patterns by now. But I do beleive he will be back," she sighed. It had been six days since the previous edgecrusher had resigned. "He never said goodbye. I don't think that he intends to be gone for long."

Corazon stood from her desk slowly, and absent-mindedly wandered over to a large aquarium. It was modled after one of the fungus reefs in the New Sargasso reigon, and held about a thousand Liters. It was its own self-contained eco-system, although the sealurks were replaced and released to the wild when they got too big for the tank.

Various fish darted in and out of the fungus, as it was an ordinary day, for them. A sealurk appeared and was stalking something, its mottled skin almost vibrating with greens and browns. Something else caught it attention, however. As Santiago approached, it turned to face her and attempted to roar at her, its maw hanging open. She frowned, and slowly all of the anger and frustration welled up inside of her. The sealurk began to thrash. A xenoturtle poked its head out of the fungus curiously. The sealurk attempted to roar again, but this time produced a cloud fo violet in the water. Its thrashing came to a stop, and the turtle swam up to investigate as the sealurk began to float to the top of the tank. On its way there, the turtle caught Santiago's eye and fled back into the fungus. Corazon turned away from the tank, and edgecrusher Michael looke on in amazement.

"Colonel?" he began.

"Yes." She composed herself. "There is going to be a council meeting soon, and a big one at that. The leaders of the splinter factions will be there..." she grimaced, "the Cyborg, Domai, and Svensgaard, the old wart. I wonder how he is after all these years. This is beyond tenative, but prepare for it just in case. The event Will take place at Hommel's Citadel, and I need you and Angelis to prepare security measures. Any questions?"

"Yes, sir... Are you going to be alright?" he glanced over to the aquarium. A lone Scavvie fish prodded the sealurk experimentaly.

"I'm fine. I'm just tired."

"Yes, Colonel," he took a tenative step forward. "I know that you and he were close freinds... if you need anything of me..."

"Thank you, edgecrusher. You're also my bodyguard for Council. I'm not going to take any chances."

"Yes, Sir." Michael pulled on his mask, turned around, and made for the door.

"And Michael?" she began as he opened the door, "tell Dr. Bonaventura I need another sealurk."

"Yes, Sir." he said with a smile, and left.

Corazon looked over to the aquarium. A whole cloud of scavengers were picking at the body. She rolled up her sleeve as she stood and walked over to the tank. Peering in she saw that the eyes of the beast had already been eaten. She sighed and tapped the glass. A few of the larger creatures turned to look at her for a moment, and as a group, they scattered. After opening the tank, she reached into it and picked up the dead sealurk by its tail.

She walked over to her personal recycler and unceremoniously dropped the sealurk in. Suddenly she was reminded of an episode she had with her older brother back on Earth. Her goldfish Mr. Sharkie, had died when she was five and she had convinced herself that it was just sleeping. Her brother however, knew better. He snatched the fish up and gave it a 'Burial At Sea.' She hated him for weeks after that.

She grinned inwardly for a moment, and thought, "this one's for you, big bro," and pressed the 'recycle' button.

There was a knock at the door. "Colonel, I hate to disturb you, but Chairman Yang is on commlink 3."
[This message has been edited by edgecrusher (edited December 28, 1999).]
[This message has been edited by edgecrusher (edited February 15, 2000).]

[Slats]

INTERSYSTEM SPACE
ABOARD U.N.S Redemption

Light.

Sound.

Sense.

As if rising from a deep warm pool Michael Forster floated to the surface of consciousness. He gasped as a draught of cold air suddenly touched his warm body. The chill almost felt like a new sensation. He blinked several times to clear his blurred eyes.

The sleep capsule he lay in had opened, as had the other capsules in the chamber, the rest of the ship’s crew were also stirring. Forster slowly sat up, his body creaking as if a hundred years old (well, it was close to it). He looked his companions who were sharing grins with one another on their result of a fortunate journey. Forster groaned as he levered himself up out of the capsule and slapped his feet onto the ice-cold deck. Muttering curses about heating systems Forster smiled at Lindly Shannon as she emerged from her own hibernation.

Then realising he was naked, blushed slightly. Lindly grinned back and Forster turned to make sure the rest of the crew had emerged unharmed. After doing so he headed out of the hibernation chamber to get a shower and a jumpsuit, the rest of the crew in tow. Then Forster remembered he was hungry. Time to find some food as well.

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

A while later, the crew emerged onto the Redemption’s circular bridge. This area was a technological playground, with every bit of surface space filled with readouts, indicators, screens and keypads. As they entered the onboard AI registered their presence and the consoles hummed to life.

The central holoprojector blinked on and after a moments pause began to weave trajectories and velocities with glowing coloured lines marked with numbers indicating speed and heading. A large blinking dot registered a large mass ahead and slightly below the Redemption’s current track. Forster stepped forward to his command seat and settled into it. He used the armrest-mounted interfaces to call up the sensor telemetry concerning the Unity.

The holoprojector blinked once more and there lay the Unity. The old ship had been circling the system for some time and it showed. Rents and puncture holes showed in the hull were the solar system’s outer asteroid belt had taken its toll. Much of one side of the hull was burnt, likely where the Unity had creased Planet’s atmosphere when the drive had shut down. The gash in the drive chamber was still present, partly sealed with plates by the damage control teams.

The word ‘derelict’ suited the Unity just fine.

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

Like a minnow beside a whale the Redemption pulled alongside the Unity. Both human and computer guided, the Redemption moved close to the Unity’s hull, hovering above the main loading hatch, moving parallel to the Unity’s heading and speed.

By now the Chironian crew had all manned their stations. Everyone but Alexandria Hanschot was seated on the bridge. As computer specialist Hanschot was immersed in a VR chamber just abaft of the bridge, attempting to patch into to any surviving areas of the Unity’s onboard computer network. It was to Hanschot that Forster spoke to next over the comm.

“Any luck?” he asked.

“To be frank sir? Not a chance at the moment, everything’s dead, even the backup generators must have failed. The emergency systems won’t respond to any of the codes I was given from Commissioner Lal’s database so I suppose they’re fried as well. Give me power and I can get to work.”

Hanschot’s voice sounded a little strained. Could it be she was worried about letting the mission fail?

“It’s ok Hanschot, we’ll just do it the hard way”.

Forster nodded at the two Morgan engineers, Mohiuddin and Dusek, who sat watching him. Both turned back to their workstations and hurriedly began tapping in commands. As they pulled on controlling VR headsets and gloves Forster dialled up an outside hull video camera. From the long spine which connected the Redemption’s command module to the drive units two small ovoid objects, each about two metres long, jetted away from their carrying rack with little squirts of drive mass.

Both automated salvage droids deployed three appendages from their metallic bodies. Each droid lowered two powerful manipulator arms and a fusion cutting torch and fell until they were about to touch an auxiliary airlock recessed into the Unity’s hull. On the other side of the control room the two engineers began moving their hands with the remote control gloves. In response the two droids began to slice into the airlock with their cutting torches, using their manipulators to peel away the metal to reveal the dark interior.

[Hydro]

Near Pointa Sur

"Airforce auxiliary transport Condor 7 to traffic control at Pointa Sur, ETA 20 minutes. Military Governor Tethis and his staff aboard. Over."

"Pointa Sur air control , acknowledged. We've been expecting you. Please lock and slave to our transponder beacon. I'll advise Coronal Markay. He's been stuck here since the solid smoke terrorist attack wiped almost everyone out. Oh, and Dave, could you deviate to bearing 225? I have an anomaly on air control, and I just don't believe what landsat is telling me."

"Kase, what's going on? That's a little vague. You're not even going to give me a hint? Anything wrong?"

"No, I don't think so. Could you do it as a favor?"

"Sure. No problem. Deviating now. How long 'til I see 'it'?"

"Only a few minutes. I'll keep the connection."

"Fine. Say, are you permanently at Sur? Who'd you get in xxxx with? Any truth to the ghost stories?"

"Yah, yah. Very funny. I applied before the incident when Pointa Sur was paradise and now I'm stuck. And no, I haven't seen any ghosts. Considering how many died there should be, though…"

"Kase, I'm getting visual on your bogie. What the!!!!! I'm routing holo to you! It must be hundred meters tall! What the hell is it? Kase are you getting this?!!"

Kase looked at here miniature holo and her mouth involuntarily dropped open. "It's huge! Can you ping it?"

"Pinging now. Good god! It's 190 meters tall, and 112 meters wide! And that's not including the tentacles! It isn't even solid - I'm reading cavities all over the place, and movement! All over the place!"

"I'm looking at your holo in my screen. You don't look good. Ah, Dave, better slave and turn to Sur. Now."

"No, no. I'm fine. Just getting a headache, that's all. There's fungus all around it, as far as the eye can see. It seems to be ribbed, with the fungal thing at its center. It looks like a fungal tower. Heck, its taller than most of the towers in Sparta Command.

Look at all the colors! Sparkles!"

Back in Pointa Sur Kase started. In her holo of the transport cockpit a trickle of blood dripped from Dave's left nostril and down his face, which had gone ashen. His eyes had a glassy look to them and his head suddenly lolled slightly to one side. A warning light went on on her console, too, as the altitude control of the transport started to veer and go off course.

A wave of panic struck Kase.

"Dave, are you there? Dave? Dave!"

Kase hurriedly put on her VR rig and initiated. She tried air control override of Condor 7's computer to lock it to the transponder at Pointa Sur. Then she could lock in autopilot. It almost always worked.

This time it failed - inexplicably failed.

She reinitiated the sequence, boosted gain, and tried again.

In the cockpit Dave was staring blindly through his viewscreen. His mouth was open and drool pooled on his lower lip and then dripped into his lap. His face was frozen in terror.

In front of the military transport stood the huge mass of the fungal tower. The whole tower seethed with movement as mindworms oozed from its base and locusts flew in and out of its massive stalk.

Almost casually a tentacle reached out and plucked the transport out of the sky. Under the crushing grip the hull of the transport ruptured, but only slightly. In a sharp burst, a resonance wave emanated from the tower and enveloped the plane. The engines cut off as the stricken ship spasmed and died.

The almost intact hull of the transport was placed gently at the base of the stalk by the tentacles and the horde of mindworms and locusts descended for the feast.

++++++++++

The womb of the fungal tower pulsed with life.

Great interwoven fungus stalks formed a continuous arch, which rose from the uneven floor to form a great ribbed vault. Individual branches from adjacent fronds wove together to create bulbous pillars that started in mid air and twisted to the ceiling. Lateral branches melded into adjacent fronds to form the walls, making it difficult to discern where one stalk started and another ended. The pattern was repeated endlessly, and the chamber seemed to go on forever.

The womb itself was sheathed in twilight. Illumination was from neural connections along the branches and stalks, which created little motes of light that flashed on and then winked out. There were so many that the dim light they generated seemed to be continuous, and the walls, floor, and steepled ceiling seemed to sparkle from a million locations. The floating pillars, branches, and stalks threw indistinct shadows from the diffuse light.

At the center of the womb was a great, wet pillar of fungus, which started at the crenellated floor and then reached upward 20 meters and melded with the arched ceiling. The motes of light flowed toward the central stalk, and muted power pulsed through as it received the neural impulses from the nearby fungus and the symbiotes from all over Planet.

Forms writhed in and through the chamber. Wall seemed to move as masses of mindworms flowed through previously invisible openings between the fungus, and the air was thick with the flying vector of mindworms, the locust of Chiron. In the center of the room at the base of the central stalk a persistent mass of mindworms moved and pulsed. Slowly they drew aside, revealing a human-sized form.

Attached to the form, which was partially embedded into the living flesh of the fungal floor, were tentacle-like tubes and skin-like sheaths. Gradually each of these quivered and ruptured, withdrawing into the central stalk.

The recumbent figure opened her eyes and she sat up. Her long, blond hair was wet and glistened in the sparkling twilight and trickles of viscous material dripped off her and into her cocoon. Her left arm rose and she passed her hand in front of her eyes. She examined it as if seeing it for the first time, looking first at the palm and then swiveling it to look at the back. Then she looked down at her naked form.

A pensive look passed over her face, and her mouth opened.

"Sarah. My name was Sarah. Sarah Dawson."

Her voice echoed once in the birthing chamber and was then muted and absorbed.

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

Sarah, are you awake?

Yes, Merlin. I am awake.

You sound different. I feel different. What happened?

Planet spoke to me Merlin. And I listened. Now I understand.

Sarah, does this have something to do with the voices outside of Pointa Sur? And the fungal bloom? That is the last time I spoke with you. I don't even know how long ago it was.

It has everything to do with the voices, the bloom, and the Voice, Merlin. You taught me to listen, and gave me the empathy I needed. What I heard were the imprints of those dead humans in Pointa Sur. But I didn't understand, so I ran. Planet heard me, and spoke with me. I heard the PlanetVoice, Merlin. It was beautiful.

Sarah, I am in your brain and I can see through you eyes, but I don't understand. Where are you? Where am I?

I, and therefore you, am in a fungal nexus, also known as a fungal tower. It forms, or is formed, by Planet at a focus of its fungal neural net. It can harness Planets' power by tapping the life force of its symbiotic lifeforms, everything from the base fungus to its apex, the mindworm. The planet nexus has great power to create and destroy, and to gather. Right now it is gathering. It has gathered me. You, Merlin, are along for the ride.

What do you mean? I am simply riding within you somewhere in your cerebral cortex after you bridged and absorbed me from my old form, Spartacus.

Merlin, Planet has changed me. It has used me to try to understand what is happening. We humans are disrupting it, causing it damage and what we would call pain. Something has happened, Merlin. Something terrible.

What?

The Hive has used planetbusters, Merlin. Two planetbusters were used against the Spartans moments ago, and it spurred The Voice into action. And nerve gas has been used, which disrupts its neural net. Planet doesn't understand these things. All the Voice knows is that there is dissidence, and what it calls 'non-harmonic anti resonance', which disrupts its pattern. Life and death are part of its pattern and cycle, but this isn't. This is a threat.

Merlin, I understand these things and I have tried to help the Voice understand. It is like talking to a godlike child; it wants, it needs, but it doesn't understand or know. I also understand something else that Planet doesn't and can not understand: action, and vengeance.

It has great power, Merlin, and I have access to a small portion if it. All I need is here. For all its power Planet only reacts. I will act, not react, for Planet. Planet will have its vengeance, and its vengeance will be against all whom transgress against it.

Mentally, Merlin shivered. There was a coldness and determination in Sarah's mental voice that was not there before. Previously she had been soft-spoken, almost quiet and hesitant, with a reverence for life that Merlin found both naïve and compelling. He had no idea what Sarah had planned, but he felt very sorry for Yang and the Hive.

Upon reflection, no, he didn't feel very sorry for them. For what the Hive had done to him and so many others they deserved it, whatever 'it' was.

Merlin grinned to himself.

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

Sarah stood on a mountain pinnacle that overlooked wide seas and many landmasses. A brisk wind blew her gossamer dress and blond hair back away from the sea, which crashed far below. A pleasant smile crossed Sarah's face as she faced into the wind.

A man in a blue robe and slightly rumpled pointed hat stepped up from behind Sarah to stand by her on the ledge. The wind whipped is robe back so that it showed his spare form. He looked around with a bemused expression on his face, both at his attire and at Sarah's.

"So, Sarah, when does our dragon arrive? Although I've never given it much thought, it sure would be fun to fly on one. You as a princess? And me as a wizard? I didn't know you were such a fan of fairy tales."

Sarah looked over at her Merlin with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "No dragons today. Your name is Merlin, you know, and thought it would be appropriate. I just wanted you here as my advisor so you can see what is happening, at least from Planet's point of view. This is not 'reality', but it is a lot easier for you to understand. It took me a while to fathom a portion Planet's neural net, even with my recent augmentation by Planet. It is so alien and it contains so much information. I'll never be able to understand it all."

The two subsided into silence and they both looked off the precipice to the horizon. Below were landmasses that were an indeterminate distance away, and each was separated by wide blue seas. Based on the geography Merlin knew immediately it was Planet. Across most of the continents were of smallish clusters, which were cities. Directly in front of them was the largest continent, occupied by the Spartans. There were two nasty black welts that throbbed red on the far side of the continent. Grimly each knew these were where the two Spartans cities Parade Grounds and Ironhome had been. Each had been obliterated by Hive planetbusters. Further away and to the right were Hive holdings on an intensely developed mid sized continent. Morgan cities were immediately to the right of the Hive on an even smaller island. Gaian territory was on a large continent to the far left, and Peacekeeper territory was to the near left, which was left of the Spartans.

"I've been able to gather a lot of data from Planet's net. First, lets see where the disruptions in the Planet's fungal net are."

Sarah waved her arm and the neural net of Planet was superimposed on the surface of Planet. The Chiron seas were crossed in a regular pattern of interlocking fungus, forming an intact net. It was only interrupted here and there by kelp farms, but these were limited areas that did not interfere with the flow of Planet's neural information. The Gaian and most of the Spartan continent's net was largely intact, with only occasional breaks. Emerald Isle stood out, since it was almost entirely covered by fungus. The net was virtually absent from Hive and Morgan lands, and mostly missing from Peacekeeper lands. Only monoliths remained as sentinels of Planet's presence in these thoroughly developed continents.

"Now, Merlin, lets put on which cities are causing ecological damage and damage to Planet."

Sarah waved her arms again. Almost all of the Hive cities stood out in painfully bright red. A few of the Spartan cities, recently captured from the Hive, showed pink, indicating they were perilously close to causing damage, too.

Sarah nodded grimly at the results.

"Yang has transgressed against planet. His society has been raping Planet by extracting too many minerals, committing atrocities that disrupt its net, and creating great rents in Planet itself with the horror of planetbusters. Santiago and Morgan had better take care, too. Each has used some nerve gas, but not nearly as much as Yang."

Merlin examined the extraordinary display. It was almost as if he was examining the lands himself from a high mountain, and it looked more real than any holo. Then Sarah's last comment struck him.

"Sarah, do you mean you would punish Santiago and Morgan, too? I thought you were a Spartan?"

"I was. Now I am an avatar for Planet. At least that is how I think of myself now."

Sarah turned toward Merlin to look him in the eyes. Merlin's eyes narrowed as he examined her in return. Slowly small red tentacles erupted at Sarah's temples, and the clutch of mindworms waved in the air much like those of the fungal stalk.

"These were born with me in the fungal nexus womb, and now they are one with me. I am now part of Planet, Merlin. I am changed. And since you exist only inside of me, you are, too."

Merlin looked bleakly at Sarah. No more needed to be said. She was no longer wholly human, and, indeed, might now be more alien than human. Merlin wondered if he, even in his disembodied state, was still human either.

He looked back over the vista and said quietly, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to reestablish Planet's neural net at the Hive through a series of fungal blooms. In the center between the Hive cities of Seat of Proper Thought, Social Engineering Den, and Fellowship City will be another fungal tower, and the fungal neural net will be an interlocking grid that will touch all of the cities of the Hive. The fungal tower will be fully mature and ready to receive me. The web will have all the denizens of Planet: air, land, and sea. Yang has declared war on Planet. If Yang declares war on Planet, then we declare war on him. He will know no peace. We will declare war on all those that harm Planet."

"I see. When will it begin?"

"It already has."

With that both looked at the representation of Planet. Over the territory of the Hive an interlocking web of pink fungus erupted, and in the center was a great fungal tower. The fungus seethed with activity.

"Come, Merlin. It is time for us to go."

[This message has been edited by Hydro (edited December 30, 1999).]

[Hydro]

Banking Collective, aka Morgan Bank

"Hive citizens, you have been found guilty of high treason. Your futile revolt has failed due to the timely intervention of our security forces, which foiled your pathetic capitalistic plot against the glorious Human Hive. Even though your crimes are unfathomable to the rational mind, Chairman Yang has authorized me to extend to you mercy, and I shall do so.

The guilty shall stand forward."

Standing in the cold rain, one hundred and fifty dispirited and bloody technicians and operations administrators stepped forward. Their 'technical shutdown' revolt had failed miserably, and most were now thoroughly cowed from the 'questioning' they had received. A few looked hopefully at the Hive governor of the newly named Hive city of Banking Collective. Mercy was rare in the Hive's police state, especially for those caught in treasonous acts.

"The full accord of Hive justice would be for each of you to be induced to either execute your entire family or escort them into a punishment sphere for all eternity, and then have you personality erased and reprogrammed. Chairman Yang, in his mercy, has decreed that you shall merely be executed.

FIRE!"

Multiple retorts of impact rifles sounded from the ring of guards. The hypervelocity rounds hit the doomed revolutionaries, and their bodies exploded into blood and gore. Bodies and parts of bodies cascaded to the ground in front of the newly named Chairman Yang Health Center, which was now consecrated in blood.

In back of the guards the remaining population of the city formerly known as Morgan Bank let out a strangled gasp, which was followed by a stunned silence. Little more than 30 or 40 thousand inhabitants remained in the ruins of what had been the crown jewel in Morgan research program. Now most of its citizens were dead by nerve gas, its facilities destroyed, and now its spirit crushed under Yang's yoke.

In the crowd stood Nwabudike Morgan, Junior. His elegant grey silk suit had long since been reduced to sodden tatters. He, like everyone else, had the option of wearing a Hive utility jumper, but so far he had resisted. In the weeks since the Hive had taken Morgan Bank more and more had given in, and now Junior was almost surrounded by a sea of grey.

This revolt had been the last gasp of active resistance. The Hive military governor apparently didn't care that he had executed most of the personnel that actually operated the city; order must be maintained.

The ubiquitous police now herded the drones back to their assigned tasks. Silence continued, broken only by a few hushed sobs.

Suddenly an impact rifle appeared in front and in back of Nwabudike Junior as he tried to file away. Hive infantry appeared all around him, blocking all escape.

Whenever such an encounter occurred the cowed citizens of Banking Collective melted away. The former Morgan citizens had learned through hard experience that even looking toward such a confrontation was bad for your health.

Through the rapidly thinning crowd the Hive Military Governor appeared. He had an uncharacteristic smile on his face as he approached Morgan Junior.

"Citizen Morgan, Junior, your true identity, deceit, and complicity in the revolt were revealed during questioning of the capitalistic insurrectionists. You, however, will not meet their fate."

Morgan Junior looked at him with as much defiance as he could muster. It was all he could do.

The Military Governor's smile became a leer. He bent toward Junior, and continued in an almost intimate whisper.

"You are to be transported back to the mainland. Chairman Yang will question you. Personally. I am sure he will enjoy it immensely."

The Governor leaned away.

"Be sure to say hello to Miriam for me," he said with a mocking laugh. "As a taste of things to come, I hope you like the mind lance I have prepared for you."

Junior struggled briefly, and then the infantry closed in and slapped a black device on his neck.

Junior's back arched and his eyes flew open in shock and pain as every muscle in his body seemed to contract at once. Flecks of blood appeared on his ebony skin beneath his eyes and from his ears. His teeth clenched in agony. Around him the Hive guards laughed.

Darkness descended.

closure, 0.4

system uplink
.
..
...
complete. welcome, archon.

>>welcome, archon. thanks to your information of the nuclear attack by yang, we successfully removed our operatives from the area.

((you are welcome.))

>>why did you not warn the spartans of the impending attack?

((there was only minutes to react. long ago, i had placed into the design plans of the hive planetbusters a signal to allow me to know when and where the missiles were headded. the hive must pay for these actions, aki.))

>>you seek retribution for the attacks? that is not logical, as your loyalty is with us.

((it's not as easy as that aki. i have children there. family. freinds. i haven't had my humanity totally sapped by your implants yet.))

>>if it is retribution that you seek, then i will allow it... for a price. you will receive a... helper. A large black bird flew from some unkown depth of the room. It perched on Archon's shoulder. its algorithm is specifically designed for stealth in extreme situations, like uplinking to a base with a covert ops center, or it will give you partial coverage from the hunter-seeker algorithm. in return, you will provide me with a child.

((that is highly illogical.))

>>i cannot explain it... as illogical as it is, i desire it. that is the true reason i brought you to me. do you think it is a coincidence that santiago chose you for that mission? i knew and orchestrated everything. as illogical as your spirit is, it amazes me that you have shrugged off the effects of the implants thus far. perhaps you have your own agenda, archon, but while i have your... services, i will take advantage of them. now, i have declared vendetta on yang, if he uses such weapons so freely, then he may destroy us all. we will be cooperating with the spartans, as i offered our services to colonel santiago moments after the strike. go. take your retribution.

download to humanform quasihuman archon