The Spartan Chronicles

[Tokek Belerang]

Hendrikus gave up trying to find Nyoman in the crowd. Instead, he got out of the way of the doctors and orderlies racing to and fro, and sat down on a low wall outside the emergency hospital. Maybe she'd be out later. He got out a ration pack and twisted it, so the contents would mix and heat up.

"Mister? Are you a Googlie, mister?"

The Cyborg looked up. A small kid was standing in front of him, barely three feet tall, and thin as anything. Three more huddled together a couple of yards behind him, looking on anxiously.

"Eh? Er, no, I'm a... I mean, my name's Hendrikus. What's yours?"

"Kenny." the kid said, eyes like saucers. "But you fly a plane, don't you?"

"I fly a chopper. A helicopter."

"Then why aren't you a Googlie?"

"Listen, kid, I... Oh, boy." Take kids seriously, he thought. Take them seriously. "Listen up. It's like this. Googlie is the name of one of the Spartan commanders. He's a real hero, but the rest of us are just pilots, you see. We're not heroes, yet."

"So you want to be a Googlie?" asked the kid, getting a little brighter look about him.

"Do you?" the Cyborg evaded the question. He was getting the hang of this.

"I'm not allowed." Kenny said, twisting his hands and arms as if he didn't know what else to do with them.

"But if you'd be allowed?"

The kid nodded slowly but emphatically.

"Good. Now let me tell you something. If we Spartans get to stick around here, you could grow up to be a Googlie. A real ace fighter pilot. You, and your friends, as well."

Kenny looked at him in amazement, then turned round to look at his friends. They weren't much help, it seemed, for he turned right back and faced the big, big Googlie once again.

"Do you know where my father and mother are?"

Hendrikus's heart sank.

"I don't know. Where did you see them last?"

Kenny pondered that one.

"At the crèche." he said eventually.

"Did you check there?"

"They're not there. They were there last month."

"You last saw your mum and dad last month?" Hendrikus asked in amazement.

"Yeah. Sorry, mister."

"No, no. I'm not mad at you. Wouldn't... wouldn't anyone at the crèche know where your mum and dad are?"

"There's no one at the crèche, now. Just kids and some of the teachers. But they don't know."

"Kenny, can you show me where the crèche is?"

Kenny nodded, his face at its most earnest. He took the Cyborg's hand, and they walked down the broken-down autowalks together, tiny hand in huge paw.

"That's Elizabeth and Yin and little Kenny." he said, pointing back at his friends, who were following in their wake.

"Hi, Elizabeth and Yin and little Kenny!" Hendrikus called over his shoulder.

They moved a little closer. Eventually, Hendrikus got his wits about him enough to open the ration pack and share his Swedish meatballs with them. They chomped happily, sauce trickling down their faces and hands, soiling their little jumpers.

In close formation, they arrived at the crèche.

"Sweet Z..." Hendrikus said, stifling the curse.

In the pale yellow light, the Plex Anthill children's crèche looked frighteningly much like a detention center. Only, the iris door was smashed, and the inmates sat around the entrance, staring at him with fright on their faces.

Hendrikus looked around him, at the bleak underground world of the Hive, and felt utterly helpless.

------------------
Numquam turbae misceri

[Velociryx]

Gavin paced and sighed heavily, not at all comfortable in his new surroundings.

He looked at Elizabeth, opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. Not quite sure what he wanted to say.

Three more false starts like that before he finally found the words.

“Why the Hell do I feel like I got fired?”

“Gavin, you’re practically running the country now....what do you mean, you feel like you got fired?” She asked him with a confused grin.

“I got my ass handed to me by that Hive diversionary force, and they promote me? Take my command away is what they did. Put me in a Godforsaken deskjob.”

Just then, Sparks wheeler came into the room, his arm still in a sling. “Are you complaining about holding the highest office in all of Sparta? Is that what I’m hearing?” He glanced at Elizabeth and grinned. “There’s just no making this man happy, is there?”

He glowered at them both for a moment, but his heart wasn’t into the look, and they could tell it, so he sat down heavily at the big desk in the even bigger office and sighed deeply again. “It’s not that I’m not flattered.” He told them earnestly. “It’s just that I don’t want the job....I’m not cut out for all this government stuff.”

“Well,” Elizabeth offered, “Your friend Scott Allardyce is handling the civilian issues, so that should make things easier on you. You two can share the responsibility till Santiago is freed.”

He nodded. That made sense, and good ol’ Googlie always seemed to know what to do. He was suddenly even more glad his old friend was close at hand.

He looked back up at Sparks. “When’s the 47th heading out?”

“They’re about ready now, and I gave promotion order to Ian Allardyce myself.”

That made him smile. Lieutenant Ian Allardyce. Not bad for what? Two weeks work? If that young man had any more fire in his belly, he’d probably spew it out like those old Godzilla....

He stopped the thought right then and there, because it suddenly made him homesick.

Still, he forced the smile back to his face. Ian. Good kid. Brave kid. And if it hadn’t been for his quick thinking, then Hobbes’ Light Artillery would have been overrun by the advancing Hive forces. His platoon leader had been killed, and nobody seemed to know what to do, other than just hold their positions, but Ian had been on map detail and knew more about the terrain. He found a way to use the Hive’s position against them. Led the platoon down into a natural blind and cut God-only-knew-how many of them to pieces. They never made the rocky outcropping. Never got close to the artillery. It bought them time.

So many good people had been lost though. It had only taken twenty minutes for the Lightning Strike boys to form up and come in after them, but that twenty minutes had seemed an eternity.

And, when he’d gotten out, his command brigade (having taken 68% casualties), he’d been summoned to Sparta Command.

He figured it was to get chewed out for taking such losses, not to get promoted. That had been the furthest thing from his mind, and now look at him.

Santiago held captive, him planning a massive invasion into Hive territory and facing the none-too-pleasant task of having to negotiate with those bastard UoP resistance fellows.

Not the kind of job he would have chosen for himself.

Still, Santiago’s staff warmed to him fairly quickly, and even informed him that his poll numbers were higher than Santiago’s. The people accepted him. They trusted him to know what to do, and that made him feel better.

“Sir, General Honshu on line three.” Elizabeth’s voice broke into his thoughts, and he groaned inwardly. He had been hoping to avoid this particular conversation, at least for a little while, but as usual, the sturdy general wasted no time. He was, and had been for as long as Burge had known him, a master of efficiency.

“Burge here. How are you faring general?”

“I am doing better than I ever thought possible, now that our weak-willed leader has been replaced by someone more capable.”

Burge rolled his eyes. “I don’t think Santiago could ever be called weak-willed, General, but I do thank you for the compliment.”

The general nodded. “I have called to pledge the support of myself and all the forces I command to you.”

There it was.

No preamble, no attempt to hide it. Just a single statement, made matter-of-factly.

“General, I....”

“Field Marshall Burge, I have known you a long time. You are a sturdy and capable warrior, and our views on how the Spartans should live and make war are compatible. I urge you to do what is necessary to bring all of Sparta into a new age. You have the support of the people, and you have my support as well. You are about to orchestrate a great victory for us against Chairman Yang of the Hive, and when you do, you need but say the word, and the people will accept you as their new leader. Santiago need not be returned to Sparta Command at all.”

It was the longest speech he had ever heard the reclusive Honshu make, and he was awestruck. Could he really? Should he?

It was true, there had been rumblings of discontent at the way things were being run. This might be a way to finally make a difference. He hadn’t wanted the job, but it had been thrust on him anyway, so why not make the most of it.

Hope began welling up cautiously inside him. Not yet. He would not be rushed. It was too soon to decide such things.

No. First, there was the business of Yang to attend to. Make sure Yang got the pasting he deserved. And, with the troops already in place, it would be easy to order the attacks to continue in order to force Yang to submit to them utterly. That would tie up the generals who might be loyal to Santiago, and keep them safely out of the country. When word finally reached them in the field of what had taken place back home, it would be too late to stop anyway, and he could finally make the changes everyone had been grumbling about.

Yes. It could work. It really, really could.

“General, again....I thank you. I am very new to all of this, and will need some time to consider what you have said. Right now, my main responsibility is to see to the success of our upcoming invasion.”

The general nodded stoically. “Of course. Just know that my troops and I stand ready to assist you, in any way you name.”

Burge nodded.

“Honshu out.”

The screen went blank.

Well, that was a hell of a note.

He sighed heavily and pushed back from the desk a bit, pondering.

[Tokek Belerang]

Nyoman woke up to glaring sunshine. She sat up, instantly active as always, and blinked at the single sun standing low in the sky. "Earth." went through her head, but she knew that the other sun was soon to follow. She got up, and left the pressurized tent that they had pitched on top of the emergency hospital. Downstairs, Arihclinn was already working with his customary vigor.

"Ah, the cricket." he said cheerfully through his mask, his ancient face blinking a smile through his eyes. "Will she sing us a song, I wonder."

"You wouldn't want me to do that in an operating theatre, Frog." Nyoman said. She sang arja, Balinese opera, and it could be, let us say, unsettling to the ears of those in recovery from serious injury.

"Perhaps not. Could you move your gracious self over to the row by the far wall and get cracking?"

She did. "How are we for supplies?" she asked.

"Not bad, not bad. Your tank-sized admirer, Hendrikus, has not flown in empty, and neither has Driss. It's more beds we need now, not bandages. If you'll just check those people for travel fitness, they can be on their way to Sparta in the Meknes within the hour."

Nyoman pulled a face at the mention of the Cyborg's affections. She checked the row of patients. Most were Spartan, some were Hive. The latter were cuffed, on the off chance that they would try to escape, or inflict injuries on others or themselves. The Hive left its injured soldiers to rot on the battlefield - it cost more to repatriate and heal them than to train a new recruit. When it came down to it, Yang was more ruthlessly cost-effective than Morgan.

To Sparta, it was a matter of honor at heart. These were soldiers, and as such they deserved fair treatment. Looking at all the neural implants and cybernetic prostheses, Nyoman wondered - soldiers, yes, but humans? Anyway, the Hive soldiers were always easy to turn, once they were out from under the cosh of their superiors. Most of them wouldn't fight again, but would find useful employment on a mech farm or a solar plant. They were among the most sedate and contented of Spartan citizens.

"These are fine, Frog." she said, after checking the patients' med pads.

"Most of them have you to thank for that, sunshine. We're going down to the civvy section after this. Yanni and Massimina are down there already. This place has a standard of drone abuse that will send you absolutely staggering. Corporal maltreatment, undernourishment, psych disorders, you name it. You feel like a bleeding vet when you're down there, tending bleeding cattle."

Nyoman flinched - Arihclinn rarely ever swore.

They finished up, and after wheeling the last cazzies into the transport to the airstrip, they went back up to Plex Anthill Emergency Hospital, Civilian Section.

The mass of waiting drones was indescribable. There had not been such a facility previously in Plex Anthill, and word had got around.

But still - haggard, emaciated faces, bruised and lifeless. No protests, just resigned waiting for someone to come and get them. Arihclinn was called in straight away to an operating theatre, and Nyoman pushed through to the admissions area. Waiting while an orderly finished her accreditation, she briefly spoke to a couple from Rolling Thunder, named Mary and Markus. They had come in for advice on what to do with the many, many hospital cases they were faced with whilst trying to establish some kind of temporary authority in the base. She promised she would get back to them after things had normalized a bit. Then her accreditation came through, and she was taken straight to the ER.


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Numquam turbae misceri
[This message has been edited by Tokek Belerang (edited August 11, 1999).]

[Timexwatch]

0413 Hours
Great Collective Docks

An acrid smoke hung over the docks. It was a mix of chemical fumes and cooking-off plasma from the vents of the ships in port. It was still dark over the city, but it wouldn't be for long. He would have to find shelter or an alternate way of making it to the aerospace complex. He thought of stowing away on a maintence vehicle or crawling through the sewers. Neither of which was safe or appealing. Although he thought it was crap, he heard stories of early experiments with mindworms that escaped into the recycling tanks in many labs. It was said that they burrowed their way out of the tanks and now inhabit the sewers. He thought is was crap, but he didn't want to take any chances; besides, he liked his skull in tact.

Adam scanned the pier from his hiding place in between several supply crates. He saw a group drones milling about the end of the pier performing maintenece on a fuel intake line. He couldn't move without being spotted, so he stayed put. After several minutes, the group packed up their tools and began marching toward the maintence building, except for one supervisor who appeared to be checking the job. Adam craned his neck out slightly and watched the crew go in. He then turned toward the supervisor. Twain reached to the side of his pack and clicked a release on the clip holding his impact sniper rifle. A small *click* sounded and then the sniper rifle slip out. Twain effortlessly slipped the butt of the rifle up to his shoulder, kneeled and put his eye up to the scope. Adam focused on the forehead of his target. Reflexively he clicked the switch to activate the lasersight. Suddenly the drone looked up and saw the ruby-red light. But it was too late. The rifle discharged with a small *whoosh* of air. The head of the drone lanced back and the top of the skull dissappeared in a small cloud of blood. Like a vulture, he quickly swooped to the body of the supervisor and stripped him of his datapad and Id. But those wouldn't be enough to get around security. He removed his synthmetal knife from his boot. Twain had to get aroudn DNA and retinal scanners. He gritted his teeth and began to cut.....


[This message has been edited by Timexwatch (edited August 10, 1999).]

[Hydro]

Liberated Plex Anthill, Emerald Isle

*****

"Everything looks so grey," Mary said in dismay to Markus, who was standing by her side with a Spitfire Assault Rifle.

Mark looked around the feeding den of Plex Anthill, which consisted of a dome crudely hollowed out of dark veined granite. The room was over 200 meters in diameter and rose 60 meters in height at the dome's apex. Ferrocrete pillars reinforced the ceiling with ribbed vaults at seemingly random locations. No effort had been made to highlight the potential of the otherwise beautiful granite, and the pillars and vaults seemed to have been placed to destroy any remaining aesthetics of the vast room. The lighting didn't help, as the feeble light only increased the shadows and the feeling of gloom. The hundreds of Hive drones milling through the feeding line were surprisingly listless, and their hushed conversations echoed through the chamber, creating a perpetual buzz. Each wore a grey one-piece jumper, with muted colored patches on their shoulder that indicated which warren they belonged to. Huge cisterns of 'stew' and 'fungigruel' boiled in front of glassy-eyed cooks. Markus and Mary were on the other side of the chamber to avoid the stench.

It was unsettling.

Markus just nodded in agreement. Still, it was no worse than the communal sleeping dens that were placed strategically throughout the city. Each den housed up to 150 people, and each caste of workers was housed immediately adjacent to their industrial or administrative production site for peak efficiency. The minimal sleeping equipment was passed out to each worker at the end of his or her gang's shift, and returned to the commune after 5.5 hours when the sleep cycle was complete. Every Hive worker was expected to work 17 hours a day, with 5.5 hours of sleep and 1.5 for eating and elimination. Supervisors were the elite of Hive society, and they slept in supervisor dens of 50 people and had the honor of retaining their own bedding. The only personal property the workers possessed was their spoon, which was engraved with the same identification number as was in the chip embedded on each drone's neck and right forearm.

This was Yang's Utopia.

"You know, Mary," Markus said quietly, "I think we did them a favor with the chaos siege guns. All those 'This Is The Hive' MorganVids I saw as a kid, they weren't even close to true. The truth is worse."

Mary and Markus stood in sullen silence as the endless streams of placid citizens passed by. 'No, they aren't Citizens, they truly are Drones,' Markus thought glumly.

A Hive policeman approached, dragging an unresisting adolescent female behind him. She looked slightly emaciated, and couldn't be more than 15. Her shaved head had at least two days of stubble on it, and her hair color might be reddish brown. It was hard to tell through the slight patina of lubricant. Her threadbare jumper hung loosely on her frame; obviously it was intended for someone three or four sizes bigger.

The policemen of the Hive were largely autonomous, each having had a chemical lobotomy long ago so they would unquestioningly enforce the rules. Hive rules. Any infraction, no matter how small, resulted in punishment. The Authorities meted out punishment, and it mattered not to them who the Authorities were. There were only three kinds of punishment: censure, The Scream Room, and death.

He shoved the girl in between himself and Markus and Mary. She crouched a little, with sloped shoulders and a slight bend to her knees. She was looking at the floor, trying to become as small as possible.

"This worker has violated rule 95-34 Section 2.2 Subsection 2. Awaiting orders," the policeman said. He stood at attention, as if expecting an immediate answer.

Mary and Mark looked at each other. Neither had the faintest idea of what to do.

"Policeman, uhm, recite this rule for us," Mary improvised.

"Rule 95-34 Section 2.2 Subsection 2: It is forbidden for those who are without authorization to acquire or consume nutrients," he responded immediately.

Mark and Mary looked the girl over again. Her cheeks were hollow, and her bones showed through her skin.

"Why has this girl been denied food?" Mary continued, becoming angry.

Stepping forward, the policeman grabbed the girl's right forearm and twisted it painfully. She involuntarily let out a yelp of pain, but stifled it quickly. Her exposed forearm showed three horizontal red welts below her identification number, one of which was infected. He took out a small cylinder and passed it over her embedded identification chip and read the results.

"This Citizen had her food privileges revoked 23 work cycles ago. Her censure was extended two times for continued disobedience," the policeman intoned. "The mandatory punishment for a forth infraction is The Scream Room."

The girl's shoulders started shaking. Quick gasps replaced muffled sobs.

Word of The Scream Room had rippled through the entire occupying force soon after the arrival of the Spartans at Plex Anthill. Markus and Mary paled slightly.

"And what was this girl's offense," Markus demanded.

Examining the small data screen, the policeman replied, "She gave food to another on censure. "

"I've heard enough!" Mary almost shouted, "Girl, come with me!" Mary turned abruptly and grabbed the girl, tearing her out of the arms of the Policeman.

"Oh, please, oh, please," she intoned quietly, helplessly. Her breathing became labored. She looked up at Mary with hollow, hopeless eyes, "Oh, please…"

Mary hustled the girl out of the feeding den. Markus followed.

*****

Mary sat the girl down on her bunk, which was stationed in one of the few intact cargo bays near the surface. She didn't resist, and had assumed a far off look in her eyes. Her sobbing had also stopped.

Mary crouched on her haunches until she was at eye level. "Girl, what's your name?" she asked softly.

"Mara Hollin, Delta 23," she replied automatically, and extended her right forearm, palm up. All of the welts on her arm by the ID chip looked ugly. In the improved light of the cargo bay it was clear she had numerous overlapping bruises that extended up her arm and into sleeve of her jumper.

Mary looked at her arm, and then at Markus. Markus nodded once and went to get a medkit and supplies.

"I want to help you. I'll get you some food, and fix up your arm. And clean you up a little," Mary explained.

Mara didn't respond.

Markus returned with the medkit, some rations, and a blanket.

"Markus, get some cleanser and water, please," Mary asked, not taking her eyes off Mara.

Carefully, Mary opened the medkit and got out the sterilizing pads, and gently cleaned Mara's wounds. Then she applied a little plastiskin to seal and improve healing.

Mara's head turned, and her eyes focused on Mary.

Markus came back and handed Mary a moistened towel. Mary took it and gently started wiping the patina of grime that seemed to cover Mara's face and arms.

"There, that's better!" Mary said brightly. "Now, would you like some veggies and some hot casserole?"

Mara looked intently at Mary, but didn't respond.

Mary prepared the instant ration, which self heated. While she was waiting she gave Mara a liter of cool water. She just looked at it, so Mary opened it, smiled and made a drinking motion.

Mara took a sip, then a mouthful, and swallowed gratefully. Then she took a long draw, emptying a third the container.

The meal was ready, so Mary gave it to Mara. She looked questioningly at Mary, then at the food, then at Mary again.

"It's all right. I want you to eat it. It's really very good," Mary reassured her. Mary took a piece of cooked string beans and ate it, making appreciative 'yummy' sounds as she did so.

Mara hesitantly took a bite of the beans, and her face lit up! She quickly ate the rest. Then she looked expectantly at Mary again.

"I want you to eat it all. It's yours," Mary said, as she continued to use the towel to remove grime.

Halfway through the beef casserole Mara uttered her first cogent words. "No Scream Room?" she asked hopefully.

Mary looked her straight in the eyes, as she stroked the side of Mara's head. "No Mara, no Scream Room. Ever."

Mary then sat on the bunk next to Mara, put her hand around her thin shoulders, and drew her head toward her. Mara grasped at her reflexively, tightly, laid her head against Mary's breast, and softly began to weep.

[Paula Forbes]

I gazed into the muzzle of the shredder pistol and felt real fear.

Clammy, cold, palpable fear.

The air was thick with it.

Not just mine. Those around me.

I sensed fear in the face of the man holding the pistol to my head.

I sensed panic in the minds of the three MorganNews staff lying trussed up on the floor.

I saw suspicion and distrust – yes, even fear – in the eyes of the woman who sat at the side of the desk, pretending disinterest as she painted her nails.

And in one corner I sensed icy calm.

I forced my head to look round, stifling the tension in my neck, and trying desperately to quieten my rapidly beating heart.

He was sitting in one of the darker corners, his cloak pulled round his emaciated body as though to keep the last remnants of warmth from escaping, even though the air conditioning was turned off and the room was stiflingly warm. The hood to his cloak was partially pulled back, revealing strands of silver hair, and a forehead scarred with an old wound.

I looked into his eyes.

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

I sank in a sea of eternal black, the waters closing over me, and the shock giving me no time to catch my breath.

I felt the water enter my lungs and as I panicked and started thrashing about I knew with an awful certainty that I was going to drown.

I felt the bile rise in my throat as my breathing constricted, and I gasped for air that wasn’t there, drawing only more of that black soulless water into my lungs and sinking deeper into its depths.

My life flashed before me and as I sank I relived the poignant moments, the pain, the heartaches, the triumphs.

The events of the last few days and hours reran in my mind as I reached my breaking point.

Then I saw the two pinpricks of light.

I focused on them, and started to rise to the surface.

Gasping I broke through.

He looked away.

“She doesn’t know”. He said. “Our quarrel isn’t with Morgan. Untie them and let’s get out of here. Ayola’s the key. I’ll work alone from now on. Disperse, but stay focused”

He left.

The man and the girl untied the three staffers, and then apologized to them.

He turned to me.

“Sorry about the gun”, he said. “Just taking precautions”.

“Who was that?” I asked, not really wanting to know, but always seeking information.

“Sand.”

[Googlie]

I was in earnest conversation round the Boardroom table with Basel, Marlo and Alfredo when there was a discreet knock at the door.

Baz got up to answer, and was greeted by Kitty, my aide.

“There’s a Fleet Commander Baldwin and entourage wants to deliver a package to Minister Allardyce” she said. “Ive put them in his office.”

“Excuse me, I’ll go see” I said and went next door.

Baldwin and two sumbarine officers were waiting in my office, along with Ayola, who was electronically cuffed and hobbled. She looked up at me with a defiant stare and said “Hello Scott.”

“Ayola”, I said. “these are sad circumstances.”

I turned to Baldwin and stuck out my hand.

“Good to see you again – and great work in getting Ayola out of the Hive’s clutches. I’ll mention that to Burge.”

He beamed. “Well I wish we’d gotten the Colonel out as well. Thought we had, in fact, but it was only a chameleon actress. My guess is that this one knows where she’s being held. Give me and my boys ten minutes alone with her and she’ll squeal.”

Tempting as it was, I shook my head. Ours was the way of reason, not violence, resorting to violence only when reason failed.

“No, I think we’re into negotiations now, and that’s for the Diplomats, backed by our military prowess, to resolve. Thanks again Commander. Can you transfer the code to basil here?” I asked, proffering the pad.

Baldwin activated the pad, put his thumb against a panel and passed it to Hargreaves. He did likewise, and passed it back. They repeated the procedure, verifying the biocodes just transmitted. Baz snapped the pad shut.

“Thanks, Mate” he said.

Baldwin nodded and signaled to his men. As they were leaving, I called after them

“What of Jeneba?”

Baldwin turned. “Oh, she’s gone off to find her friend the Morgan news reporter – with a bloody great mindworm in tow – Alphonso I think his name is.”

He left with his men.

‘Alphonse,’ I muttered. ‘You’ve resurfaced. I wonder what mischief you and Jeneba are cooking up now.’

I turned back to Ayola.

“I hate doing this, but you realize under the circumstances I have no option. Baz, call one of the MPs and have her locked in the brig, electronic restraints and all.”

Ayola shrugged.

“We’re holding Anastasia too” I said. That got her attention as I knew it would. I had the impression that the sisters were close.

“Your co-operation will make it easier on both of you.”

“So will yours,” was her spirited reply.

[Tokek Belerang]

Somewhere north of Hawk of Chiron, a former crew went home to their shelters. While out in the field, they bunked in structures similar to the old Nissen huts of Earth, half-cylinders of steel, squat and ugly. The sky was overcast this evening - no spectacular twin sunsets, for a change.

"See ya, boys." Len Delcampo said.

"Yeah, Len. Sleep tight."

"No problems there." Len remarked to Tom Meadows, who was walking beside him. Tom was his daughter's fella, and he worked on the same shift as Len.

"No cards tonight then, Len?" Tom asked.

"Always time for that. No worries. But I'm glad tomorrow's my day off."

They worked shifts on the formers, eight-hour stints, another crew always taking over at the end. Formers seldom stood idle.

"Same here." Tom said.

They stepped into the shelter's airlock and after taking off their kit, stepped straight into the shower room.

After their meal, taken together with Len's wife Dot and their daughter Lise, Len looked round the table.

"Well... Let's give it a whirl, shall we?"

"Why not."said Dot, and got up to find the cards.

Lise switched off the comm set. Nothing but old news on Santiago's disappearance, and the war with The Hive. So far away from the Hawk!

"Drink?" Len inquired with Tom.

"I wouldn't mind." Tom said.

"Ladies?"

"No, thanks." Dot said. "You have some, Lise."

"Yeah, I will. And some water, please."

They sat themselves in battle formations, Len facing Lise and Dot facing Tom. Cards, a notepad and pen, a bottle of Old Spartan, and a couple of glasses. Tom dealt the first hand, and they all picked up their cards and studied them.

"I'm not doing it." Len said.

"Nor I." said Dot.

"No." said Lise.

"I'll take 'em." Tom said.

"You deals 'em, you gets 'em." said Len. Tom grinned. Len led the ace of diamonds. Dot, with a look of apprehension on her face, followed the queen. Lise added the king with a click of her tongue.

"Sorry." Tom said, played the eight of clubs, and palmed the trick.

"Nasty little man!" Len exclaimed. Tom continued with the jack of clubs.

"What about that Burge, though." Dot said.

"Yes!" Lise exclaimed. "Just pronounces himself Great Leader like nothing happened, and lets that senile half-wit Allardyce clean up the paperwork."

"Now, now." Len said, grinning. "But I'll grant you this, he does have a nerve. And another thing, I read in the Hawk Chronicle this morning that our governor fully supports Burge's being boss man." He frowned at his cards, and surrendered his last club to Tom's persistent leading.

"Well, that counts for something, doesn't it?" Dot said. "I mean, I don't know what you think, but I rate our new governor quite highly."

"He's certainly improved things around here. Even the formers get tune-ups since he's been in charge." Tom said, and played the eight of hearts.

"Efficiency. That's what it is. There's no more stuff lying around in the warehouses, collecting dust or rotting away. You'd have thought he would just have used the place to rush-build Noodles and Pens. But he finished the biology lab first, and there hasn't been a single case of planet blight since that." Len said, and frowned darkly at Dot playing her ace onto his ten.

"Hey! They're marching, old man! Snap to it. And stop whistling." Lise snapped. Len continued to whistle - all in good spirit, these games. He loved them. He was whistling the tune to "Needles and Pins", which featured in the parody a well-known Morganite comedian was doing on Scott Allardyce.

Tom and Dot indeed swept the game, and got a full score.

"Well, I'm not so positive about your mister Levavassier." Lise said, sipping her drink of water. "Tom and I have been inquiring about that Hab Complex, but we can forget all about it for a while. And I heard at the office that after they finish fitting out those new detachments for the 469th, it'll be rovers for Rolling Thunder."

"Well, there is a war on, Lise." Dot said, and stole a sip from Lise's shot glass.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Lise said. "Anyone turn yet?"

"Yes. It's spades." Tom said.

"Pass." Dot said.

"Pass." said Lise.

"Not me." Tom said.

"And I'm not going to do it." said Len. "Seems like you're up for it, dear."

Dot led the jack of hearts. "What's this I hear about this new kind of road that's supposed to come?" she asked.

Len and Tom looked at each other and laughed.

"Did I say something silly?" Dot asked.

"No, no." Tom said. "We heard from old man Jenkins today. It's monopole magnets, and the road is called Mag Tube. It looks like we'll be building them soon. Only Jenkins called them..."

"Monopoly Magnets!" Len interjected, laughing out loud, and hit his fist on the table.

"Yeah, and they were a Morganite invention that the governor had acquired on the hush, seeing as they were Monopoly, and all." Tom explained, barely containing his laughter.

"You can't be serious! And he's supposed to be your overseer. I told you last time at that meeting he was one short of a full deck." Dot said.

"More like a couple." Lise said.

"Anyway. Looks like enough work for the former crews." Len said, and poured himself another drink.

They continued their game. It wasn't too bad a life, in Sparta.

------------------
Numquam turbae misceri
[This message has been edited by Tokek Belerang (edited August 10, 1999).]

[Dcole78]

The Rescue
(Dcole78 and Ryann)


After he had made certain that the sub was secure Baldwin contacted his fleet. "I am sure you have been following what has been happening recently. Know that the command structure is still intact, the meeting was holographic. Santiago however is missing. We believe she is being held nearby, all available units should go to the navel graveyard and await further instructions"

"The Navel Graveyard, what's there captain" asked one of the Seamen. "The SS Santiago" replied Baldwin. The crew fell silent. They were standing in a small group by the dock. After the riot, initiated by Baldwin, had ended the dock had quickly become deserted.

"No we just wanted everyone to think it was sunk, now lets get to the sub and set course for the graveyard"

"Wait something's coming." Jeneba began.

"Holy ****", exclaimed Jensen, the sub's weapons officer.

"What?" asked Baldwin, whirling round to look where he was pointing.

Down the wharf was coming the biggest mindworm they had ever seen.

Baldwin's men formed a protective circle round the woman and their captain, their weapons drawn, ready.

"Funny", said Aldrich, the ship's electronics warfare operative. "From all I've read we should be experiencing excruciating headaches about now."

"No" blurted Jeneba.

They all looked at her.

She had her eyes closed, and was swaying gently back and forth, first on one foot, then the other. Apart from her 'No', her lips were moving soundlessly.

The mindworm stopped a few feet from them. The odor was muskily ginger scented. To a man, they experienced just the tingle of a neural sweep, the merest suggestion of a pinprick pain just behind the right eyeball, and simultaneously thought "Alphonso. Friend"

Jeneba opened her eyes.

"Alphonso knows. About a mile north there is a cave only accessible from the sea. Santiago is being held there. Lightly guarded by humans - he doesn't understand electronics or automation. The human's an empath, so she'll know we're coming unless Alphonso and I can set up a diversion. You'll need to use the sub, I think, and then go in with dinghies or something similar to shore. The cave entrance is about 50 feet up a cliff face, with some steps cut into the rock from the little concealed dock. He and I will approach from the left side we should be close enough for a telepathic diversion. She's going to be moved tonight - he doesn't know when, so we'll have to get cracking."

"You got all that from this mindworm?" Baldwin asked incredulously.

"Yeah." said Jeneba. "Now let's get going. No need to synchronize your watches or anything dramatic like that, we can do it this way."

She stopped speaking.

Baldwin was aware of the knowledge - for want of a better word - the intuitive affirmation that Jeneba was in his mind. 'Move' he 'heard' from her. 'I'm going' he thought. 'Good' came into his mind. One problem though how are we going to transport the mindworm? The answering thought entered his mind but not form Jeneba. "Alphonso transportation provide" Turning toward the sub he saw an isle of the deep rise up beside it.

"To the sub , men. Let's get this show on the road." His men were not empaths. Far from it. They needed the old fashioned orders.

Baldwin saw Jeneba put her head close to the mindworm, as if the pair of them were hatching some conspiracy."

"That lady's got guts, that's all I can say", he thought. "You wouldn't catch me putting my head that close to a mindworm."

He got into the conning tower, and they cast off.

Baldwin stood in the Command center of the SS Santiago. A year ago the world had been told it had sunk, today it would see action saving the leader it was named for. Yes he thought the fusion engines and AAA missiles that the scientists had recently finished installing would be quite useful. Around the sub stood the hulks of old ships and on the shore the metal recycling plant. "What a perfect hiding place" he thought. "Who would think to look for the next generation of subs in the scrap heap?" Around him stood his eight best men, and Jeneba. Alphonso and the isle of the deep waited hidden in the wreckage. "Yes, we might just be able to pull this off" he thought as he turned to face Jeneba.

"Can you locate where exactly Santiago's being held?"

Jeneba screwed up her face, concentrating intently.

"Not exactly", she said. "It's north of here, quite nearby, no more than a kilometer away, at most. I'm picking up jumbled thoughts - there's only two of them, I think, Corazon and another. Intense hate feelings from both parties, betrayals from one."

"All right get back to Alphonso and lead us in the right direction, men you know what you have to do"

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

A few minutes later he spotted the small harbor mouth, just where Jeneba said it would be.

Looking up, he could see the mouth of the cave, as advertised.

He scanned the cliff face through his night vision binoculars.

The steps were there, crudely fashioned into the rock.

Then he saw them

A sensor array and a pair of remote missile launchers partially submerged in the water stood guard over the dock. Already they were turning toward his sub"

"Blast," he thought. "They've spotted us" as he quickly climbed back into the sub and shouted "Flood the ballast tanks and Dive Now!"
"Commander I wouldn't advise ..the water is quite shallow here" came the hesitant reply.

"Just do it" screamed Baldwin

The sub lurched as it dove underwater, suddenly a boom was heard behind the sub and Baldwin, along with several other crew members, had to steady himself to keep from falling.

"Damage report" he shouted

"None sir..but if we had dove a second later"

"Jenson, can you get a lock on those missile turrets"

"Aye captain"

"Then fire at will"

A woos was heard as the missals left the sub and an almost deafening boom as they both found there target.

"Periscope depth" Shouted Baldwin

Looking out through the periscope he could see the ruined hulks of the missile launchers, Thankfully enough of the dock was still present that his men could disembark.

"Bring us in as close as you can, then surface the isle will have to take us the rest of the way"

"Jeneba" He thought "now would be the time for some of that distraction"

One by one the men disembarked from the isle onto the remains of the dock. Sporadic fire had come from the cave but it had been wild and disjointed, "courtesy of Jeneba and Alphonso" thought Baldwin.

"All right men" we have to get to the top of that staircase "and we must be sure not to hurt Santiago in the process"

"You" he said pointing at his two most athletic men "are with me…were going to run up the stairs and enter the cave" "The rest of you spread out and provide cover fire..give them something to shoot at beside us" "All right men let's get to it"

Instantly his men spread out and he and his two companions sprinted from the cover of the destroyed missile turrets toward and up the staircase. The fire from the cave increased as the men on the staircase became visible luckily all the shots went wide. "Alphonso and Jeneba are doing their job well he thought"
Seeing a couple of faces inside the cave he risked a couple of shots as he sprinted the last two feet up the stairs.

The battle in the cave had been short, the few hive guards incapacitated by Alphonso and Jeneba had been no match for Baldwin and his men. There dead bodies now lined the cave mouth. He was not surprised when he entered the interior of the cave to see Santiago's aide lying on the floor clutching her head and writhing in agony. He himself - and his men - had felt Jeneba's and Alphonse's presence gnawing away at the back of their minds for the last ten minutes or so.

He heard a voice, and turned to peer into the darkened recesses of the cave.
It was Corazon

"These chains are electrified, if you try and untie me or disable the generator you will electrocute me."

Nodding Baldwin moved to the mouth of the cave

"Aldrich, get up here"

************************************************** **************************
20 minutes later the chains had been deactivated and Santiago and her aide had been ferried to the sub. Alphonso and Jeneba had left afterwards leaving the Sub to bring Santiago triumphantly home. As Baldwin was about to close the hatch and get underway he heard the unmistakable sound of rotor blades and he saw a fully armed hive chopper coming in fast. "Were not out of the woods yet he thought" as he slammed the sub hatch and climbed down the ladder. "Jenson, take out that chopper he shouted" as soon as the order was given he heard the woos of missals leaving the sub and a satisfying explosion as they hit their target. "Good work Jenson" he said as he turned to officially welcome Santiago back to Sparta but the words died in his throat, because though everything else was the same the face he saw as he turned was no longer hers.

[Googlie]

I paid the waiter after Paula had gone, and summoned a cab to take me to the Aerospace Center.

SAC Headquarters I said to the cabbie.

He weaved his way through the chaos that was downtown Sparta Command these days. The area around the old Command Center was a hive of activity (I smiled inwardly as the pun came to mind) as the former crew were clearing the rubble and detritus of the explosion.

The radiation containment forces had already completed their spraying, and declared the zone once again habitable – we had nothing to go by so far on Chiron, but the old earth record after the last Indo-Sino conflict had been three weeks. The technique had been perfected in the Latino wars after some earlier experimentation. I made a mental note to have the scientists examine if the nitrogen suffusion had anything to do with it.

We rolled up to the airbase. It was teeming with people. I was still recognized, and waved through the perimeter fence, right up to my old parking stall, now occupied with Slat’s PTV.

I paid the cabbie, and went in.

People everywhere, and civilians mostly.

I bumped into Jill Hughes in a corridor.

“Googlie” she shouted, giving me a hug. “Thank goodness for at least one old familiar face.”

“Why, Jill?” I asked. “Who are all these people?”

“They’re the government – Federation and Base,” she replied. “All – or at least most – moved in here after their complex got blown up at Command Center. The SAC’s the only federation-wide network still operating with any degree of security, so they’ve gravitated here. It’s driving Slats wild. But gotta run – see ya.” She pecked me on the cheek as she hustled off.

‘Hmmm,’ I thought. ‘The bureaucrats are all here. That suits me just fine.’

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

I found slats in his office, looking harassed indeed.

“Slats,” I boomed to his back as I entered without knocking.

“Googlie” he said. “Welcome to the zoo. What brings you here?”

“Oh,” I replied, “the same as everyone else. Infrastructure, order, communications. In short, Slats, I’m here to run the civilian government.

“And with that in mind, I’m going to commandeer the Staff Boardroom and the CiC’s guest office and aide’s office. And I’d like to borrow Hargreaves for a spell. You need to appoint your own XO anyway, someone who’s been through the wars with you, and will be embracive of change. Hargreaves was too long with mew to welcome change, and he’ll make a first class admin assistant to me.”

“Yeah, I could go along with that,” Slats replied, looking at me shrewdly.

“Has the Junta approved your new role?” he asked. “I know I’m new and may not yet get all the communiques, but I don’t remember seeing anything about it.”

“Oh, I cleared it with Gavin”, I said airily, “He’s onside”.

Slats shrugged.

“I guess it’s OK then. I’ll buzz Hargreaves and assign him to you. You should take this”

He handed me the original University ransom note.

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

I set up shop in Santiago’s guest office.

Hargreaves reported almost immediately, saluting.

“Basil” I said, shaking hands. “Welcome to the team.”

He shook my hand somewhat warily.

“What team, Sir. What are we doing. More specifically, what are you doing and what’s my role?”

“Firstly”, I replied, “let’s get the groundrules straight. I’m now a civilian, so it’s not ‘Sir’, and there are no salutes. You can call me Googlie or Scott as you see fit.

“Secondly, I’m assuming command of the civilian government in Corazon’s absence. Gavin Burge is heading the Junta and has assumed total military command.”

Basil’s eyes widened.

“A coup?” he asked.

“No, no” I replied somewhat impatiently. “Just a streamlining of the Junta command structure to meet the exigencies of the situation. With the war, the abduction, the hostage threat, the nuke aftermath, etc. we need to focus on what needs to be done.”

“What hostage threat?” Hargreaves asked.

I realized he didn’t know she was alive.

“Sit down, Baz”, I said, and filled him in from the beginning – as much as I knew.

“Phew”, he exclaimed. “plots within plots.”

“Now you see why law and order are paramount,” I replied. “Tell me, are Marlo and Alfredo here?”

He nodded his assent.

“Get them to the Boardroom “ I said. Marlo was Sparta Command’s governor and Alfredo her administrator. “let’s get Operation Cleanup started.”

I couldn’t not think in military terms.

[Tokek Belerang]

"Down there, Frog. Near the incline. Do you see them?"

Arihclinn looked at his monitor. Blast, but the girl had sharp eyes.

"Going down." Nyoman said. "Get on the wire to Yanni."

Arihclinn opened the channel to the Plex Anthill airstrip.

"Number One Wing Mark Two Nyepi, calling PA strip, over." he intoned.

"One-Two Nyepi, this is PA strip, go ahead, over."

"PA strip, stray cazzies sighted at two zero niner your approach, a hundred and twenty crow clicks, over. Advise ambulance teams and One-Three Eleutheria, over."

"One-Two Nyepi, we copy two zero niner at one twenty crow, advise ambulance and One-Three, over."

"PA strip, that is correct. Over and out."

Nyoman banked steeply, went into a dive, came out of it, turned up the Nyepi's nose, and stalled the plane. At the same time the VTOL thrusters kicked in and put the plane down after the last eight meters or so with barely a ruffle.

The casualties, first named 'cazzies' by the now long-dead 1st Wing ace 'Caz-Man' McNichol, were out by a small outcrop of rocks. As Nyoman and Arihclinn got out of the plane, one silhouette stood out from the rock, and waved. They ran over quickly. He was standing outside a low emergency field cover, clearly favoring a bad leg.

"Thank God you are here." the man said. "Our comms went down."

Ignoring the odd turn of phrase - who'd use a Believer's term like that? - the two surgeons checked the group of soldiers lying prone under a small overhang.

"Some of these are fresh wounds. Please tell us what happened." Nyoman said.

"We are with the 469th. One of us is from Rolling Thunder. We got separated from the main column as we chased a group of Hive strays that had been sniping us from the flank. There were more than we expected, and we were hit with missiles. We were thrown off track, and had to keep running for a position..."

"The wounds, man, the wounds. What caused them? Not this one, pulmonary here, femur, brain..." Arihclinn snapped, then went on checking the wounded - some nine of them.

They listened to the dishevelled soldier whilst giving injections, feeling limbs, applying bandages.

"Impact rifles. We made it back here after the choppers came and went after our attackers. But then we got hit by some from the forest over there. We were under fire for hours. They're still around somewhere."

"I doubt it." Nyoman said. "Not with planes around. We have to do surgery. We have three dead, two critical. Frog, what do you say?"

"I say you're right. Let's go."

In the next hour, the two surgeons made considerable progress in saving the lives of the two critical cases. What they had also done, was allow two of the others to die.

Of the nine men and women, only one had already been deceased. The two others had been beyond help, and had only been given pain killers. "That's what you do in triage. Don't believe in crap about deciding who's gonna live. You decide who's gonna die. Accept that, and you've come a long way to becoming a good triage surgeon." That's what Arihclinn, then her teacher, had told her in the academy. It had proved very true.

"We have to get them over to the plane. We will use the torsion stretchers. If you can walk, help." Nyoman said.

The hard, battle-toughened soldiers obeyed the little woman with the crystal-clear voice like so many puppies. Once the tiny personnel hold of the VTOL needle was loaded, the plane wafted up into the air again, and left.

"PA strip, One-Two Nyepi here, coming in. Have those ambulances ready, over." Nyoman said into the comm. Arihclinn was down in the hold, doing what he could.

The suns went down. In the distance out at sea, a low, dark stripe out on the horizon - Hive territory. Nyoman shivered, and began the turn in to Plex Anthill.

------------------
Numquam turbae misceri
[This message has been edited by Tokek Belerang (edited August 10, 1999).]

[Tokek Belerang]

The commlink beeped in the dark of night.

Levavassier had been listening to a recording of last night's staging of the Zauberflöte at Morgan Industries. Would that Sheng-Ji Yang were as easy to contain as Monostatos! The Gecko, Arihclinn and he had often discussed Earth opera, and its powers of allegory. The masonic motifs of the Zauberflöte had been a particular favorite.

Levavassier shook his head, and got up. Still squeezing his eyes, he fumbled with the commlink pads.

"Ah! Turning to Sarastro, I see. Very good!"

Levavassier opened his eyes. He could only recognize the face on the commlink screen as Salvador St James's, because he had already recognized the voice.

"Zak's bells. Who got you looking like a clown." he said.

In fact, the Gecko looked like a million bucks. Levavassier knew he had undergone longevity treatment at several moments in his life, but in the time that he had served under him, he had only taken them to keep looking more or less the same. The Gecko's appearance had sometimes reminded him of the poor fellow in one of Ovid's Metamorphoses, who had been given eternal life, but had forgotten to ask for eternal youth, as well. But this time, the face looked like that of a man in his early forties.

"Thank you, Eugene. Tricia thinks I look like a young Sheng-Ji Yang, now you think me a clown. Have you been well lately?"

Levavassier shook his head, and sat down.

"Not too bad, considering I was blown up a couple of days ago."

"Ah. But then so was I, remember."

"Yeah, right. We were both there. Whatever did we talk about?"

The Gecko grinned back at him.

"Opera, I should hope."

"Must have been. What's this with Tricia? She there with you? Where are you, by the way?"

"Tricia is still in Morganite territory, where we spent a nice long week in a rather expensive Paradise Garden. Myself, I am in Sparta right now."

"In Sparta? Coming from Morgana? I would have thought you would have hightailed it back to Gaia by now."

"Why would I do that?"

"Lindly."

"Please explain."

"It is rumored, admittedly not by the most reliable of sources, that she is no longer working on the Gaian science program."

"And you assumed she would have been with me."

"You go back together, don't you?"

"Yes, we do. And at some point in that common history, we decided it would not be in our best interests to pursue our relationship any further."

"And now you're with the admiral."

"Indeed. Any messages?"

"Tell her she's sorely missed. That Giacomazzi woman is a pain in the butt."

"What's your assessment of the situation in Sparta now?"

"A total shambles back home, all nice and cosy near the front."

"Please elaborate."

"There is no one back here, sir. I am, perhaps Atreus. Allardyce is either in Gaia or running around with the Forbes woman, Burge is overlording near GC..."

"And doing quite a good job. What about Santiago?"

"Nobody knows, sir. Least of all the ones who are supposed to know. I've been onto everyone I know, squeezing hard, and the best I can come up with is that either she is with the UoP resistance still, or she's in Sand's hands already. But that's where this comes from - UoP resurfacing and striking deals with Sand."

"Which he intends to honor, of course."

"Cute, isn't it?" Levavassier agreed.

"The University was always naive, Eugene. That's what brought them down in the first place."

"Why have you come back, sir? Now that I've asked, why did you abscond in the first place?"

"That was Santiago's idea."

"Pardon?"

"She wanted an ambassador in Morgana. She asked me to find out whether one would be welcome and, most of all, useful. It was all a fairly long-term idea, but when the Hive vendetta erupted, things went whitewater. And remember the blue burst you sent me when I was out looking for Googles?"

"Yes, sir. That was when I had first received word that Shannon Lindly was MiA in Gaia, sir. The event proved to match a code in your must-know file, and I sent the burst."

"Lindly was in Morgana, Eugene. She was the Gaian ambassador-to-be. The MiA was a signal to the world that things were coming to a boil. So that's why my presence was required."

"What things, sir? To a boil, I mean."

"The Hive has designs on Morgana, Eugene. It was considered to be in the interests of Sparta and Gaia that those designs would be... precipitated."

"What about Lal, sir?"

"What about him? As long as no one attacks him, he'll stand by and watch."

Levavassier squeezed his eyes hard. He had been unable to sleep before, but now he suddenly felt very tired. He realized with a shock that he had pined after this - the patient, levelheaded presence of his mentor.

"Eugene? Are you all right?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"I'll be on my way in a moment. I have promises to keep to quite a number of people. I may even find a lead on Santiago's fate from them."

"Yes, sir. And, sir?"

"Yes?"

"The riddle - I'm afraid I still don't understand. What Santiago really means. Santiago is Spanish for Saint James, but what does it mean? Are you related?"

The Gecko smiled.

"You only understood half of the riddle. The more difficult half, amusingly enough. It's not important now. And no, we're not related. It was a little joke, once."

"I see. How amusing."

"Go to bed, Eugene. And if you want your senses soothed, forget Mozart and play a real opera. Don Carlo should do. Geck out."

Levavassier's ears buzzed. He shut down the commlink, then the music, and collapsed on his bed. He was asleep within seconds.

------------------
Numquam turbae misceri

[Hydro]

Hive Datalinks

*****

Squirt transmission received. Routing to First Citizen Chairman Yang through secure channel.

* Operative Dragon Communiqué to Chairman Yang
* Date – M.Y. 2225 9.23:1140
* Ref ID – classified, Top Secret
* Authorization – Top Secret
* R.E. – Intelligence Update on Spartan Federation

* Encrypted data. Enter ID and verification of identity, and select link:
 Spartan Laboratory Summary
 Spartan Energy Allocation
 Spartan Base Operations
 Spartan Secret Project Report
 Spartan Satellite Survey
 Spartan Security Nexus Military and Civilian Unit Summary

[Paula Forbes]

Paula found herself a small hotel room and checked in.

After a shower and a freshen up, she commlinked Peter.

"Paula, where are you - we thought you'd disappeared off the face of Chiron" was his hello.

"I'm fine. I'm okay. I'm in S…..."

"PAULA. GET BACK HERE IMMEDIATELY." The florid face of Joe Carter appeared on the small commlink screen.

"No need to shout, JoJo darling," said Paula. "The whole of Sparta Command can hear you."

"YOU'RE IN..sorry. You're in Sparta Command?" Joe asked.

"For one night. I'm booked out tomorrow for MI."

"Paula, please stay. Run some stories from there. Background, interviews, reaction to the destruction of the Military Junta - that kind of stuff. Full authority to the NewsRoom there - who, by the way, have been awfully quiet of late."

"Joe, for an old newsman you're way behind. The Junta survived - no-one was at the meeting. It was a holomeeting. Simulcraes. There's nothing to tell."

"Nothing to tell" howled Joe in anguish. "That itself will be our top billing tonight. Can you get to our studios and do it?"

"Okay," she said resignedly. There went the early night.

"I'll do it. Give me back to Peter."

The familiar face appeared.

"Peter, you owe me one. Could you swing by my apartment and pack me a bag with a couple of changes of clothes - you remember the combo, don't you?" - Peter's face nodded assent - "and can you come to Sparta Command. This needs more than just a news anchor."

"You got it" he said enthusiastically. "I think I can be at the offices by noon tomorrow"

"Great", she replied. "See you then."

She dressed again, and went out into the evening to the MorganNews studios.

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

She keyed in the lock combination and entered the building.

The elevator whisked her to the 15th floor - the tallest tower in Sparta Command, appropriately owned by Morgan Industries.

As she walked along the corridor to the MorganNews offices, she paused. The door was ajar.

"Funny," she thought. "I didn't pass anyone on the way. "Oh, maybe the elevators passed."

Pushing the door open she yelled "ANYONE HOME?"

There was a scuffling and some grunts.

She walked in through the vestibule and into the studio.

And stopped dead in her tracks.

She was looking into the muzzle of a shredder pistol

[Hydro]

Morgan Industries, Milton Burle Holotheatre

*****

The Queen of the Night Aria from Mozart's Magic Flute was reaching its apex. Floating in mid air, the Queen of the Night diva literally sailed through the recreated fancifully arrayed baroque stage, gesturing wildly as she effortlessly and flawlessly hit every high C and high A in the aria. The enraptured audience was, by tradition, the elite of Morgan society. This performance was blessed by having none other than Nwabudike Morgan Senior and his 2nd wife and two consorts in a private balcony. Everyone was in his or her finest regalia, Morgan in his richest blue silk kimono and his wives and consorts in matching chiffon.

One of Morgan's entourage approached Morgan, leaned down, and discretely whispered into his left ear. Morgan reacted strongly. The aid retreated slightly as Morgan quickly turned toward him. After a brief pause, the aid repeated his message.

Morgan Senior brusquely left his seat and retreated to the hall outside of the balcony. His wife and consorts turned toward the disturbance in irritation, then turned back to the aria.

Standing outside of the balcony entrance, Morgan's three security offices stood at attention. Morgan burst through the elegant gilt doors, furious.

"Explain to me AGAIN, why you DARE to interrupt by me and my wife and consorts!" Morgan demanded. The veins on his neck the temples were throbbing with rage.

His security officer were silent for a moment, then the head of security stepped forward and gave Morgan a Governmental Datapad.

Morgan's rage subsided immediately. The datapad was on pause, and he reactivated it. A miniature of Yang appeared over the display.

"Good evening, Morgan. I trust I haven't interrupted some important state function," Yang stated with a faint mocking tone. Yang' image scanned Morgan's elaborate attire.

"I always have time to converse with my Pact Brother. It is a pleasure, Chairman Sheng-Ji Yang," Morgan replied with false sincerity.

"We are both busy men," Yang jibed, "so I will get to the point. The People's Hive is close to attaining military preeminence on Chiron. Our military resources are already multiple times that of the weak-willed Peacekeepers or your own, as your recent tragedy at Morgan Industries so pointedly showed." Yang's tone was pointed and acidic.

Morgan glowered in embarrassment, for it was true. And the threat that was implied was very real.

"I require a contribution from Morgan Industries as a demonstration of your good faith in our Pact. Since we of the Hive have taken the burden of bringing enlightenment to this fractious world, this would be an equitable distribution of resources. I suggest that you allocate 1,500 energy units toward our shared goal," Yang stated.

Morgan was momentarily speechless. Yang had just extorted 700 energy units from him seven years ago. This was unacceptable! Treachery, and thievery of the worst kind! To steal hard-earned energy, while Yang wasted his on toys and useless wars of aggression!

'Still,' Morgan Senior through, 'the Hive gives Morgan Industries a certain amount of security. Yang will indeed be sorry if this ceases to be the case.'

Morgan composed himself before replying.

"I fear I can only spare 750 energy toward our worthy goal, trusty Pact Brother," Morgan said, putting on a pained expression of agreement and regret.

"Ah, you test my patience?" Yang said with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Very well, I accept your contribution to our effort, meager though it may be. I now have important affairs of state to attend to. Yang out."

The Chairman's imaged winked out.

'Yang is indeed the master of veiled insults and innuendo. It is almost more than a true man can stand,' Morgan through to himself. 'This situation is really quite intolerable.'

Morgan Senior handed the datapad back to his security head.

"This outing is at an end. See to it that the rest of my party finishes the evening to their satisfaction. Call a Morgan Industries Council for tomorrow at 10:00 AM. Make sure that Nwabudike Junior is in attendance, as I require his presence."

The evening was ruined. Preparations now had to be made.