The Spartan Chronicles

[Rynn]

Miles sagged back in his chair.

He had waited for this moment, schemed for it, and agonizingly reprogrammed himself for it, but it hadn’t turned out as he’s anticipated.

Bert nervestapled? And by Kurt. Who’d ha thunk it?

And Kurt. Turned, and in a Hive resistance movement yet. Got himself a cutie, too.

Well, he didn’t regret the mental wound he’d inflicted. Kurt had stood by when the operations were done on miles, without acting. So he’d found religion now. Bully for him.

Miles visit into Kurt’s mind had shown his conversion to be genuine, and not just a ploy to get into Shauna’s pants, but Miles found it hard to forgive and forget.

He remembered the agony he’d gone through. The operation to try and reverse the programs he’s been fitted with by Bonaventura. The incision of the surgeon’s laser into his brain, the removal of organ and skin tissue and the expiriments with his vocal chords to give the clone the requisite appearance and sound.

Miles they’d even called the clone. They force grew it in about a week.

And he’d been sent back with the clone. As its watcher. He was controlled by Kurt, while Bert operated the clone, which was more of an automaton.

After the tactical nuclear explosion he’d lain low. Todd, one of his empath school trainees had deserted, and that had led Sarah to mooch around and finally disappear on a mission of Googlie’s.

Miles had assumed Tod’s persona. Not like a Chameleon actor, but by use of his empath projecting skills. He simply had anyone who saw him see Todd.

Meanwhile he’d been working on himself to reverse the Hive implants, in some instances just gritting his teeth and simply excising the node, in others carefully programming before the filament insertion and then letting the program run.

He’d pretty much finished and was testing his memory of the trance when Kurt and Shauna had come calling.

Vague flashes of another girl had periodically appeared, growing more frequent as he removed the Hive traces, and he’d thought that it was Shauna when she’d first appeared.

But it wasn’t. Shauna held a desk job in the Hive. This other girl did something vaguely exciting that caused adrenaline rushes. Not Shauna.

He was also aware of the invasion plans – not in detail, but in a more general sense.

He’d felt called to Fort Superiority, his trance inducer seemed to be stationed there – so he’d insinuated a transfer thought into the garrison commander’s mind, and when he showed up at the gate with Todd’s transfer orders it was easy persuading the guards that he was Todd.

Around Fort Soup all the military minds were full of invasion thoughts, and he found it relatively simple to piece together the puzzle.

He knew that if he could do it, so could Hive probes and empaths, and knew that he needed to go directly to the authorities to warn them. But that risked interrogation, possible operations, skepticism that he could have rid himself through self operations of the Hive traces, and he didn’t have the heart for more surgeons.

So now he was recruiting for his private war. Controlling his former controller.

That was a switch

[Googlie]

I sat dozing in the Pen transport that was carrying me to Fleet Anchorage. It was actually going to deposit me in Fort Soup and I would take a copter shuttle out to the sea base for the ceremony tomorrow.

I had preprogrammed my commlink, and I awoke with a start when it beeped.

“Hullo” I said, activating it.

Paula Forbes was looking up at me from the wrist screen.

“Hang on,” I said.

I attached the throat mike and earpiece and mouthed “Going off visual. Activate Two to tango.”

Paula nodded as the screen went blank.

My ear buzzed.

We’re secure, Googlie?

Yes.

What do you want of me?

Paula, I need your help. You can say ‘no’, but you owe me big time for that injection in the neck the other day.

I saved your life – you were blundering into a trap.

I know. That doesn’t make this any easier though. This could cost you your job – maybe your life.

Hah. My job. I all but resigned after that last stunt Carter pulled. Overrode me right off the air. I was divulging state secrets. So nothing you ask me to do would cost me my job – and if it did, I wouldn’t care. So out with it.

OK. Paula I need you to sew some disinformation. You might want to refer to ‘contacts’ in our command structure, then get your retired General whatsisname ..

Freddy Hawkes

…Yeah – that’s him. Anyway if you get him he’ll certainly give it authenticity. Will you do it?

Silence. We went back a long way, and I’d never called in an IOU like this. But if Gavin thought it important enough, then I’d pull one in. And he did.

My earpiece cackled.

I’ll do it. What do you want me to do?

Got notepaper or a scribepad handy?

Yup

Okay. Here’s the scoop.

I fed her the line.

When do you want it to run?

Tonight would be good.

That soon. It’s imminent then?

I didn’t say that. I’m ribbon cutting tomorrow and Burge the day after.

Oh, anything exciting? Should I be there.

Not tomorrow. But if you happened to be in Fort Soup the day after…

I’ll be there. Haven’t talked to Gavin in ages. He’s an important man now.

Yeah. You might want to do a profile on him.

I’d like that. I’ll set it up.

You’ll need to work through Marlo Hollis. She’s the Junta’s new PR Director.

Oh, I’d like that too. She’s fun. Is she still bi?

You won’t reveal your source?

Promise.

Ask Gavin that. He and Marlo used to be a hot item.

Go on….Gavin?….and Marlo…No.

Ask Gavin. Now you do owe me big time. Seeya

Bye sweetheart.

I disconnected the throatmike and earpiece.

‘What’ll she do with that news,’ I wondered. ‘Go after Gavin, or Marlo?’

[Paula Forbes]

Tape 2225/2.34/112/spa.hiv © MorganLink 3DVision

"Good evening.

"This is Paula Forbes with the evening news courtesy of Morgan Fashion Corp. To be well dressed on Ciron means to be in Morgan Fashion.

"Tonight our headline story is the imminent resumption of full scale warfare between The Human Hive and The Spartan Federation.

"Usually reliable sources in Federation bases have indicated that invasion plans are underway and that indeed an invasion of Hive territory is only days, if not hours away.

"We are joined by retired General Wilfred Hawkes, who is the military advisor to MorganNews.

"General Hawkes, welcome."

"Good evening, Paula."

"General, our sources tell us that there are massive troop build ups at Fleet Anchorage and Fort Superiority, and indded I just learned this evening that Federation Governor Scott Allardyce is expected in Fleet Anchorage tomorrow and Supreme Commander Gavin Burge in Fort Superiority the next day. What does that tell us?"

"Well, Paula, it certainly reinforces the importance of these two bases in the invasion plans if the two junta leaders are planning the preparations personally."

"Our sources say that the targets are Laborers Throng and Workers Nest, and that the two invasion fleets will bypass totally the Hive sea base of Deep Community. Does that make sense?"

"Indeed it does, Paula. It is a given that well defended sea bases are the hardest to capture, so bypassing it for clean up at a later date makes sense. The Spartan Northern Fleet will be supporting the assault on Laborers Throng - by amphibious troops I'd imagine, probably softened up by Penetrators flown out of the recently captured Plex Anthill. The Southern Fleet almost certainly will be responsible for softening up Workers Nest preparatory to drop units taking that base. Both the Hive bases are well within range of Spartan Penetrators flying out of Assassins Redoubt or Plex Anthill."

"Freddy, candidly, what are their chances of success?"

"Actually, Paula, pretty good. The Hive's usual advantage - numbers - won't play a big part here, as they need to start moving their reserves almost as we speak to get them in positions in time. And don't forget, they have several divisions on maneuvers here in our territory. I'd say that with the Spartan's superior weaponry and higher morale, and with the numbers evening out - it'd be a bit of a cakewalk. Unless, as I say, if the Hive can quickly mobilize their forces - tonight even - and reinforce these weak points."

"Thank you Freddy.

"That was retired General Wilfred Hawkes giving his views on the reportedly imminent invasion of Laborers Throng and Workers Nest by Spartan forces.

"And now on to our other news.

"Tonight, in Morgan Bank, it was reported………"

"Excuse me……"

"Link 012, bring feed in….go live in 20 and counting"

"Viewers, I apologize for this interruption to our evening news.

"In an unprecedented action I have live on the line the leader of the Human Hive, Chairman Sheng-Ji-Yang. We are instituting live feed now.

"Chairman Yang, good evening. It is an honor for MorganNews to be bringing you live to our viewers."

"Yes, Madame NewsAnchor, it is.

"I am taking this unprecedented step of calling you live as I know that many of my people will be watching your newscasts as part of their self improvement exercises.

"I want to emphasize to every citizen of The Human Hive that soldiers of The Spartan Federation will never set foot on Hive soil. Yes, we lost our outpost Plex Anthill to their drop troops, but we have demanded its return on pain of dire consequences, and even now I am negotiating directly with Spartan military leaders for its return to our community.

"And rest assured, citizens of Laborers Throng and Workers Nest. Even as I speak a massive mobilization and redeployment of our forces to your defense is taking place. Our air forces are being deployed to these bases as well as to Deep Community. If the Spartans are so foolish as to attack, they will find us more than well prepared. Be diligent, all of you, and we will prevail.

"Thank you, Madame NewsAnchor, for this opportunity to talk directly to my people and to warn the Spartans - do not trifle with us. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Mister Chairman.

"And this is Paula Forbes returning you to our regular programming."

::Endtape::

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

In his hostelry room in Fort Superiority, where he was overnighting before his morning shuttle to Fleet Anchorage, Googlie switched off the vidnews.

"Bingo" he said.

[Tokek Belerang]

Admiral Giacomazzi and Commander Lewis watched the MorganNews live vidcast from a terminal on the bridge of the Star of the North. When it was over and faded to give way to the customary barrage of commercials, the two looked at each other.

Lewis thought of saying something, but the stormcloud expression on the Admiral's face made him think twice.

"We're a bloody shambles, Shiloh." she said.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"When was the latest communication from our esteemed governor as to battle orders?"

"To my knowledge, we never received one, sir."

"Exactly, Commander. We never did. Our command structure is falling apart, and we're about to conduct the most important attack in Spartan history. And what do I know? I don't know ****. I know as much as Yang does, probably less. All I get is the same disinformation ****, which doesn't tell me anything, because I don't know what is fiction and what could be fact after all."

Commander Lewis refrained from commenting.

"Time General Honshu stepped in and showed those two fossils what it means to conduct a modern war campaign. Those two relics are centuries past their sell-by date."

Silence reigned supreme on the Star's bridge after the Admiral had finished her tirade, and retreated to her cabin.

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

[Googlie]

I woke up in the morning feeling smug.

On balance, the planted newsstory had worked better than expected. Paula wouldn't lose her job, as if pushed we could say that Gavin changed invasion plans even as the fleet was underway to avoid the heavily reinforced two bases. It was perfect.

I caught my shuttle copter and made the short crossing to Fleet Anchorage.

The civic dignitaries met me at the helopad.

As I descended from the copter, the Base Administrator came anxiously forward. I greeted her.

"Sophie. Have you developed cloaking devices and not told me?"

She looked confused.

"The invasion fleet. I cannot see it. It is either well hidden, well camouflaged, or invisible to the naked eye with cloaking devices. Which is it to be?"

"Governor, I don't understand what you are getting at."

"Didn't you see MorganNews last evening?"

"Yes."

"Well, then. Don't you see? If I fly over and see no preparations, no ships, no activity, then if the Hive fly over, or have their agents report, will they see activity and ships? I think they should, don't you?"

Sophie was now flustered.

"I understand, Sir. I'll get to it right away."

"Well, let's have the demonstration first. In fact, let's put out that this is more a test of sea base invasion techniques than of civil defense. Have you your commlink?"

Sophie handed me her commlink. I dialed.

"Marlo," I said. I hope I didn't interrupt something?"

"No, Sir. I'm just briefing Field Marshall Burge on what to expect tomorrow. What can I do for you?"

"Two things, Marlo.

"Firstly, if anyone queries my whereabouts, let it slip that I'm overseeing some new tactics on the invasion and capture of sea bases.

"Secondly, Paula Forbes is on her way to Fort Soup to interview Gavin. Be nice to her, Marlo, and I mean really nice. Give her what she wants."

"Oh, I will, Sir. Rest assured I will."

I clicked the commlink shut.

'I've no doubt you will', I thought, turning back to Sophie.

"Lead on" I said.

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

I sat in the observation deck just above the helipad, from where the view over the base's Delta section was unparalleled. That had been chosen for the demonstration. Sophie sat with me, somewhat nervous.

The claxon wailed and below us scenes of apparent confusion reigned. Shopkeepers rushed out to put synthmetal shutters on their windows, and pedestrians hurried inside their buildings. There were a series of short sharp whistle blasts, and some young men and women could be seen donning colored armbands - some red, some blue, green and six or seven different colors. They took positions at various crucial rally points, intersections, the main roadway leading from the docking area and other choke points

The old fission chopper came in low, actually underneath us, and we saw the flare and felt the whoosh as it fired its stinger missile at the building.

The explosion rocked the base temporarily deafening us. The building collapsed in a heap of rubble and plasteel. As the dust cloud settled the two landing craft could be seen disgorging their troops who were fanning out around the dockside area.

Down the roadway towards the dock area came an old Unity rover, wheezing and whining. One of the hostile marines put a projectile launcher to his shoulder, and with a whump it targeted the rover which slewed across the road and toppled, spilling out four men and scattering its load across the street.

Immediately from the shadows came about six of the local citizens, wearing orange armbands, and carrying an assortment of weaponry. As they sprinted for cover behind the overturned rover, some of the hostiles opened fire but hastily ducked as from the height of the surrounding buildings came an assortment of small arms fire. One or two of the locals had been pained in the exchange so they lay on the road by the overturned rover.

The troopers hunkered down, then at a signal from their commanding officer, fanned out, worming on their bellies between crates and the odd parked vehicle.

A succession of armband toting kids scurried to and fro, linking the various sector leaders and carrying communications. One got painted by a red laser beam, and at the crack of the shredder she fell down and lay motionless.

Behind the overturned rover, further up the road, a small army of civilians were completing and locking into place a fairly formidable looking barricade that crossed the entire street and sidewalks. Looking around, I noted that while the hostiles were largely pinned down for the moment, in their period of inactivity similar barricades had been deployed and erected at every egress point from their secured landing zone.

A series of sharp whistles pierced the air. Simultaneously a barrage of fire erupted from the buildings on either side of the street as the six forward partisans retreated to the shelter of the barricade, pulling their wounded colleagues behind them. During this exchange one citizen let out an excited yell as he painted a trooper who was temporarily exposed.

Almost immediately after the evacuation, the rover erupted in a ball of flame.

The barricades now effectively hemmed in the invaders.

Down the main street came the noise they'd been buying time for. Into view came units of the plasma garrison, running from doorway to doorway until they reached the barricades. All over I could see the same sight. From their central barracks they fanned out to each of the barricades to add their firepower and more importantly their defensive prowess to the struggle.

I looked at my timepiece.

The holding exercise by the citizenry had taken about 45 minutes, during which time the garrison had been deployed. Numbers of professional troops were now about even, and in this situation the odds favored the defenders. Crucial to the containment was a good discipline to obey the clarion klaxon and the various whistles; to form up with the correct color coded units, as each individual clearly had a role to play; the pre built barricades, and their ease of deployment, and the spoke runners - the kids of the base. It was like an old bicycle wheel, I thought. The barricades and the citizens are the rim, the garrison is the hub, fanning out to where the hotspots are, and the spokes are the kids, instantly bringing information as to weak links, gaps, enemy movement, etc. and running supplies and ammunition where needed. Everyone was involved.

The situation was now stalemate. It would remain so until either reinforcements were brought up by the invaders, or until airpower or naval vessels could be deployed by the defenders.

As a blueprint I considered it highly effective. If the barricades were semi permanent, woven into the infrastructure of the base itself, it would be extremely effective.

I ordered the klaxon blown, signaling the end of the exercise.

I turned to Sophie.

"I'd like you to come back to Sparta Command with me and go over the concept and needs requirements with Alfredo, the Base Administrator there. And work with him to build a holo trainer for all the other Administrators. This is highly effective.

"And who was the girl who was painted?"

"That's Denise, my little sister," said Sophie.

"Tell her to cheat next time," I said. "Make the trooper who thinks he painted her claim the kill. For all she knows it could have been an errant laser from her own citizens.

"But well done. You are a credit to Sparta. Now go pack some overnight stuff and join me back here at the helopad."

Sophie beamed, and scurried away, well pleased with herself.

'It's easier with a sea base,' I thought. 'But the principles are the same. And land bases will have more permanent barricades. I'll put Sophie in charge of their deployment in every base, starting in Sparta Command. But first I'll send her to Plex Anthill to see how the Hive. Construct theirs.'

Sophie arrived back with her bag, so we boarded the copter and left for Fort Superiority.

[korn469]

Hive Information Ministry Official Comunique:

A Hive naval fleet of undisclosed strength, sailing from a classified location has moments ago as of 0500 local time landed a force of Marines to liberate Plex Anthill. The fleet sailed immediately when Plex Anthill came under attack. Originally planned to reinforce their valorous comrades in arms, they now have the task of liberating the enslaved Hive citizens of Plex Anthill from the brutal Spartan Federation. The Hive Air Force has launched numerous sorties to provide full air superiority and intense close air support for the Hive Liberation Force. Losses may be heavy but Chairman Yang has dedicated all resources possible for the liberation effort and today we will have victory.Everything for the front, everything for victory!

End of Communique

PFC Myra Thacker's stomach contracted and her skin turned cold. She gently, yet forcefully hit the commlink for duty officer Lieutenant Charles Alderson. She mustered up the strength to stay calm, and her voice stayed low and monotone as she spoke.

"Sir, we have incoming aircraft." It was eerie just how calm she sounded.

"How many aircraft and where are they coming from?"

"All of them." She said with absolute calm. "We have multiple signals coming from Communal Nexus, Labor's Throng, and Deep Community. It is appears to be four Hive Fighter units, and four Hive bomber units or every Hive air unit in range of Plex Anthill." She was about to drone in on about the signals from Hive naval ships but the air raid klaxon had already started and she saw Lt. Alderson go running out of his office. So she closed the link. Within minutes she guessed that the Plex Anthill field HQ would be full of officers franctically running about yelling orders. However, she vowed to keep herself completely calm.

Then even though she was a proud member of the Spartan Federation, she said a little prayer. "God, if you're there, please if you keep me alive through this I promise i'll start reading the conclave bible and keeping the commandments. I promise if you don't let me die or let the Hive capture and tortue me, I'll do anything you want. Please god listen to me and keep me safe." The situation was just that bad.

On the bridge of the Hive Shriek Class Battle Cruiser P.R.H. Shroud

Admiral Robert Thane nodded to Captain Minter.

"Captain proceed with the bombardment."

"Aye-aye, sir. Commander Yhu, signal Captain Ressier to fire on the sensor array. Signal Captain Niemczyk to concentrate his fire on Beta Sector. Concentrate our on Aplha Sector." The bridge broke out into activity. Orders were relayed to the various departments of the ship. Signal men on the Shroud relayed orders to the rest of the fleet.

The Shroud's escorts began firing their guns at Plex Anthill and the sensor array on it's shores. A shell hit it directly and destroyed it. It was nothing more than twisted burning metel now, it wouldn't help the defenders of Plex Anthill anymore.

On the Shroud, the missle coverings opened revealing vast racks of missles. Suddenly the darkness of the early morning lit up with rockets streaking into the sky, like demons bolting from hell. Below deck, red vested members of the ammunition crew loaded new missles from the Battle Cruiser's magazine, onto a mechanical rack that would carry the missles to the main launching tubes.

*ffffewww* *ffffewww* *ffffewww* Missle after missle streaked away from the Shroud and pounded Plex Anthill.
[This message has been edited by korn469 (edited August 21, 1999).]

[Velociryx]

(author’s note: everybody, please refer to the original battle discussion as far as force assignments)

General order # 13511-b : Operation Couter Strike
Coded Message: Most Secret

To: All Base Governors and Field Commanders
From: Gavin Burge

The forces of Plex Anthill are under heavy fire from Chairman Yang, here’s what needs to happen (and quickly) if we are to rescue our belegured brothers in arms.

Plex Anthill: Focus your efforts on getting all units upgraded to better armor. Strip whatever you have to from the existing infrastructure, just get it done. You’ll be on your own for a little while, and I want you to drop to the defensive until we get forces there to relieve you. Focus on armor first, and AAA second. All units with synth armor get upgrades to plasma. Then do AAA upgrades. Then upgrade all non-armored units to synthmetal or better. You have priority. Hold until relieved, and know that help is on its way.

Mainland base commanders: I count 13 units of old Impact Rovers left over from the UoP conflict sitting around in bases guarding our infrastructure. These will be upgraded to drop capability with all speed, and sent to Plex Anthill to support them. Once there, they will be further upgraded by the Base Governor as needed. We’ll train new scout garrison units to cover their absense, but we need those veterans on the front where they’ll do us the most good.

The diversionary force we had planned for Operation Overlord will now proceed directly to Plex Anthill to support our efforts there.

Southern Fleet: As soon as you are available, move to support Plex Anthill.

All Operation Overlord Operatives: The modifications to our “transports” are complete. Release the hounds. Mission Critical. Rally at Sea Outpost for our final destination.

***End of Coded Transmission***


Gavin sighed. So much to do....and it was all happening so quickly now. The last thing he wanted to do was to go to some Godforsaken ribbon cutting, but....the political thing again. He hated it.

And then there was Marlo. Ugh. And Elizabeth, who was none-too-happy about Marlo’s presence.

And, and, and.....the list seemed to go on forever.

God how he wanted retirement.

Or a stiff drink.

Or something.

He tapped the comm link and called Honshu. Just what he needed. A conversation with an old war horse.

The cagy General nodded. Saying nothing.

“I feel like I’m in over my head, Honshu.”

The General smiled. “I have known that feeling from time to time.” He said quietly.

“Yang’s forces are gonna bust our boys in Plex Anthill hard.”

“They will.”

Gavin shook his head. “I’ve ordered what upgrades we could make, but Yang’s got us by the short hairs out there.....we’re in a tight spot....I wish we weren’t even there, really, but it was already in progress when I got promoted.”

“Then there is nothing you can do about that.”

The two men were silent for a long moment.

“Why have you called me, Commander Burge?”

“I’m not sure. But you’re the best of the best....probably the best there ever was. I’m just hoping that some of that will rub off, I guess. I need a little inspiration.”

“It seems you have done everything you could do. Now, it is all....waiting.”

Gavin nodded.

“Be wily, Commander Burge. Be unexpected and unconventional. And most of all, be very, very fast. You taught me that, actually, and I thank you.”

He smiled a genuine smile. “I taught *you* something? Now there’s an unexpected turn of events.”

“No one ever stops learning, Commander. And no one can do it all, all of the time. You worry too much.”

“You’re damned right I worry too much. I don’t want those boys dying out there.”

“Nor do I, but the plans are set. Just see to it they are carried out efficiently and do not fret so over them. Your job is finished.”

“I know, I know....and you’re not telling me anything I didn’t know already, but I guess maybe I did need to hear it.”

The General smiled fleetingly.

“You okay?”

He nodded.

“Good. Take care, Honshu, and thank you.”

The screen went blank, and Gavin sighed again.

So much to do, and the hounds were baying close at hand.

If Plex Anthill held, it would be almost as great a victory as taking the Clustering. A significant portion of Yang’s forces would be out of commission, and the attack on the Clustering would very nearly break their backs. That was good. That was all very, very good.

Reluctantly, he got up to go get ready for his flight to be at the ribbon cutting.
***

The Cyborg Factory was a massive place. Even from the air, during the fly-over it was impressive, but on the ground, staring up at the huge hanger bay doors which led into the guts of the place, it was....awe-inspiring.

There was a podium out front with a PA system rigged up, and the assembled crowed stood and applauded when he stepped onto the landing strip.

Maybe politics wasn’t so bad after all. He smiled faintly. It *did* have its perks.

He saw Paula Forbes in the crowd, and she waved. *No avoiding that one* he thought with a grin. He'd have to arrange to talk to her later. Perhaps tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow. Right now, there was the speech, and then the tour.

He was nervous, yes, but it wasn’t so bad. Gave a little speech commending the efforts of all the people who had worked so tirelessly to see the project through to completion. Got a roaring round of applause (more for the factory, than for him, he realized, but that was okay too), and then, the tour itself. The part he'd been looking forward to most of all.

Easily large enough to house twenty needlejets, it was filled with conveyer belts which ran off in a dizzying multitude of directions, robotic assembly lines, and banks of whirring computers. It was dazzling. Marvelous. Wonderous.

Somehow the word impressive just seemed....pale. Flat.

No, this place went far beyond impressive. It was sleek almost to the point of being sensual, and it seemed very nearly alive. Humming and throbbing with power.

Gavin felt like a kid in a candy store. Smiling at the wonders of the place. From this one, gigantic facility, sufficient numbers of of bio-enhancement chips and prosthetics could be manufactured to equip the entire Spartan Military apparatus.

The benefits would be staggering, and so far-reaching that it boggled the mind.

He dodged the reporters after the tour and made his way to Paula. Gave her his room number and asked her if she'd mind stopping by in the morning. Ten-ish? She smiled and accepted the invitation.

Easy as pie.

It was good to be in charge.

And after that, he toured the base itself, got lots of nods of respect from the officials, and lots of cheers from the crowd. It was growing on him, this whole political game. He was enjoying it. Reluctantly at first, but more and more now.

Later, as he sat at his desk in the rooms they had prepared for him, he tried to recall specifics about the place to write something in his journal, but the immensity of it was overwhelming. Mostly, he remembered just that. The sheer size of the place.

“I can’t believe I’m one of the men running the show....and that the people under me built something like this.” He whispered in awe.

Something clicked behind him.

It was soft, and he almost ignored it, but the old warrior in him flinched.

Someone....

An impact to the base of his skull. Heavy.

He tried to stand but felt groggy. Woozy.

Vaguely aware of some blood trickling down his back.

*At least I sent the go ahead order.* He thought weakly as the world started to fade.
***

[This message has been edited by Velociryx (edited August 21, 1999).]

[Tokek Belerang]

The Admiral was the first to see the message.

As soon as you are available, move to support Plex Anthill.

She stared at the comm for a couple of seconds. Perhaps somebody, some day, would typefy it as "stunning in its simplicity" or "characteristic of the Burgean sobriety". She hoped to all defunct deities that they would. They would be talking out of their arses, but at least they would be there to talk about it.

After a moment's reflection she closed her tunic collar and moved to the elevator.

"Captain on the bridge." an ensign snapped the moment she appeared. Discipline was tightening up, at last.

Admiral Giacomazzi conferred briefly with Commander Lewis, her (by now) trusted First Mate on the Star of the North.

"Open a channel to the Glory, ensign." she said after that.

"Channel is open, sir."

"People - I regret to inform you that no orders have as yet reached us from Central Command, despite repeated requests. As we are now in a position to take an active part in the Hive conflict - as our recent scuffle has illustrated - I feel it is time we relied on our own initiative. The situation is as follows."

She paused, and surveyed the bridges of the Glory of K'el (by comm screen) and her own Star. Faces were intent, but confident. She felt herself warming more and more to what she was about to embark upon.

"The capture of Plex Anthill, previously a turning point in the war on The Hive, has become liable to re-seizure by the enemy. Central Command has ordered South Fleet to assist in the defence of Plex Anthill."

She paused again, this time for dramatic effect only.

"The Combined Northern Fleets have no orders as yet." she resumed.

The crack at the size of what was officially termed North Fleet jarred, as usual. Every single person on the Glory and the Star knew that those two boats were all there was to the Combined Northern Fleets, not counting the transport Lycurgus.

"Nevertheless, we will move. It is my conviction that The Hive will feint attacks to Spartan bases other than Plex Anthill. I say 'conviction', but in fact this is an A, B, C, people. Guerrillero units will try to land on the Spartan homelands, to draw as much shield- and firepower as possible away from Plex Anthill. We have, however, one crucial advantage due to the capture of Plex Anthill - air support is not an option for the good chairman."

Another little silence.

"Or, I should say, does not appear to be. If I were in Yang's shoes, I'd get a sea colony out there as soon as possible, rush an aerospace complex, and thus double my options. This means that we will deviate from normal procedure, and establish our zone of operations just inside the reach of Hive interceptors. Normally, we would be waiting just outside, and try to pick off enemy vessels from there. Not this time - we're going into the Penbrella of Deep Community."

Silence. Not just from the Admiral, but all round.

"If this seems foolish to you..."

She looked at the various faces. No changes of expression.

"... then you are absolutely right. But this commanding officer thanks you for your support. However - due to the fact that we are no longer rushing to Plex Anthill, we have bought ourselves a little time to perform some essential upgrading. AAA modules are on board our ships, and we will be fitting them forthwith."

This time, there was a marked change in attitude. Shoulders relaxed, faces turned, ensigns whispered.

"We're on full maintenance duty as of right now, people. Let's get our babies ready for the show. Captain Ibrahim, Commander Lewis - we will have a conference on board the Glory in one hour. To you and all others - thank you for your efforts so far, people. You've turned this unit around. We were pretty near green before, but discipline has been strictly adhered to of late - I'd say we're ready for another bite of Hive pie."

Shiloh Lewis cleared his throat.

"Count on us, skipper. We're with you."

Captain Ibrahim was seen to signal to an ensign, and presently a channel opened to the Star.

"Same here, Admiral. We'll show everyone what it means to cross North Fleet."

"Let's get to work, then." the Admiral said, wondering who 'everyone' might well include.

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

[Slats]

PLEX ANTHILL AIRFIELD

Amanda Gerling slid her needlejet out of the hanger into a world of fire and sound. Emerging from the reinforced aircraft shelter at Plex Anthill airfield, the missile-armed Tactical jet seemed to pause to sniff the air for a moment and then dashed for the runway amid the blooming explosions of impacting Hive missiles which sprouted like mad mushrooms everywhere. The plane's airframe rocked with every near miss.

Since this was a major emergency scramble Amanda didn't even bother calling for clearance, no doubt there was no one in the control tower anyway, since it seemed to be a target for the Hive naval bombardment as a lot of shell rounds were landing nearby.

Amanda pushed the throttle as high as she dared on the ground and raced onto the runway itself, the canopy being pattered by flying dirt and shrapnel. Not stopping, she lined up and then maxed the throttle, set the flaps for maximum lift and kicked in the afterburners. Feeling like a kick from the Almighty Himself Thrasher 8 bounded forward and after a short roll, lifted into the sky.

Climbing away from the airfield Amanda contacted her ops officer who sat hunched over her instruments.

" Wilma, you got anything on the scope? ".

" Affirmative, we've got what looks like four bomber profiles lined up on the 'Hill itself at 189 degrees, Angels 8, quite low, must be hoping to sneak in and another four contacts on the same bearing at Angels 14, which have to be fighters. Range to targets, 35 kilometres and closing, fast. Also some big, fat contacts out at sea, lots of search radar out there, both SAM and AAA, real nasty stuff ".

" We've got nothing that'll hurt those tin tubs. Begin running a targeting solution for the AMRAAM's ( mid-range missles ) on the bombers and push in the ECM breakers to give us some cover, 'cause those fighters are going to be coming down like a ton of bricks, heavy and real hard ".

" Roger, starting the music ".

" Hold on, we're going to scrape the deck, I hope they lose us in the ground clutter ".

Amanda nosed the jet over till it skimmed mere feet above the fungus. She latched the autopilot to ON and engauged the terrain following mode while staring at the range indicator. 30 klicks, 28, 25, 22, 20. Amanda looked up and studied the sky for a moment. There. Four black dots, low in blueness with, ah yes, a further four dots quite high up and slightly off to the side. 15 klicks to targets.

" Here we go " she warned Wilma.

" Pylons 4 - 10 warmed up and target's are painted " Wilma said nervously.

Amanda toggled the autopilot off and began a slight climb towards the oncoming hostiles.

" Missiles away " she called.

As six missiles roared away from the jet's waist racks and raced onwards, Thrasher Eight's Threat Warning panel exploded into life. Multiple enemy targeting emissions. Above, Amanda could see the Hive fighters begin to fall downwards towards her little craft. Even though she began evasion tactics, Amanda had a sick feeling in the pit of her belly that told her it just wasn't enough.

Then over the Spartan inter-aircraft frequency came an odd call, booming in a male vioce :

" TALLY HO!!! ".

[Hydro]

Morgan Industries

*****

'Today is potentially an auspicious day,' Nwabudike Morgan Senior thought to himself, 'One must be properly attired.'

Morgan walked out of his morning shower and steam and felt invigorated, even if it was 4:00 am Chiron time. As he exited his foggy domain his Gentleman's Gentleman approached, as out of thin air, and wrapped Morgan in a luxuriant towel. Morgan neither acknowledged his presence nor paused, but walked straight toward his cedar wardrobe, with his Gentleman following discretely behind.

The bedchamber of Morgan Senior was austere by Morganite CEO standards. It encompassed only 120 square meters, and included the sleeping chamber and attached private bath complex and wardrobe. His office was elsewhere, of course, as were the chambers of his wives and consorts. Morgan's personal style leaned toward richly colored and veined granite, accented with hardwood panels. The rooms were decorated tastefully with old-Earth masters reproductions of statuary, paintings, and ceramics. Sadly, all of these priceless artistic treasures were lost with the presumed dead Earth, but their memory would live on in this domicile, at least. 'Let the ignorant and uninformed have their 'Chiron Art', and the critic puffery that goes with it,' Morgan Senior had been quoted as saying in a recent MoganVid interview by Paula Forbes. 'I, for one, will not put aside such masterpieces for random splatters of paint or vague chunks of rock or plasmasteel that passes for art in these days.'

As the pair approached is wardrobe, his Gentleman stepped in front of his master and opened the double doors to the wardrobe. The smell of cedar wafted out of the room, inviting them in. Inside the room were banks of freshly tailored suits of a bewildering number of styles on automated racks to the right, and shoes, ties, jewelry vaults, and a MorganLinks panel to the left.

"Harnon, I have an important interview today. Select for me a traditional suit that is conservative in both color and cut. The style is to convey reverence and esteem."

"Very good, Sir," Harnon replied. He walked in a stately manner to the MorganLinks console, keyed it on by voice, and tapped a few commands. The suit racks in back of him soundlessly began to move. Harnon turned toward the moving rack just as the rack slowed and then stopped. He pulled a traditional western navy blue silk suit of early 21st century design off the rack and inspected it briefly. Satisfied, he turned and pulled a straight-neck white linen shirt, freshly pressed, from the adjoining rack. Then he turned to the left side of the wardrobe to select a gold and black onyx cuff link set, with matching throat pin and small white silk handkerchief for the breast pocket. He paused, thinking for a moment, and then selected two gold diamond rings, from his first and second wives, and a small Unity Memorial pendant. Harnon balance all these items with almost magical skill, turned, and presented the ensemble to Morgan.

Morgan examined the assembled suit, and nodded appreciatively. "Excellent selection, Harnon, as usual. This ensemble is both understated and elegant. I approve. Kindly assist me."

"At once, Sir," Harnon replied, with a slight bow at the waist in acknowledgement.

*****

Morgan Senior sat at his expansive desk, the top of which was cleared except for a recently placed picture of the now long deceased Unity Captain Garland and a small model of Unity, placed 'reverently' in the upper right corner. Without hesitating, he keyed a long unused comm link. Then he waited.

Fifteen minutes later a holo of Pravin Lal appeared, looking rather haggard and tired. Morgan recalled that Pravin always looked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. His image was full sized and he was evidently at his desk at UN Headquarters. Pravin and Nwabudike's images faced each other.

"Mr. Morgan, I am surprised to hear from you. It has been a long time," Lal said.

"Please, call me Nwbudake, as you did in happier times. Yes, I'm afraid it has been too long. Time and coincidence have conspired to put us at odds. There was a time in the not too distant past when we had much to discuss, and fairly frequently, I might add."

"Well, yes that is true," Lal said.

"Moreover, it seems we have been drawn into a conflict of neither of our devising. Our allies have taken a path that is increasingly antithetical to my interests, and perhaps to yours, too. I have chaffed under Yang 'excesses', and his seemingly paranoid insistence of police authority. Your ally, the Spartans, although less brutal, have slipped down this path, too. Both of us seem to understand that true strength comes from the free expression of our peoples." Morgan put on a subtle expression of concern, mixed with a hint of hurt and loss.

Lal straightened, and he nodded unconsciously. Morgan had hit his 'button'.

"Yes, that is quite true. I have become increasingly displeased with the Spartans. I had hoped that after their unfortunate conflict with the University that they would learn from their new charges, and that being in association with us they would become more enlightened. They have, as you have said, taken a path that is not in keeping with the interest of human rights, and the UN charter."

Morgan smiled warmly. "You can not imaging how delighted I am to hear you state such. I have been feeling rather isolated on a hostile Planet. Perhaps our peoples might expand our connections? I would welcome the initiation of formal friendly relations, and a trade treaty that would benefit us both."

Lal thought just a moment, and then smiled in return. "Agreed. I will send my ambassador, Mr. Johnson, to the Morgan Governmental Palace to work out the details."

"Excellent!" Morgan replied, genuinely delighted. "I will look forward to receiving him myself. This is not the time for delay or misunderstanding that might occur through a lower functionary. I will also send an ambassador to UN Headquarters to ensure proper decorum is maintained. Additionally, I have one other topic, which is of a rather delicate nature. You may know that the Human Hive is very close to attaining outright military supremacy on Planet. The Spartans, for all their superior training and technology, are being out produced by a margin of over 2:1 due to the forced labor of the Hive. My position is becoming increasingly untenable, and Yang's demands wax toward the unreasonable. Morganite research has focused on pure science and production, not aggression. In order to ensure the defense of my people I would like to obtain Synthetic Fossil Fuel technology from the you." Morgan paused and leaned forward.

"Synthetic Fossil Fuels? That gives you missile technology. I don't know, " Lal said uncertainly.

"I understand that this would be a significant concession on your part, and am prepared to trade, quid pro quo, for Morgan technology, or a reasonable amount of energy," Morgan explained. "For instance, I would gladly trade my Planetary Economics data, which would allow you to build Earth-Chiron hybrid forests. These installations would significantly improve your cities economy and decrease environmental pollution. An added benefit is that the installations are heart breakingly beautiful, increasing the population's morale. It is more advanced than Synthetic Fuels, but I feel it would be a equitable trade."

"Nwabudike, you are as persuasive as ever," Pravin commented. "You are the only faction with these hybrid forests, and I have heard of their beauty and utility. You are also correct. That is more than a fair trade. The PNP delegation will probably howl when they find out I have 'given away' military technology, but I have always been able to keep my right-wing associates in check."

Pravin sighed wearily, "I'm afraid I have a series of meetings to attend Nwadudike, so I must leave. Affairs of state are so critical, but they weigh on the soul. Still, I'm glad you called. Please don't hesitate to contact me. We mustn't allow this lapse to occur again." Pravin's smile temporarily erased the brooding look on his face.

"I have likewise enjoyed this conversation, Pravin. Morgan out."

The holo image of President Pravin Lal winked out, leaving the room silent.

"Stage two complete," Morgan said happily to himself.

[Hydro]

Assassin's Redoubt

*****

"What's next on the agenda. These meetings get longer all the time, especially with all the police 'incidents.' We must be almost done." Governor Helen Tobias asked impatiently. She was hunched over her datapad, and surrounded by her implacable Senior Aid Coronal Hessain Massane her new civilian liaison Carmine Swenfurth. Her former liaison, Andre Zahrenov, had been given his send off and must be back in Ft. Superiority by now.

Carmine looked over at Hessain, who remained perfectly still, as usual. He specifically did not making eye contact.

'I don't care whether he agrees or not,' Carmine thought, bucking up her courage.

"Governor, there is one other item," she ventured. Helen looked at her.

"And…" Helen prompted.

"Yes, we got a transfer request from the commander of our 2nd Armor garrison, Rolling Thunder Captain Rao Kosarau. It was presented by Mr. Markus Aurelius, a resident of Assassin's Redoubt, and co-sponsored by Mary Belfontaine," Carmine started nervously.

'I'm messing it up!' she thought. 'Slow down, and talk it through.'

Helen waited indulgently for two seconds, "I don't understand. Who is to be transferred? From where? To where? These are generally routine matters, and now are generally denied due to police and movement restrictions."

"Yes, but this is a special case. There is a young girl in Plex Anthill, who was brutalized before she was rescued. Mr. Aurelius would like the girl to come and live with his parents in the Ponderosa Tree Farm," Carmine explained.

"A refuge? Very sad, I'm sure, but the last thing I need is a Hiver to stir up trouble. We have been very lucky here in Assassin's Redoubt so far, with no unrest. I do not want a repeat of 6 years ago. And I'm sure you agree," Helen said in a dismissive tone.

'OK. The direct approach didn't work. Now plan B,' Carmine thought.

"Governor, this is a opportunity to help the war effort! Especially now that the Hive is trying to take Plex Anthill back! We have all seen some of the clips released by SpartaNews after the liberation of Plex Anthill. Everyone who sees them is horrified, and very glad to be a Spartan and not a nameless drone in the Hive. I propose that we could pull together these clips, and perhaps get Captain Kosarau to supply some more, and use this girl to help everyone understand why we must be united against the Hive! We have seen the pictures, but the pictures don't have a face. This girl could be that face," Carmine spilled out breathlessly.

Helen sat and thought for a moment.

"This will all be academic if we lose Plex Anthill, of course. We will have much bigger problems then. Still, pull together your ideas, including some holos of this girl. You got me thinking of an ancient and very effective effort to unify the pre-Christian States of America, the United States of America, on old Earth during one of the 20th Century world wars. They had to overcome pacifism and hostile internal elements to mobilize, just like we do now. We could do the same," Helen mused

"It just came to me. The name of the documentary was: Why We Fight."

[Hydro]

Plex Anthill

*****



The dull thud from the naval missile bombardment echoed even down in the Delta 23 manufacturing warren. A crew of Hive manufacturing workers had been pulled off their shift to strip available plasmasteel off everything that didn't move, or if it didn't move fast enough.

Mary fumed in frustration. "No, I want you to cut one meter square panels from the assembly bots."

"If I damage equipment I will be punished," the Brigade Leader stated. His crew nodded in agreement. All the drones stood still in a defiant phalanx.

"Look, I am the Authority and I order you to cut that 10 centimeter thick plasmasteel into one meter square sheets. Then you are to place those sheets on this pallet, and then transport them to the East Cargo Bay!" Mary yelled.

Several members of the work brigade moved a little to comply, then their comrades eyed them back into line.

Mary became positively belligerent. She advanced on the 2-meter tall worker, who was a good head taller than her.

"What is your name," she demanded of the Delta 23 leader. Little flecks of saliva impacted his neck.

"Marnin Senos, Delta 23 Sector 23, Quartile 4" he replied automatically.

"What is the penalty for disobedience?"

Marnin stiffened, "Censure."

"What is the penalty for disobedience after three Censures?" she asked with an evil grimace.

Silence.

"Are your refusing to answer my question?" Mary asked.

"No, Ma'am, I …" he began hurriedly.

Mary interrupted him, "Are you familiar with the Scream Room."

Marnin paled, "Yes, Ma'am, but not personally."

"By my count, you have disobeyed my direct order to process the plasmasteel three times. Are you disobeying me again?" Mary asked.

"No, Ma'am," he replied, cowed. "Brigade, activate your arc-lasers, and cut the plasmasteel into one meter squares." His brigade immediately broke and hurried into action.

"I will return in one hour, and you had better be done. Do you understand?" Mary stated.

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied. A trickle of sweat rolled down his face and onto his neck, where it mingled with Mary's siliva.

Mary left the Manufacturing Warren, and she was livid.

'Everyone better get out of my way.'

*****

A trickle of dust and rock fell from the ceiling of the Plex Anthill east cargo bay with each Hive missile impact. Occasionally a fist-sized piece of granite would dislodge and fall to the ground. There had been reports of the near-surface warrens collapsing in Alpha Sector. Most of the vulnerable surface structures had been destroyed in the Spartan assault, but they were not critical anyway. So far the naval bombardment hadn't penetrated far into the rocky fastness of Plex Anthill's natural perimeter defense, but it was just a matter of time.

Markus and Lou from the rover brigade Lighting ordered the incoming supplies and sent it to the engineering crews. Pilots and weapons officers were notoriously useless during such upgrades, so they made themselves useful where they could. So far 15 pallets of plasmasteel had arrived in the bay. That would be enough to upgrade 3 of the 4 rover brigades to plasmasteel, which is all that remained of 2nd Armor Rolling Thunder Division after the assault on Plex Anthill. The remaining rover brigade would have to make due with the synthmetal it had unless more plasmasteel could be found.

Lou stopped abruptly, and Mark almost ran into him.

"Hey Mark, I've got an idea!" Lou said suddenly.

"Uh oh. I almost never like your ideas," Markus replied dubiously.

Lou grinned. "I think you'll like this one. I was thinking. There is all that old Hive missile ammo we can't use, and that won't fit into our Aardvark fission needlejet. I bet that if we can scrounge an old Hive guidance system, hook it into our rover computer, we could rig an anti aircraft system!"

"Lou, I hate to mention this, but you are the guy that shoots the guns, not an engineer." Markus said a little sarcastically.

Lou didn't notice the sarcasm. "No, no, you don't understand. We had to learn field repairs on all systems, and that included anti aircraft. I think we can do it!" Lou said excitedly. He then abandoned Mark, and made a B-line toward Rao, who was directing the armor upgrades on the rovers.

Rao was directing his rover captains and engineers. One rover brigade was almost done. It was far from elegant, being sheets of plasmasteel simply arc-lasered over the steel or synthmetal base. There was no time to integrate the plasmasteel into the frame, install the diagnostics, or make it airtight. The plasmasteel was from all different sources, and was a wild assortment of colors, thicknesses, and grades. No two rovers within a brigade looked alike, being a jumbled assortment of reds, blues, purples, or polished metal. The most humorous was a rover that got all the plasmasteel that had the Hive Morale Slogans on it:

· Work Makes You Free
· Obedience is Next To Goddlessness
· Big Brother Is Watching You
· One Good Turn In Deserves Another

Lou finally reached Rao, and got his attention by standing immediately in front of him. Distracted, Rao looked up from his datapad.

"Hey Rao, I've got an idea! We can rig up an AA system by using old Hive control systems and missile launcher, link 'em in, reconfigure our fire resolution, tie in a series of sky-eyes and BOOM, there we are!"

Rao blinked twice, having lost his train of thought.

"An AA system? We don't have any control modules to hook into the missile control," Rao said immediately.

"We can slave the comm system! It tracks the sky eyes, so it can track big ol' needlejets, too." Lou explained.

"OK. I'm busy here. If you can scrounge you parts we'll look at it again. If it works you'll be a hero. We can't afford for it to fail," Rao said as he hurried over to a crew starting on the rovers from the second Rolling Thunder brigade.

Lou charged off, happy to have a project more important than inventory. He stopped and turned toward Markus, "Ah, can you handle the incoming parts and stuff?"

"Yeah, I think I can handle it," Mark said dryly.

Mark wandered over to receiving as a large series of impacts occurred, causing a rumble from the secondary access to Plex Anthill from the cargo bay. Dust billowed out, obscuring the vision in an eighth of the bay. Hive drones moving the supplies around on autoforklifts responded as they were trained in Hive Disaster Training and formed damage control crews.

"Hey, not you. Get your crew back to work and bring the plasmasteel over to Area 23, got it?" Markus ordered a detail that had started to go into Disaster Mode. The formed up and resumed their job.

Markus finished walking around the main entrance and tallied the plasma steel. They still weren't going to have enough for Knife Strike Brigade to be retrofitted.

"Hey, Mark," came testy voice from behind him.

Markus turned to see Mary. She was really pumped up over something.

"What's eating you?" Mark asked.

"Oh, nothing. Just had a run in with some drones with a very bad attitude. They should be up with at least 3 more pallets of plasmasteel within 20 minites or so. If not, I know one Hive Bridge leader who I will personally show the pleasures of the Scream Room. Or at least my approximation of it," she said sourly.

"Rao will be happy to hear that. We should have enough for the complete refit! By the way, Rao could use your help. Us non-engineer types are pretty useless, but once again, your brilliance and can-do attitude will save the day!" Mark said, laying it on thick.

Mary cracked a smile. "OK. I'll show Rao how it's done. Are you sure you can handle your challenging job? I mean, this inventory isn't too much for you? We could assign a drone to help with the counting, or something."

"I'll be fine. Rao's waiting," Mark commented, nodding toward Rao, who had notice Mary's entrance and was waving her over. Mary jogged over to him.

'Well, back to my fun,' Markus though.

There were another sharp cracks, not the muffled thuds like before. Another portion of the secondary entrance collapsed, sending the drones running in all directions. The hits were starting to get through.

"Markus, give me a hand!" Lou shouted from the main entrance. He had a low friction sled, with the front chassis of an infantry missile siege gun mounted on it. He and a couple of Hive workers were trying to direct it into the bay.

"Hold on, I'll be right there," Markus intoned. He made the last couple of entries in his log, and then turned toward Lou.

'Looks like I won't be board after all', Markus through as the siege gun made its grand entrance.

[Hydro]

Double post. Deleted


[This message has been edited by Hydro (edited August 22, 1999).]

[Tokek Belerang]

The Southern Cross was a monster. Chaos-gunned, Plasma-steeled, AAA-moduled, and Trance-rigged. A cruiser like its northern counterpart The Star of the North, but rather more up to date with the latest weapons technology.

It was also pretty late to arrive on the scene at the battle of the Plex, but that was because of some unusual maneuvring by the Cross's captain, Vice-Admiral Karnjariya Sukrung. Hovering just inside the edge of the fungus she had waited, and registered the rhythm of the Hive air force runs on the Plex. At just the right time, she had ordered the Cross and its companion, the Impact Foil Verax, to sneak across into a patch of fungus further down, and push on deeper in to the fungus.

Now the two vessels were, therefore, west of the Hive-Plex fly routes, and this is where she assumed the Hive transports to be. She had consciously and willingly avoided confrontations with the Hive navy. This had left the Plex wide open, of course, but she assumed she would still be in time for the final showdown at the Plex - the garrison there was, reputedly, quite impressive.

The one thing she worried about were subs. Supposedly, the Hive did not have the technology, but there was a rumor that a Spartan sub had recently been captured by a Hive probe foil. What better lure for a lurking sub than a nice fat transport? She'd have to rely on her Plasma coat; the crew of the Cross wasn't exactly battle-scarred, having been in overhaul docks more than out there, having it out with the Hive. The Verax was slightly more experienced, but mostly from fighting Isles - and those were rare in the Chironian Med these days.

She had dreamed last night, a disturbing dream. She had given a party, and everyone who had been invited, had come. She had woken up in a sweat, as she knew what such a dream foretold. She was about to die.

The comm bipped, and she shook her head to clear it.

"Yes?" she said.

"Bogey ahead. Transport, low down, apparently stuck in the fungus."

"On my way to the bridge."

A sitting duck. Sukrung felt cold.

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

[Tokek Belerang]

"How in blazes are we going to get all of them on board?

Eugene Levavassier shrugged.

The bo'sun of the Lycurgus peered over Levavassier's shoulder at the source of the hubbub on Admiralty Base's Santiago Quay.

"How did they get here?" the bo'sun asked.

"Bits and pieces." Levavassier said, a verbal shrug.

"How many of them are there?"

"There's about one unit's worth. Look, I assumed a transport unit could take on three regular units. Seeing as you're one of three…"

"Yeah, yeah… The figures get a bit different when you're not en groupe as a transport, that's all. But man, what ARE they?"

"Marines, drops, a rover unit sans rover, some police garrisons. Some pilots."

The bo'sun looked at him shrewdly.

"Where from?"

"The Bunker."

"Not the Bunker 118 Military Penitentiary Facility, by any chance?"

"'Fraid so."

"Whee hee. Well, welcome on board. None of these ladies and gentlemen would be sorely missed back in the slammer, then?"

"Conditional parole." Levavassier said, looking unhappier by the moment.

"Commanding officer?"

Levavassier looked the bo'sun in the eye.

"Whew." the bo'sun said. "Welcome on board then, mate."

"Thanks." Levavassier said, and beckoned to the unit behind him to proceed to the personnel hold.

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