The Spartan Chronicles - Continued

[Velociryx]

-=Vel=-
[This message has been edited by Velociryx (edited October 21, 1999).]

[korn469]

Spartan Federation Capital Building
Sparta Command
17:28 hours SMT

Googlie walked in with Maria and Major Javed flanking him. There was a murmur coming from the stand, each Junta member had was allowed two aides by Burge, and a few soldiers milled around. Googlie looked around and saw many familiar faces, some smiled at him, other waved, Honshu stared at him gravely. It was almost time for the trial to begin, and Field Marshal Gavin Burge strode to the podium. He looked around, took a sip of water and started.

"Friends, members of the Junta, citizens of Sparta today a crisis has forced me to take drastic measures to save the Federation." He was about to continue when a loud murmur ran through the cavernous room. All eyes focused on the entrance behind him, and he reflexively turned to see what the commotion was about. Standing there in the doorway was an ancient looking old man. Slung around his waist was a portable respirator and some other medical device. His eyes were shut and most likely he was blind. His skin was wrinkled and covered with liver spots. He was hunched over and could barely walk but his presence electrified the room. Although it looked like he was going to fall, he gathered strength and made his way to the podium. Ashaandi without realizing why took a step back and let the man step up to the podium. He had no idea who this horrid looking man was but he did have an aura about him. The room had suddenly grown loud with whispering. He leaned forward to speak, and the room immediately became silent.

"If you are not a member of the Junta leave us. This is a matter for the Junta to decide on." There was more mumuring and some confusion. Then he spoke again, louder this time, his voice oozing with authority. "If you are not a member of the Junta, leave us. This is business for the Junta to decide on. Everyone leave now. Lock the doors until we tell you to open them. The Junta is in session." He picked up the old ceremonial terran sword and banged the hilt on the podium in the prescribed mannor. It was the first time the Junta had been in session in nearly fifty years. The aides and soldiers looked around then slowly filed out of the room. Major Javed looked at Googlie, then shook his hand, barely whispering the words 'good luck' then he left, with guards from the outside sealing the door shut.

"Gather around me, I have problems hearing." He commanded. Slowly the entire Junta formed a semi-circle around the ancient man. When they were all close around him, he spoke again. "Where is Santiago?"

"Dead." Burge immediately answered.

"Who is this man?" he demanded. "He is not one of us." he said his voice full of contempt.

"I am Gavin Burge," said Ashaandi indignantly, taking offense to this relic's accusations. The question was who was he? "don't you recognize me?"

"No. I do not know you. Gavin Burge was not a telepath." He said it with finality. Ashaandi reached out to mentally attack this feeble old man when he encounter some of the strongest mental defenses he had ever came across. Now he knew this man. It was Xavier Bisset. Yet how could that be? Ashaandi had heard this man had died many years ago.

_____________________________________________

Out of the fourteen thousand Spartan colonists that landed on planet fifty-one of them, including Colonel Santiago, came together to form a ruling body that later became known simply as the Junta. Now all these years later the Junta was a shadow of its former size. Not counting Burge, there were seventeen Junta members. Five of them were missing. Colonel Santiago, Salvador St. James, Lord Atrieus, Rice Aguilera, and Hiro Mitsugawa.

The first four years had been the hardest years. The alien atmosphere and pathogens native to Chiron claimed many lives including members of the Junta. Until those early colonists gained a better understanding of Chiron's complicated ecosystem there were food shortages, and this caused many drone riots. At Sparta's second base, Centurion Cave, those drone riot's lead to a revolt in which for a short time insurgents gained control of the city and they executed Charles Bauer, the first member of the Junta to die by violence.

In the Spartan Federation’s early years, many members of the Junta personally lead the troops. However, as most of them died heroically in combat the other members for the most part soon became staff officers and commanded their troops from a safe distance. Then age started to catch up with them. Many of the elder members of the Junta died off, subcoming to medical complications, but the Federation was growing at a rapid pace.

From the start Xavier Bisset, though the third youngest member of the Junta, was a natural leader. All of the members of the Junta were leaders, but Bisset excelled, highly decorated in combat, a great organizer, and somebody that the other Junta members looked up to. He was second only to Santiago, she was the visionary, the soul of the Spartan Federation; he was a natural leader and she tapped him as her heir apparent. As the younger members of the Junta grew old, doctors soon became adept at fending off time's ravages until they could slow the aging process to a stand still.

Yet, with Xavier the treatments didn't work. The official term for it was, he was 'unresponsive to therapy' and he aged. This was the dark secret in rejuvenation therapy, a small percentage of people didn't respond to therapy, and they aged at a normal rate. The official line was that rejuvenation was one hundred percent effective. Nearing the end of his life, this hero of Sparta and respected comrade amongst the Junta was put into cyro statis in a salvaged cyrotube from a unity pod. The doctors hoped that in time they with better medical procedures they could bring him out of his cyrofreeze and then rejuvenate him. The rest of the Junta went on, and then medical advances not only stopped the aging process, but it reversed it.

Without the fear of dying from natural causes the Junta then became the most exclusive organization in the Spartan Federation, talk of including new members died out. As the Junta grew smaller the Federation grew larger, eventually it became too unwieldy for the Junta to effectively manage, and they turned power over to various organs of the state. All still held high positions in the government, and Santiago was still the undisputed ruler of the Federation, but some new blood came in.

The Spartan Federation had an unspoken form of discrimination, if an equally qualified lander and a native (or indig as some of the landers called them) came up for a position the lander would always get it. There was a ceiling on just how far a nonlander could raise in the chain of command. Many times a less qualified lander would get the promotion, or retain their position even if a native would do a better job. This boiled over into rage and finally the Junta gave into the people's urging for freedom. The Spartan Federation became a democracy, yet all of the Junta members received lifelong seats in the senate. After all of those years they still held great power, and the new regime didn't force out any of the landers in military power, it just created a huge beurocracy to manage it.

The members of the Junta were the best the Spartan Federation had to offer. Over the years most accumulated a number of positions, and Junta members unlike other officials could hold more than one position. Harel Alibek was the most blatant of these accumulating various positions in various departments; he had so many positions that he actually had to report to himself on the record at times. Others became reckless, and even requested frontline combat duty. Still others, took sabbaticals and leaves of absences that had lasted for decades.

In all of the years, only two members of the Junta lost their position as on the Junta. Rice Aguilera was still considered a Junta member, once a Junta member you were always a Junta member, but she was no longer an active participant in the Junta. She was the first and only member ever to resign. She did so after becoming a strict pacifist and she went on to found her own vision of Sparta in Pointa Sur, before retiring. She had not been heard of since the attack an on Pointa Sur. Most likely she was dead.

Amos Cornell also lost his position in the Junta for conspiring to overthrow Colonel Santiago. He led an assault on the original Sparta Federation Command Bunker seizing it and then declaring himself ruler of the Spartan Federation. For eighteen hours he ruled the Spartan Federation. Colonel Santiago personally led the assault on the bunker and crushed his short-lived rebellion. However, she almost died from a wound in that battle, and to this day she had a exit wound scar from an impact rifle slug in the middle of her back. After crushing his rebellion the Junta posthumously charged him with treason, and tried him. The aging Xavier Bisset was the presiding magistrate of the Junta and found him guilty.

Now all of these years later they brought him out of his cyrosleep to oversee another treason trial amongst his comrades.
[This message has been edited by korn469 (edited October 21, 1999).]

[Velociryx]

“It’s the witching hour again, and I want to start off this broadcast by saying that this might be my last night with you….”

Silvermane drew in a deep breath and clutched the microphone more tightly. “It’s not that I want to give this up….I don’t….but they’re on to me. I have it on good authority that, even now, they are in the process of tracing this signal to it’s point of origin, and when they do that, they will send men for me….I will keep transmitting as long as I can….I wish I could tell you how long this broadcast will be, and I wish like Hell that you guys could call me….let me know you’re out there listening….knowing that there were at least a few of you would make all this a lot easier…..as it stands….I might be putting my head in the hangman’s noose for nothing…..”

He sighed heavily. It was true. He had no way to be sure if anyone but the authorities were hearing him at all. There was no doubt that they were listening. He believed Ashaandi. They would be coming, and it would not take them long.

He would have been a fool not to be afraid. Yang took a dim view of dissension, and independent thought, for that matter.

No, when they found him, it would not go well.

Might as well enjoy this one last broadcast then.

He actually managed a smile, and did just that.

&&&

“We got him sir!” The young tech was bubbling with excitement. "The Hunter-Seeker zeroed in on him!"

“Excellent.” Liu said emptily. “Transmit the coordinates directly to Chairman Yang, per his request.”

“Sir, yes sir!” The tech nearly shouted.

Liu sighed. If it was so “excellent,” then why didn’t it feel that way?

&&&

It took them the better part of an hour to arrive, and he heard their approach long before he saw them.

In the distance, there was gunfire. Some unruly drone must have gotten too close to one of the troopers assigned to haul him away.

Shoot first, ask questions later. How typically Hivean.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I believe the end is near. I have just heard gunfire not far from my location and….”

There was a pounding at his flimsy door.

He ignored it.

“Yes….no doubt about it. They’re here…..at least they had the good manners to knock first, but I don’t think….”

More pounding.

“Seems they’re getting impatient. Not that I intend to get up and invite the bastards in….if they want me they’ll have to blast their way in.”

Less than three seconds later, they did just that.

A muffled blast followed by a concussive wave which tossed him from his chair and collapsed the table his transmitting equipment was sitting on.

Amazingly, the radio still worked. He was live.

He shook his head to clear it and reached for the microphone again, even as the first of the four troopers entered his Hab-Cell.

“They’re here, folks, and I….”

“Silvermane. Ronald Stone. By order of Chairman Sheng-Ji Yang of the Hive, I command you to cease this seditious transmission and come with us for questioning.”

“Questioning?” Silvermane said into the microphone. “You mean torture, don’t you? Isn’t that what you good little Nazi’s do to anybody who doesn’t agree with you’re Master’s policies and….”

The transmission ended abruptly with the chatter of gunfire, and Silvermane’s show went off the air.

&&&

Some distance away, Chairman Sheng-Ji Yang smiled.

&&&

Ashaandi punched in the alert code and waited.

Once more, Draekin, master of efficiency, did not keep him waiting long.

“My Master.” He said simply.

“I need to be in two places at once….the trial is in recess just now, but I certainly don’t have the time to fly back home to do some dirty work for the Chairman. Drop your Psi-Defenses.”

There was a momentary flicker of hesitation from the other man.

“That was not a request, Draekin. And do not think for a moment that I could not melt every neural connection in your brain with only half my essence.”

“As you wish, My Master.”

Draekin’s psi-defenses fell away.

“Forgive me, my loyal Lieutenant…..I do not do this lightly….but you are the only other member of the Circle who can morph.”

He said nothing more before releasing a portion of his essence across the void. It took only a fraction of a second for him to find the waiting host body of Draekin, and then the span of several heartbeats to make the intricate neural connections necessary….then, he, Haraand Ashaandi was in two places at once.

It felt mildly disorienting, to be receiving sensory inputs from two bodies at the same time, but he was able to block and separate for the most part.

If he did it for any length of time, he supposed it would drive him insane, but in the short term, about all he’d suffer for his efforts was a splitting headache, and that was a small price indeed.

“Thank you, Draekin. You’re loyalty will not be forgotten….and I shall return your body to its natural state when I am finished with it.

He morphed Draekin’s body into his own likeness, and then killed the comm-connection with himself and dialed another number.

In moments, the face of Chairman Yang was staring back at him.

“I knew you would not fail to bring the rebellious Silvermane to heel, so I took it upon myself to wrap up my affairs early and get back here. I just arrived.”

Yang smiled, satisfied. “And you are just in time. The prisoner will be in custody shortly.”

“Will he be brought here?”

“No….you will go to the Great Clustering to deal with him there.”

Ashaandi nodded. God how he hated the man he was staring at. Still, he painted on a smile. “I trust we have time to begin another chess game before I depart.”

Yang beamed. “We do indeed. Meet me in my chamber as soon as possible.”

Ashaandi bowed, and Yang ended the transmission.

The moment the image faded, the assassin scowled. “Bastard. Arrogant, wiry little bastard.” He muttered. “One day, you will realize that our games of chess are symbols for something else entirely…..and by then, it will be too late.”

&&&

Ron Stone looked at the trooper in disgust. “You shot up my radio…..I can’t believe you shot up my radio.”

“Be silent! The prisoner will come with us.”

Ron studied them for a lingering moment, weighing his options. Four of them. Plasma Armor and Gatling Rifles. Stout.

He sighed and nodded. “Take me to your leader.” He muttered.

The guards surrounded him and escorted him from his Hab-Cell, then stopped abruptly.

Mr. Lee from three doors down was standing before them, blocking their way.

“One side, citizen. This is not your concern.” The lead trooper said with authority.

That’s when the chanting started, and the troopers looked around.

Mr. Lee wasn’t alone.

In fact, it seemed like nearly everyone in the district was out, in clear violation of curfew. And not all, but many, were chanting the same word.
Softly at first, but it was slowly growing louder.

“Silvermane…..Silvermane…..Silvermane…..”

Ron was stunned by the chorus of voices, and he looked at Mr. Lee with questioning eyes. The full weight of what he was seeing hit home and he realized that he did indeed have an audience. It made him happier and more proud than anything else he'd accomplished in his life. There were simply no words, and he found himself blinking back tears.

What he saw next surprised him further and spurred him into action. There was no time to dwell on his newfound discovery.

Mr. Lee, his skinny, aging neighbor, brought one of his hands up. It wasn’t even a particularly quick motion, and he seemed to lightly touch the lead soldier’s armored breastplate.

The man was knocked back toward Ron (who at least had the good sense and reflexes to dance to one side) and wound up sprawled out on the walk. What’s more, as the man was stumbling backward, Mr. Lee’s other hand snaked out and his fingers coiled around the stock of the Gatling Rifle. In the blink of an eye he was casually covering the three troopers.

“I fear I don’t know much about these rifles, but at this range, I assume they would make a mess of you….armor or no.”

Ron took advantage of the half second the soldiers spent gaping open-mouthed at Mr. Lee. He brought his left elbow back into the face of the trooper behind him. Hard.

The satisfying crunch and gurgling noise as the man tried to cry out told him all he needed to know, and he spun around, savagely ripping the rifle from the man’s hands, and then clubbing him with the business end of it.

The trooper fell over his companion, and Ron took three steps to the side, flanking his would-be captors and glancing over at Mr. Lee, who nodded reassuringly at him, and then winked.

“Your guns…..on the ground. Now.” Ron said unsteadily.

The troopers weighed their options for a moment, and then set the rifles down.

Mr. Lee opened fire, spitting death from the Gatling Rifle.

“No!” Ron shouted. But it was already too late, and when Mr. Lee’s gun fell silent, none of the four moved.

Images from the past assaulted Ron. Images of death and dying. He felt sick. Tormented. It didn't have to be this way. They were going to surrender. They....

“Mr. Lee, I told them to drop their weapons. I was going to…..why did you…..”

The older man looked at him with compassion. “You are a good man, Mister Ronald Stone…..Silvermane….but you must know that for our disobediance, these soldiers would have returned with more soldiers, and they would have rounded us all up like cattle. They could not be allowed to live.”

“When the soldiers don’t come back, they’ll come for you anyway.”

Mr. Lee shook his head. “No. They will come for you.”

He was right, Ron realized. Sick as it made him feel....it was the only way. And when more troopers came, they would be hunting him....and that was as it should be.

He bowed his head, mind turning furiously trying to come up with a plan, and finally settling on the idea to just go with it....make it up as he went along.

“Come on…..I’ll help you hide the bodies…..and keep three of the rifles. I’ll take one with me, but you will probably need the other three before this is all over.”

“Let us take them to the recycling tanks.” Lee said as he stepped toward one of the fallen soldiers.

“Good a place as any.” Ron said wearily, as he stooped to help.


[This message has been edited by Velociryx (edited October 22, 1999).]

[korn469]

The Spartan Federation Capital Building
Sparta Command
00:18 hours SMT

"Xavier if he is not Burge, then who is he?" Honshu asked cautiously.

Googlie looked at Ashaandi and almost smiled, his little game had gotten out of his hand, but now that he was cornered, would he do something desperate?

"I do not know who he is exactly, all I know is that he is a powerful telepath." Bisset slowly pulled out an old ceremonial model two laser pistol. It was a first generation weapon. In fact it was the second weapon design the Spartan created after they had landed. The first was the model one laser assault rifle. Though some garrison units stilled used laser rifles and pistols, nobody used the model one or model two anymore. There was only one model one laser rifle known to exist and it was on display at the Federation Lander's memorial. The laser pistol Bisset had was one of four model two's that existed. Santiago had one in her office she would wear for special ceremonies, and two more were on display at the Lander's memorial. Bisset now had the last one pointed at Ashaandi.

"What are you talking about Bisset? I am Gavin Burge!" Ashaandi tried one last time to deny what was obviously now clear to everyone in the Junta. He considered trying to overwhelm Bisset's mental defenses or maybe just charging and breaking the old man's neck. Yet, he wasn't sure if he could kill Bisset before Bisset could get a chance to kill him. Especially not with his concentration divided. The laser pistol he held was old, it might not even work, but Ashaandi didn't want to find out.

"He is Ashaandi." Googlie said simply.

"How do you know that?" Questioned Harel Alibek.

"Because he made a deal with me." Ashaandi seeing that his charade was up stopped mimicking Burge and returned to his natural self. That was a shocked silence and then the other member's of the Junta exploded with question and accusations. Ashaandi sat down and began to concentrate on his other task at hand.

"Silence!" Bisset's voice cut through the noise and the room fell silent. "We will speak one at a time." Maria then spoke up.

"So is Scott free to go? Is the trial over?" It was exactly what many others were thinking.

"No, it is not over. I for one want to find out what is going on, but first things first. Somebody tell the unit holding Sparta Command to stand down. Then I want you to tell me what's going on here Googlie."

_____________________________________________

The first news came from the closed session of the Junta. The 469th was to free all the soldiers it had interned, and they were to restore control of Sparta Command to its proper authorities. The curfew and communications lockdown were canceled. All roads, ports, and the Aerospace Center were to be immediately reopened. As quickly as they had seized control of Sparta Command, the 469th was just as quick in turning over control. Roadblocks and barricades started coming down, all the regular defenders of Sparta Command who had been under house arrest in their barracks were free to go, and the communication channeled opened. The flood of incoming messages soon had nearly overwhelmed the network.

_____________________________________________

Setting on the runway at the Centurion Cave Aerospace center was a small passenger plane. The pilot was watching the Morgan Financial Net, when the control tower abruptly came on interrupting his thought.

"November Alpha Charlie twelve, this is Centurion Control, you have authorization to proceed to Sparta Command, follow your flight plan, and be alert of possible heavy air traffic on your final approach to Sparta Command." said the monotone air traffic controller.

"Copy that Centurion Command." and the pilot began the take off procedure. He flipped open the comm, "Ian wake up! We finally have authorization to proceed to Sparta Command."

Ian Allardyce sat up and rubbed his bleary eyes, this was the first time he had slept since he heard about his father being arrested. As the plane took off, he looked forward to seeing his father for the first time in months, and he hoped that everything would be alright when they landed.
[This message has been edited by korn469 (edited October 22, 1999).]

[Velociryx]

They had no shortage of helpers with the project, and in less than half an hour, the bodies had been disposed of, and the blood and gore hosed from the streets. Someone had even replaced the door to Ron’s Hab-Cell and cleaned the place up.

Save for the ruined radio equipment (which was set up on a new table), no trace of the violence remained.

He looked around.

Scores and hundreds of faces peered back at him. Anxious. Waiting.

His audience. And how many more were there, in other districts and in other bases? How far had his signal actually reached?

There was no way to know, but as the enormity of it hit him, he suddenly had no idea what to say.

But that wasn’t true. As he had done from the start, he spoke from the heart.

“The bravery you have all shown here will not be forgotten. You did not have to help me tonight. You could have stayed in your beds and been good, loyal citizens….but you didn’t do that, did you?…..You choose to risk yourselves…..your friends and families, to come out and stand with an outsider….me.” There were tears in his eyes. “I do not think I am worthy of such consideration, but….thank you.” He blinked back still more tears and made eye contact with as many of them as he could. There were so many. It was almost numbing.

His listeners.

“And do not give up hope….chances are good that I will be caught…..if I am caught, you all know what will happen to me….but do not let that frighten you off…..Yang has to be made to see that we will not sit by and watch our children used to advance his twisted agenda, and we will not bow down to any government based on terror…..we will be free!” He raised his arms over his head, fists held high and defiant as he said the last, and the horde gathered around him broke out into wild cheering.

Despite the death and danger, it was the best, most wonderful feeling he had ever experienced.

&&&

“I’ve changed my mind.” Silvermane said softly, handing the Gatling Rifle over to Mr. Lee. “You keep this one as well…..I will not stoop to their level.”

“We may need to, before this is all over.” Mr. Lee told him gravely.

“No. You and the others may need to….that is not my lot. You know what mine is.”

“You will let them make a Martyr of you?”

“If I have to, yes. Gladly. If it will be the catalyst for open rebellion.”

“I cannot decide if you are very brave or very stupid, my friend.”

Ron laughed, and clapped Mr. Lee on the shoulder. “Neither can I….don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to die. But if, in dying, I can spawn a grass roots movement against Yang and his oppression…..bet your ass I’d do it.”

“Ron Stone….you have been a good neighbor….Mrs. Lee and I will miss you.”

The big man nodded. “I’ll miss you too, Mr. Lee…..Mrs. Lee….you be safe….don’t take any unnecessary chances, but don’t ever let them walk over you again.”

“I believe we have turned that corner already.” Mr. Lee told him.

And he was not wrong.

One final look at them, and Ron turned and ran off to the shadows. It would be a long night.

&&&

In fact, he did not sleep at all.

Kept moving and avoiding the night patrols, slowly making his way to the Creche.

They would come for him sooner or later, of course, but they might not stake it out right away, thinking that he would no better than to even try to go there.

Hiding in plain sight.

He smiled as he let himself in.

Sat down at his desk without turning on the light.

And waited.

&&&

His assistant Veronica did not show up. Nor did she call.

Ron took that as a bad sign indeed, but everything was already in motion, and had gained its own inertia. There was little to be done but see what the day would bring.

The parents began bringing their children in at 5:30 in the morning, just like always. But there was a different feel to it this morning.

Many of the parents made it a point to catch his eye and give him a knowing nod. Some even offered up a tentative smile, two things which were rare indeed in The Hive.

They knew.

Not all of them, but a great many.

Apparently, his message had reached out to more people than he had thought.

Kira Tolliver arrived at about ten minutes after six, and by the time she got there, the room was beginning to get full.

“Kira. You lead the children into the recreation area, and watch over them….I will be along shortly. Just want to put a holo up to let the parents know just to bring the children on back.”

“Where is Ms. Veronica?”

Ron shook his head, and put his hand on hers. “I don’t know, little lady….wish I did….I’m worried about her.”

“I think she listened to you on the radio last night.” Kira said gravely, meeting his eye. “I listened to you too….with my mom and dad….just like we do every night.”

Ron blinked at her. “You….”

“My mom says you’re the voice of hope, and that we’re lucky you’re here.”

For a moment, he completely forgot that he was speaking to a child. She certainly didn’t seem it right then. Those eyes….so mature….so wise and knowing. And even her voice had seemed deeper.

And then she smiled at him and bounced off to gather the other children and take them back.

He shook it off.

Surely it had just been his imagination.

Surely.

&&&

Ron set up the holo explaining that his assistant was out, and if any more parents came in, just to bring them on back, then he went to join his charges.

Not as many as usual, he noted, and it was not unreasonable to assume that some of the parents had elected to keep their children away….especially considering that so much of the base knew….

It still amazed him, and all morning as he watched over the children, his mind kept wandering back over that. So many people…..

He lost himself in thought for a while, aware of his surroundings, but not consciously aware of the passage of time.

At least, not until he heard movement in the front of the Creche.

His time was up.

He knew it before he even saw who it was.

The door opened.

Ashaandi, and six of his black clad minions.

Kira saw him immediately, and squealed delightedly. “You came back! I knew you would!” She said between her laughter as she ran toward him.

Ron locked eyes with the assassin and nodded knowingly, recognizing the torment on Ashaandi’s face. That alone, was worth all they would soon do to him.

[Velociryx]

“Hello Kira.” Ashaandi said softly and with a sad smile. “I’m afraid I cannot stay long….I have some business with Mister Stone.” He patted the little girl’s head and straightened. “Mister Stone….to the front office, if you please.”

Ron shook his head and stood. Began walking almost leisurely toward the seven black clad figures hovering just inside the doorway. “You mean you don’t want to say what you’ve got to say in front of the children? Awwww, but why not? If I didn’t know you so well I’d take that as a sign of weakness.” He chided. A dangerous game, he knew. One of Ashaandi’s Black-Clad cronies was already visibly shivering in rage.

“And you didn’t have the stomach to come alone.” He added darkly. “What does that say?”


That was enough for at least one of Ashaandi’s henchmen. The man who had been shaking in his rage took two quick steps forward and back handed Ron Stone with a leather-gloved hand. The blow was hard enough to break the skin, but it did not phase Ron in the least. Didn’t even make him flinch.

Kira cried out when Ron was struck and Ashaandi hissed in rage, pulling his Monofilament whip from his belt. “Not in front of the children!” He said in a deadly tone.

His henchman backed down, head bowed.

Kira took two steps away from Ashaandi, eyes wide. Bottom lip trembling.

He looked at her imploringly, and then at Ron Stone, who was still staring at him, eyes burning fiercely.

“Kira.” The assassin said softly. “Mister Stone has many secrets….and it is my job to make sure he does not pose a threat to the security of the Hive. I do not want to hurt him….I like him too….but I must speak with him…..do you understand?”

Kira shook her head vigorously, and took another two steps back, now quite close to the other children. “You’re a liar…..and you’re not a fireman like you said you were….” She glanced left and wrapped a protective arm around a little boy next to her. He was frail and shy looking…..no older than four or five. “Those men dressed all in black came to take Paul’s mom away one night…..I know about them…..I know about you.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, but she would not look away from him.

“Kira.” Ron whispered softly. “Kira listen to me….I want you to take over for a little while….okay? You watch the children….I’ll arrange for an adult to come back here just as quick as I can, but I really do have to go with these men….okay?”

“If you go with them, you’ll never come back.” She said in a deflated tone, her eyes never leaving the Assassin’s.

His were likewise locked on her, and if Ron Stone didn’t know any better, he would have sworn they were engaged in psi-combat.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can…..I promise.”

“No….he won’t let you….he can’t let you….because of the….you know.”

“Yes….and so does he….it’s okay.”

For the first time, she looked at him. “He really knows about the radio?”

Ron nodded. “That’s why he had to come….and that’s why I have to go with him.”

He walked toward her, and picked her up. “Now….you’re going to have to be brave and strong, okay? Stronger than anybody ever asked you to be before.”

“Will you be all right?” She asked, trying hard not to cry, but unable to keep her voice completely steady.

He nodded. “I’ll be okay, but don’t get worried if you don’t hear me on the radio anymore.”

She nodded, and Ron gave her a fierce, lingering hug, then whispered in her ear.

“And one day, you must find it in yourself to forgive Ashaandi.”

She looked into his eyes and nodded in understanding. It was the first time she had ever heard his name, but she knew exactly who he was talking about.

He set her down gently and turned to face Ashaandi and his henchmen. “The front office.” He said grimly.

&&&

The moment the door was shut, Ashaandi turned on him like a tiger, his hand wrapping around Ron Stone’s throat and squeezing hard.

“You planned this!” He hissed. “You knew something like this would happen, and used Kira to try to hurt me!”

“Ashaandi….” Ron Stone said in an even voice. “Take your hand off me right now….or I’ll break your arm.”

Ashaandi squeezed tighter.

Ron’s arm arose.

Two of Ashaandi’s henchmen took a step forward, and the Assassin waved them off.

As Ron’s arm locked around Ashaandi’s wrist, the Assassin hit him with a bolt of Psi-energy, only to see it deflected harmlessly away.

He was mystified, and tried again.

Again, no effect at all. He was both puzzled and concerned, but there was no time to consider how or why.....only the contest itself remained, and it was all important....

Ron’s grip tightened around Ashaandi’s wrist and began pulling it away from his throat. Ashaandi was strong, there was no doubting it, but he was losing.

He felt his grip weakening.

Put more effort into maintaining his hold, his face screwing up in the effort to hold on.

But Ron broke through, and finally the vice-like grip was removed from his throat, and Ashaandi’s hand was lowered.

“Since you called your dogs off, I spared your arm.” Ron Stone said grimly. “But if you or they touch me again….”

Ashaandi laughed. “You think because you have won a contest of physical strength against me that it demeans me in some way? Mister Stone….I am disappointed in you. And although you did a good turn by ‘sparing’ me a broken arm, it does little to make up for what you did to me with Kira…..for that, I cannot forgive you.”

He motioned for his henchmen, and took a step back as they closed in.

Ron smiled as he watched the advance. “Typical…..you coward.” Ron muttered as he dropped into stance. “Don’t have the balls to fight me yourself.”

He studied his opponents as they drew closer. From the way they moved, it was clear they were trained, but equally clear that they had never fought together before. They kept threatening to get in each other’s way.

He decided to see if maybe he could make that work to his advantage, so he did nothing as they drew closer.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Three of the six moved in at the same time. One of them actually came within a hair’s bredth of stepping on another’s toes. Their momentum faltered for a fraction of a second, and Ron Stone struck.

Fast and hard.

Like the hurricane of destruction they had named him so many years ago.

And the intervening years did not have a softening effect. Rather, all the time spent working on the Mining Platform, all the days and nights spend working out and keeping himself in shape….it all paid off in that moment.

The first two blows put two of Ashaandi’s henchmen down for the count, one breaking the man’s jaw and sending him spinning to the floor, and the other to the sternum, hard enough to crack several ribs. The man tried to cry out, but didn’t have the breath for it.

The third man got in a kidney punch and then backed away when he saw that he was all alone.

Ashaandi looked disgusted and muttered, “By twos….again.”

Two more men crouched and made their way forward.

Ron smiled. He’d spooked them.

“Boo!” He said loudly, making them both jump.

He kicked one of the men in the face for being so easily duped and startled. The man fell and did not move.

The other man recovered quickly, however, and produced a short-bladed knife, which he embedded in Ron’s outstretched leg.

Ron grunted in pain and brought his leg back down….gently testing his weight on it. It would support him….at least for now, but it ruled escape out as an option.

He turned to face the man, and Ashaandi motioned another man forward as well.

Still two on one….I hate these odds Ron thought darkly.

This time, when the attack came, it was well-coordinated, and Ron found himself very definitely on the defensive. He kept having to turn his injured leg away from the fight, which limited his options, and the two men seemd more comfortable together, often striking together, but from fundamentally different directions.

Ron could fend one of them off, but never both, and some blows landed.

They were getting through. Wearing him down.

It would only be a matter of time.

Gotta change the odds somehow, he thought desperately as he looked around the room for an edge. An angle. Anything at all.

Then it ocurred to him.

The Holo he’d made earlier.

If he could activate it, it might provide a few second’s distraction.

But the button was on his desk, on the other side of the room.

He measured the distance with his eyes.

Yes.

It was possible.

Maybe.

If he got lucky.

The two men were creeping in closer again, and Ron crouched and got ready.

He feinted right to get his attackers off balance and then sprang to the left and shot around them, clotheslining the man nearest him as he passed and sending him sprawling to the floor.

He pressed the button and the Holo sprang to life in the center of the room, mere inches from where one of the other guards was standing.

The man gasped in surprise and took a step back, but Ron Stone was already moving. His body on auto-pilot, as it had been so many years before.

It knew what needed to be done.

He crossed the space between he and the black-clad henchman in a matter of seconds, and wrapped his forearm around the man’s throat, curling his fingers around the man’s ear and twisting savagely.

The cracking noise that followed told him everything he needed to know, and he turned around again to take stock…..

Ashaandi flicked his hand slightly and pain exploded down the length of Ron Stone’s good leg. Suddenly, he could not keep his feet.

“Do you know what this is?” The Assassin asked, holding the pommel nonchalantly.

Ron nodded, and spoke through gritted teeth. “Monofilament whip.” He chanced a glance down. A long, graceful mark of red snaked its way down half the length of his leg. Cutting through muscle, bone….anything it encountered.

“Good. Then you know I could have killed you already.”

Ron stood. It was difficult, but he did it. “Do it…..don’t talk about it…..just do it….I’ve been telling you that for years.”

Their eyes met again, and Haraand Ashaandi, leader of the most feared Circle of Assassins on all of Chiron, found himself suddenly at a crossroads.

[This message has been edited by Velociryx (edited October 22, 1999).]

[Slats]

LOW CHIRON ORBIT
VICINTY OF SKY HYDROPONICS LAB SKYEBLAZER 1

Michael Forster floated in freefall, tightly snug in a EVA suit. Before him the panoramic sight of Chiron, viewed from space. Brown earth, russet fungus and blue sea swirled beneath him, blended with fluffy white clouds and grey thunderheads. Truly, the glory of nature, the new cradle of humanity.

A yellow and red warning sign popped up suddenly into his suit HUD, just before his eyes, informing him that one third of the suits power supply remained. Time to be getting on with the things he thought and with one last glance, operated his suit wrist controls. Small puffs of propellent squirted from his suit and he span through 180 degrees on his vertical axis to face the object of his concern.

The glittering prisms of the hydroponics lab shone like diamonds in the harsh sunlight. Nuzzling beside the lab was the spaceplane Atlas, docked to transfer more equipment and personnel to the lab habitation section. From the Atlas’ cargo bay a manipulator arm held aloft a Morgan Propulsion Systems fusion reactor. Forster smiled, only the best quality for this expedition.

And this expedition was going along well. The new vessel’s construction was progressing well. Currently it consisted of a long scaffold like spine with a squat drum-like cylinder topping one end and a quartet of big ovoid pulse engines at the other. Attached to the middle of the spine were utility modules holding batteries, equipment storage lockers and secondary systems as well as spherical fuel and coolant tanks. And there was still more to be added before the ship was complete. At least a dozen suited construction crew worked on the vessel, attaching, connecting and sealing.

Forster sighed. Everything was going according to plan. All the factions had donated the equipment asked of them. Probably because there was energy credits involved, he thought wryly. For some time the Atlas had been shipping people and material into orbit from Communal Nexus where they were deposited at the lab which was currently being used as a temporary shipyard. The crews who lived on the lab worked in shifts around the clock to finish the ship.

Forster regarded all this with slight grimness, this was his last time in orbit before the launch. No more chance of avoiding the matter. He had to meet his new crew.

[Hydro]

Near Pointa Sur

we welcome you, earthdawson. long has our song been sung, but few there are that hear our ancient voice. earthskye and earthishmael, and now earthdawson, among the earthhuman children heed our call. to earthother we are but a whisper, a wisp, a fragment. to earthblind PlanetMind is mute, and not a whisper touches them.

your voice is young and strong, earthdawson, and you can perceive us and our forms. before you is the land-denizen. touch them. they will call to you

Sarah stood in wonder among the blooming fungus as the lingering caress of PlanetVoice faded. No, it had not really faded. It was still there, but was not fully attuned to her. The Voice filled her with joy - it was the sense of belonging and acceptance she had felt. It was like being part of a greater whole.

All around her the fungus grew and bloomed at a furious rate. Already the farm field and the low rocky wall had been overtaken and consumed by the explosive growth of the fungus. The air rang with the PlanetSong, with each stalk coursing in sympathetic vibration like a great chord of sound. Sarah's hair rose with the Planetsong, swaying back and forth in a yellow pirouette. Sarah looked around in wonder, and her senses drank their fill.

Sarah looked down. A pink tuft of fungus formed a meter away. Its crenellated cotton candy form unfolded from the ground like a flower, and from its center a pencil thin stalk rose. It wavered and swayed with the Planetsong, growing 10 centimeters in a moment as she watched. Then the stalk thickened and branched, its base measurably growing and the now multi pronged tubule stretched upward. The base became bulbous even as Sarah watched, and it sprouted little tendrils from the enlarged base. In minutes the fungus bloom was Sarah's height, its base and trunk thickening, arms branching and intertwining.

Then the fungalstalk seemed to pause, but stilled it quivered with the pulses of PlanetSong. Each of the dozen fungal arms of the stalk bulged at the end, as it did when the stalk first sprouted. The bulge end flattened and small indentations appeared. Below the flat and flared end the bulge enlarged.

Sarah sensed the bulge, and reached out to touch and sense it. It quivered with new life. As before, the fungus was smooth, but this fungus bulge was not firm and slightly yielding but soft and pliant.

The bulge also quivered. Already it started churning and its surface rippled. It became warm to Sarah's touch, and with the increase in temperature the bulge gently swelled again. The rippling and churning took on a desperate ferocity and they started to pulse from the base of the bulge toward the flared end. Gradually the entire branch of the fungalstalk stiffened and quivered from base to end, as if in great effort. The flared end ballooned and the indentations widened as it expanded. Each indentation became deep red, and started oozing deep red and viscous ichors, which dripped from the frond to the intertwined pink mat now covering the rock.

Sarah stepped back as the flow of the ichors grew. She looked up at the other branches and all were seeping the same ichors. As the bulges at the end of the fungal arms diminished the flared ends puckered, contracted and folded in on themselves. Even as Sarah watched they were assuming the normal rounded shape of xenofungus.

Meanwhile at Sarah's feet a miracle was occurring.

Sarah knelt down, for in the 20-centimeter tall mounds of red ichors there emerged small hullw, all of them cracked. And wormlets! Hundreds of small wormlets!

Sarah smiled, for she could detect amid the chorus of PlanetSong their empathic need, their longing.

Here, little ones. I am Sarah. I will help you.

From the red mounds, the little wormlets trembled in anticipation and the ichors started to gently churn with their feeble motion.

Sarah lovingly cupped the red ichors with the wormlets in her hands and placed it at the base of the fungal stalk. The waving tendrils at the base waited, and tenderly grasped and guided the wormlets to the small orifices at the base. More and more of the infant mindworms were guided to the teat and entered headfirst until only their tail remained. Each began immediately to gorge, sending simple and contented psi waves to their sisters. Sarah felt these psi waves as they melded to the PlanetSong.

Quickly, Sarah helped the remaining wormlets, delicately picking up them up to the last one. These last wormlets she helped to the teat herself. The base of the fungal stalks now looked like a half-meter diameter bulb that was covered with a ring of busy waving tendrils and rear sections of hundreds of animated centimeter long worms.

Sarah could feel them growing strong as they drank of the xenofungus. She experienced their rapture as the PlanetVoice welcomed them, as she had so recently been welcomed. Planet told them their voice would enrich Planet, and would continue the eternal cycle.

The sky darkened and then lightened again as Sarah kept her vigil. Vaguely, Sarah recognized this as the passing of days, but she felt detached in a timeless way. Her focus was the new life, the growing consciousness, of the newly hatched mindworms. She could feel them as they drank, and as they bonded with one another. Sarah felt them as they linked. Slowly the web of links was being made between the wormlet individuals, forming a group mind that was greater than its parts: a mindworm. With each link the mind grew more complex. It was a connection, like she had felt at the beginning of PlanetSong. Belonging. Soon embryonic thoughts formed.

More days passed, and the worms grew. Finally they searched and reached out to touch those around them. Sarah opened her mind, and the infant mindworm touched her.

we … are

Yes, you are, my child. Welcome to Planet! What is your name?

name? we …are

I will teach you! We will grow together!

together…

I can feel you are ready. Come into Planet, little one!

together… we are

Planet is beautiful! And wondrous!

wondrous… together we are

Sarah watched as the worms wriggled free of the teats. One after another they dropped to the ground, and started to crawl together. As they congregated they established their link, and started to form a mindworm ball. Sarah could feel them interact and learn as they writhed. Gradually the mindworm boil expanded as the worms learned and practiced the limited telekinesis that kept them suspended around each other. They experimented and learned to roll, fitfully at first.

The little boil rolled haltingly over to Sarah and enmeshed itself around her foot.

Sarah…together we are

Sarah could feel their need to join with her, and their frustration and lack of comprehension as she could not join them in their new skill - the telekinetic dance.

Little one, I can speak to you, but I cannot join with you. I wish I could. I can feel you, touch you, and help you, but I cannot join with you.

Sarah reached down and brushed her hand over the hatchling boil. The little worms reached to her touch, and the boil deflated a little as the dance was interrupted. It quickly reformed around Sarah's hand. As the worms passed they brushed her hand, making contact and learning Sarah's touch.

To Sarah, the feeling was electric. She could feel the slight and barely resistible telekinetic force the mindworms were generating. The fine hair on her hand stood up as the wisps of force played across her skin. It tickled a little, and Sarah smiled.

together we are?

Yes, little one. We are now together. But I cannot stay with you all the time. My form is different from yours.

different?

I am an Earthhuman. You are a Planetdenizen. We are linked but separate.

together we are linked?

Yes!

Sarah sensed a satisfaction and an understanding in the little mindworm.

She also sensed its energies flag, and the cohesiveness of its telekinetic dance lessened. With her hands and will, she urged the little boil back to the fungalstalk, where they dis -incorporated and embedded themselves into the teats. Even as the little worms moved into position and partially disappeared into the base of the stalk she could feel their connection remain intact, and even expand. However, the little mindworm withdrew from Sarah's mind as it concentrated its energy on the task of understanding each other. The wormlet's inter linking strengthened, and its power grew.

Suddenly, Sarah felt tired, as if a coaxing hand were passing over her face and shutting her eyes, gently but irresistively. Trustingly, Sarah sat down and then lay on the pliant fungal mat between the swaying fungalstalk bases. She curled up on her side and gave herself to the dreamless sleep.

The shade from the stalks increased as they grew. As if by design, they formed an arch above Sarah, with the bulbous mindworm fungalstalk at its center with Sarah. Inside it wasn't dark, but was lit by a twilight of shimmering motes of light that passed between the thickly woven fungal stalks. These motes seemed to coalesce preferentially on the bulbous fungal stalk.

The bulbous fungal stalk shuddered again as it resumed growing. But this time the growth was not up but out. From its base some of the tendrils thickened and lengthened, reaching and crawling along the fungal mat.

They crawled toward the recumbent Sarah.

They touched her, and then affixed themselves.

In the meantime, Sarah slept.

[Hydro]

Zanzibar

The weather turned dark and grey, with a little chop in the seas. Newly refit with fusion engines and energized plasma armor and anti aircraft guns, the Star of the North of the Spartan North Fleet cuts through the low swells at a speed only dreamed of by smaller foils. The dun colored hull is resplendent, and the polished plasmasteel trim gleams. Star of the North is one of the prides of the Spartan fleet.

Star left Zanzibar with a heading due southwest six hours ago. Seemingly alone, the crew is at high alert for she is deep within and driving deeper into Hive territorial waters.

But appearances can be deceiving, as Captain Victor Torrez knows so well. For Star shepherds two shadows which hold almost an eighth of the Spartan army: the newly commissioned submarine cruiser transports Safe Harbor and Atlas. The two transports have their own lethal cargo. Inside Atlas is the entire Lightning Strike Division of the Spartan 2nd Armor: 8 rover brigades. Aboard Safe Harbor are the three elite brigades of the Spartan Amphibious Corps: 2 infantry and 1 rover brigade. Also aboard Safe Harbor is a Spartan Special Operations team, who had recently returned from observing the Hive city of Great Clustering.

So far there has been no intrusion of hostile aircraft, foils, or cruisers. Captain Torrez was not worried about the old Hive fission missile penetrators, unless they were to arrive en mass. Their new anti aircraft guns and fusion-energized plasma armor would protect them. Against the reported fusion chaos needles the Hive could have it would be a tough fight, and they would have to depend on their superior training that the Spartan Federation was known for. A fusion chaos foil or cruiser would be a problem, too. Luckily, the Hive had only acquired this technology from Morgan. The Captain cursed Morgan for his incompetence in letting Morgan Pharmaceuticals fall to Yang’s troops, granting him access fusion technology. To this day no one knew how he had gotten a hold of chaos weapon technology. He wasn’t researching it, according to Spartan intelligence, so he must have stolen it from the Spartans.

Victor cursed again, silently, of course. It wouldn’t do to rattle his officers on the bridge.

When Yang got this technology up it would truly be a tough fight. Superior training can only stand so long against superior production.

Now was the time to press the advantage. While it lasted.

*****

Bright glints and flashes of light shown on the horizon, approaching fast to overtake Star. They could only be needlejets. Moreover, they were fusion needlejets penetrators based on their speed.

No one, however, was concerned. In fact, a spontaneous cheer rose up from some on the bridge. These needlejets were coming from Admiralty Base via Zanzibar, and were making a b-line to the south west, roughly parallel to Star’s course…

The first wave in the air attack against Laborer’s Throng was on its way!

A wave of relief passed through Captain Torrez. He knew these able pilots of the Spartan 4th Wing, commanded by the Ben ‘Slats’ Miller, would sweep the ocean clean of enemy ships and planes. He’d been worried when the redoubtable Googlie had retired months ago and had promoted his junior officer Ben to succeed him. In retrospect, he knew he should have trusted Googlie – he knew and understood people, and Slats had done a great job.

*****

“Battle reports coming in, Captain. We’re picking up the secured radio signals from Slat’s flyers,” Comm officer Jerries said. There was a hit of excitement to in her voice.

“Ensign, pipe it through,” Victor ordered.

Silence descended on the bridge of Star as the crew listened carefully to the choppy comm traffic of the battle. Gradually the staccato verbal coordination banter between the bomber pilots gave way to an occasional muffled explosion as the bombs struck home, and whoops and exclamations of delight as the pilots pulled out and headed back to Zanzibar. Finally, there was a brief report that the mission had been a success, with no losses and minimal damage.

Victor smiled, “Well, it looks like our good friends in the 4th Wing have done our job for us. Send a Beta-encrypted message to Atlas and Safe Harbor. They need to know.”

“Right away, Sir!”

*****

“Ops, send up a spyeye and send it toward Laborer’s Throng. Our vids from 4th Wing are a couple of hours old and we need new tactical information.”

“Yes, Sir, Captain,” Ensign Jerries replied.

The bridge crew of Star watched as the flyeye took off and rocketed toward Laborer’s Throng. It was at least as fast as a needlejet, and also had hover ability. In short, it was a perfect surveillance vehicle. It was one of the side benefits of Orbital Spaceflight technology.

In short order the flyeye approached Throng. As in most Hive cities, there wasn’t much to see at the surface. Most, if not all, of the significant buildings and installations were below ground. Throng has a minimal harbor, which now was partially blocked by sunken remains of an old foil, evidently taken out by the needlejets as a secondary target. Luckily, the remaining harbor was easily large enough to accommodate Star, Atlas, and Safe Harbor.

Just inland of the ferrocrete dock the destruction was more evident. A 30-meter wide crater of blasted rock was all that remained of the dock garrison. The chaos and fusion assisted missiles from the Pinwheels had surely done their job. There was no collateral damage, either. That was one of the hallmarks of needlejets – their destruction was neat and tidy.

Just outside of the beleaguered city were patrolling flights of the Aardvark needlejets, who were making sure that no reinforcements arrived. All land access was blocked.

“Ensign, send word to our charges: all’s clear.”

*****

Like rising ghosts, the dark grey transports slowly surfaced, one on each side of Star. Around them the muddy waters rippled, creating small whitecaps as these wakes merged with those of Star of the North. Each of the transports was almost as big as Star. The main difference was that each was streamlined for movement under water, and that they had none of the big chaos guns that made Star so lethal.

All appeared quiet, and there was no movement on the surface of Laborer’s Throng. It was like the entire city was holding its breath.

The two transports slowed to a crawl as they pulled up nose-first to the dock. Even before they had moored the great armored cargo bay doors opened at the bow. These unfolded to the dock, creating a ramp on to the land.

With surprising speed, the infantry of the Amphib raced out. Limbering their guns, the blasted down the nearest cargo bay doors in the rock and plasticrete exterior of Laborer’s Throng and raced inside. Quickly following were the rovers in the amphib rover brigade. They chose a different cargo bay door and similarly blasted through.

Slower, the offensive and garrison rovers of Lightning Strike came streaming across and onto the dock. They followed the elites in and down into the depths of Laborer’s Throng.

There was no resistance.

*****

Mel, commander of Lightning Strike, stood in the Delta Sector Administrative Complex of Laborer’s Throng. The situation was well under control and was issuing a report to 2nd Armor Field Marshal Wang:

“We have had some last-minute sabotage of significant installations during our occupation. The tree farm and energy bank installations here are intact. However, loyal Hive drones managed to destroy the crèche, recycling tanks, and rec commons before we could lock down the city.

Otherwise we have had no problems. The Hive drones are surprisingly compliant, especially when they are looking down the barrel of a chaos rifle after lockdown. It seems they are used to it.

On the plus side, Slat’s flyers were nice enough to leave us the sensor suite at the surface, so we can see a counter attack coming.

Also, we have four interceptors, Indigos 1-3 and 5, arriving within the hour. They aren’t quite as fast as the pens, but weren’t intended for the main strike anyway. These should deter the counter air attack for a while.

Mel.”

Mel examined the holo map to see if she had missed anything. The land all around
Throng had been swept clean of hostiles, and the shipping lanes were clear. Most of the Spartan armor and a good fraction of its airforce was here. They had a perimeter defense and an experienced Ops team, just in case. Moreover, the city was producing a prestigious amount of raw materials, mainly form the nearby borehole, and would quickly build a local garrison.

In short, it was a Spartan’s military officer’s dream: superior weapons, training, position, numbers, maneuver, and concentration of firepower.

What could go wrong?

[Hydro]

The Hive

“Honored Chairman, I regret to report that Laborer’s Throng has fallen. No one escaped, and the city is secured by at least 10 Spartan brigades and it is supported by both interceptors and penetrators,” a junior aid reported to Yang. His voice quivered ever so slightly. While cold and efficient, Yang was known for not tolerating failure.

Chairman Sheng-Ji Yang was strangely calm, even though he had every right to be raging against the forces arrayed against him: The Spartan Federation, The Morgan Federation, and the Stepdaughters of Gaia. In short, everyone that mattered. Of course, Yang dismissed Commissioner Pravin Lal, who was a weakling, even worse than Morgan. All he did was obsess about his precious UN Charter, and prattle on about human rights. At least Morgan acted, even if it was dishonorable and treacherous. Strangely, Yang respected Morgan more for his act of courage. He never thought he had it in him, and thought he would forever be his vassal.

Still, with two of the strongest forces on Planet arrayed against him, and with the help of the Gaians, Yang knew his vaunted Human Hive could only face a slow, grinding defeat unless the situation changed.

Yang thought of Lal’s prattling, and suddenly it all became clear. The solution was at hand, and it would, if effectively managed, tip the balance in his favor. Moreover, he had absolutely nothing to lose.

“Comrade, inform my new People’s Army Marshal Barklow to report to my office in 15 minutes,” Yang said curtly to the sweating aid.

Gratefully, the aid bowed at the waist and left.

Yang turned toward his bare office.

His calm was restored, and his center regained.

All would be well.

*****

The door to Yang’s office opened and in walked a ram-rod straight elderly man. Without preamble he paced to the front of Yang’s desk and waited to be addressed.

After a couple of minutes Yang finished his mental computations and addressed his Field Marshal. His eyes were still closed in partial meditation.

“Marshal, your predecessor failed to anticipate the loss of four Hive bases to Morgan. You have proven your worth in the capture of Morgan Pharmaceuticals, and its great prize the Hunter Seeker Algorithm. I am distressed that your vision seems to have faltered: Laborer’s Throng has fallen to the Spartans, and they are within striking distance of Manufacturing Warrens and The Drone Mound. The next city that will be within their grasp will then be The Hive. Is this assessment correct?”

“Yes, Chairman.”

“Do we currently have the necessary force to repel the Spartans?”

Field Marshal Barklow paused to consider his answer.

“No Chairman, we do not. Most of our weaponry has not been outfitted with fusion and chaos technology. Almost 70% of our reserves have been committed to the defense of Morgan Pharmaceuticals, and the upcoming subjugation of the Morgan Empire. Production of new weaponry has been allocated, must most are not on line at this time.”

Yang turned to face his Field Marshal. His deep brown eyes sparked dangerously, even if absolutely no emotion played across his face.

“That answer is unacceptable, Field Marshal. What do you suggest?”

Barklow paused again. With Yang, lying would get you killed much faster than the truth. Even the truth could get you killed. He had to consider his answer carefully.

“We will refit our 4 available penetrators with our new technology, along with the 3 old impact rovers we have in reserve. This should…”

Yang slammed the palm of his hand onto his desk with blinding speed, creating a crack that was similar to a sonic boom.

Silence descended in Yang’s office.

“Marshal, do not attempt to insult my intelligence. Your ‘plan’ will fail. I believe stronger measures are in order.”

The Field Marshal blanched.

“You wish me to call up those reserves,” he stated to Yang in a dead voice. It was not a question, but a clarification.

“Yes. And I give you authorization to spend almost all our remaining 150 in energy reserves to refit our available attack rovers and aircraft into a like configuration. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Honored Chairman, I understand. It will be done.”

“Dismissed. And do not fail me again.”

Field Marshal Barklow turned on his heel and quickly exited Yang’s office. His stomach was tied up in knots and pangs of doubt raced through his mind.

Pangs of doubt, and foreboding.

Orders of the Honored Chairman not withstanding, crimes against humanity were serious indeed.

The final die was about to be cast.

[Slats]

COMMUNAL NEXUS
SPARTAN SPACE DEFENSE COMPOUND

Michael rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed. If a block like this could be called a bed. The hard horizontal platform that protruded from the wall, even with a foam sleeping bag liner covering it, was virtually impossible to get a goodnight’s sleep on. Forster sighed and hopped out of bed, threw a jump suit on and headed down the corridor to the communal shower room.

Twenty minutes later Michael was washed and freshly dressed in his loose black and crimson S.S.D uniform. He looked at his watch, still thirty minutes till his first new crewmember was due to arrive, time for some breakfast. Forster eyed the iron ration packets on the table and instead decided to hike down to the Spartan canteen, rigged in a cargo bay over near the airstrip.

After a good breakfast with some of the support staff, Forster stood near the main hangar door, escorted by three armed SISF soldiers and waited for the daily shuttle to arrive carrying his new science officer. Michael called up her profile on his wrist comp. Hmm… Lindly Shannon, Gaian, with a list of science skills longer than his arm. Also with “some psionic experience”. Forster grunted at that. Interesting. The shuttle passenger list read “+1” beside Lindly’s name. He wondered what the plus one was.

Technically Lindly wasn’t the first crewmember to arrive. The two Morgan crewmen had arrived some days ago with the Morgan aerospace engineering team. Both were skilled in such construction and it had seemed foolish not to have them on the project from the start. Forster had met with them shortly after they had arrived.

Ahmed Mohiuddin was a leading theoretical aircraft designer from Morgan Transport Inc. He seemed good natured, easy to talk to and very outgoing. Forster had liked him from the start. On the other hand Del Dusek of the rival corporation MorganAir Inc., an engineer of advanced aircraft materials, was more quiet, keeping to himself but still talkative enough. The two men regarded each other with respect for their various works but with a sense of rivalry. Neither needed to be told that more than company status was at stake.

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

A faint howl introduced the arrival of the small, thirty person Spartan passenger hopper. The slim craft coasted out of the sky, touched down with a sight squeal of tyres and taxied over towards the hangar. The plane rolled to a stop and a folding stairway deployed automatically. Two…no, three passengers hurried quickly out of the hatchway and into the hangar towards a security check in. Then a most unusual and startling sight emerged from the aircraft.

The sound of weapons being primed and readied were accompanied by shouts of “MINDWORM!!!” as the trio of security personnel behind shouldered their weapons. Two more troopers came hurrying from the hangar entrance.

Forster raised his hand in a signal to hold fire while grinning at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Admittedly she had a small mindworm cluster peeking out from behind her but that only put a slight dampening on the scene…

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

After eagerly making sure Lindly was settled in her new quarters and knew the location of various facilities Forster prepared to meet his new computer specialist, kindly provided by the Peacekeepers.

Alexandria Hanschot, a brilliant young woman, her Spartan Intelligence check up had confirmed she could handle any computer system in existence. Rated as a leading mind in her field she was still apparently quite withdrawn from the world.

Forster’s meeting after her arrival by PK transport had supported this. Hanschot was pleasant enough, answering all his questions although she gave few in return and that faraway look in her eyes gave the impression she had something else more important than social etiquette on her mind… Forster escorted Hanschot to her room carrying some memory storage blocks and other computer paraphernalia for her and said goodnight. After this he retired to his small office above the temporary local HQ and awaited his next crewmember.

Just after nightfall, a call came from the main gate guard, a lone man had emerged mysteriously from the roadside and claimed to be a guest of the S.S.D. Forster ordered the troops at the gate to let the stranger in and escort him to his office. For some reason, Michael wasn’t the least bit surprised.

A few minutes later a tall dark, good-looking man with sharp features arrived at the door to the office. Forster knew that the man would have already been swept for weapons. Forster motioned to a seat before him, nearby a double of best fungal gin awaited.

“I’m Shawn McKenny” started the stranger, “Hive Army, special operations, tactician”.

“Michael Forster, director of SSD, although you already knew that…”

Shawn smiled and without hesitation of drugging slugged back the gin and nodded his appreciation.

“I’d like to ask, why request a soldier from your worst enemy?” he ventured.

Forster gave his own smile, “Well, your fraction has provided us with enough solid state boosters to get most of our construction mass into orbit. If I’ve got to have a Hive representative along, I’d like it to be someone who can look after all of us while we’re up there. I got you. More at the briefing tomorrow.”

Shawn’s smile grew wider as he stood up to leave, “I think we’ll get along just fine, sir…”

Forster rose to shake Shawn’s hand. McKenny’s grip was firm but not overly strong or painful. He reached the door and opened it.

“Shawn”, called Forster before the Hive man walked out. McKenny turned around to look at the SSD chief.

Forster’s voice dropped almost to a murmur, “I’d like to be friends with you Shawn, I really would, understand that. But if I find in any way you try to compromise this mission I will do my damnedest to make sure you don’t set foot on this plant again. Do I make myself clear?”

McKenny bobbed his head in mute understanding and left the room in silence.

[korn469]

The Spartan Federation Capital Building
Sparta Command
03:12 hours SMT

after telling telling the story (with some imput from ashaandi to the rest of the Junta) they had some debate then recessed because the ancient Bisset needed rest..googlie was a free man...he was to recieve some sort of censure, but he emerged relitively unharmed, and his punishment would not be too severe he certainly would not receive a trip to the punishment sphere...but he would not be helping the Junta decide what their course of action would be for ashaandi...the upcoming day debate was what to do with ashaandi...the general mood was that ashaandi should not go on impersonating Burge, but how exactly could they have Burge die? the real gavin burge was a hero, not an usurper, and somehow he would have to come out of this looking like a hero...also they had to decide if they supported ashaandi as their replacemnt for yang in the hive, or if they should execute him as the devious Hive assassin he was...for the time being he was nder heavy watch...and what was going on with santiago? the reports said she had went to morgan, but at that time he was an ally of the hive and he would have surely sold santiago out to Yang...Corizon was not someone to foolishly risk herself like that...what was really going on?

_____________________________________________

googlie emerged from the Junta's closed quarters and Ian was waiting there for him...they had alot of catching up to do

_____________________________________________

general lockhart and the 469th had completely transfered control of sparta command and they were ready to jump to the front

note: this is a place holder post i will edit it to describe the events as soon as i can

[Googlie]

I sat in the small furnished ante-room to the Council Chambers where the Junta were meeting.

Standing discretely to one side was the garrison guard, no longer a paratrooper of the 469th but one of Honshu’s Militia.

I pondered the events of the last few days.

Bisset

Now that was interesting.

There must be a faction within a faction in the Junta that activated his awakening from cryosleep. I had thought only a handful of the senior Junta members knew of his continued existence, yet my belief was obviously mistaken.

And to what purpose?

He had been out of things for forty years. Knew nothing of the Spartan war with the University, Morgan’s virtual annihilation of the Gaians, Yang’s rise to prominence, or any of the events of the last few months. Heck, he probably didn’t even know what a needlejet or Planetbuster was.

Yet someone had briefed him in a relatively short time frame and had brought him up to speed very quickly.

But who? And what was their agenda?

Santiago

Why had Corazon chosen this particular time to go into the regeneration tanks? I genuinely believed that she had been taken hostage by the Yoop resistance, but somehow had been spirited away. And Gavin and I had used her absence judiciously. But how had she been abducted from the Yoops, and why Morgan rejuvenation treatment. Although it was recognized to be the best on Planet.

Was her rejuvenation even voluntary?

Or were some subtle changes made to her personality while under the Morgan operatives’ care?

And what did her return portend.

Anastasia had gotten the message to me that the Gaian Air Force had deployed to Morgan Industries, and also that the GAF had spirited Santiago with them for “safekeeping” from Ashaandi. So at least she was alive and well.

But is she the Corazon Santiago that we used to know?

Ashaandi

I was not so presumptuous as to believe that only I held the secret top a deal with Ashaandi, but realistically what did the Junta generals, and Bisset in particular, know of the subtleties of the necessary politicking to get the Ashaandi/Burge character successful in the battle against Yang, install Ashaandi as the power in the Hive, and manufacture an honorable “death” for Burge.

When Bisset was active fifty years ago Ashaandi was a shadowy figure, a feared assassin, a terrorist. Now he was a politician with a vision for his people.

But they would attempt to incarcerate him and be burned for their efforts. You don’t keep a chameleon empath in check for very long.

Marlo

Her death was puzzling me.

It was too clumsy an attempt to frame the Morganites, yet yang had nothing to gain from her assassination. She was a wager of peace, and peace favored the Hive. Deirdre’s hand was not in it, so it left only two possibilities, both of whom had a vested interest in the war between Sparta and the Hive continuing:

 Ashaandi
 The Yoop resistance

The former I ruled out, as subsequently we learned that Ashaandi knew of the ersatz Santiago, and was using her as his vehicle. His power was greater against Marlo, so there was no need to risk disruption and a possible adverse outcome by removing her.

The Yoop was a distinct possibility, but that wasn’t their style.

But it had to be them, as there was no other credible alternative.

Unless…unless… Lal.

What other faction stood to gain the most by a prolonged war between the two strongest factions on Planet?

Why, the Peacekeepers, of course. As we fought, he could concentrate on building his infrastructure, increasing his territorial claims and conducting his unfettered research.

That bore looking into.

Googlie

Ah, there was the crux. What did I see of myself, for the future.

I had no doubt the junta would find me innocent of treason, but I had given them enough rope to enable them to strip me of any office or even expel me from the Spartan Federation.

 I had conspired, with Burge, to keep the news of Santiago’s disappearance hidden from the people, even from the Junta;
 I had knowingly employed a chameleon actress to play the role of Santiago, to dupe the people;
 I had knowingly withheld the news of Burge’s death from the Junta;
 I had conspired with Ashaandi, an enemy operative, to allow him to maintain control of the Spartan forces
 I had broken my rejuvenation pattern of coming out 50 going in 60 to emerge as a 30 year old – with a 30 year expectation before undergoing treatment again.

In short, it looked mightily like I was indeed planning, or had already undertaken, a coup, with Ashaandi’s assistance.

The only saving grace was Ashaandi’s having me arrested in his power play.

But what were the Junta’s alternatives?

Would they invite Santiago back?

Dare they discipline me, and invite her back, knowing that I was one of her “henchmen”?

Would they banish me to civilian life, maybe as Governor of some obscure base?

Would I be free to take up my appointment as the Ambassador to Gaia’s Stepdaughters?

Would I be sent into exile, to a farm somewhere?

What did I want to do?

That was the question.

I could fight for a full re-instatement of my position and my rights, and demand the return of the Colonel – or her continued banishment – or I could buckle under and meekly accept the Junta’s decision.

Or I could choose my own destiny, and start life afresh, perhaps with Anastasia, if she would have me.

I had youth on my side, allied with unmatched experience. I was not without skills.

I had been, from recent to past, a politician, an Administrator, a famed needlejet ace, a military officer, the Assistant Astrogator on the Unity, under the famed Ulrik Svensgaard (I wondered what he was up to now – the last I heard he’d thrown his lot in with Lal) and before that, on old Earth, a career officer in the Free Scottish peacekeeping regiment, where I had met Lal and Deirdre.

So I had choices, if Sparta rejected me.

[Googlie]

deleted by hive probe team
[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited October 31, 1999).]

[Rynn]

Somewhere in Ruby Ridge Memorial

Shauna felt cheapened.

She had pulled the same stunt three times now, and had finally accumulated enough credits to afford a hotel room. Giving the storekeeper a ten bit disc and using her empath projection to convince him that he was receiving a transfer of 100. Oh, the electronic register was recording ten, but he was reading one hundred as he had counted out the cash. She’d asked for change rather than credit. In port cities, no questions were asked.

The bright neon sign of the Morgan Processing Hilton still blazed, although what used to be Morgan Processing was now under Spartan control and called Ruby Ridge Memorial. She was sure that Sand wouldn’t think of looking for her there.

She had seen Sand once more, at the sympathizer’s safe house, where he and his two attendants and Kurt were staying.

“We are sorry you could not choose us unreservedly,” he had said to Shauna. “Nevertheless, we understand your choice and why you made it. However, you are important to us, not least for the safety of the child you are carrying. So Haraan Ashaandi has pulled some strings, and effected some alterations in the records, and you will return to The Leader’s Horde and resume your former employment at the Ministry of Zeal there.”

“Do I have any choice in the matter?” she asked.

“There is a diplomatic courier flight leaving here in three hours for Communal Nexus. They are part of the co-operative space venture. You have accreditation to be on that flight. You will connect to another internal flight to The Leaders’ Horde, where your old job awaits you.”

“And if I say No?” she asked.

“Then you will be turned loose in this city to fend for yourself,” Sand replied.

Shauna looked over to Kurt beseechingly. He shrugged his shoulders and turned away, busying himself with a piece of equipment he was working on.

Her eyes filled with tears, yet steadfastly she refused to cry.

‘So this is how it is to be,’ she thought. ‘I’m on my own with a baby inside me that the Circle is intensely interested in. They’ll look after me to ensure that I come to no harm, but only because of the child. So if I’m that important, they’ll not let anything happen to me.’

She made her decision. “OK, I’ll pack my few things and be ready for the trip to the airport in 30 minutes.”

She went into the small room that she and Kurt had been sharing and locked the door behind her.


She’d packed her few things in her grip, and cautiously opened the small window to let herself out into the alley at the back of the building. Her plan had been hastily hatched, and had more to do with escaping from Sand as it had with running somewhere.

Consequently, she was momentarily at a loss as she stood in the alleyway, a stranger in a strange city.

Then the realization dawned on her. Of course, she wasn’t lost. She was an empath. The collective consciousness of every citizen was hers to tap. She would know the city better than any single inhabitant. She just had to know where to look.

And she had to count on Kurt’s warped sense of honor. She was relying on his adhering to their lover’s bargain of never “eavesdropping” uninvited into each others thoughts.

Sand was a different matter entirely. She had spent some time on the boat building her neural defenses, and was fairly confident that she could block him out, even while sleeping. Unless he still had some tricks he hadn’t shown her.

But she was holding all the aces. He couldn’t risk any kind of neural attack on her for fear of damaging her unborn daughter. All he could do was watch and try to keep her from outward harm.

So she began to “explore” the city.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

She remembered the many hours of training she had gone through with Kurt, and focussed her mind to a sharp beam. She sent it out, a weak tendril of a probe, insufficient even to be recognized as such by other than an empath. She flicked it around the myriad of consciousnesses she encountered until she found one that was useful. A baker’s delivery boy.

She entered the mind.

He was idly watching the vidnews when he suddenly found himself thinking of his route from the shop to the various homes served by his employer. For fun, he imagined different routes through the city, taking the back alleys instead of the thoroughfares. Then he thought what fun it would be to hide, to escape detection from imaginary chasers.

He thought of the hotels in the city. The little family run ones to the huge Hilton. He imagined himself entering by the huge stairway rather than the delivery entrance he was used to. What he would say to the receptionist, and how he would haughtily give the bellhop his bag.

Then he found himself thinking about the various small shopkeepers he knew and what they sold, taking inventory in his mind of clothes shops, hairdressers, pharmacies, cafes and the like.

His mind wandered. Where were the garrison barracks...the police stations…the magistrates offices…the various government buildings.

He sighed. He really ought to pay attention to the vidnews. His boss, the master baker, was always on his case about getting a good education and often quizzed him the next day on the previous day’s news. How could he let his mind wander like that?

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

She found her way to one of the quieter feeder streets to the center, and made her way to the clothes store.

It was in one of the less fashionable areas, but still posted prices that made her wince. She had a ten-bit disc with her that she had hidden since they left The Leader’s Horde. It was about a month’s wages in The Hive but here wouldn’t even buy a simple scarf.

That’s when she pulled her trick.

Selecting a classic synthsilk jumpsuit with a hood that could cover her give-away hair represented six months wages, but she sweetly handed over her disk with an impish grin and said “I’ll take the change in cash, please.”

The shopkeeper rang in the disk, and although the message displaying was insufficient funds she pulled out four similar ten bit disks and handed them to Shauna, deactivating the register as she did so.

Shauna pocketed them, and left the store, releasing the storekeeper from the mind-hold as she walked out of the door.

She repeated the process twice more, stocking up with some accessories and a synthleather travel bag, and with some supplies from the pharmacy that would address her appearance and hair coloring.

Then she went to the hotel.

The Intercontinental was at one end of the main street, Processing Avenue, with the huge processing plant and headquarters building from whence the base had derived its name at the other end. A canal ran down the center, effectively dividing the Avenue into two, and the westbank was lined with the towers of the richer residences and corporate offices while the eastbank was the commerce and hotel section of the city.

The Intercontinental dwarfed the immediate neighbors, and vied with Processing Corp. itself for the bragging rights for the tallest building. Even under the Spartan regime, the city hadn’t lost its pace or its verve. The restaurants were full, and the nightlife was beginning to pick up.

Shauna walked down the rows of shops and stores, looking wistfully at the goods on display. Although she herself had written copy for the publications emanating from the Ministry of Zeal berating the excesses of Morgan’s ostentatious wealth, she was envious of the beautiful clothes and jewelry on display.

Which led her to her next decision. She needed somewhere to change into her clothes to be less conspicuous.

She chose a small café with internal washrooms, and as she had learned to do gave it a swift neural scan before entering. Ordering a juice and a muffin bought her the time to relax and then visit the restroom to change into a more elegant outfit.

She emerged feeling quite the sophisticate.

The walk to the Hilton was uneventful. She had time on her side, with nowhere to and no firm plans, so she took her time in the strange city, rubbernecking a little. She had never been in a large city with such huge buildings above ground. The few remaining old Believer buildings in The Leader’s Horde were only a dozen or so floors high, but the Hilton was well over 75 and the Processing Tower just under that in height.

As she approached the Hilton she paused. There were Spartan garrison troops at either side of the great doorway, looking very businesslike with their shredder rifles unslung. Were they looking, waiting for her, she wondered.

She swept them imperceptibly with her thought probe, and relaxed. They weren’t waiting for her, but for the Base Governor, Hargreaves, who was due to arrive at any moment.

Seizing her chance to find the reception clerk somewhat harried, she swept past the guards and up the stairway through the doors and into the opulent foyer of the Hilton, her mind open as she swept the premises for any sign of danger.

And screamed in pain as the neural bolt hit her, blasting through her slow defenses, and knocking her unconscious to the floor.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

She came to, lying in a bed with synthsilk sheets, bathed by the soft light of the Morgan glowlamps. Her face was being bathed solicitously with a soft cloth dampened with hot water, by a figure just hovering in the shadows, just out of her sight.

She turned her head to thank her benefactor, and froze in shock.

She was looking into the eyes of Sand.

“So, my pretty Shauna. Thought you could escape and hide out from us, Eh?” he said, with a slight grin.
“You forget you are matching wits with one who makes a living at this business.”

Shauna glowered at him.

He continued: “But we can’t go through life for the next ten years escaping from each other and capturing you every time, can we?

“But I think that we have found the perfect carrot. Look over to the vidscreen.”

Shauna looked over at the wallside console as Sand flicked on the commlink tape.

Shauna. We haven’t met but let me introduce myself. I am Haraand Ashaandi, the leader of the so-called Circle. You are important to us in ways that you can not even imagine, Shauna, not the least for the child you are carrying. Your daughter, Shauna, is destined to be the greatest empath that Planet has known, and she represents the future of The Hive. A future, Shauna, that we both agree has no place in it for Sheng-Ji Yang.

But how can we persuade you to stay the course, to be part of this future?

Ah, Shauna, we have found something to tug at your heart; to give you a reason along with your faith, to stay with us and include the Circle in your future.

For we have found your father. Yes, Shauna, your father. The man you haven’t seen for twenty years, whom your mother banished from your home when he could not embrace her faith. But he has never forgotten you, and has made a career of caring for children – for the children he never had the joy of watching grow up,

The view changed to include Ashaandi and another figure. Ashaandi went on:

He is waiting to be the grandfather for your daughter, if you let him. If you reject him, he will be executed. For he is a dissident, and even I cannot save him from The Chairman’s “justice” unless the full weight of the Circle is brought to bear. You see, Shauna, your father is none other than the voice of the people, ‘Silvermane’. So his fate is in your hands. What is your decision?

Shauna looked over to Sand as the screen went dark.

“You bastards,” she said. You sure do know how to use blackmail, don’t you? I don’t think he’ll be any better than Yang.”

“Details, details,” said Sand. “What’s your decision?”

“Take me to my father,” she replied.