The Spartan Chronicles - Continued

[Rynn]

Kurt was sleeping when the psi-visitor arrived.

Sand had reached out with his mind, and exploratory tendrils of thought had penetrated Kurt’s thin defenses. He spoke gently, insinuating thoughts as if Kurt were dreaming, but deep within his subconscious Kurt knew that he was being visited.

“Let me tell you about the Circle of Ashaandi,” the voice said in his head, “and let me show you how changed life in The Human Hive will be if we are successful.”

Kurt dreamed.

He was back in The Leaders Horde, and it was different. Still a bustling seaport and naval repair facility, it had lost all the drabness that was a Hive trademark. Instead of underground warrens barely poking their superstructures above ground level, it was a glowing city of spires and minarets, solid above ground squat buildings and towering skyscrapers.

There was hustle and bustle with people rushing to and fro about their business, all with happy smiles on their faces. They were gaudily dressed, and engaged in animated conversation. The police were supervising traffic instead of keeping tabs on people, and there were thousands of lights burning brightly in the evening sky.

He was sitting on a couch in a small apartment with a view over the harbor mouth. His arm was around Shauna as they watched a vidshow on a giant screen on the wall, and at their feet two young childen played merrily.

He had a sense of contentment that he had never known before.

“This is how it could be,” said the voice in his head. “This is how it could be. Watch further.”

It was a worship day. Kurt and Shauna with children in tow were walking into the Leader’s Cathedral. A couple of thousand of worshippers were already there, and it was rapidly filling to its capacity of seven thousand. The choir was singing as they entered, setting the mood of the congregation for this thanksgiving service.

The joy was palpable, and Kurt felt real pain as he was wrenched back from the dream.

“I am showing this to Shauna as to you,” the voice said. “The Circle needs recruits to help it in its mission of overthrowing the godless dictator. Even now Ashaandi is plotting his demise. Won’t you join us, Kurt, and help this dream come true? “

Kurt woke up sweating. Had he dreamed this, or imagined this? In his heart he knew that Sand had indeed visited him in his sleep.

He rolled over to look at Shauna.

How peaceful she looked, lying in a light sleep with her hair strewn over the pillow, her eyelids fluttering and a soft smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

Instinctively he knew. Knew that she was reliving and savoring the dream. He knew she was hooked.

He didn’t dare try to probe her mind, but from her beatific expression he read her like a book.

The Believer religion reinstated at The Leaders Horde.

The population emerging from underground to build again the graceful spires reaching to the heavens, monuments to the God they believed in.

He didn’t want to be left out, even although he was maybe not a 100% convert.

He stretched his mind across the boat, seeking the below deck cabin that housed the Circle’s operative.

The mind was open, waiting.

“What do we have to de?” he asked. “If you are monitoring Shauna as I know you are, you know you have captivated her.”

“Come to my quarters after breakfast and I will initiate you both,” the reply came unbidden into his mind.

“Welcome to the Circle of Ashaandi.”

Kurt shuddered. It had such an air of finality.

He hoped and prayed that he was doing the right thing, for his sake and for Shauna's.

[Googlie]

Julia was remonstrating with Deirdre.

“But she must be somewhere!”

“Julia, dear, it’s none of your business. I knw that after we’ve talked you have come to see Corrie in a new light, but you are a Gaian citizen now, and your place is here. I’m sure that the Junta are doing everything possible to locate the Colonel.”

“But Mother, they don’t even know that she’s not real,” Julia almost shouted. “Don’t you feel any kind of debt of gratitude to her after all those years?”

“Julia,” said Deirdre, “we don’t even know if she’s disappeared on purpose.”

“Hmmph. We know that’s not likely. You heard Alexis. The Yoop resistance captured Corrie, and then she escaped. Googlie hired Alexis to play the role of the Colonel to legitimize his and Burge’s takeover, and now Marlo hired her to force peace on the junta, and now, in turnabout fashion Burge has got her backing renewed war against the Hive. What would the real Colonel think and do?”

“As I said, Julia, it’s not our concern. We don’t know for a fact that Googlie was paying her for his own ends – maybe he was acting on Corrie’s instructions. Maybe she had to disappear for a month – perhaps into the rejuvenation tanks, and saw this as a way to test the loyalty of her generals with little risk since the chameleon actress could always appear as her.

“Maybe the Yoop resistance executed her, and are just saying she escaped.

“Maybe the Hive have her and Yang is torturing her as we speak.

“As I say, it’s really none of our concern.”

Julia seethed, wondering just how to get her point of view across to her bone-headed mother.

Just then Deirdre’s commlink chirped.

She flicked it on, projecting to the wall screen.

Gavin Burge’s face filled the room.

“Lady Deirdre. It’s been a long time. You are looking well, and hello Julia.”

“Hello Gavin,” said Deirdre. Julia kept silent.

“Deirdre, if you have been following the events of the past few hours you’ll be aware that the Colonel has given an unconditional guarantee of the Gaian’s safety from any Hive or other faction’s attempts to interfere with your objectives.”

“I have, and that is most noble of the Colonel,” said Deirdre. Julia harrumphed quietly in the background.

“Nobility has its own demands,” said the Field Marshall, and our Colonel is no exception. We would like you to assign your budding airforce to assist us in the expected struggle. I understand you have two fission Interceptors and two penetrators? We would of course not expose them to the front line, but rather to the defense of our bases in Spartan territory.”

“I see,” replied Deirdre, looking over at Julia who was giving an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“I may be able to comply. Would I be required to declare vendetta against The Hive in the event that hostilities broke out anew?”

“Only if our bases were threatened, then we would want you to declare before rising to our defense.”

“Would my pilots and ground crews be exposed to dealings with the Morganites? Memories run deep, you know.”

“We know, and no, the answer is that they need not if they so wish."

“My price would be the upgrading at your expense of our four needlejets to fusion power, and the transmission to our scientists of the secrets to fusion power. If you can confirm that, you will have the Gaian wing under the command of Wing Commander Julia Santiago.”

There was a pause.

“That will be acceptable,” came Burge’s reply. “When can I expect them?”

“They will leave within two hours. Where are they staging to?”

“Sparta Command itself. We’ll upgrade their engines and deploy them from there.”

“Splendid. Deirdre out.”

She snapped the commlink connection shut, and looked over at Julia.

“Well, you have your wish. I guess in your downtime you can lead the search for your aunt.”

Julia was hardly listening.

“Wing Commander?” she asked.

“Absolutely. And Stephen is a Squadron Leader. We may be small, but we pack clout. Can’t having you being outranked by your former peers, can we.”

“Oh, Mother, thank you,” said Julia giving her a huge hug. “I’ll go pack right away.”

As she left Deirdre sighed. ‘Oh the exhuberance of youth.’

[Hydro]

Plex Anthill

*****

Although well lit, the interview room seems so drab. The walls aren’t quite white, but they aren’t dirty either. It just looks like they have been scrubbed with a brush soaked in murky water too often. I can’t complain about the spartan furniture, either. They are functional chairs and tables, but that’s about it.

There is nothing to evoke the mind in this place, nothing to excite the senses. All through there is a utilitarian sameness, a monotony that is both comfortable and reassuring.

Just like Yang intended, I suspect.

A pretty young oriental woman, Luong, has been assigned to help me by Rao. The poor thing is still recovering from a nasty skirmish or something from about a week ago. An inflatable sling still largely immobilizes her left arm, and there are some burns that have almost healed. She doesn’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to press. When she arrived I could tell, even without reading her, that she was a little nervous about being around me, but that went away after the first couple of hours. Routine and familiarity will do that.

And I only have 300 more in the Brigade to scan.

God, I’m tired.

*****

A trickle of nervous sweat streaks down a middle-aged man’s face. He is looking through me, evidently at the wall. No one told him to, but he is standing ramrod straight with his hands clasped behind his back.

Even without reading him his fear is palpable.

“What is your name, private,” Luong asks.

“Brent Gregs, Delta Sector, Thirteenth Level, Fifth Manufacturing Warren,” he responds automatically, then adds, “of the Spartan Plex Anthill Brigade, SIR.”

I just continue to look directly at him, without scanning. Besides being nervous he doesn’t appear otherwise evasive or hesitant. Sometimes body language can tell more than a surface sweep. They don’t tell you that in Empath School.

“Why did you want to become a Spartan Citizen and a member of the Brigade,” Luong asks for the umpteenth time. She asks almost the same questions each time, in agreement with me. It is useful to have a baseline for comparison.

“Because I love freedom, Sirs! And I love Sparta!” he replied.

I give him a light scan. He is clearly lying. I turn my head toward Luong, frown, and shake my head theatrically. It is our little routine.

“Try again, solder,” Luong states rather harshly.

Boy, he is really sweating now! He looks at me, and then Luong, as if he were a caged animal.

“Ah, I crossed our Production Leader. He got even by labeling me a Political. I was scheduled for mindwipe. I swear, I’ll be a good Spartan!” Brent says desperately. “Don’t send me back! Take me with you! Please!”

All his tension drained away. I scan him a little deeper, and he is telling the truth now. I turn to Luong and nod. I don’t have the energy for much else.

“Brent, all we ask is that you tell us the truth. Captain Dawson can tell when you lie. Your crimes against Yang are totally irrelevant to us. You are approved. Step forward for a retinal scan and DNA typing. When done, report to the Delta Sector Nutrient Center for muster. Dismissed!”

A huge grin appears on Brent’s face. He was actually afraid that some personality conflict with a Hivean bureaucrat would make him ineligible to be a Spartan? Amazing!

The man steps forward and submits to the scan and the swipe. He turns and leaves the room, and gives out a whoop as soon as he is out the door. The door closes behind him.

“Luong, how many have we done?” I ask.

I had long ago lost count, and was now at the stage where I really didn’t care. It was like endless low-grade exercise, where you have to keep rowing and rowing, past where your muscles burn,telling you to stop, past the cramping, and way past fatigue.

“Only 93. How are you doing?”

“Fine,” I lied.

Luong looked at me with pity, accepting my lie for what it was. For the first time, she reached out and actually touched me, grasping my shoulder in support. I smile weakly in return.

There is nothing worse than being fully awake and conscious, but mentally fatigued beyond words.

*****

An old man just left the room, and it has left me shaken. He had simple speech and manner, and moved carefully and slowly, as only the very old do. But he wasn’t that old. I could tell. He answered all Luong’s questions and I could see no trace of deception in his face.

Then I touched his mind, and a jumble of voice tore at me. The first spoke in the same measured tones as the old man. His words were of obedience and duty, work and the need to please. He was a simple and earnest soul, with a grandfatherlyness that was strangely moving.

The second voice screamed in rage, when the first voice would let him. He was incoherent, violent, and yelled about Demons. All that he wanted was to Kill the Demons, which were everywhere, yet nowhere.

The third soul spoke in fragments, and used words I did not understand. These were not the words of incoherence used by the second voice, but of reason and learning. But each was a piece shorn of its whole. The third voice struggled and yearned to be whole, but just as a thought would form it would drift away or be destroyed. But the voice didn’t rage.

When I broke my scan I found tears streaming down my cheeks. I understood his voices, and their plea, but it was a plea that I could not answer, could not grant. It was a plea to be whole again.

Luong handed me the datapad and I examined it: Gareg Sahrel. Raised in the Great Clustering, taught Chiron Genetics at the Hive University. Convicted of being a Political for inappropriate religious infractions and mind wiped in 2211. Relapse and insanity, re-mind wiped in 2212. Reeducated as a laborer after a chemical lobotomy.

As he left I gave him the only gift I could give: I helped his third voice stay together for several seconds. Then the third voice was fragmented again by the second voice, which raged against the Demon Yang.

*****

Sarah? Is that you?

I start and the mental intrusion: I recognize that thought pattern.

Miles? Is that you?

Yes, Sarah. You are broadcasting so loud that every Level 7 empath on this side of Chiron can probably detect you. Is something wrong?

But Miles, you’re supposed to be dead! You died with the tactical nuke at Sparta! How can you be here! Where are you?

Sarah, it’s a very long story. I’m pretty far from you, though. You are getting much more powerful to broadcast this far. Suffice to say that a clone died, not me. I can tell you about that later. Right now you need to get your defensive shields up. You are leaking all over the place. Are you OK?

I’m fine, just completely exhausted. I’m putting up my shield now. Is that better?

That’s fine Sarah. They seem a little tattered, though. What are you doing that is taking so much out of you? You were always one of the strongest Empaths, stronger than me. What’s going on?

I’m doing a security scan on a brigade, plus dependants. It’s over 350 people.

Whoa, Sarah, listen to me. What you are trying to do is dangerous. If you come across a hostile or an enemy empath you won’t be able to defend yourself. You’ll be too tired, to slow. Who asked you to do this, anyway, and why did you agree?

That is a long story too, Miles. There really isn’t a Psi Corps anymore. Lord Atreus, our new commander, hasn’t been heard from in weeks, maybe months. Something must have happened to him. Ann Rynn, our old commander, was fired by Santiago for that botched attempt to save Googlie, and then she died with the nuke at Sparta Command. They didn’t know what to do with me, so Googlie assigned me to this nasty, ambitious woman Kirsten Alfredsson to ‘control the drones’. She wants me to Mind Rip them, Miles! I, I just can’t do that! I got lucky and the Governor of Assassin’s Redoubt got me assigned her for a while. I need to succeed here or they’ll put me back with Kirsten! I have to do this!

Sarah, slow down! You mean to tell me that you have had NO mentoring since I saw you last? And you’re all alone? Sarah, that’s criminal! Tell you what: I can help you. I may not be as powerful as you, but I’ve become pretty good at long-range projection. I can even teach that to you, if you like! I’ve learned a couple of other tricks, too. If you have to do this, how about if I act as your defensive shield while you do the probing? That should conserve your energy. I’d feel a lot better if I could help. What do you say?

Miles, thank you! You don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve been able to talk to another Empath! I’d actually forgotten how personal it could be! How long can you stay?

As long as you need me, Sarah! As long as you need me!

*****

The interviews continued as before, with my old friend Miles in the back of my mind. When I started slipping, he would be there with a gentle prod or joke. The important thing was that he was there. He is always there for me. Miles – the strong, silent type!

*****

Luong led another proto-Spartan into the room, walked over, and sat down. She toggled her datapad and called up her file. The woman in front of me was a little past middle aged, although it was a little hard to tell because of her demeanor. It wasn’t that she looked old or unkempt, it is just that she was so plain. She almost looked purposefully plain. In contrast to most of the candidates, she appeared cool and calm, almost icy. Instead of fear on her face I could see determination.

“Myong H. Sung, Why did you want to become a Spartan Citizen and a member of the Brigade?” Luong asked.

“I wish to become a Spartan Citizen,” she replied simply, keeping motionless.

I touched her mind, and instantly recoiled: I saw blackness! Boiling, churning blackness and death! Swirling around this was a deep-seated hatred of all things…Spartan!

I was stunned. Before I could recover, much less move, Myong reached for the seam of her light and bulky coat. I knew she was reaching for a weapon, but couldn’t react! It was like everything was happening in slow motion. All this happened so fast that Luong was just beginning to understand what was going on.

Then Myong took on a glazed expression on her face, and her head lolled to the side. She fell to her knees with a thump, and then she lost her balance and fell face-forward to the floor. She landed with a loud thud and lay perfectly still.

Both Luong and I were stunned. The whole event had taken less than a second.

Miles! I didn’t do that! What did you do?

Ms. Myong just suffered an unfortunate and massive cerebral hemorrhage, Sarah.

A hemorrhage? I don’t understand! How…

I inflicted the hemorrhage on her, Sarah. I burst three critical blood vessels in her cerebral cortex and also her carotid artery. She was dead before she hit the floor.

Miles!

Sarah, she was a low-grade assassin and was going to kill you. I acted for you in self-defense.

But Miles! That requires telekinesis! Very, very few Empaths have more than the most rudimentary power to move objects!

You don’t have to move much to rupture a thin blood vestals wall. All it takes is a small tweak, and knowing where to do it.

How could you do that Miles! She was a human being!

She was a human being who would have found great joy in blowing your head off, Sarah. While I agree that each of us, and especially Empaths, must have a firmly held set of moral and personal ethics, you also need to understand that others do not limit themselves in such a fashion. You are forced to operate on their level, or die. It only takes one to make war. I’m afraid that that is the lesson that I have painfully learned, Sarah. Grab on and hold fast to your inner self and what you hold dear, but be careful and do what you have to.

Miles, I don’t know what to say.

I know what you should say, Sarah. Say you will be careful and think about this. The next time I might not be there to help. Now, let’s put this unpleasant incident behind us.

OK Miles.

Already the emergency team was arriving. Luong was looking at me with a combination of awe and horror. She had seen her death in the assassin’s eyes, and then seen the woman literally drop dead in front of hear.

Luong’s efficiency never wavered, but her budding friendliness died and didn’t return.

*****

Luong lead a pair of medics into the room, and they were guiding a portable med unit. In the med unit was the most ghastly man I have ever seen. He was covered in multiple layers of synthskin and healing stimulators. That was not the ghastly part, though. The man’s face was seared away, almost melted looking. This was clearly an old scar, for it was completely healed and the skin, where it wasn’t bandaged or reinforced with synthskin, was healthy.

“Captain Dawson, this man was the leader of the Plex Brigade,” Luong informed me. “His name is recorded only as Spartacus, and he apparently has no history in the Plex datalinks. He needs to be scanned to verify his identity before he can be taken to Assassin’s Redoubt for further treatment. I should say that the men and women of the Brigade would, and did, die for this man. He is a Non-Person Political. I’m not quite sure what that means, but it must be pretty serious.”

I approached the mysterious man to get a better look. I brushed his mind and confirmed he was in a coma. The neural activity of his brain confirmed that.

Miles, are you there?

Of course, Sarah. Pretty strange. I’ve heard only a little about the punishment of Hive Politicals. Most of the time they are mind wiped or killed. Do you want me to go Defensive for you again? You may have to probe pretty deep, especially if he has been conditioned.

That would be great Miles. Are you up to it?

Sure. I am getting tired though.

I reach out to touch a portion of his hand that wasn’t bandaged. Touching really isn’t necessary for an intermediate or deep probe, it simply acts as a focus. I’m not experienced at deep probing. Very few Empaths are, and those that are usually end up in Intelligence, not the Psi Corps.

Slowly, I focus on Spartacus. My vision appears to narrow into a cone, with peripheral vision gone. Then I induce an Empathic Trance, with a low hum as my neural feedback trigger. A barely audible hum indicates my trance has begun. One by one I eliminate all others, even Miles, from my consciousness.

As the trance takes hold I seem to warp and flow toward Spartacus. The morphing is slow enough that my ‘vision’ does not appreciatively change. Gradually my perception of Spartacus starts to change as his form becomes indistinct and starts to morph toward me.

The humm is low, but is growing stronger.

Finally, after an eternity, our morphed forms touch and we flow into one another. My normal ‘vision’ is extinguished and is replaced by the blackness of Empath Sight. In the distance I perceive a light and move toward it. Dark shapes flit by at the periphery of my Empath Sight. I ignored these, recognizing them for recent or false memories sent as a defense mechanism of the brain.

The humm crescendos to a buzz.

The light grows stronger, finally filling my field of view.

In Empath Sight everything is in symbols, and these symbols speak volumes, even to my untutored eyes. They can be tricky, though, since what a symbol means is always a matter of perception and experience. I need to tread carefully.

I remember a key holotext “Our Secret War” our class experienced while at psi training. The manual was by Lady Deirdre Skye, who, apparently, is something of an empath herself. It was never clear just what kind of empath, though. One quote always stood out in my mind, and I remember it clearly:

Symbols are the key to telepathy. The mind wraps its secrets in symbols; when we discover the symbols that shape our enemy’s thought, we can penetrate the vault of his mind.

These symbols I should be able to figure out. In front of me is a dark and forbidding corridor, which is been sealed. To my left is a gate that is locked. To my right is a very small room, in which there is nothing. All I need to do is discern what these symbols mean, and act accordingly. This man has been conditioned, symbolized by the locked gate, and Psi blocked, signified by the dark and walled corridor. The small room represents what Spartacus knows about himself, and his life after his conditioning. It must be pretty bleak.

The conditioning I can deal with. I walk up to the gate and grasp the padlock and pull down. With a loud ‘clank’ the old-fashioned padlock opens and the heavy black iron chain comes loose. Simple conditioning is no match for an Empath, any Empath. The chain is cold and, touching it, if feel a strong sense of hesitation. Should I unlock this gate? What does it mean that it is cold? That is very subjective. However, I have to proceed forward. I grab on end of the chain and unwrap it from the wrought iron bars. The gate is now unlocked, and I push it open. A flood of memories washes over me, but they don’t overwhelm my senses. These are personal memories of family and friends. Most are happy, some are sad. Now I know what the cold signifies: it is Spartacus’ deep remorse and pain at having to kill his own family, even though understanding that not killing them would doom them to decades in Yang’s torture chamber.

God, but Yang is a monster.

I drop both the lock and the chain to the vaguely grey ground. Spartacus now has access to all his memories, although I suspect he might wish he hadn’t.

Next I turn to the barren room. It is not barred in any way, so I tentatively walk in. As I do I get a claustrophobic feeling. It is small and getting smaller, and it contains nothing. Shivering, I understand this is his life and that my initial impression is correct. Even as I stand the wall seem to close in, and a general sense of panic and unease well up within me. There is nothing to learn here, except to understand the emptiness and unease in Spartacus’ life.

I pace over to the walled off corridor: now here is a challenge. I can best it IF I have superior skill and power than the Empath that placed the psi block, and correctly understand its symbol or symbols. The fact that it might potentially have more than one symbol is the tricky part. I place my hands on the block just to feel it. I feel nothing – it is completely blank to me. I give it a little psi push. There is no effect, almost as if there is resistance from BEHIND the wall that is pushing back! The wall should give a little in response to my probe – I’m not that weak!

I ponder this for a moment. What in this symbol would cause a blank and generally door-shaped barrier in a corridor to push back? It seems to absorb my psi energy, which is what the Empath who placed it intended. And why door-shaped? Is it a portal? Most are.

Wait a minute! The only thing that can psi push is an Empath! Even a barrier like this can’t mount such an active defense. Excited, I brush my fingers lightly and with no force over the grey wall. As I do a shimmering line appears at its edge. It IS a door!

So, how do I open a door with no handle or purchase? Gingerly I approach the psi block again and place my hands flat against it. I then consciously will it toward me, tapping my neural enhancements. I also feel the gentle addition of strength, which must be from Miles.

The door begins to change. Its texture becomes metallic, and it is very cold. Hinges appear at the side and an anachronistic pull ring where a datapad handle would be. Without removing my hands from contact with the door I move them to the handle. Slowly. Surely. I grasp the handle.

Do I want to pull? What could be behind such a crafted psi block that an Empath would want to block? What does the cold feeling mean this time?

Summoning my courage I take a metaphoric breath.

Then I pull.

*****

I open my eyes to see an anxious crowd above me. I am obviously on the floor.

At that moment pain lances through my forehead and I give out a gasp. I have to get my barriers up! Where is Miles! The voices!

I’m here Sarah.

Miles! What happened?

I don’t know. You broke the connection. I couldn’t sense what you were doing, just that your psi energy was dropping very fast. I tried to help. Just after I did you flung me away. What did you see?

Miles, look into my memory, so you can see it too.

Very strange, Sarah. I don’t know what to make of that psi block. It was designed to keep someone from getting in, not from getting out. That is the opposite of what you’d think a Hive empath would do. Have you read him since you came out?

I didn’t come out, Miles. And I just woke up.

Sarah, I don’t like this. Someone had to help you out or you could be empathicly damaged – the change is just too abrupt. You’ve been out for 20 minutes. Do you feel OK?

Yes. Actually, I feel totally fine. I’m not tired at all! Isn’t that strange?

I’m going to scan him for you.

No, wait Miles! I, I don’t think you should do that.

Why?!!

I…think he’s still with me.

Hello Sarah and Miles. Thank you for releasing me. You can call me Merlin

[Hydro]

Morgan Industries

*****

Shannon walked into the reception hall of the Morgan Governmental Palace after a brief respite at her room at the MorganRitz to freshen up and get a bite to eat. She was still in a state of mental overload with how much had changed in the last couple of days. First, Morgan subverts four of Yang’s cities and declared de facto war. Then Sparta then declares a truce with Yang, dashing the hopes of the Morganites, Shannon was sure. Serves him right, the treacherous bastard! But most importantly, from Shannon’s point of view, Gaia’s Landing/Worker’s Nest and Nessus Shining /Hole of Aspiration had been liberated from Yang’s iron rule. Granted, they were now in the loving hands of Morgan, but that was marginally better than Yang.

As always, the shocking opulence of Morgan architecture overwhelmed and galled Shannon. This was particularly true after her last sojourn with Ehm in the hybrid forest. How could a people that could research and build such a wonderful ecological paradise then build this gaudy showplace to waste and excess? The energy that this one building took could run all of Velvetgrass point.

Not for the first time Shannon fantasized about what Gaia’s landing would look like by this point if Morgan and Yang hadn’t destroyed all the Gaian’s dreams. She imagined tall and graceful brownish green towers, with balconies that seemed to defy gravity, and crystalline domes that housed lovingly tended Earth and Chiron species. There would be beautiful parks and expansive water gardens. The city itself would be almost an extension of the land. Of course, the city would have to have a hybrid forest. It would be beautiful, with the city rising out of forest of pink and green!

But that was fantasy. The reality was that Velvetgrass Point was beautiful only in a utilitarian way. The Gaians would not have the technology or resources to build a hybrid forest for many decades. The war had seen to that. Such was the sad fate of the vanquished.

As she approached the baroque Rotunda a young man in a crisp blue suit approached.

“Gaian Ambassador Lindly? I am an aid to President Nwabudike Morgan, Senior. The president requests an audience at your convenience. He has instructed me to tell you that he will clear his schedule immediately, if that meets with your pleasure, since matters are quite pressing.”

I bet they are. Morgan is in over his head, and he is grasping at straws. If he thinks he can get anything out of the Gaians he is sorely mistaken, Shannon thought to herself. Still, I have orders from Deirdre herself. No use putting off the unpleasant.

“I am ready now. Lead on,” Shannon replied.

*****

The aid opened the eight-meter tall beaten bronze double doors for Shannon as she entered Morgan’s Presidential Office, and closed them behind her. Morgan had a pile of datapads on his desk and, upon seeing her enter, turned off the holo and stood.

Shannon was perplexed. Morgan looked positively radiant! He was at war the Yang the Butcher, and likely to meet the same fate as the Gaians. He had no cause to smile!

Morgan walked around his desk and walked to Shannon. He approached with a huge smile and an almost too friendly demeanor.

“Well met again, my dear Ambassador Lindly! I heard you were enjoying the hybrid forest with your little Ehm! I don’t get out to the forest much due to the affairs of state, but perhaps I could make time when this current unpleasantness dies down. Please! Will you not sit down? I have some fresh papaya juice, if you are interested.”

“Good day, President Morgan,” Shannon replied in a formal and neutral voice, “I’ll pass on the juice, but thank you for your offer.”

Shannon moved toward the chair that Morgan indicated, then Morgan pulled its mate to the side so he could face Shannon without the big, imposing desk separating them.

He is being so informal, and breaking all sorts of formal rules of protocol. Morgan is normally such a stickler for rules and protocol. He is also trying so hard to ingratiate himself to me. I wonder what he wants?

After both were seated Morgan started. “There are events that you are not aware of, but should be.”

Lindly cut in. “Yes, I know about your new war with the Hive, and the Spartan’s neutrality.”

Morgan continued with out a pause, not noticing, or choosing not to notice, her rude interruption.

“Actually, those events are not those to which I refer. I have recently spoken with Coronal Santiago, and I have delightful news! The Spartans have agreed to Pact with we Morganites, and have also issued an ultimatum to the Hive! If Yang refuses, he will face the combined weight of Morgan and Spartan force of arms. There are some portions of the Ultimatum that you will be interested in, I believe.”

Morgan replayed his holo of Santiago, and her ultimatum.

No wonder Morgan is so happy. Shannon thought. He has all that he wants! And either way the ultimatum goes, he wins! Still, it is reassuring that Santiago is offering formal guarantees to the Gaians. She has always been at least a tacit friend, even though the Gaians and Spartans have such different societies. Somehow Deirdre and Corazon have always had an understanding.

“This is an interesting turn of events, that is certain. But what does that have to do with the Gaians and Morganites? Santiago’s ultimatum deals with their relationship with the Gaians, Hive, and Morganites separately.”

“Ah, you have identified the crucial issue! To date we have operated separately. I would like to make the Gaians a proposal: I will return Worker’s Nest, which was Gaia’s Landing, to the Gaians immediately and will pay for its state-of-the-art defensive forces as a gesture of good will. I know that the Morganites and Gaians have had ample cause for distrust, and hopefully this will demonstrate my earnestness. What I ask in return is that the Gaians Pact with we Morganites and provide for some defense of Gaia’s Landing and Nessus Shining, known by the Hive name Hole of Aspiration. Your mindworm forces are formidable, especially against Yang’s plentiful but poorly trained troops. Moreover, I will pledge to return Hole of Aspiration after events with the Hive have stabilized.”

Lindly was silent. In her mind she reviewed the orders she had received from Deirdre: demand the return of Gaia’s Landing and Nessus Shingin to Gaian control. Of course, they had no way of enforcing this demand.

But, to have a real chance of getting back Gaia’s Landing! That had been the dream of all Gaians for almost 25 years! To be reunited with all the loved ones who had stayed behind, and had suffered so much at the hands of Yang. Reports of Yang’s use of punishment spheres and nerve clips on the native Gaians had reached Velvetgrass Point long ago, and all had grieved. Technically, the Hive and the Gaians were still at a state of war. There had been no truce. The Hive had thought the Gaians destroyed, and Lady Skye wanted it to stay that way.

Shannon could almost taste the joy of attaining the impossible. Still, it would require Pacting with Morgan. How could she justify that? Was Gaia’s Landing and the promise of Nessus Shining worth trusting Morgan? Could the Gaians trust this Morgan, or any Morgan? Especially one who had just betrayed his former Pact Brother Yang? There would have to be guarantees. Spartan guarantees.

“Your offer is extremely intriguing, President Morgan. Of course, I will have to consult with Lady Skye before making such a momentous decision.”

Morgan nodded his head, still smiling. “I understand. And please tell Lady Skye that I would enjoy a personal conversation with her one day. Oh, and kindly tell her one more thing for me. If she agrees to this Pact then I will issue a formal apology for the now ancient wrongs I have committed against the Gaians. Keep in mind that that was long ago, and both Morgan and Gaians committed acts of butchery. Most of the Gaian blood is on Yang’s hands. I believe that should be our combined focus.”

Shannon stood up, and Morgan courteously followed her lead. She walked to the door and Morgan opened it for her, still smiling.

As she left she thought, Is he smiling out of genuine warmth, or like a Cheshire Cat? Or like a spider about to consume a juicy fly? Luckily, that is not my decision. Lady Deirdre Skye will get to make that call.

Shannon Lindly’s footsteps echoed down the cavernous hall.

She was dreaming of Gaia’s Landing.

[Hydro]

Ft. Superiority

*****

Andre stared at his datapad in numbed shock.

Solid smoke! That could kill thousands! Tens of thousands! What do I do? I…can’t think. I can’t allow this!

Andre felt an unaccustomed lethargy of indecision.

No, it’s not what do I do. It’s who do I trust, and who among those can do something about this.

Over the last 50 years I’ve met and become close to a large number of colleagues. Most of these were fellow researchers, and of those most were former UoP. The Spartans that were part of the research projects are generally worthless project managers, who could shuffle numbers but who had no real understanding of the projects they were charged with managing. I don’t associate with these types unless politically necessary.

Maybe a UoPer? No, these types were never connected to the reigns of power in such a way that would help. How about the assistant Ft. Superiority base administrator, Gayle Storm? I’ve known her for almost 10 years now since she was a junior council representative. But I just don’t know her well, as we have done little more than exchange pleasantries, and she would have no reason to believe me. My only evidence, the data crystal, is a chunk of fused quartz. Even if she did, what would she do? How about the military attaché Jason Onian? He worked with me during work on the Cyborg Factory project as my liaison. No, actually, he was my Spartan handler, and was here to ensure I would ‘play nice’. And I only knew him for 6 months and haven’t heard from him since my consultant contract expired.

No, there is one Spartan that I had a long-term positive relationship with. She is retired military, politically astute, and hard as nails. She will know what to do!

Some of Andre’s energy returned, and he darted over to his holopad and dialed.

He waited, fidgeting nervously.

Finally the familiar face of Assassin Redoubt’s Military Governor Helen Tobias appeared.

“Andre. I’m glad to hear from you. I’m extraordinarily busy here with the Plex Anthill evacuation, but I saw you marked the holo ‘priority one’ flag. Is something wrong?”

Helen looked at Andre’s holo. He was white as a sheet and his left hand was trembling. His strangely appealing assertiveness and confidence was no where to be seen.

“Helen, I have a problem….

[Slats]

MORGAN PROCESSING AIRFIELD
MILITARY AVIATION HANGAR

Alex ' Dusty ' Rhodes stepped off the last rug of the crew ladder of his Penetrator and dropped to the plascrete apron of Morgan Processing. Behind him, Indigo 6, the last aircraft down, howled to a stop.

The first thing that struck him was how pristine the entire airfield looked. Neat or tidy didn't do it justice. Even the edges of the grassy verge had been trimmed perfectly. The ground markings were fresh, with no streaks of dirt or rubber on the surfacing. The buildings themselves looked functional yet asthetically pleasing to the eye. About half a dozen light civilian aircraft lay tidily ordered near the general aviation terminal while a jetliner sat connected to one the docking arms that branched from the main terminal building. The sun was bright and a light, airy breeze blew from the west. Perfect, thought Dusty began striding over towards the cavernous hangar they had been directed to, the rest of his crews close behind.

Once inside the hangar manager introduced himself, a beefy but good natured man who immediately disappeared with the flight's mechanics to sort out supplies, usage of tools, work teams and a dozen other activities.
The hangar itself was also very tidy. The modern, clean looking machinery lay stacked neatly along the walls or in big red storage racks. Dusty was grinning as he climbed the metal staircase alongside the managers office and opened the heavy, sound proofed door at the top.
The crew room, set into the side of the hangar, approximately covered some three hundred square metres in total. Nearest the door were the gear lockers and shower rooms while further back was a well equipped briefing room with a gigantic holo tank in place. Sleeping quarters were located off to the left and best of all, a big lounge with soft seating, beverage machines and numerous vast holo screens for leisure viewing.
Dusty turned to see that everyone else had followed him up the stairs. They all stood gawking at the lavish surroundings. Dusty sank into a nearby chair and looked about once more to make sure this wasn't a dream. Oh yes, he thought, I could get used to this.......

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

SPARTA COMMAND
BEN MILLER'S APARTMENT

Slats was just about to shovel another spoonful of breakfast cereal into his mouth when he stopped dead. He'd been informed of the new pact with the Gaians late last night woken by the urgent beeping of his commlink as the night staff at the SAC operations centre warned him of the breaking news. In a generally happy mood he'd been paging through his latest messages on his datapad while munching his breakfast when a memo appeared from Burge.
Three items of the memo erupted out of the screen at him. Gaian aircraft. Fusion upgrades. Cooperation with SAC forces.
Slats continued to munch his breakfast although chewing more thoughtfully. The commander of the Gaian airforce was registered as one Wing Commander Julia Santiago. Good. That meant there should be few problems with an ex-Spartan in command. Any operations would run smoothly also. That only left the upgrades. This was a bit more difficult. A swift check of the inventory showed only two Fusion reactors currently at Sparta Command. Two more would have to be dredged up from somewhere. Hadn't there been some spares from some oddball project from one of the ex-UoP bases? He'd have to check up on that. Slats also made a note to alert the fitters at the Aerospace Complex about the refurbishment. And to have Indigo 2 fly out from Janissary Rock to meet the Gaian flight. Some kind of welcome party would have to be sent.

It was going to be an eventful day.
[This message has been edited by Slats (edited September 30, 1999).]

[Googlie]

My first need was to get clothes that fit me. And that meant getting out of the hospital area and into a retail complex - I couldn't just dial up my old tailor, as my size had changed dramatically with the rejuvenation.

And it might be dangerous to go about, although the danger of getting recognized was slight.

Then I had an idea.

"Anastasia," I said. "Take off your drone smock.

She blushed a deep crimson.

"I…I.. don't think that now's the time…I mean, shouldn't we…"

I realized her confusion.

"Oh, sorry," I said. "I keep forgetting that I'm thinking and talking like a sixty year old but you're hearing and seeing it from a thirty year old.

"What I mean is, you change back into your things and I'll wear the smock and be a drone until we reach my tailors."

"Oh," she said. "I thought you meant…." And she blushed again.

"I know, and I'm sorry for not being clearer," I said. "Now will you change back into your things and pass me the smock?"

She looked around for somewhere to change.

"I won't look," I said, averting my gaze.

But of course I did. And the sight of Anastasia stripping to her bra and panties while she wrestled the synthsilk blouse over her head reminded me that I had a thirty year old body again. As I admired the swell of her breasts I knew I was going to enjoy being young again.

She passed me the smock, which was a tight fit, but adequate. Cinched around my waist, with Anastasia's belt, it hung just above my knees. It could be a new dress code for male drones, I thought. I felt like an extra in the old earth flick, Cleopatra, that I'd seen when I was a kid.

It was draughty. I chuckled inwardly as I thought of the old Scottish joke:

Mary, to Jock:

"Jock, is anything worn under the kilt?

"Och no, lass. It's as guid as ever it was."

Anastasia looked at me queerly as I hobbled to the door, chuckling to myself.

"I'll need your broom to lean on," I said. "My muscles are still not fully developed."

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

We left the hospital area and walked down toward the retail sector. Shops were just beginning to open, but for the most part passers by just ignored the beautiful young woman with the drone following her.

We reached my outfitter's. He was open.

"How may I help you?" Andre asked Anastasia, completely ignoring me.

She was nonplussed.

I coughed.

Andre looked at me with annoyance.

"Andre, old friend. Have I changed that much?"

He peered at me.

"Mon Dieu," he exclaimed. "Monsieur Allardyce. I did not recognize you. Here, let me se you."

He stepped back with a hand on my shoulder, and said:

"Very good. You need some muscle tone, but very good. An improvement, if I may say so, on your 50 year old look that you have been favoring. For the benefit of this young lady?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye.

It was my turn to be discomfited, much to Anastasia's amusement, who watched for my reply.

"Hrmmmph," I said. "Not really." But not wishing to be ungallant, I continued. "At least not planned, but now you mention it, kit me out as a young officer should be these days."

After an hour or so, I was resplendent in a new uniform, complete with what I imagined an Air Marshall would look like as regards decorations and scrambled egg on the hat brim.

I sneaked a peek at Anastasia who I was gratified to see was regarding me with total approbation.

"To my office," I said grandly, sweeping her out of the outfitters'.

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

I had my hat under my arm as I bounded up the steps to the SAC, Anastasia in tow.

A military guard stopped me:

"And where the hell do you think you are going?"

"To my office," I replied.

"And who might you be?" he inquired. "I've not seen you around here before."

I realized that this was true. I put on my hat and saluted.

"Federation Governor Scott Allardyce reporting for duty."

He looked at me queerly.

"And I'm Prokhor Zakharov," he said. "Now buzz off."

I couldn't say "Young man" to him, which was the first thing that came into my head - he was ten years older than my seeming thirty years. I would just have to endure and batter my way in.

"But I assure you, I am he," I said.

I reached past him to the door control and put my thumb to the recess.

"Scott Allardyce," I said.

I moved to the retina scan and put my eye to the soft laser.

"Confirmed," the synthetic voice said.

The trooper looked on in astonishment as he stood aside for me to pass.

"Rejuvenation tanks" Anastasia said as she breezed airily past him.

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

Santiago was in the office when I entered. I was totally taken aback. No one had brought me up to date. So the Colonel had returned. So I was no longer Federation Governor. Nor was I the Air Marshall commanding the SAC.

In fact, I was the Ambassador in waiting to the Gaians. At thirty. Now that was a laugh.

Her head was down, peering at her console. She was pecking at a keyboard with two fingers.

I coughed, and she looked up.

"Corrie, we need to talk," I said.

She looked at me.

"You are?" she said. "I don't think I know you. There have been so many changes since I've been away."

I stopped in my tracks.

Of one thing I was certain. Corazon Santiago had almost total recall, and we had spent years together when I was in my thirties, on Earth. She would remember me, and would make a joke about my appearance too.

Then it hit me. Of course. I myself had set this in motion. Either someone had found out and was playing an end game, or she was playing a deep game of her own.

"Alexis," I said softly.

Her eyes widened, and she looked like the proverbial deer caught in the headlamps.

"Googlie," I said. "Googlie Allardyce."

She looked at me with stupifaction, then burst into tears.

[korn469]

U.N. Foward Air Defence Head Quarters
U.N. Amnesty Town

"Colonel, Doctor Wang is here to see you,” the aid said into the commlink.

"Send him in." Without any acknowledgement, the aid gently touched a button and the large door slid open. The Doctor walked into Colonel Blair's comfortable office, the door sliding shut and locking behind him.

Jerome Blair stood up and walked over to Henry Wang shaking his hand. The Colonel had a strong grip, a little too strong for Henry's liking. Captain Masato Sukegawa was also in the Colonel's office, and he stood up to greet the doctor.

"Doctor, you know my Chief of Security Captain Sukegawa." They shook hands and all three sat down. "So what did the autopsy of the prisoner reveal?" Both the Colonel and the Captain listened intently to Doctor Wang.

"Well, I confirmed that the prisoner did die of a self inflicted wound to his right carotid artery. Apparently, he concealed the weapon he used under a layer of synthetic skin in his left calf muscle. There was only one other major finding in the autopsy, and that was the prisoner had a neural graft removed from his left temple in the past month. However, the grafting procedure used is one I am unfamiliar with. Other than that, he was in perfect health, and I verified his apparent age, of early thirties, as his correct age of thirty-two. Besides the removed neural grafting, he had no other surgical enhancements, and he was in great shape for his age. One last thing, his genetic markers are clean, we had no record of him." Both men took in the information, and the Colonel nodded, then spoke.

"I see, well the Captain informs me that although this man had access to our data-net there is no sign of sabotage. Doctor, you say that he had his neural grafting removed recently. Why would he have done that?"

"Well, most likely it would have identified him as a member of an intelligence organization, and we could have tracked him back to his faction. Although it is very unlikely, he could have started having problems with the graft and it could just be a co-incidence. The unusual nature of the graft could support either argument, though my gut instinct is that it was removed so he couldn't be identified."

"Thank you Doctor, and look into the graft. Contact Professor Khuri at U.N. Headquarters I'm sure he can help you with this. Now Masato, there was no sign of sabotage at all? Why would he kill himself if he didn't do anything?"

"That is correct, Sir. We have detected no signs of sabotage, but to do a full sweep of the system would require shutting the entire system down for eight hours. We are checking the entire system without shutting it down, but it will take us 80 hours to check everything this way. Checking the system while it is on means that there is a one percent chance sabotage might go undetected. So if anything is there we will find it, it'll just take some time."

"Captain if you had to make a guess who would you say was behind this, and what was the mission objective?"

"Well Sir, in my professional opinion the only faction that would have something to gain from disabling our western sensor grid is the Spartan Federation. They are the only faction with bombers ready to attack U.N. Amnesty Town. I'm not an intelligence officer but the Spartan Federation is the obvious choice."

"Thank you Captain, I'll take that into consideration when I make my report to the General. Thank you too Doctor. Dismissed." They stood and saluted Colonel Blair, and left his office. He then started writing the formal report.
[This message has been edited by korn469 (edited October 01, 1999).]

[Slats]

To: Col. Corazon Santiago and all current Junta members

From: Micheal Forster, Head of Spartan Space Defense

Subject: Urgent matter!!

Text body:

Ladies and gentlemen, I have recently recieved news from the S.S.D's research and development team which could effect not only all of you, but every faction on the face of the planet.

During recent astrometric mapping of the Alpha Centauri system by ground based telescopes and deep space radars an anomaly was detected just inside Alpha Centauri A's outer perimeter orbit. At first we suspected it to be a large asteroid. This has now been discounted due to it's extremely high radar return suggesting that it has a high if not total metallic composition. It's regular shape gave us futher cause for concern.

Removing one of our best telescopes from it's regular duties and crosschecking it's findings with old recognition databases we have observed what we believe to be the now derelict U.N.S Unity.

Yes, while our best historical information lead us to believe the Unity was a runaway vessel, battered drive wrecked and broken - unable to deacclerate any further, now on course for some far flung star, we cannot deny the readings our instruments give us. At best we guess that the drive malfunctioned and shut down, causing the Unity to be dragged back into the twin gravity gravity wells of Alpha Centauri. It is possible, though not recorded, that a member of the bridge crew ordered the onboard navigation systems to assume such a course. This is unlikely due to the Unity's irregular orbit.

So, I hear you ask, how does this affect our current situation if at all?

Some days after the discovery, a young scientist on our research team made an astonishing discovery. He was in the process of calculating the power of the Unity's engines in order to back up our gravity well theory when he came across the schematics for the Unity's fusion power core. Out of curiosity he calculated that the core elements and storage batteries should contain some 3500 energy units. The young man addressed his team leader who, in turn, had the foresight to inform me of the discovery.

I write not only to inform you of this historic discovery of our heritage but of the treasure trove which lies just beyond our grasp.

My team and I lie ready at your disposal.

I leave this matter in your hands.

[Googlie]

"Anastasia, go help the Colonel," I said, and while she did I sat down at the control panel.

I half remembered being awakened by Marlo while I was in the tanks, and giving her my password. The knowledge she gained from using it had gotten her killed. It was a vidflick from Burge, I vaguely recalled.

"Console, activate," I said.

The far wall console lit up. 'Good, I thought. At least no-one has programmed me out of existence,'

"Display Gavin Burge," I said.

"Do you wish the most recent or previous?" the console asked.

"Most recent," I replied.

"Password"

"Jinty."

Suddenly I was in the chamber with Burge, watching him in his fight, and hearing his warning, and exhortation to work with Ashaandi.

The camera kept rolling until the massive explosion extinguished life within the chamber and its surrounds.

'Hmmm,' I thought.

'So Burge is Ashaandi. And I'll wager that's who is Alexis' controller now.'

Alexis was coming round, her head supported in Anastasia's arms. She blinked once or twice.

"Ashaandi, isn't it?" I asked.

She nodded weakly.

"Ashaandi, can you read me? If you are mind controlling Alexis then you can read me.."

"No," she interrupted. "He can't."

"Of course he can," I said. "He's an empath. He can thought control you and mind read you, so he knows you and I are talking, and what we are saying - if he is awake, that is."

"No," she repeated. "I am an empath too, and I can and am blocking him out. It is the only way I can play a convincing Santiago. He is giving me instructions telepathically, but at agreed times, and this is not one of them."

"Well you don't need to take orders from him anymore. I'm back, and I'll go meet him to sort things out. While you were reviving I played the real Gavin Burge's last message to me, and his advice was to be wary, but work with Ashaandi. Our interests do converge. Where is he now?"

"Over at the almost complete new Command Center, on Airport Road. What do you want me to do now?"

"Continue being Santiago for the time being. I need to find out where the real Corazon is, plus a few other people. So stay put and govern as Ashaandi instructed. I'll be back soon.

"Come on Anastasia," I said. "Let's get going."

I would need to find a shorter name - I wondered if she would resent being called Anna?

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

I was ready for the challenges this time, and gave my molecular and retinal I.D. scans as soona s asked. Of course I passed.

I found Burge/Ashaandi in the newly refurbished warroom in the Command center, and he was testing some of the brand new holo projection equipment. He looked up as I entered, Anastasia in tow. I held my hat under my arm, and with my free hand I saluted smartly.

"Gavin," I said, "good to see you again old friend."

He looked at me quizically.

"Ah," I said. "Then I have changed in the tanks. Googlie. Have the events of the past few days so scrambled your mind that you don't recognize me thirty years younger? Think, Gavin. That would be about the time you and I had the scuffle with sand, the agent of that man, what was his name? Ah, yes. Ashaandi." As I said the name I looked him straight in the eye.

"We need to talk," I said. "Privately."

He nodded.

Turning to his aides, he said:

"Leave us for a while. Googlie and I have much catching up to do. Go and show Googlie's aide where his and her offices will be."

They left us alone.

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

"Ashaandi," I began. "What game are you playing? And was Gavin's death necessary?"

In front of me, Gavin Burge morphed into Ashaandi. I had seen this transformation only with Alexis. i found it intriguing.

"Regrettable," he answered. "But he went the way of the warrior.

"But as to my 'game' as you put it, this is no game. Yang must be stopped, and removed from power His dreams of Planet domination threaten not only you and your people, but all the other peoples on Chiron. He will stop at nothing less than being elected Supreme Leader, and the entire economy of The Hive is geared toward that purpose. My intent is to overthrow him, and Spartan forces are the only ones that can do so. That is my 'game'."

"And after he is overthrown, and you are in power, Ashaandi, what are your dreams? Planet domination under your banner? Ashaandi as Supreme Leader?"

"On the contrary, dear Googlie, my dreams are of a more peaceful nature. As you are aware from the orbital satellite photographs, more than half of Planet is undeveloped. I would propose zones of control, whole continents if you will, that would be the territory of the various factions to expand in.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I still believe in security and control. But not through coercion or manipulation, but rather by the informed will of the people responding to the guidance to follow the pathway laid out by enlightened leadership. The goal is the same, and the journey will follow the same path, but the methods we take to reach that goal or follow the path will be different. That is my dream."

"So you need the chameleon actress playing Santiago to rattle the sabers and give unrealistic ultimatums to yang that he cannot possibly accept?" I asked.

"Exactly. The Spartan reputation is pure, and the ultimatum is in keeping with the Burge personality I have adopted, while showing the steely strength and single-mindedness of purpose that would be typical Santiago."

"What do you expect Yang to do?" I asked.

"Realistically? I expect him to reject the ultimatum outright, and launch a massive attack on Morgan bases. They will be easier pickings than trying to recapture Plex Anthill or the four seceded bases, and the energy credits he can deflect to his own coffers will be huge. If he can enslave Morgan in the process….."

"And Sparta will…..?"

"Sparta will pact with Morgan to deny Yang any inroads. We will garrison troops in each of his bases. We will mount a massive invasion of Yang's territory, and we shall remove him from power. After victory, I shall arrange an unfortunate 'accident' to befall Burge that will result in his death and resume my own identity and rule The Hive."

"What if there is no Hive left to rule?" I asked softly.

"What do you mean? Of course there will be a Hive. My last act as Burge will be to cede all captured Hive bases to me as Ashaandi."

"And if you do not have that power?" I queried. "If the Junta do not go along with Santiago and Burge."

"Phhhttt. They have no say in it. The Colonel has returned as far as they are aware. They know not of the existence of the chameleon actress Alexis."

"You forget one thing, Ashaandi," I said. "Santiago is a leader by sufferance. Military commanders and Spartan Base Governors and Administrators have sworn an oath of loyalty to Burge as military commander and to me as Civilian Federation Governor. That oath has not been rescinded. You need my consent to transfer the bases back to your control."

"Googlie, Googlie, you are so naïve at times. Why, I could have you killed, or I could mind control you, or I could just arrange for your capture and court-marshal for many of your recent misdeeds. Tell my why I should not?"

I held out my hat. "The vidcam has been recording everything, and sending a shortwave burst feed to Anastasia, who is encoding and relaying it to my trusted Junta colleagues. The time for vacillation is over, Ashaandi. Here's what we will do:

"We will allow the continuation of your role playing, but the battle plans and the vigorous prosecution of any war against Yang will be managed by our own generals;

"You can have the Hive throne after his toppling, but you will be subservient to Sparta. We will direct your research and you will co-operate with us in all matters;

"The three ex-Gaian seceded bases will not be returned to Hive control;

"Plex Anthill will not be returned to Hive control;

"Communal Nexus citizens will be given the choice of returning to Hive administration, remaining as a Morgan Base, or electing to be governed by the Gaians, Sparta or the PeaceKeepers;

"You will be ceded the empty continent to the west of current Hive territory for future expansion. The continent containing the landmark we refer to as Nessus Canyon.

"These are the terms under which Sparta will assist you. If you find them acceptable we will work with you for a combined victory against Yang, whom we will oust.

"If you find them unacceptable, then I will give you 18 hours to leave our controlled landmass and bases, and we will deal with Yang ourselves. What do you say?"

Ashaandi began the morphing process back into the Burge persona. When completed, he turned to me and said:

"Why my dear Googlie. I never was one to make rash decisions. You of all people know that. I'll give you my answer within nine hours. Meantime I have a war to prepare."

His wave of the hand dismissed me.

"Ashaandi," I said softly as I was leaving.

He turned from the desk back to me:

"Yes?"

Our generals," I said, and left the room.


[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited October 02, 1999).]

[Rynn]

Kurt and Shauna went below to find the cabin that housed Sand.

They had discussed ad nauseam the offer made to them to join the Circle, and decided to go for it. The belief system that they had counted some adherents in The Leaders' Horde and Great Clustering, but they and any contacts they had made there had not heard of any adherents in other factions. So there was no guarantee of a welcome or of freedom of religion with any other faction.

Accordingly the offer made by Sand held substantial appeal.

They were challenged by a guard as they neared the cabin, but Sand was expecting them so they were admitted to the room.

Sand was propped up on a bunk, with the severe bandaging that they had seen when he was led aboard largely removed. Synthskin patches covered the worst of the burns, and medpacks were attached to both his hands.

He looked pleased to see them and invited them to sit.

"Let me tell you about the Circle of Ashaandi.

"We were started many years ago, by Haarand Ashaandi, who was a close friend of Chairman Yang. Haarand was the iron fist to yang's velvet glove, and was the scourge of enemies of the Hive. He specialized in assassinations, as did we all in the early days.

"He is an empath of extraordinary power, and a chameleon to boot. The strongest of us all. We were drawn to him originally by the sheer brilliance of his mind, and the clarity of his vision.

"But we have evolved since those early days. We have split with Yang, as we have grown tired of his megalomania. He is intent on dominating planet and its factions. The Circle has vowed to remove him from power and replace him with Haarand Ashaandi himself.

"The agenda we follow is to remain dedicated to security and control, but with a human face. The rights of the individual will be respected - the right to worship, which I know appeals to you both; the right to live life to the fullest, marry the one you love, and raise your children in an atmosphere of tolerance and forbearance.

"There are elements in our society who need to be controlled. We have an abnormal number of drones relative to other factions, and they need prodding from time to time to understand and follow the vision mapped out for them. There are unruly elements too. The society Yang has fostered leaves unrest just below the surface, witness the secession to the Morganites recently of four Hive bases.

"That is why we need empaths in the Circle. And you are two of the best. Ashaandi is aware of you and has been watching you. We have been protecting you, in the background.

"Now you are ready to join this elite Circle. And you have expressed the desire to do so. This is correct?"

Kurt and Shauna both nodded their assent.

"Then swear after me:

"I pledge my life to Haarand Ashaandi and the Circle of Ashaandi. I undertake to uphold the tenets of the Circle and without reservation pledge my allegiance to the Circle. I will never close my mind to members of the Circle, and at all times I will put the interests of the Circle before any other interests, including my own life. This I do solemnly swear."

Kurt repeated the oath, then looked over to Shauna.

Tears filled her eyes.

"I can't swear that oath," she said.

Sand's brow darkened, and Kurt looked at her with a hurt expression.

"Why not?" he asked.

"I have pledged my life to Our Blessed Redeemer," she said. "I cannot pledge to another. I am excited about the direction the Circle wants to take the Hive, but I cannot swear that oath. I'm sorry, Kurt."

She hung her head as the tears flowed.

Sand's voice was icy:

"Go, then. If you have not the heart nor the stomach for the fight that lies ahead, we do not want you contaminating us."

Shauna looked over at Kurt, who sat expressionless, immobile as a stone. She blinked back her tears, and opened the cabin door. With one anguished backward look at Kurt, she left.

"Was that necessary?" Kurt asked. Could you not keep her in the Circle without the oath?"

"And have us doubt her commitment to the cause? When your life is endangered, do you not want the secure knowledge that your colleague is one of us?"

"I guess so," said Kurt. "But I love that girl."

The pain in Kurt's mind was instantaneous and excruciating. He looked glassy eyed at Sand, dimly aware that this was the source, and clumsily tried to erect neural barriers to stave off the waves of psi-energy that were washing over him.

Through his pain he heard Sand's voice, as if in a whisper over the roaring of an ocean's waves:

"The Circle of Ashaandi does not allow love, Kurt. Love is a weakness, a distraction from your duty. You are now a member of one of the most elite organizations on planet. You can take her anytime you want. There are no repercussions for a member of the Circle of Ashaandi. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I guess so," he said again.

The pain eased.

"Good," said Sand.

"Now I will give you your first order as a new member. Are you ready? Do you remember your oath?"

"Yes," said Kurt, now all eagerness. An assignment that would further the vision of Haarand Ashaandi, and hasten the demise of the vile Yang. "I'm ready."

"Go to your woman. Enjoy yourself one last time with her, and say your goodbyes."

Kurt nodded. "I see the need for that."

"And kill her."

[Googlie]

I left Burge/Ashaandi at the new Command center and walked back with Anastasia to the Spartan Air Command Headquarters. I needed to spend some time with Alexis to prep her for her next few days. And I also wanted to spend time with Alfredo.

Alexis/Santiago was flipping through some messages on her commlink.

"Alexis, we need to talk," I said.

She powered down the commlink and turned to me, listening.

"Alexis, I have told Ashaandi that Sparta will co-operate with him under certain circumstances. We will work together to effect the downfall of Yang. He will, as you know, take over the reins of government in the Hive. I have set certain conditions under which Sparta will find that acceptable.

"You are now, again, my responsibility, and will act as my mouthpiece, giving legitimacy, as Santiago, to my commands. Ashaandi/Burge will remain in nominal command of the armed forces, but the first thing you need to do is to rescind the Civil Liberties Limitation decree of a few weeks ago and restore democracy to our people. You will release your junta members and Governors and Administrators from their personal oath. I'll write you a short speech to that effect.

"You will also announce that you are taking a more constitutional position as Head of State, and that civilian government will be headed by me, as your Prime Minister. I'll write that for you too. Of course, we will announce elections to be held at a suitable time in the future when the threat from Yang has diminished.

"Once the new Command Center has been furnished, we will move the government there. Ashaandi/Burge will also be there, but there are some modifications to the building that I will institute. He will be on a different floor from you and me.

"And, of course, we will bend every effort to locate the real Santiago without alarming too many of our people.

"Now can you bring me up-to-date on what's happening diplomatically?"

Alexis flicked back on the commlink video feed, and the console at the end of the table came to life.

"One thing you should see," she said, activating Michael Forster's message.

"Hmmm," I said. "Salvaging the Unity fusion core. That's more than we can handle ourselves. It'd need support from Morgan and Lal, if not Yang as well to make it happen. Alexis, we need to call a Planetary Council meeting.

"It's a good time to do it, because technically we're in a truce with Yang right now. There'll be two agenda items:

New elections for Planetary Governor, and
Salvage the Unity Fusion core.

"Lal will run against you for Governor, but will only muster his own 176 votes and perhaps Yang's 103, giving him 279.

"We need to garner the rest - our own 180, Morgan's 92 votes and Deirdre's 9, giving us 281.

"We couldn't have done it before the Hive secessions - Lal and Yang together then would have tallied 308 versus our 248.

"You contact CEO Morgan and I'll call Deirdre immediately to secure their votes, then we'll convene Council."

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

"Scotty, how dashing you look. The Tanks have really given you a makeover. If I didn't know better I'd think it was Ian I was talking to."

That brought me up short. I hadn't considered that - not that I had had much choice in the early emergence from the tanks, but now I had an age and appearance only a handful of years older than my own son. Weird science indeed.

"Dee - or should I say Lady Skye?" I jokingly asked of the mature woman who had once been my lover these many years ago on old Earth.

"Enough," she retorted. "Get on with it."

"Dee, we need your vote at an upcoming Council meeting on two issues."

"What about?"

"Electing Planetary Governor."

"I see, and how would you like me to vote?" she asked playfully.

"For Santiago," I replied.

"But Santiago is AWOL," she said. "For Alexis, you mean. And that means for you. Am I right?"

"Put that way, yes. For Sparta, then."

"And if I refuse?"

"Well we'll just have to withdraw our Gaian Guarantee from the table, then, and leave you to the mercy of Yang or Morgan," I replied.

We both knew that this was a ritual dance; that she would vote for Sparta and that we would no more lift our guarantee as attack Velvetgrass Point ourselves.

"Why my dear Scotty, of course I will cast my vote for the Colonel. Now what was the other issue?"

"Our space scientists believe that they have detected the hulk of the Unity, and that it's fusion drive core contains significant energy reserves, in the order of magnitude of 3500 energy credits in total. We are going to propose mounting a mission to salvage that core, but the immensity and enormity of the task is greater than our resources alone can handle. We are going to propose a joint venture among our five factions. We would ask a commitment from each, perhaps relative to each faction's Council votes, with a distribution of the energy credits on the same basis."

"Scott, if we are to be part of this venture, then we will demand an equal share in the gain."

"Well, Dee, you must also be prepared to assume an equal share of the investment - credits, materiel and manpower."

"You know we are neither as technologically advanced as you four, nor as populous. But I accept that condition. We will fund our share, and we will commence the conditioning of some of our mindworm core for space duties."

I wondered just how much a 200 foot long mindworm weighed, and how astronauts would feel having one or two along.

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

CEO Morgan's commlink beeped.

"Morgan here."

His aide's face looked at him from the screen.

"I have Colonel Santiago wishing to speak to you again, Sir.'

"Then put her on, put her on, we can't keep a pactsister waiting can we?"

"Colonel, how pleasant to talk with again so soon. What can I do for you? Has the Chairman given you any response yet?"

"No, none as yet. I imagine he is cloistered with his advisors at this moment. But that is not why I called, CEO Morgan."

"Then pray tell me why," he purred, his mind going into overdrive as he readied himself to see how he could derive a negotiated edge from the about to be divulged reason for the call.

"CEO, I need your vote at an upcoming Council meeting."

"What about?"

"Electing Planetary Governor."

"I see, and how would you like me to vote?" he inquired. "The two candidates will be Lal and yourself, I imagine."

"For me," she replied.

"And if I refuse - if I abstain or vote for Lal?"

"Then I shall denounce this Pact of Brotherhood null and void. If I cannot depend on the support of a Pact Brother in so important an issue, then on what can I depend? And remember, Yang has not replied to my ultimatum. It can still be taken off the table."

Morgan flinched. Alone against Yang? That was unthinkable.

"Why my dear Colonel, of course you have my support. I was simply doing what I always do - exploring the alternatives. There is no question but that we will support our Pact Sister."

"Thank you, CEO Morgan. I knew that our plans would converge," Santiago said sweetly. "I will convene the Planetary Council within the hour."

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

"Splendid," I said, sitting in the shadows out of sight of the commlink vidcam. "We have it by two votes whatever Yang does. Let's get ready for the Council meeting. You'll need some preliminary numbers for the unity project. We should ask for a contribution of 50 credits from each faction to seed the project. I'll get Anastasia to liaise with Forster.

We sat down to do some serious planning.

[Googlie]

Within the hour of the conversations with CEO Morgan and the Lady Deirdre Skye the, new boardroom at the Command Center had been prepared by Octavio and Anastasia. There were two hours left on Ashaandi's timelimit to get back to Googlie with his answer, and four hours to go on the ultimatum to Yang.

Octavio himself was manning the console controls, and Santiago was sitting at the head of the table, her face and shoulders captured by the vidcam for the networked commlinks.

One by one the other faction leaders were brought on line, and their faces appeared side by side spanning the breadth of the vidscreen taking up one wall of the boardroom. Yang was impassive, and it would be hard to tell that there was any animosity at all between he and the Colonel.

They looked expectantly at Santiago. Her hair was arranged to obscure a tiny earpiece that fit her left ear. I had a throatmike attached so that I could prompt her without being heard or without the others being aware that Alexis was being coached.

"I have called this meeting of the Planetary Council to vote for the position of Planetary Governor. According to the informal rules we agreed to at the unity's dying moments, and as I see it, thewre are two candidates for this position.

"As of this afternoon, I command 180 council votes, and you, Dr. Lal, command 176 votes. We are the two candidates for election. Do you all concur?"

All four heads on the screen nodded their agreement.

"I will start the voting. I nominate myself as Planetary Governor, and I so vote.

"How do you vote, Commissioner Lal?"

"I, of course, nominate myself as Planetary Governor, and I so vote."

The graphics illuminated, with the picture of the two faction leaders, and their tallies:

Santiago….180: Lal….176.

"Lady Dierdre, how do you vote?" asked the Colonel.

"I cast my votes for Colonel Santiago," was her response.

The graphics moved:

Santiago….189: Lal….176.

"Chairman Yang, how do you vote?"

"Surely my dear Colonel Santiago you could have just entered the tally without asking? You know I would sooner be dead than see you as Planetary Governor."

"We can arrange that," Santiago murmured, just loud enough for the faction leaders to hear. One or two sported broad grins.

"I cast my votes for Commissioner Lal."

The graphics moved.

Santiago….189: Lal….279

"CEO Morgan, how do you vote?"

All waited expectantly. Most knew that the break up of the pact between the Hive and the Morganites was recent, and that Yang was squirming under an ultimatum from Sparta. But many expected Morgan to vote with Yang, for Lal, or at least to abstain.

"I cast my votes for Colonel Santiago."

The graphics changed again:

Santiago….281: Lal….279.

Winner Santiago:::Winner Santiago:::Winner Santiago

The banner headlines rushed over the screen superimposed over the graphics.

"I declare the vote over, and that I am duly elected Planetary Governor in the year 2225. The next vote cannot be held until the year 2245. Octavio, my aide, will be in touch with each of your offices to arrange for the necessary transmittal of documents and records for the governship."

There was a shuffling from three of the four other faction leaders as they prepared to exit the Council meeting. Lady Deirdre Skye sat content in her lounge at Velvetgrass Point.

"One other issue," said the colonel. The shuffling ceased and they looked expectantly at Santiago.

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

"Analysts in our space division have reported an anomaly on the outer periphery of our orbit of Alpha Prime. Upon further investigation they have confirmed that it is the derelict space vessel Unity, now orbiting our own sun. They have made some calculations and have deduced that the energy banks on the Unity contain the equivalent of 3,500 energy credits.

"I propose a motion that collectively we mount an expedition to salvage the fusion core of the Unity. Preliminary estimates are that we would need to expend between 250 and 500 credits to accomplish this, not accounting for the necessary technical knowledge and launch and support systems. This leads us to believe that it is outwith the ability of any one faction to accomplish it.

"Accordingly I propose Planet's first co-operative venture - one that links us to our past and yet holds out promise of richness for our future. The crew will be multifactional, the launch site guaranteed as an open city by the faction supplying the facility, and the rewards will be commensurate to our investment.

"I propose that we fund the project with initial seed credits of 250, with each of our five factions contributing an equal share, and all sharing equally in the rewards obtained from salvaging the fusion core.

"Do I have a second, and how do you vote?"

There was a moment's pause, then Chairman Yang spoke:

"Much as it grieves me personally to side with you in anything, my dear Colonel, I find myself agreeing with this proposal, as it makes so much sense. I second this proposal and the Hive will suppl the launch site for the venture."

Lady Deirdre Skye spoke next:

"I too support the venture. Although we are poor in credits, we are rich in the possession of an adventuring spirit. We will supply what we are asked for, but I will commit two of my ablest mindworms to accompany the crew to space as a defense against any hostile alien lifeforms that may be there and that may employ psi-weaponry."

Commissioner Lal spoke up:

"I too support the venture, particularly if the Unity itself can be brought into Chiron's orbit. The ideals of the United nations have foundered on this lonely planet, and we all need a reminder of our lofty goals these many years ago, and what better reminder than the Unity that was launched in so much hope. Besides, the energy should not go to waste."

"We have a majority," said the Colonel. "CEO Morgan, do you wish to make it unanimous?"

"Colonel Santiago, you are extremely devious, and dangerous too, might I add.

"No, I do not support this venture. We have together worked extremely hard to develop a planetary economic model that is working well, based on trade between our bases and on the extraction and utilization of minerals, energy and nutrients from this planet. To introduce at this time, in this fashion, a random element of 700 credits to each faction will disrupt planetary economics for years to come. I am vehemently opposed."

"Your opposition is noted, CEO Morgan, but the motion is passed. For the other faction leaders, our investment will be higher than we anticipated, absent CEO Morgan, but of course the reward will be commensurately greater."

"Now just hold your horses, Colonel. I said I was vehemently opposed, but if the mission is proceeding anyway, then I am in. You cannot cut me out of this windfall so easily."

"Then let it be recorded that the vote was unanimous," said Santiago.

"Michael Forster, who heads our Spartan Space Program, will lead this mission. Will each of you please second a senior representative to the mission? It needs repeating that this co-operative project supersedes any and all pacts, treaties and vendettas, and that the team, its facilities and support and supplies are to be treated as inviolate. Do we all agree?"

All nodded their agreement.

"Then I declare this Council meeting over."

The screens went dead.

Googlie rose to his feet, and went up to Alexis, and gave her a celebratory hug.

"You did well," he said to the talented chameleon actress. Now we just have Yang to face down. We need to turn up the screws on him. And we can't let the mission operate out of one of his bases. Unless it's Communal Nexus, the one that seceded to Morgan. That'll stop him from attacking it. Let's build that into our plans."

"You are devious," Alexis said.

"I know," replied Googlie. "I love it."

[Rynn]

Kurt wandered the ship for what seemed like hours, putting off the inevitable.

It was about half way on its journey from Great Clustering to Ruby Ridge Memorial, and the seas were calm in the channel between the two landmasses.

But he could delay no longer, and he returned to the cabin he shared with Shauna for the journey.

She had been weeping, but the tears had abated, and she had found solace in the Conclave Bible she now had full access to through her commlink uplink.

She looked up as he entered.

"Oh, Kurt, what have we done?" she asked.

"Ssshh," he replied. "Let's not talk about it."

He sat down on the cot beside her, put his arm around her shoulders, and drew her to him.

Shauna partially resisted, then yielded, and let herself be drawn to him.

He muzzled his face in her hair.

"Shauna, I love you. You know that," he said huskily.

"I know," she sighed. "It's so hard at times."

"So, you won't be a member of the Circle, and I will. That's not too difficult a concept, is it?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

"It's primarily a political movement, and its goals are ones that I subscribe to - and you," he continued. "Except you have pledged your soul to another, and I haven't. I am a believer by conviction that this is a way of life I want to follow. You are a believer through faith that this is the way of salvation. We're not so different."

"Oh, Kurt, I wish it were that easy," Shauna said.

"It is," he said, bringing her face round to his, so that their lips met.

Shauna lay on her back on the cot as Kurt undressed her, releasing the tiny clasps that held her synthcotton blouse on and slowly removing it, savoring her body. He ran his hands over the swell of her breasts as she arched her back to seek out his lips again with hers.

Deep down, she knew that this was going to be the last time that they made love. Their paths would separate and they would go their different ways, serving oh so different masters. She was determined to make it memorable.

She pulled his sweater over his head, then reached round to unfasten her bra.

His lips hungrily moved down her neck to seek out her nipples, exciting her, and bringing them erect as his tongue flicked round them.

They made love slowly, sensuously, and they climaxed together the first time.

Then she gave him that special treat that he craved so often and made love to him with her mouth, bringing him to the brink, then mounting him and finally collapsing, spent, on his chest.

He rolled her gently on to her back, and said "You do trust me, Shauna?"

She looked up at him with such love in her eyes that his misted over.

"I'd do anything for you, Kurt. What do you want?"

He reached down and brought up two lengths of twine, and raised her hands above her head and tied them to a bracket holding a shelf above the cot. Shauna squirmed sensuously underneath him.

"Oooh," she said, looking at him with adoration in her eyes.

Kurt was anguished.

He knew what he had to do to prove himself to the Circle, but this was the woman he loved.

But he had given them his oath.

His eyes misted over again, and misinterpreting it Shauna said, "Oh, Kurt, I love you too. I love you so much."

His eyes filled with tears as he reached down and picked up the synthsteel knife.

"I love you, too, Shauna," he said through his tears.

She looked at him with such faith, such adoration, hungrily taking him in as if she wanted to remember every second of their last lovemaking before they went their separate ways.

Through his tears her face was a blur, but he brought the knife up to her throat and as she looked so trustingly yet questioningly at him and mouthing the word "Kurt?' he commenced the stroke of the blade across her throat.

And his arm and hand were paralyzed, and the screaming in his mind was so intense that he screamed with pain.

"What is it Kurt? What are you doing?" Shauna asked, growing hysterical as she saw the knife poised at her throat.

The voice was in his head:

"You have passed the test, my Kurt. The Circle welcomes you as a full member. You have shown your devotion to us.

You need not kill Shauna. Ashaandi has need of her, although she will not join us. And she is carrying your child. She needs to be protected.

Put down the knife and comfort her, as she is confused and terrified."

The pain and the screaming in his head subsided, and he put the knife down and untied Shauna, and collapsed into her arms.

"Oh, sweetheart, they wanted me to kill you, as a test of my loyalty to them. But Sand stopped me just as I was about to. Said I had proved my loyalty by being prepared to go through with it." He was weeping uncontrollably.

Shauna held him tight.

"Just like Abraham and Isaac," she whispered.

"Huh?" he asked through his tears.

"SShhh, never mind. It's a long story," she replied.

He raised himself on to his elbows.

"And Sand said you are pregnant," he said, looking down on her with love and compassion.

"Yes," she replied. "You are going to be a father."

That set off even more sobs, but this time of joy, and Shauna joined in.

[This message has been edited by Rynn (edited October 04, 1999).]

[Velociryx]

Ashaandi paced and brooded. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on his brow. He shook visibly as he walked, and his concentration wavered, causing him to morph uncontrollably. His features flitting almost at random over the countless people he had impersonated over the years. An Empath scanning him would read only seething chaos and madness. No coherent thought patterns at all.

It was actually a dangerous thing to do, to tempt the chaos, but he saw it as a good way to test himself. A good way to stay sharp. Besides, was it any surprise if life had left him somewhat jaded? Different people coped with that in different ways, but it had turned him into an adrenaline junkie. Tempting fate and pushing the envelope was….exciting. It always left him a little rattled afterwards, though. So he could only do it in relative privacy. This was one of those times.

He smiled, savoring the chaos for a several moments, and then finally, almost reluctantly, letting it pass.

When he did, his features settled on a completely bald man with serene eyes. A monk. He used to remember the man’s name. Had remembered it, on the day he killed him.

He wanted to laugh. Now, he could recall neither the man’s name nor why he had died. A pity.

Then suddenly, reveling in his morphing and chameleon talents, he was Burge again. Crusty old warhorse…..not a bad fellow, but he certainly had a knack for getting in the way.

Ashaandi smirked.

Not that he’d have that particular problem in the future.

Control.

That was what was required here.

Exquisite control. For just a little while longer.

Hit Yang fast and hard with the combined forces of the Morganites, Spartans, and Gaians. Rid the planet of him once and for all, and then implement his new order over the remains. Rebuild it. Make it as dark and wonderful and beautiful as his senses could stand.

Oh yes. There would be freedoms for those inside the inner circle. Wild, lavish, orgies of sensory assault that could last for days. As much (or as little) as a man or woman could imagine.

And for the common man, those further removed from Ashaandi’s Inner Circle, there would be an unusual degree of freedom as well, at least by the standards the drones were used to. Yang was a paranoid fool. He did not realize the power of a small taste of freedom. He feared it, because he feared his ability to control it, but Ashaandi knew. He knew very well, and that was why he had been so effective as Yang’s invisible second. His gauntleted fist.

There were no citizens alive in Hive lands that did not fear the Black Squadrons. Men under Ashaandi’s direct command who stole quietly into districts where dissenters lived spirited entire families away to secret locations without a word of explanation. And the Squadrons would continue their efforts when he was in power. They would cement his position.

He smiled.

Dissenters and those who would challenge his rule would be dealt with and dealt with decisively. They would be made an example of.

And yes, much as it chaffed him, he would abide by Governor Allardyce’s “conditions,” though they bordered on the criminal.

When he was in power….when he “suggested” passing his continental zoning initiative…..then he would deal with the arrogant Spartans.

Ashaandi had lived a long, long time. He had been playing the most dangerous of games for far longer than 80% of Chiron’s population had been alive. He knew ways of killing and torturing that people only dreamed, and these visions soothed him. They kept his anger in check.

Control.

He sat at Burge’s desk and tapped a few keys on the Comm-Pad.

Googlie was out, but that was well enough. A simple message would do.

“Googlie, you old cuss, it’s Burge….I accept.”

He clicked off, satisfied, and then let his mind turn once again to the future. Specifically, to what the future held for any who might try and defy him.

The unfaithful.

For them, there would be only…..pain. In quantities and ways that staggered the imagination. He closed his eyes and imagined the sounds of their screaming. So beautiful. A chorus of voices announcing his mastery over them.

That imagined sound ringing in his ears, a slight trace of a smile on his lips, Harrand Ashaandi napped.

And plotted.