The Spartan Chronicles

[Slats]

ABOARD FUSION INTERCEPTOR INDIGO 3

Luigi ran his critical eye over his instruments and noted with a grim nod the situation surrounding plex Anthill. So much for being sent as relief he thought.

From what he could see both Hive surface ships still lurked off the coast while some distant contacts were hovering in the clouds a fair distance away. More Hive flyboys mused Luigi. Faint, weak scattered ground contacts marked the graves of those Hive aircraft who had been less lucky. He activated the intercom to tell his pilot, Rudi Gertz, the latest data.

Up front in the c0ckpit, Rudi was a worried man. While their aircraft still had an hour's worth of fuel remaining, the airfield at Plex was in a very poor state. The plascrete runway was virtually non-existent being badly cracked and cratered by heavy enemy fire. Both of the base hangars were, according to reports from the grounded crews below, in a bad state and there might be a problem opening the bay doors at any great speed. So, instead of chancing an uncertain landing, Bert Evans, the senior officer, had ordered Indigo 3 to hold while a ' solution ' was thought of. Rudi just hoped they hurried up. The food supplies they had brought with them had just run out as Luigi scoffed the last pack of snack bars. It had been a long flight, Rudi needed some lunch.

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

PLEX ANTHILL DELTA SECTOR AUXILIARY HANGAR

The Spartan Airforce Plex Anthill detachment were clustered around Interceptor Indigo 4, deep in debate about possible methods of landing and/or getting off the ground. Various planning maps were spread around over the Interceptor's wings. Replacing the runway seemed out the question, there was simply not enough equipment and material readily avaliable for now.

" I know, " said Micheal Porter, ops officer of Pinwheel 2," We can take some of the mess hall food paste and fill in the gaps in the runway surface with it. Why I bet we could convert a rover to spread...... "

Bert looked at Porter, who promptly shut up.

Then Bernard Gauthier spoke up, " We're too busy thinking of repairing the runway ", he commented, " We should be trying to REPLACE it maybe...... "

The next 5 minutes were spent looking at maps looking for an alternate runway. The break came when Ranjit jumped up with a shout.

" Look here ", he exclaimed, " This service road here, to the north, it's used for heavy construction machinery. It runs straight for about 700 metres so it should just be long enough. "

Bert swung into action. " Right, can we get someone up top to see if this roads is intact?? Get hold of the lookouts or something, everyone else suit up and get ready, if this thing looks ok then we go hunting. Tell Indigo 3 to cover us as we roll ".

Sure enough, a runner came back to say that the road looked firm and whole.

Bert hopped over to the squadron frequency. " Right everyone, let's make this a fast taxi, follow my lead, single file ".

Finishing Pinwheel 2's startup he signaled a mechanic in the control room build into the cavern wall. Immediatly yellow warning lights flooded the bay and wailing sirens could be heard faintly over the howl of needlejet engines. Ahead, the thick bay doors retracted to reveal the main hangar bay. This area lay partly filled with rock from a cave in although a path had been cleared much earlier. This bay was also exposed to the outside ' air ' and as such the guard detail here was suited up, they waved as Bert's aircraft raced up the surface ramp.

Upon reaching the outside Pinwheel 2 turned left and using the taxiway joined the perimeter track and headed for the water pumping station which indicated the start of the service road some 150 metres away. A pair of wrecked and burned out rovers lay near the runway, a sad testiment to the losses suffered by the Spartan military so far. The threat panel lit up as out at sea the Hive surface ships detected motion and radar reflections, various active sensors swept out on the electronic spectrum like searchlights hunting for escaped prisoners from their subterranean jail. Bert nudged the throttle up higher. In the lookout positions hidden atop Plex Anthill Spartan soldiers scratched their heads as three, probably mad, military jets raced across the surrounding countryside. Out at sea, missiles began rising from the vertical launch canisters installed in the ship decks. It was already a tad late. Explosions began to tear the earth apart as Bert stabbed his toe brakes and wheeled the jet through 90 degrees so it faced up the road. Checking the rear of the jet was clear he mashed the afterburner ignition and raced up the road. Pinwheel 2 lofted into the air and stowed it's undercarriage before beginning to gain height. Behind, Pinwheel 3 was already rolling with Indigo 4 lining up. It had worked!

Joining formation on Pinwheel 2's wing came the new arrival, Indigo 3, who had been covering the operation from the air. The aircraft commlink crackled to life. Bert needn't worry about the Hive ships being able to listen in, the link was frequency agile, scrambled and coded. Virtually uncrackable. Or so he was told.

" Pinwheel 2, this is Indigo 3, Sir, you do know that the aircraft you're driving there isn't licensced and there is a speed limit on Plex Anthill transit routes ". Rudi's voice was edged with authority.

" Indigo 3, Pinwheel 2, just thought I'd take it for a spin over ", grinned Bert.

Pinwheel 3 and Indigo 4 now joned them from below. Bert already had a game plan figured out. After a brief discussion the two Fusion Interceptors banked about and with a waggle of their wings dashed off to chase the Hive aircraft hiding in the distance. The crews of both Penetrators began to prepare their weapons systems for action against the Hive vessels. For some reason both warships had now started to move and were heading west at a steadily growing speed. They were leaving!!!!

Nearly similtaneously both operations officers spotted many new contacts, quite small, nearing the shoreline. Below small rectangular looking craft were moving quickly towards the beach. Bert already knew what they were. Landing craft. The Hive ground counterattack on Plex Anthill had begun.

[Kuruk]

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[Kuruk]

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[Kuruk]

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[Kuruk]

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[Kuruk]

deleted. please excuse the multiple posts that follow.

[This message has been edited by Kuruk (edited September 03, 1999).]

[Kuruk]

Tim Kelly, probe commander, stared through his night vision goggles at the double blast doors of the energy bank. His longetivity treatments kept him perpetually in his mid thirties, with a fit body and just a hint of gray in his hair. Despite his looks, he had been doing this for longer than he cared to count.

Next to him, Mike Sanchez looked through a set of goggles as well. Natalie Rovero, connected to a beefed up datapad via visual and neural implants, worked on the security system.

The bunkerlike structure bore little resemblance to the commercial institutions of the same name. The big, airy, customer friendly buildings called themselves banks, but the only thing that changed hands there was data, not energy. The fortified structure in front of him held the real thing. Economists had analyzed to death the significance of the change to Planet’s energy-based economy. One again, money was backed by a real commodity, not just a promise from the government. One thing was for sure, Tim thought, real energy was a whole lot harder to steal than data.

“Hard to believe they’d send us all the way out here to drain some energy,” Mike said.

“They didn’t,” Tim replied, “And the bank isn’t our main objective. We’ve got to be able to fund this operation ourselves. Someone’s trying to keep things quiet.”

“No surprise,” said Mike. Both men knew how unusual an operation in “friendly” territory was, and knew the ramifications for the Peacekeeper government if such an operation were exposed. Both knew also that their orders did not necessarily come from the Peacekeeper government. Spec Ops, though under the control of the Peacekeeper military, had close ties to the Peacekeeper National Party. Most of all, Spec Ops worked for it’s own interests.

“Almost there, sir,” Natalie said. The youngest member of the team, Natalie was nineteen and had never been to a longetivity center. She had been arrested three years ago for datajacking the Peacekeeper central datalinks. Impressed with her skills, Spec Ops had arranged for her release from prison, trained her, and offered her a job. She had a small, trim figure and neck length brown hair. She looked like a typical teenage girl from anywhere on Planet.

“I thought Spartan security was supposed to be good,” said Mike.

“Their military stuff is,” replied Natalie, “Quantum encryption, semi-sentient firewalls, chaos diffused nodes. It’s killer stuff, really, almost as good as Morgan’s Hunter-Seeker Algorithm. But this is a civilian facility, not a military one. It has standard Morgansoft security. It’s full of bugs and backdoors. They keep it that way just so people have to buy the upgrades. Piece of cake to crack. There. We’re in.”

Tim tapped his commlink. “Team, this is Lead. Security system is down. Report.”

“Rifle-One, on target.”

“Rifle-Two, on target.”

“Entry team, ready,” came the replies.

All that remained now were the two guards. Tim wondered what it was in human nature that dictated that guards must come in twos. It didn’t matter, really. Just as long as snipers came in twos as well.

“Team, this is Lead. Execute!”

The Spartan designed and manufactured Long Range General Purpose sniper rounds were fin-stabilized. The fins made them accurate at phenomenal distances, but also spread out the impact. To compensate, the LRGP rounds were designed to be fast and heavy. As a result, they really did a number on human flesh.

Nearly simultaneously, the guard’s heads disappeared in red clouds. Natalie triggered the doors and seven black clad figures entered. The entry team, six shooters and Woody the techie, was in.

Tim, Mike and Natalie watched the operation unfold through their visual implants, the feed coming from a small helmet cam that the lead shooter wore.

Immediately past the doors, on the right, was the security chief’s station, just where intelligence said it would be. The chief had just enough time to look surprised before the lead shooter raised his slimmed down Spec Ops shredder rifle and fired a three round burst into the man’s head. The team progressed forward.

Reaching the corridor, two shooters went right, to cover the guards quarters. The reserve guards had probably heard nothing, and would sleep through the operation. The rest of the team went left, toward the huge fusion batteries.

Reaching the batteries, Woody pulled the solid-state superconductor cable from his bag. In a few seconds, he had it connected to the ports. The team retreated back toward the entrance, trailing the cable behind them.

Tim tapped his commlink again. “Andrea, they’re ready for you.”

A personal transport rounded the corner and rolled toward the bank. Stolen earlier that day, Woody had spent several hours stripping the interior and constructing and installing miniaturized fusion batteries. It parked at the entrance to the bank. Woody plugged the cable into the upload port.

“Alright, Natalie,” Tim said, “Turn it on.”

Remotely controlling the computer system, Natalie started the upload. The energy transfer was the longest part of the operation, taking two minutes.

With the batteries full, Andrea drove off. Woody gathered his cable, and he and the entry team left, to disperse through the base. Five minutes had passes since Natalie brought down the security system.

“I’ll wipe the logs, and we’re out of here,” Natalie said. She cleared the past five minutes of data from the security logs and reset the system. When the reserve guards awoke, all they would find would be three dead comrades and clocks that were five minutes slow.

Natalie, Mike, and Tim turned and, sticking to the shadows, walked back down the street.

“So what now?” Mike asked. Mike had had a long career with the Peacekeeper military, but had only recently been assigned to Spec Ops. This was his first bank job.

“I bring the batteries to my contacts, who send the energy to the Energy Masters, the Morgan loan sharks. They break it into about a thousand smaller transactions and launder it. It comes back together at the Hive Central Energy Bank, just for the benefit of anyone who’s watching. Then it breaks into another thousand transactions, before it winds up in a numbered account at MorganBank.”

“And then we’re filthy rich,” added Natalie.

“And then?” asked Mike.

“Then, fully funded, we do what we came here to do,” said Tim.

[Hydro]

Flight to Zanzibar

*****

"Zanzibar to unidentified aircraft, identify yourself! Immediately!" Vinnie Mo stated over the comm. The situation had been pretty dicey since the Fungrunner and Molina had left with Levavassier on the transport Lycurgus, with only Naawal Jones and a couple of flunkies to help. Even with absolute control of the comm systems and the computer control systems they were barely getting by.

The initial euphoria of the takeover of Deep Community had quickly given way to the unpleasant practicalities of administering, and defending, a somewhat hostile city. Sea bases are, by definition, compartmentalized, so Vinnie and his cadre of impromptu administrators had been able to 'convince' those on the fence or who didn't care to cooperate and then segregated the unruly Hive citizens in secure areas. Their control of the electronic and computer systems was key in this. They had even convinced the minimal garrison to switch sides through a combination of threats, intimidation, and raw bribery. Moreover, they had used the appropriated energy they had 'found' in various Hive businesses and governmental agencies to create and additional garrison. It seems that the Hive 're-education centers' were full of Hive dissidents that were none too eager to return to the tender embraces of their Hive tormentors. This was especially true since those tormentors now occupied the cells and persuasion centers that they had once administered with so much zeal. There were lots of volunteers to be the new guards. Vinnie looked the other way when 'incidents' and 'accidents' occurred to the former Hive guards and administrators. Considering his background, Vinnie could empathize and secretly supported them.

"Zanzibar, this is Nans Andersen in Aardvark 3 from Plex Anthill. As it seems that I have a little free time, how would you like some help? My orders are a little vague, so maybe we can work something out. I am transmitting my authorization and orders now," Lars said.

Vinnie examined the authorization, and it seemed to be authentic. Vinnie really didn't know, not being regular military. He decided to take a chance.

"Permission granted, pilot Andersen. Welcome aboard. Please report to me after all is secure," Vinnie responded.

Well, things are looking up he thought.

*****

"We're glad to have you, Nans," Vinnie said with a big smile, extending his hand.

Nans was almost a half-meter taller than the diminutive Vinnie. He took his hand and shook it warmly, returning the smile.

"I have to say, I'm dying to hear how you 'acquired' this base all by yourself, assuming you'll tell me," Nans suggested.

"Why, that wouldn't do at all! I prefer my associates to be a little in awe of me, preferably thinking I have super-human powers," he joked. "Let's just say that I had a little chat with the central computer and that we have an understanding."

Nans liked him already. "So I can stay?"

"By all means. In fact, I have a job for you…"

[Hydro]

Assassin's Redoubt

*****

The slim military air transport crossed the Emerald Isle Straight and flew toward Assassin's Redoubt. Of Spartan manufacture, it was functional but unlikely to win any awards for its technology, innovation, or aesthetics. These small passenger jets were preferred by the Spartan Military since they were of local manufacture, they were reliable, and they cost less than half of the Morgan Industries equivalent to purchase and maintain. The exterior was painted in a dull grey with some black accents. On the tail was emblazoned the Spartan symbol: a black hexagon with a downward-pointing arrow in the center on a field of white.

Making an easy circle, it accepted the guidance of Assassin's Redoubt's flight control and edged town toward the landing pad. It touched down with pinpoint precision, its fission engines barely straining to counteract the kinetic energy of the craft. As it pulled to the terminal and stopped, three figures emerged to greet the passengers. Simultaneously the oval shaped door opened and a mechanical set of stairs unfolded from the plane's fuselage. Two figures emerged from the plane and descended on the runway.

"Ms. Kirsten Alfredsson?" Military Governor Helen Tobias of Assassin's Redoubt asked. "Welcome to Assassin's Redoubt. Sorry about your diversion to Assassin's Redoubt, but Plex Anthill is a little to hot for civi aircraft right now. Allow me to introduce my two aids: Coronal Hessain Massane and my civilian advisor Carmine Swenfurth."

Helen turned to acknowledge her two aids.

"I'm pleased to meet all of you. My assistant is Captain Sarah Dawson, who will be instrumental in instilling a little order at Plex Anthill, once we can make it there. Isn't that right Sarah?" Kirsten asked.

Sarah looked distinctly uncomfortable, and not due to the air temperature. She smiled and, specifically not looking at Kirsten, replied, "Yes, that's right."

"We met on the plane ride, and I have been telling Sarah here what I expect her to do. I don't expect our drone problems to last very long," Kirsten commented confidently.

Helen immediately noticed the tension between the two, and quickly changed the subject. "Well, in the meantime, both of you are our guests. Why don't we get out of this hot sun, shall we?"

Before they could respond she turned and the led the entourage back to the terminal.

"Have either of you had lunch? I don't have any city functions this afternoon so I would be delighted to have the chance to get to know my new Governor and neighbor to the south. You have your work cut out for you at Plex Anthill. We've all seen the vids and are keeping up on what news is coming about the Hive counterattack. Even after the Hive is forced out it should be a challenge with all those brainwashed Hive citizens. We had our unrest and problems here at Assassin's Redoubt a number of years ago, but that is all behin…" Helen started.

Kirsten jumped right in. "Yes, we must have an iron hand, don't we? Citizens respect a strong leader. If they don't, then fear will do. With my little empath here at my side I think that I will be able to persuade nearly anyone of anything. Isn't that right, Sarah?"

"Ah, sure," Sarah replied.

Carmine looked alarmed, and glanced briefly but penetratingly at Sarah, but quickly looked away. She also edged away from Sarah.

As the group filed into the small terminal Helen looked unflappable, Kirsten supremely confident, Hessain inscrutable, Carmine slightly afraid, and Sarah miserable.

[Hydro]

Ft. Superiority

*****

Old and dilapidated Unity rover brigades and garrisons began arriving at Ft. Superiority for upgrade. All were given the latest chaos fusion weaponry. A few of the elite units were given anti-aircraft, surface-to-air, or amphibious ability and training. In the weeks following the assault and capture of Plex Anthill Ft. Superiority was a madhouse, with well over 20 infantry and armor brigades, the number rising every day. That did not even count the aircraft of the 4th Wing under Slat's Command.

One by one the infantry and armor at Ft. Superiority received 'orders' or went on 'patrol'. All they were told is to meet a contact at a specific coordinates outside of Ft. Superiority. Since it was not unusual for commanders to be circumspect in their orders, it was not thought to be unusual and it certainly was not questioned. It happened so gradually that no one thought much of it.

But after a week, Ft. Superiority was almost deserted.

Where had everybody gone?

[Hydro]

Plex Anthill

*****

“Get that below, NOW,” Rao bellowed through his breathmask, pointing at a Thrasher needlejet that Slats had just given into Rolling Thunder’s care. Now Rolling Thunder had three of the obsolete fission missile jets, although it would be two again if it weren’t taken deeper into the bowels of Plex Anthill. The East Cargo Bay was a mess, with half of the ceiling caved in due to the unending Hive naval missile barrage. Granite and ferrocrete debris littered the floor, which now ranged from rough to impassible. Six hours ago the atmospheric integrity of the bay had been compromised, and two hours later the ferrocrete supports over the secondary passage had given way. The hazy blue sky, now obscured by dust, debris and smoke, could only barely be seen through the ruptured roof. What remained of the ceiling did not look like it would stay in place much longer.

<…thowack, thowack…>

A cascade of body-sized granite boulders were jarred free of the ceiling and wall, and crashed into the floor by the now choked secondary entrance. A crew of ‘Ants’, as the Spartans now called the Plex Anthill citizens, quickly moved over to the Thrasher with a hoist to get it below. A few Spartans from Rolling Thunder supervised them to make sure they didn’t do anything ‘unfortunate’. Sabotage, or a simple lack of direction resulting in mistakes, had been on the rise lately.

“Forward, get that rover out into the open where it can do some good,” Rao continued. Three of the rovers that were part of the Blue Death rover brigade appeared out of the corridor from Delta warren into the East Cargo Bay of Plex Anthill. They were towing the rover that had been refitted with the missile battery. It was almost comical with the infantry missile siege gun mounted where the chaos turret normally would be. At times, as the towing rover advanced trough the rubble-strewn cargo bay, it looked like the top-heavy contraption might fall over onto its side. Somehow it seemed to stay upright, but the crew still held their breath when the rover’s huge tires lurched over a particularly large chunk of debris.

The towing and the towed reached the main bay doors. Rao signaled for them to open.

The doors shuddered but remained shut, although the high-pitched whine of hydraulic lifts increased as time passed. Then there was a sharp crack, and the whine abruptly stopped.

Rao cursed under his breath. “I don’t have time for this,” he muttered.

He called up the lead rover in the tow group. “Kat, I want you to blast the doors, wide dispersal, lowest setting. We have to get those doors out of the way!” Rao said in frustration.

“Roger that, stand by,” Kat responded. Shortly, the low humm of the chaos gun capacitor warming up was heard. After a few minutes the humm reached a crescendo and then died away.

“Ready, sir,” Kat informed Rao.

“OK people. Take cover. This may or may not work, but it will probably bring part of the ceiling down,” Rao said as he made for an alcove. The rest of his crew followed him, and the Ants that were dragging the Thrasher below.

Rao looked around the bay, and all was clear. “Fire at will, Kat.”

Almost as he finished, the chaos gun fired and the air around the door seemed to explode, as did the sythsteel of the door. The cascading chaos spread from this focus into a sphere, which touched the floor and extended 8 meters to the top of the cargo bay door. Portions of the door at the center of the chaos sphere appeared to warp and melt from the energies unleashed, and the shock wave from the air’s energy front finished the job. The doors literally blew apart in all directions, taking part of the floor and a small section of the ceiling door housing with it.

After the flying synthmetal, rock and ferrocrete debris settled down, Rao cautiously looked out from his alcove. The ceiling wasn’t affected. Apparently, the chaos gun of one rover, which was 1/10 the firepower of a rover brigade, didn’t come near the destructive power of the Hive naval artillery.

Rao looked outside of the bay for the first time in days. It was clear that what the Spartan’s chaos guns hadn’t done, the Hive’s needlejets and naval artillery were finishing. Outside was a maelstrom of smoke and craters.

“Move it out,” Rao said without looking back.

******

“We’re done sir,” Lou said proudly. He stood beside the 10 rovers of the elite Blue Death brigade, nine of which were slaved to the rover with the anti aircraft rig.

“Are the crews ready?” Rao asked.

“Yah, ready to go. The best RT gunners are in their turrets, each tracking and assessing targets. The spyeyes are up, and we are linked to tracking at HQ. Do we have a go?” Lou responded.

“Yes, go,” Rao said, and Lou turned to the anti aircraft rig. All had agreed that Lou should have the honor gunning My Baby, as he called it affectionately. Especially since he was one of the best gunners in Thunder.

Good luck, Lou, Rao commented to himself..

“Everyone else, back to the bay. And have an advance team ready for evac, should we need it,” Rao said as he made his way back to the bay. Behind him the rovers powered up, and started active scans of the area.

After activating fire control they will be the brightest things the Hive sees, on the ground or in the sky, Rao thought as he entered the remains of the East Cargo Bay. This had better work.

*****

“Two, no three bogies coming in from the south. Looks like their making a B-line for the rovers. Slat’s boys are busy repairing – they are pretty beat up after fighting 3:1 odds for the last week,” Mary stated, relaying word from C&C.

“Can you put it on holo?” Rao asked.

“Yah, I think so,” Mary said, altering the comm settings to accept the direct feeds of the backup skyeyes.

An image winked into view in the cabin of Rao’s command rover. I showed the stationary rovers as sitting ducks, with three birds of prey swooping in for the kill. In the background, in the Central Chiron Sea, sat a Hive cruiser and destroyer, who had temporarily stopped the artillery bombardment for their bombers.

Rao looked closely as the three Hive missile jets approached. They came in flying north over the base, did a hook, and then came in a full speed. Even to Rao’s inexperienced eye the formation was far from perfect. The three planes visibly changed position with respect to one another, which is potentially dangerous when flying in tight formation. These pilots were probably either green or just past green. They were not using the terrain to their advantage, or what was left of the terrain after the bombardment of the last week or so.

The rovers just sat there until after the jets had committed. Then the missile turret swiveled around and upward, but didn’t fire.

Everyone in the room, Rao, Markus, Mary and three other commanders held their breath. Why wasn’t Lou firing? Was there a malfunction? they thought with alarm.

The lead missile needlejet opened it’s bay and a series of missiles cruised out from their housings, and they flew straight toward the ‘defenseless’ rovers. After unleashing his payload he pulled up, his belly exposed to the non-responsive rovers.

Then the missiles launched from the rover, first at the now vulnerable jet and then at its munitions. Fusion powered-missiles were much faster and deadlier than those of the jet, and they easily took out almost the entire incoming salvo. A couple of near misses damaged three of the support rovers. The Hive pilot must have noticed that the missiles had acquired him for he took evasive action and retreated out to sea. But the missiles were gaining fast.

Seeing the return fire, the remaining two needlejets coordinated their missile strikes, fired, then pulled off in opposite directions. Lou’s missile gun erupted in fire even more furious than before. Lou targeted most of his missiles on the retreating planes, and only one third against the incoming Hive missiles. The ineffectual chaos turrets from the rovers supplemented defensive fire.

Lou’s missiles arced up and away, tracking and gaining on the two retreating Hive jets. The spread of Hive missile entered the kill zone. Some were intercepted or were vaporized by defensive missiles or the coursing energies of the chaos guns. Most, however, got through, and exploded just before impact or after penetrating the ground. Energy erupted in crimson white flashes, washing over the rovers, which were thrown down from the airbursts then up from the ground shots. A couple of secondary explosions rippled through the sheets of dirt and rock, indicated some of the armored rovers had succumbed to the onslaught.

The skyeyes tracking the retreating aircraft noticed a small yellow burst of light over the ocean, which streaked toward the ocean in a parabolic arc. This was followed by a similar burst to the east and west of Plex Anthill.

“Targets a confirmed kill, sir,” Mary said simply. Already the response team was on the way. The dirt, stone, and finally the dust settled and showed the wreckage of 8 rovers. Two rovers had vanished entirely.

There was no cheering as the flamed Hive jets impacted into the ocean.

*****

“Rao, there’s a vid for you,” Mary said from the comm center in Rolling Thunder’s temporary HQ in the Delta Sector Nutrient Center.

Rao waved her to patch it though. Slats appeared on in a miniature holo. “I just heard your boys splashed three Hivers. Good job. That will give my interceptors a chance to repair before going up again. It was getting to be a near thing. You have probably saved their lives.” He paused, “I heard it was pretty rough on the crews. How are they?”

“Of the 50 crew on the 10 rovers, 17 are dead and 18 are seriously injured. Everyone else is in the infirmary and still pretty badly hurt. I’ve never seen rovers thrown into the air like that,” Rao finished somberly.

“Is there anything I can do?” Slats asked.

“Yes, there is. Take out the rest of those jets, and TELL HQ TO TAKE OUT THOSE DAMNED CRUISERS!” Rao yelled, seriously losing his cool.

Slats was a little taken aback, “I’ll see what I can do,” he replied stiffly.

Rao signed, “I’m sorry, Slats. I shouldn’t have flamed at you. I know you and yours are doing all you can. It just seems that no one is listening upstairs.”

Slats hard expression softened a little. “You’re not alone on that. There is a lot going on. Did you hear that Deep Community was captured?” Slats said, trying to lighten things up.

“No. We’ve been a bit busy. It is good news, though. I didn’t think amphib or our navy was nearby. How did that happen?” Rao asked, his curiosity piqued.

“No one will say. The new governor, someone named Molina, proclaimed it in a general broadcast, renaming the city Zanzibar, of all things. Very mysterious. I was wondering if you could send on of your Aardvarks over there to help the garrison? Yang must be having kittens by now. You can bet Yang isn’t going to take that lying down,” Slats said.

“Good idea. I’ll bet HQ hasn’t thought of that yet,” Rao stated acidicly. “I’ll send one right away. In fact, I’ll send the Thrasher you just gave to Rolling Thunder. Against the Hive aegis cruisers that are pounding the crap out of us they are totally useless.”

“Sounds good. Stay in touch,” Slats said as he signed off.

*****

Mary was sitting on the floor at the base of Lou’s low-slung cot. Although he was off the critical list, he was still badly hurt and had been comatose ever since he had be extricated with his crew from the overturned and mauled rover.

Mary reached out to brush a stray lock of his non-regulation blond hair off his face. She was careful not to touch his face, which was a mass of ugly purple and black bruises. Part of the left side of his body was wrapped in an expanding sythskin, which was biogengineered to regrow the seared and blasted skin and musculature. All things going well it should be regrown within a week. The laceration to his liver and one of his kidneys and the punctured lung would take longer to heal, however.

Lou’s eyes fluttered open and he took a deep breath. As soon as he did his face bunched up in pain.

“Take it easy, Lou,” Mary said soothingly. “You have a half dozen cracked ribs. Just breathe normally and you’ll be fine.”

Lou nodded weakly as he screwed he eyes shut. After the wave of pain passed he opened his eyes again and looked toward Mary. His eyes questioned her.

“You did it Lou! You’re a hero! Your hair hair-brained idea actually worked! Three, THREE, jets were splashed!” Mary said happily.

Lou managed a pale smile. Mary reached out and held his good right hand, and he grabbed back.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. Markus or I will be here when we can,” Mary said.

Lou nodded sleepily and his grip eased.

Mary got up to look for more friends that were hurt. She saw Markus ministering to Luong. She was not too badly hurt. They were having a good laugh over something, probably over the fact that Luong had been Markus’ medic after the mindworm attack and that she had stripped him naked. It was all very professional, of course. Mary had the incongruous and jealous thought of Markus volunteering to strip Luong naked. She quickly looked away and saw Marlo moving a little on a nearby cot.

Looks like Marlo is waking up, Mary thought as she walked over. So many hurt friends, so little time.

[Velociryx]

Gavin looked out the hospital window and reveled at the sight and feel of the sunlight. It was going to be a very good day.

His ribs still ached vaguely, but the medical advances the Spartans had made since planetfall had actually been quite remarkable, and their accelerated healing techniques had him feeling nearly as good as new inside of 72 hours. Now, he was getting restless. There was much to do.

An important victory to win.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knocking at the door.

“Yes….come in.” He said in Burge’s deep, gravelly voice. It made him smile.

Elizabeth opened the door and stepped in, almost shyly.

He held out his hands to her, and she took them, her smile growing. “I got word you’d made it back last night…..it took me forever to get here….”

He shook his head and favored her with one of his rare smiles. “I’m glad you made it….and I’m feeling better already. In fact….”

He was cut off in mid-sentence by a familiar-but-not-familiar voice, and he had to do a quick scan of Burge’s memory cells to scare up the name. Only took three nanoseconds though, not even noticable.

“So, the old man still has a bit of fight in him after all, eh?” Sparks Wheeler said as he bound into the room. “And good God man, you’re looking well! Already out of bed and everything!”

Gavin nodded. “I am….and you know, I’m actually feeling like a million bucks, as the old Earth phrase goes. I’m ready to get this invasion on track and send Yang packing. C’mon you two…let’s get out of here.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “But the doctors said you should….”

Gavin shrugged elaborately. “Am I, or am I not pretty much running the country these days? I don’t think the doctors will try and stop me.”

Without waiting for a response from either of them, he guided them out in the hall and past the open-mouthed doctor, silencing him with a stern look.

Once they’d passed the doctor near his door and the trio of bewildered guards that had been assigned to guard his room, he chuckled and slapped Wheeler on the shoulder, slipping his other arm around Elizabeth’s waist. “David, you arrange transport for us, will you? I’d like to be in Sparta Command before the suns set today.”

David nodded, and then stopped walking abruptly. Turned and saluted him. “I just wanted to say, sir….it….it’s good to have you back.”

Gavin smiled. “And it’s good to be back, I’ll tell you that. There’s a lot to do, and we don’t have much time…..but we’ll make it….you know how I love to improvise.”

Wheeler beamed and nodded, then turned to go. “I’ll contact you as soon as it’s arranged.” He called back over his shoulder.

Of course he would.

He turned his attention to Elizabeth….pretty girl, really, and favored her with another smile. “And you, my dear….you look famished. Shall we get something to eat before we depart?”

Elizabeth returned his smile and nodded.

They walked out of the hospital together.

@@@


Dinner itself was wonderful, and they never actually ordered any food. A dimly lit café, table in the back, and a bottle of Fungal Gin between them.

Elizabeth was utterly captivated. She had always hoped secretly that maybe he would notice her, but he just seemed so….

And a lot of her friends would laugh at her for being so attracted to a man so much older, but there was something about the way he….

She couldn’t finish a single thought in her head when he watched her with those eyes. Ancient eyes. The eyes of a hunter, and they penetrated her. Utterly shattered all her defenses, and oh God, now his hands were caressing her cheeks, reaching across the table to pull her face closer to his….

Their lips met and she trembled. Something inside her wrenched horribly and she blinked back unexpected tears.

**Tears? Where the Hell did….**

Gavin was looking at her strangely.

She tried on a tentive smile, but suddenly, she found herself afraid.

“What is it?” He asked, genuinely concerned.

No.

It was not Gavin.

Only someone who had harbored a secret crush on him for years could have known. It was not something even the Empaths could have picked up on, but she could see it now. It was a mask. A lie. And the fear in her grew.

Whoever he was, he had fooled them all. The doctors, the soldiers, the Empaths, and even Wheeler, but he could not fool Elizabeth.

It was the little differences, really. The nuances. Things like smiling slightly more often than Gavin would have. Or actually mentioning his skill of improvising (a thing he made a point to almost never talk about). Or putting his arm around her waist at the hospital. Kissing her.
Even if Gavin ever wanted to, he never would. It was his way. He was too in-control of his emotions to ever do such a thing. He could not be tempted, which was one of the things that made him a good soldier.

“Elizabeth, what is it? What’s wrong?” The-thing-that-looked-like-Gavin asked again, rising slightly from his chair.

She had to think quickly. Had to recover. And then get away.

She shook her head. “N…it’s nothing Gavin….I just….I don’t know….the smoke in this place must be getting to me….I’ll be right back, okay?”

He nodded, concern still etched on his face, and she hurried to the ladies room.

She did not look back

Did not see the scowl crossing Gavin’s features, nor the dark glitter in his eyes.

@@@

He rose fluidly, almost languidly, and followed her.

She knew.

Somehow, despite how careful he’d been, she knew.

He smiled.

Not for long though.

She was heading to the ladies room. Thinking of course, that she would be safe there. (And he smiled a thin, fierce smile at that. Why was it that ladies thought they could hide and be safe in there? It was sad and amusing, actually). Maybe crawl out the window and go tell someone. As if anyone would believe her. Still, it would complicate things. No….better to just be done with the problem now.

He morphed his features subtly as he walked, and by the time he reached the door of the ladies room, he was an attractive woman. Thanks to the poor lighting and haze, no one noticed his transformation.

Confidently he opened the door and did a quick scan. They were alone.

She was splashing water on her face and rubbing her eyes when Ashaandi entered. She gave him/her a fleeting glance, but nothing more.

Never even looked up again until he was right behind her with a hand on her throat.

The whimper was choked off almost before it began when his forearm locked down across her windpipe. He stayed in his feminine form, but allowed his voice to change back to Gavin’s.

“I’m sorry my sweet….you and I could have had such fun together this evening….but, since you’ve discovered me, of course I cannot allow you to live.”

He locked eyes with her in the mirror, and saw the unbridled terror on her face.

Beautiful.

Simply beautiful.

Before she could even think to respond, he wrenched her neck savagely to one side, listening with a satisfied smile to the distinct cracking noise, and then pulling her close to him, and beginning to morph again…..

@@@

Nobody paid any attention at all when the tall, 300 pound plus woman waddled awkwardly out of the ladies room and shuffled outside….

@@@

He buried her in the fungus south of the base, and made it back a full forty minutes before Wheeler called to say he’d arranged transportation.

He was clearly disappointed that Elizabeth had not made it back from her shopping trip, and was apparently ignoring their calls to her comm-band, but duty called, and they had to depart, so he and David went on without her. Still, it was most unlike her. He’d have to have a long talk with her when she finally did turn up.

Ashaandi smiled wanly as the needlejet soared off toward Sparta Command.

Sometimes he amused himself.

@@@

“Are your hands still made of stone, old man?” Sand asked him with a sneer. Angel had to leave abruptly, and Sand picked up right where she had left off. There was to be no rest for him. None. They would take turns tormenting him until it was fatal.

He nodded feebly. “Why don’t you sober me up, untie me, and find out, you rotting bas….”

Sand shook his head. “Temper, temper, my old friend….and I think I will not risk that. You’re a wiley one.”

Sand drew closer, then spit in Gavin’s face. “And believe me, old man….I have never forgotten all the scars you and Allardyce left me with.” He drew a long, wickedly curved knife out, which gleamed and glittered before him. “And I intend to get revenge for every last one of them.”

Gavin nodded again. “I know….how hard it must be for you…”

Sand cocked his head to one side, eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

**Oh I’ve got you pegged.** Gavin thought darkly. **I know more about your psyche than you do, you blithering idiot.** Drugs or no, he was at least coherent enough to know that.

“You must have….slipped far.”

Sand shook his head. “No….my skills are sharper now than they ever were…..you’re a fool if you think otherwise.”

Gavin coughed weakly, reinforcing the image that he was utterly helpless. “Ashaandi must not…think so…not if you’re….reduced to torturing a he….helpless old man….”

Sand froze, and then his entire face twitched.

“You think I can’t take you? Even if I untied you? Is that what you want, old man? To die on your feet?” His face was so contorted with barely controlled rage that it almost made him look comical.

It was a fine line to walk. And only he or Allardyce could have pulled it off. Only they had that kind of connection to him.

Of course he would not untie him. That was too obvious. But if his temper got the better of him….

“What do you take me for, you out-dated relic!? Do you really think you can goad me into untying you?"

Sand threw up his hands in disgust and stormed out of the room, cursing loudly the whole time, and Gavin smiled.

“Gotcha.” He said weakly, and began struggling like mad against the ropes. He knew he didn’t have much time.

[This message has been edited by Velociryx (edited September 01, 1999).]
[This message has been edited by Velociryx (edited September 01, 1999).]

[Tokek Belerang]

The empath sat down on the quay by the Lycurgus. A small group of officials looked on, and behind them were rows upon rows of security forces. Guns were trained on the Lycurgus from every possible corner. All of Deep Community was looking at one thing only, and that was the battered-looking transport docked in its harbor.

The empath got up.

"These people are who they say they are." he said.

"Are you absolutely sure?" one of the officials asked.

"Yes. On board is a Spartan colonel, a regular transport crew, and a contingent of former prisoners. With the exception of the colonel, there are no people on board who constitute a security risk. My psi scan was quite conclusive. The evidence was overwhelming."

"I see." the official said, and looked at his colleagues.

Dubious expressions all around.

"Well, governor?" asked a stern voice.

The person who had spoken was a military man - rank rather than file, by the looks of him.

The official cleared his throat.

"I'd say we have an opportunity, Colonel."

The colonel eyed him appreciatively.

"I agree." he said with a slight nod.

The governor turned around.

"The group's leader may leave the vessel with two aides, as requested. The Spartan colonel may then be turned over to base miltary authorities, along with the vessel's original crew." he announced.

Presently Fungrunner Paatelainen stepped through the iris doors, and in his wake were the impressive DeVaughn Molina and the diminutive Vinnie Mo.

"Gentlemen. Welcome to Deep Community."

Fungrunner and the governor shook hands.

"Erkki Paatelainen." Fungrunner said.

"Better known as Fungrunner, or The Moonshine Man. Not a stranger to the Human Hive, or so I hear."

Fungrunner smiled faintly.

"My aides, DeVaughn Molina and Vincent Meaux."

"Delighted, I'm sure." the governor said, eyeing Molina with suspicion.

The little group moved away to the port's exit gates. Behind them, Eugene Levavassier and the Lycurgus's crew were marched off to an uncertain future.

* * * * *

Deep in the belly of Deep Community sea base, watertight doors were slamming shut. Emergency lighting came on. Or rather, came off, as for some reason the lights were running at one tenth power. Commlinks crashed. Commlinks crashed? Morgansoft C-link software never crashed! But it did at Deep Community. Massively.

Communications, in short, came to a standstill.

"What's happening?" the governor asked in a panicky voice.

"Nothing much." his assistant muttered while peering at the insides of his commlink.

"Get me Colonel Santos." the governor said.

The assistant looked up.

"Commlinks", he said slowly, as if talking to a petulant child, "are down."

And he added the kind of look that could say 'I could no more get you Colonel Santos than I could summon a herd of prime Libyan camel mares out of thin air right now. Get it, Smarts?' without actually saying it.

"I'm sorry about this..." the governor began to say to Fungrunner, but then he eyed him a bit uncertainly.

"I'm sure it will all be resolved." Fungrunner said, and took a sip of his drink.

Fungigruel root beer. Blechhh...

The governor looked about him.

Impotence. What was happening?!?

A commlink bleebleeped, and the governor looked up happily.

"I think that's mine." mr Meaux said.

"Yours? But..."

"Meet the new governor of Deep Community, governor." Fungrunner said.

The governor stared into the smiling face of DeVaughn Molina, all perfect white teeth and one tiny, glittering diamond.

"I think I'll call it Zanzibar. I've always loved that name." Molina said dreamily.

* * * * *

Using the clothing of Levavassier, Paatelainen, Molina and Vinnie Mo as transmitters, the datajackers on board the Lycurgus had taken over base defenses, much as they had done to the Lycurgus before.

Now, Levavassier faced Santos in the same room as the governor and the three representatives had been in before.

"The empath?" Santos inquired.

"Some of it was real. The crew didn't know, and some of the crooks are real crooks. Myself and the others, we are well-versed in psi combat. On the receiving end, mind you. Experience does a lot against psi. Our elites are hardly affected."

"And you are elites." Santos said.

It was insult nor compliment.

"In a way, yes." Levavassier said.

"What do you intend to do? You cannot expect to hold onto this base with the forces you have."

"Correct. But I expect to hold out long enough for North Fleet to arrive. In any case, we'll be out of here before any of that. A base can run itself for a while, especially with a little help."

Levavassier looked at Vinnie Mo, who was up to his ears in commlink wiring.

* * * * *

The Lycurgus took its leave of Deep Community not much later. The first remote-controlled base in Planet history, it lay waiting for either the Hive to relieve it, or North Fleet to definitely claim it for Sparta.

He looked round at his crew, now a few less due to a little clean-up to get rid of the decoys they had needed for the hoax - Naawal Jones and her ilk.

"Guerrilla time, huh." Molina called over from his corner.

"You got it, chief." Levavassier said.

The Lycurgus bounced on, riding the swell, to the Hive coast, and who knew what exploits.

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

[Hydro]

The Hive

*****

Sheng-Ji Yang strode into his spartan office. After he entered the door closed silently behind him, shutting out almost all noise to his inner sanctum. He stood still for a moment, looking at his desk. A brief flicker of emotion, a combination of rage and dispair, washed across his implacable face. It quickly passed as Yang reasserted control.

Disharmony.

Dissidence.

This news is unsettling, he thought. I must renew my center.

Yang paced to the left side of his desk, gracefully lowered himself to the floor, and effortlessly assumed the lotus position. He placed his hands palm down on his knees, took a deep breath and slowly closed his eyes.

Focus

His breathing slowed.

on the core

Yang sequentially shut off all exterior sensations: first the vestiges of light and signals his optic nerves sent his brain, then the soft sigh of the air exchanger, then the touch of the cool floor and even the touch of his hands on his knees.

Focus on the core

Finally, the slow breathing and the beating of his heart were quieted, then screened out. Then nothing remained.

Except the light. Yang focused on the light, willed it, and it came. The light twisted under Yang’s guidance, forming an imperfect sphere. Satisfied, Yang metaphysically stepped inside his Center.

Inside all Yang could sense were his meticulously ordered thoughts and experiences. All was in order, awaiting his inspection, everything except one piece. Yang willed that piece to him, examining it, dissecting it, understanding it, destroying it. There was joy in understanding. Hope in destroying.

Order was restored. The Center was sound.

Yang willed the light to contract, and it did so. As the light diminished and finally disappeared Yang’s senses returned: first awareness of his rhythmic heartbeat and breathing, then the cool caress of the air on his skin, then the low pulse of the air exchanger, then the dark reddish vision through his closed eyes.

At last Yang was at peace, and his Center returned.

The one piece that had cause disharmony had been subsumed.

Yang opened his eyes, unfolded his legs, and rose. He turned toward his desk, pulled back the chair and seated himself.

The path was now clear. Order must be maintained, and chaos eliminated. Those who disobeyed represented the forces of entropy and chaos.

Sand has disobeyed my summons twice, Yang thought serenely, The day will soon come when his usefulness will be at an end.

[Velociryx]

“Halt!” The guard at the north gate of Fort Superiority shouted in a harsh, commanding voice.

The shadowy, slightly hunched figure stopped. Wavered slightly, as though unsteady on his feet.

The guard took half a step forward, Impact Rifle glistening in the moonlight. “State your name and business.”

The man tried to speak, but what escaped him was a low moan.

He looked up imploringly, revealing his face to the guard for the first time.

“Sweet Jesus.” The man whispered, quickly crossing himself. And then, “Johnny, Drake, I think you guys had better get down here.”

That was how it began.

The return.

The figure in the darkness was rushed to a hospital. Examined closely, and under extremely heavy guard. It seemed that the leadership of the Junta had been under all sorts of attacks these days, and the security forces were taking no chances. They even brought in a fledgling empath to scan him, just to make sure he was who he looked like.

Harrand Ashaandi had no trouble at all in fooling the young Empath. It was actually rather enjoyable, and he knew as he lay in the bed, letting them tend to his numerous wounds (including the shallow-but-nasty gash across his throat delivered by Angel and her greatly feared gloves), that he would enjoy being Gavin Burge.

He closed his eyes, and mentally counted his wounds. No one but a fellow assassin could understand the artistry behind an impersonation such as this. The lengths that had to be gone to. The pain and suffering to be endured in order to pull of the most masterful of impersonations.

He mentally counted his wounds.

Three broken ribs. Several lacerations on his chest and throat, courtesy of Angel’s dreaded gloves, skinned knees and elbows, bruises on most of his body….indeed, Sand and Angel had prepared him well. It looked like he’d travelled through Hell itself, and somehow emerged on the other side.

He smiled sleepily as he watched the doctors scurry around him. Even if they notced the smile, they’d just think it was the effects of the painkillers they were pumping into him. It all blended together, this wonderful fabric of deception….

He slept.

Gavin was dreaming.

Dreaming of retirement on Velvetgrass point. Of kelp-farming with his old friend Allardyce.

In his sleep, he smiled, but the smile faded quickly, for in the dream, the sky filled up with dark and angry clouds, and those clouds began to mold themselves into specific shapes.

Faces, actually.

Sand and Angel.

He woke up then, and would have sat up on the slab they had him on, if not for the restraints.

“Nightmare?” A seductive female voice purred, ans she uncoiled her lithe body from the chair she had been lounging in and glided across the room toward him.

He nodded slightly. Didn’t really matter if they knew it was getting to him or not….it wouldn’t change their plans for him.

**No!** His mind screamed! **You can’t start thinking like that! You’ve got to….find a way! Find some way to get yourself out of this. Get back to Sparta Command and warn everyone!**

Slowly, sluggishly, his mind began churning in that direction, fighting the fear that was slowly grinding away at him, and the drugs they’d been feeding him in liberal amounts.

So sluggish. So tired. And so hard to think….it was disorienting, being flat on his back in a mostly darkened room.

A face appeared over him, almost seeming to float.

Angel. Had she crossed the room so quickly?

He flinched, and tried to sink into the synthsteel slab, but there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.

“Shhhh….there now, my sweet, gentle old man…..” She whispered almost lovingly to him as she gently kissed his neck. “You won’t be afraid for long….I promise you that….” And her gloved hands lightly caressed his chest, opening up the flesh there and spilling his blood.

He closed his eyes and a tear rolled down one of his cheeks. He fought against a whimper of terror and pain, but it came out anyway. She was just so…..seductive and evil in the same breath, and those gloves! Perhaps the diamond shards had been dipped in some kind of slow acting poison or something, because it was an almost breathtaking pain. Sharp and all but unbearable, each time she caressed him.

**I’m dying.** He thought weakly, as Angel smiled almost sweetly down at him, her hands poised to touch and caress again.

He braced himself as best he could.

[This message has been edited by Velociryx (edited September 01, 1999).]