The Spartan Chronicles - Continued

[Hydro]

Private Communiqué

Ultra Encryption: code Theta-one
To: Coronal Santiago and the Spartan Junta
From: The Raven, Division Seven Operations Head
RE: Captured Hive Technology

With the liberation of the Hive colonies of Laborer’s Throng, Drone Mound, and most recently Manufacturing Warrens, my agents have been able to ‘acquire’ the following technical information, complete with documentation and specifications:

 Advanced Spaceflight Technology
 Organic Superlubrication Technology

These technologies are significant in that they are the keys to the new Hive shard weapons that have recently seen action, to the detriment of the Morgan Federation city of Morgan Bank.

We still have no idea how Yang was able to jump-start his research program to acquire these technologies. They were far in advance of anything The Human Hive should have reasonable been able have access to in the next decade. The only possibility is the use of one or more of the now very rare alien artifacts, which have been known to jump-start a research program by years or decades.

I strongly recommend that these technologies be used to prototype new weapons, and that consideration be given to giving some of the technologies to our allies in our fight against Yang.

I am also please to report that a total of 144 energy credits has been diverted from Hive coffers at these captured cities. These credits may prove useful in bolstering our prototyping efforts.

The Raven

[Rynn]

“Come this way,” said Angel. Kurt followed obediently.

“The group wants to meet you over dinner at seven,” she said, “but I have plans until then. I haven’t had any fun since I came out of rebuild and rehab.”

She led Kurt to her cubicle.

“Sit down,” she commanded, indicating a chair, and Kurt obeyed dutifully.

Angel pulled out her commlink and activated a control.

Suddenly Kurt was immobilized, held in electronic restraints that crimped his every movement. He stopped resisting, immediately deducing that it was futile, and sat compliantly, biding his time.

Angel carefully peeled off her gloves, and came over to him, and stood astride one thigh, then reached down to unclasp his fatigues. He let her.

She stripped him to his shorts, then stood back as if to admire her handiwork.

Then she undressed herself, slowly, tantalizingly, teasing him with her every movement.

Until she was naked in front of him, just like his imagination had played out a few scant minutes before.

Angel put her gloves back on, and came up to him.

“Mr. Sparta,” she said, “I’m now going to teach you not to meddle in affairs you shouldn’t.”

She reached down and undressed Kurt completely, teasing him as she did.

“Do you know the difference between pain and pleasure?” she asked.

Kurt nodded.

“Wrong,” Angel replied. “They are exactly the same. It is your mind that tricks you. You choose whether to interpret it as pain, or as pleasure. Watch, and choose.”

She toyed with him, and he relaxed, lying back under the electronic restraints and deciding to enjoy it.

Suddenly she raked the glove across his chest, the diamond shards cutting deeply into his flesh, tearing his skin and shearing off one nipple completely in a weal of blood.

He spasmed, and bellowed:

“Enough.”

“Angel laughed, and said “But Mr. Sparta, I’ve only just begun.”

“Like hell you have,” Kurt said. :Let’s see how you like your own medicine.”

He reached out rapidly with his mind, narrowing it to a single, focused beam, that unerringly found its target. He went into her mind, and gained control – she had no resistance. She stared at him, wide eyed.

Angel brought out her commlink, and released the electronic restraints.

She watched as Kurt wiped down the blood on his chest. She continued watching mutely as he padded over, naked, to another chair and sat down.

Turning to face him, she took off one glove, and started caressing herself, arousing herself.

Her nipples hardened.

She pulled the glove back on.

Kurt let her savour in advance the thought of what he was going to have her do.

“Noooo,” she wailed.

Implacably Kurt looked at her, and said stonily:

“As you give, so shall you receive.”

Angel’s eyes widened in horror.

“Not my breasts, please, not my breasts.”

Kurt looked on.

Her eyes revealing the pain, she raked the diamond flecked glove down over her right breast, disfiguring it, scarring it deeply, and likewise severing the nipple. The blood poured out of the lacerations in her flesh.

Angel was sobbing uncontrollably.

She sank to her knees on the floor, whimpering

Kurt released his hold.

Angel looked up at him from the floor.

“You bastard,” she said.

“For what,” Kurt asked amusedly. “For playing with your mind?”

Angel looked down at herself.

Her breast was untouched, the nipple whole.

No torn flesh, no scar, no blood.

And still aroused.

“From now on,” Kurt said, “you will do exactly as I say, You will serve me completely.

“And you’ll begin this servitude by finishing what you started.”

Angel did as she was commanded.

[Rynn]

>
[This message has been edited by Rynn (edited November 18, 1999).]

[Googlie]

The wind flapped the drapes against the side of the bed, wakening me up.

I got up and shut the patio door, and padded into the washroom to relieve myself, then returned to bed.

I was dozing when I heard the patio door blow open again, so I got up, closed and locked it. Hearing a sound from the washroom, I yelled:

“Stazi, is that you?”

“Wolfie, I’m here.”

Funny, I thought, I didn’t hear her get up. I fact, I couldn’t recall her being in the bed when I did get up to shut the door. Ah, well. I returned to bed.

She padded out of the washroom and came to bed, crawling on top of me.

“I’m glad you’re awake, Wolfie,” she said. “Wanna do it again?”

My reaction to her hand and mouth left both her and me in do doubt that I did.

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

We were lying lazily in bed planning the day’s activities.

“Let’s go climbing,” Stazi said. “There’s a huge mountain behind the base that’d be fun to climb. At the top, there’s a research weather station of sorts that has a fabulous view in all directions. Perhaps the resort could pack us a picnic lunch..”

That seemed like a plan, so I readily acquiesced.

The resort was happy to provide a lunch, and offered to drive us to the base of the mountain to commence our hike. We accepted the offer.

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

The path through the forest led uphill following the river as it dropped from the heights above us in a series of waterfalls.

Here the air was eminently breathable, slightly damp, with the fine spray from the waterfalls descending on us periodically to refresh us. But more importantly, to oxygenate us under the canopy of trees.

They were primarily firs, which seemed to have a strong affinity for Chiron’e soil and atmosphere. Temple of Sol had been the third base established by the Peacekeepers so the forest was mature now with the tallest firs being well over 100 years old

The coolness was welcoming as we climbed.

Temple lay at an altitude of almost 2500 feet above sea level, and our destination was the 8000 foot plateau of Mount Avishnu. We reckoned that the 5500 foot elevation would take us just over ten hours to clime solidly, but with breaks for rest, nourishment and generally to admire the unfolding scenery it would more likely encompass a six-hour night stopover as well.

Stazi was strangely silent during the early part of the climb, until I could stand it no more. This was not the bubbly, effervescent young woman I had been captivated with – rather she was somewhat withdrawn and morose.

During a rest break, I sat down on a fallen log, and pulled her down beside me.

“Stazi, what’s up?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” was her reply.

“You’re all moody and withdrawn. Not at all excited about this climb. It’s so unlike you. Unless, that is, there’s a side to you that I don’t know yet. Does climbing exert you? Too much oxygen here? What is it Sweetheart? Share.”

I looked at her expectantly.

She set her lip, and I could tell that this was not going to be easy.

I acted on a hunch.

“Stazi. If there is to be any “long-term” to our relationship, it has to be based on trust. Do you agree?”

She nodded.

“Well start by telling me what you were doing in the middle of the night.”

Her eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, and she paused:

“What exactly do you mean, Wolfie?” she asked.

“Well, let me tell you what I know, then you tell me.

“Last night, after we made love, I closed the balcony doors as it was getting cold with the onset of Chiron’s winter. About three in the morning I was awakened by the drapes flapping in the breeze. I got up to the washroom and again closed the doors. You were not in the bed when I returned. I dozed. Some time later the patio doors were again open, so again I got up and closed them. Then I heard you in the washroom.

“Just what is going on, Stazi?”

“Wolfie…I had a job to do. That woman will not bother you or us again.”

“Stazi. You…you killed her?”

“No, Wolfie. I left her unconscious. A mindworm will kill her.”

I shrank back in horror.

“Stazi, you’re playing with fire. A mindworm will kill more than just her. And how do you intend to attract a mindworm to Temnple anyway?”

“A baby one, Wolfie. A preserved larval mass. I brought it with me.”

I shuddered.

“So that’s why you are moody and withdrawn? Because you are responsible for someone’s death – or about to die?”

“No, Wolfie. Sit back and let me tell you. Here’s what I got out of her.”

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

“So we’re going to just walk right into the Avishnu testing center and confront Jacques?” I asked.

“Not exactly, although it might just work out that way,” she replied.

“But why are you taking it all so personally,” I asked. “It’s almost as if the PK Special Ops had targeted you and your family, by the way you’re reacting.”

“They are,” she replied. And then she floored me.

“My father, Gregor Zakharov, was the head of the University Special Operations, and was assassinated by Jacques himself while on a mission. But he had been quite a ladies’ man, and had once had a fling with a woman he’d left pregnant.

“Marlo Hollis was my mother.”

[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited November 18, 1999).]

[Hydro]

Morgan Industries

"Explain to me why Yang and his mindless minions were able to divert so much energy from us?" Morgan Senior asked in a perfectly level and cold voice. His fury was under better control now. It had simply been redirected - at his military and financial advisors.

Morgan's senior military analyst Maxwell Colrain relaxed a notch at the question. It was one he could answer.

"During the occupation of Morgan Bank, they were able to corrupt financial transfers, effecting a redirection of energy credits. They also were able to liquidate certain assets.."

"WRONG!" Morgan thundered. His eyes blazed. "They were able to divert more than half our reserves because we had it to be diverted! Did I or did I not order that the majority of available energy reserves to be used to crash build command and aerospace centers? And then garrisons, upgrades, and prototypes?"

His advisor squirmed a little. "Yes, sir, but we thought it would be prudent to conserve our capital so…"

"We thought?! Conserve!! When Yang had just taken Morgan Pharmaceuticals and had more than half of his airforce stationed in our territory you wanted to conserve energy? You blind idiot! That answer is unacceptable!"

The veins on Morgan's forehead throbbed. He was losing control again. Realizing this he closed his eyes and grasped the edge of his faux mahogany desk with both hands. He gripped it so hard that all the veins, tendons, and bones in his hands showed clearly through his skin.

Morgan took several deep breaths. The room was quiet except for his noisy rasps.

"I am about to give you a direct order. If you don't follow it I will have you executed to treason. Is that clear?" Morgan said with crystal clarity.

His advisor blanched. "Yes, sir."

"You are to spend all but 10% of our remaining reserves on military upgrades of existing units, then rush completion of those in production. All aircraft are to be refitted with chaos weapons and nerve gas. Attack rovers are to be refitted with nerve gas. All units are to receive fusion reactors. Ensure that all new units are trained. Defensive units are to have anti aircraft ability or ECM. A priority is to be placed on attack units, since with Yang's new shard weapons with nerve gas makes defense almost hopeless."

Morgan paused and opened his eyes. He looked up from his desk and directly into the eyes of his quaking advisor.

"Queries?"

"Sir, ah, if we use gas on Yang we will gas our own citizens in Pharma and Bank! The casualties will be catastrophic!"

Morgan nodded in assent. He was suddenly calmer, and almost grim. "I know. Many will die. But we can no longer fight a defensive war. If we do not eliminate a significant majority of Yang's forces before they can refit then we are lost."

"Yes, sir. Understood. Sir?"

"Yes, Colrain?"

"My mother-in-law lives in Bank. Or maybe she did live there. I don't know."

"I wish her the best." A pained look swept across Morgan Senior's face. "My son Nwabudike Junior is there, too."

Maxwell was stricken, suddenly realizing the importance of Morgan Senior's decision. He wasn't acting out of ruthlessness or thoughtlessness, or shear callousness or ambition.

Morgan Senior was acting out of fear.

And desperation.

[Hydro]

Morgan Industries

The aerospace complex at Morgan Industries was gleaming and lavish. Composite ceramic with synthcrystaline inlay formed the walls and ceilings, with the inlays illuminating the working areas without shadow. Aesthetically graceful decorative arches soared up 20 meters above the floor and then met in the center, creating an almost cathedral-like beauty. This center had been built prior to present hostilities, and new aerospace complexes were neither beautiful nor aesthetic. The first casualty in the Hive-Morgan war had not been Morgan Pharmaceuticals, but the indulgence of merging art and function. Now function ruled supreme. The new aerospace centers at Morgan Metagenics, Transport, Energy, Aerospace, and Hydrochemical were, in a word, crude by comparison.

This utilitarian function was also present in the unaesthetic forms that the aerospace hanger held. These forms were sleek, but not beautiful. Their presence might be awe inspiring, but not inspiring. At the center of the crystalline hanger lay three Morgan interceptors, two recently retrofitted and one brand new. They were fusion powered with chaos guns, and under their wings were nerve gas mirv missiles.

Six pilots walked somberly into the hall, their shoes clicking very softly on the cold ceramic floor. Each wore a muted grey uniform with muted yellow trim: the uniform of the Morgan Air Force.

Three sets of two pilots split off, each set going to a different interceptor. As they approached their charges, they slowed and touched the side of each plane. A small but functional ladder formed and then extended almost to the ground. Without a word the pilot and copilot pairs climbed up and into the cockpit. After their entry, the canopy closed.

After the last canopy closed a single voice was piped into each cabin.

"This is Air Marshal Shane Abrams. Your three flights will be coordinating two other flights from Metagenics and Energy. Your objective is simple: destroy the Hive airforce at Morgan Bank, starting with their interceptors. Currently, there are two interceptors in the air at Morgan Bank. Our interceptors got the third Hive interceptors on the way in, but Kail and Mali were overwhelmed and went down. The remaining Hive interceptors are an old fission missile and a new Hive shard fusion interceptor. Two nerve gas penetrators, both old fission missiles, are currently in the air around Bank.

Since all of you can do the math, the odds are that you won't destroy more than what is at Bank. Take out the two damaged interceptors first, especially the shard interceptor. Your chemical mirvs and your better training will even up the score. After the interceptors are gone take out the bombers.

Your nerve gas should give you an edge, especially against the old fission jets. Remember that you are equiped with nerve gas, and your objective is to eliminate the air force. Any attack on Bank will kill tens of thousands, so be careful.

Good luck. "

A lone figure with silver hair could be seen in the back of the hanger. He stopped talking into his mike and stood at attention. Then he saluted smartly to the interceptors as they powered up. Each of the pilots and copilots saluted their commander in return.

With trained precision the interceptors wheeled around. The great hanger door opened, revealing a dark grey and threatening sky. One by one they left the hanger and angled left out of sight.

The lone figure finally ended his salute after the interceptors were completely out of sight. As his arm went down to his side he let go with a ragged sigh.

Those men and women were the cream of the Morgan Federation air force. They were outnumbered and soon would be significantly outgunned by the Hive airforce. What they didn't take out now would soon be upgraded. It would then be turned to decimate their thinned ranks. One reserve interceptor was at Metagenics, the other here at Morgan Industries. Unless the Spartans could help, these seven interceptors would have to defend the Morgan Federation from Yang's growing air force.

Now even the roar of the fusion engines was dimming.

Shane turned back to his office to monitor their progress.

Chances were that Commander Shane Abrams would never see some in his command again.

*****

"Interceptor Delta 1 to wing, level off at 6,000 meters. Weather is a little too heavy up there for us. Spartan reports from the Weather Paradigm at Ruby Ridge Memorial show that we can expect severe downdrafts and wind shear above 7,000 feet. The front is advancing, but not fast enough to abort the mission. Squirting weather tactical to you now."

Captain Derek Winslow blink-activated his comm to access his computer feed and used his eye cursor to select, download, and send the data to his flight. Soon the two other interceptors would be forming up. Flying this low limited maneuverability, but the Hive pilots would be similarly limited. If they were lucky they would also be damaged or short on fuel, or both.

At least that is what Derek hoped.

Derek checked tactical. The holo appeared in his mind from its feed, showing representation of the circling Hive interceptors and penetrators circling Bank.

Derek grimaced. Those penetrators had been responsible for killing over half of the population of Morgan Bank. At least 50,000 people, all civilians, were dead - victims of nerve gas.

If anyone deserved to die for that unnecessary slaughter it was the crew of those Hive penetrators.

Derek's hatred was only tempered by his professionalism, which required that distractions such as raw emotion be muted so his mission could be fulfilled. Likewise he quelled his own misgivings about the payload he carried: chaos assisted mirv nerve gas missiles. These munitions were specifically designed to home and kill any unfortunate pilot. It was not a pleasant way to die, but then dieing was rarely pleasant.

Derek's mind cleared. At least he wasn't going to be using them on the hapless citizens of Bank. His targets were only on Yang's murderous bomber pilots. It was what they so richly deserved.

Still, a small portion of Derek's mind asked: what if I was ordered to attack Hive defenders in Bank? Could I do it, knowing that tens of thousands of Morgan Federation citizens would die? This dark thought caused a shiver to ripple through Derek's subconscious, where it stayed.

Shaking his head slightly to clear his mind, he checked over his virtual control panel of his interceptor. Everything was tagged, with auto zoom to instantly bring up detail displays on all plane functions. If he wanted he could even take a tour of the guts of his plane while it was in flight to diagnose and affect repairs, if necessary. Everything looked OK. Out of habit, be temporarily disengaged his helmet's emitter and visually checked the actual hardware of his cockpit. It was an old habit, and one that died hard. Derek didn't like trusting his holo emitter completely. But, all was in order. He looked up and reactivated.

He activated his comm to the others in his wing.

"Delta 1 to 2 and 4. Confirm rendezvous with Deltas 7 and 10 in 24 minutes. Intercept at Bank in 47 minutes. Delta 2 and 4, as our most experience pilots you are assigned to the shard interceptor. We will act as backup, as will Deltas 7 and 10. Priority targeting after the shard interceptor is down is as follows: damaged fission missile interceptor, then the two penetrator butchers.

If we take them all out, those that have the fuel return to Morgan Industries for backup. The rest, take up holding patters over roads to harass and block traffic to Industries.

Delta 1, out."

*****

Seng Hsui of Deaths Head Brigade and his squad were busy clearing out pockets of civilian resistance, by force if necessary. In reality there wasn't much resistance. Most of the population was simply too stunned and terrified to do more than stare vacantly and get in the way. Still, standing orders were that those who refused to obey orders, and obey instantly, were to be shot.

Shots rang out all over through the rubble of Morgan Bank, once the finest research facility on Planet. Now it was a non-functional city of slack-faced refugees.

Seng secured his breather, cycled the airlock of the hab complex, and walked outside. Low storm clouds were billowing in from the north, with very distant flashes like thunder and lightning.

Privately, Seng hoped for rain. It might wash away some of the stench of death and blood away. Bodies, twisted in agony of their final moments, still littered the streets.

A series of low booms, like thunder, washed over the streets. Seng looked up, and was surprised to see a squadron of aircraft approaching from the north.

That could only mean one thing.

Counterattack.

Seng activated his comm.

"Hsui to command! Four, no five, incoming aircraft from the north! Coming from the general direction of Morgan Indust…"

It was clear that his warning was unnecessary, for the interceptors in a holding pattern around Bank were already responding to the new threat.

All were traveling fast, and in moments there were a series of titanic energy discharges.

The sky darkened as the storm from the north approached. Within the Hive-controlled city of Morgan Bank, however, there was no darkness. Blossoms of chaos and shard energy brightened the sky.

It would have been beautiful if it weren't so deadly.

*****

"Delta 2, banking toward Hive interceptors. Sensor data indicates the nearest one is the shard interceptor, with the fission missile interceptor hanging slightly back. The bombers are angling away. Moving to engage."

Visually toggling off the audio, Carol edged her interceptor into a theta gig, an invention of hers for evading enemy fire. It was partially random to foil hostile targeting computers, and in training it worked every time.

"Sean, that is one big-ass gun on that interceptor. Can you get a bead on him?"

"I could get a better bead if you didn't keep weaving all over the place! You did go through detox after your last pleasure trip to Metagenics, didn't you? Try to keep it steady for more than a nano second, would 'ya? But, yah, its big. I'll do some prox fire to soften him up a little. A few chaos globes with gas mirvs should get his attention!"

"Fine, stop your jabber and just do it. "

"Party pooper. OK. Just pinged him. Acquisition complete. Firing."

The cockpit sang with the release of energy, and a globe of blue blossomed with 200 meters from the advancing Hive interceptor. It veered off a little, avoiding the expanding globe.

"Hehehe! That got his attention! Closer, my child, I have a treat for you! Want a taste? Do you like candy? How about…..THIS!"

Another globe appeared, this time directly in front of the interceptor. It couldn't avoid it this time, and the wave of energy expanded and enveloped the left wing. Something activated, and the energy arced off, throwing the Hive interceptor west and off course. Its left wing was scorched but apparently intact.

"Sean, he's on an attack run! I'm pulling off in 5 seconds, mark!"

"Mirvs going now!"

A pair of missiles arced from the undercarriage of the interceptor, streaking toward the now very bright EM signature of the Hive shard interceptor.

Ominously, the front of the interceptor was glowing orange and pulsating. Regaining its course, the interceptor angled inward toward Delta 2.

"Oh, god! Pulling up! Sean, hang on!"

With that warning, Delta 2 pulled four gees and both pilot and copilot momentarily blacked out. It pulled an inside loop and started violent evasive. The cabin jerked violently back and forth, and only the inertial dampeners in the pilots' seats prevented them from being transformed into human puree.

Orange enveloped them as the shard lanced toward its target and was converted partially into pure energy. Abruptly the left side of Delta 2 ceased to exist, and the incoming wind and energy explosively tore the rest of the aircraft apart. Generally intact, the cabin blasted free of the debris, arced upward, then downward as gravity took hold. A parachute popped, but only 2 of the 3 air brakes fully formed. The survival pod plummeted to the ground in a partially controlled descent.

In back of them, the debris of Delta 2 scattered and cooled as the energy released from the shard dispersed.

And the mirvs activated, and homed in.

Then they struck, and little black marks peppered the hull of the Hive interceptor.

They burned their way in through the damaged left wing and the canopy, and a series of small micro explosions rippled over the hull. Lurching crazily, the Hive interceptor angled away and a streamer of smoke issued from its left wing. Its shard weapon dimmed.

"Delta 1, Delta 2 is down! Repeat, down! Going in to finish the Hive interceptor, which is severely damaged. Angling up, now."

Delta 2's wing partner Delta 4 nosed down to follow the corkscrewing Hive interceptor. It wasn't clear if they were going into evasive or were slightly out of control. Regardless, a blue glow formed and then appeared in front of the crippled Hive interceptor. Then a pair of nerve gas missiles took off, and streaked toward the fleeing craft. One of the globes clipped the damaged left wing, which disintegrated.

The Hive prototype shard fusion interceptor's corkscrew became a death spiral.

"Delta 4 to 1, munitions expended. Going into holding pattern. Three bogies left. Go to it boys. I'm tracking Carol and Sean's descent. They're doing down fast. Delta 4 out."

*****

Seng watched the eerie blue and orange flashes with fascination. Technically, he knew he was in violation of some rule, or at least dereliction of duty. But he couldn't help it. He was mesmerized.

Two of the small interceptors approached each other, and in seconds more lights formed. Then what was probably the Morgan interceptor pulled a tight aerial U-turn right into an orange globe. It burst with a red and orange light. Moments later the defending Hive interceptor staggered and then veered off. Then it started angling toward the ground.

Why was it doing that? It looked like it had avoided the blue chaos globes.

Then another Morgan interceptor made a B-line for it and a blue globe formed directly in front of the fighter, and the defending interceptor burst apart.

An empty feeling settled on Seng. He watched the other interceptors make for the remaining Hive interceptor. The conclusion of that aerial combat was short, ending with the Hive interceptor getting one missile strike in and then erupting in flame as chaos spheres tore it apart.

The two Hive bombers didn't even put up a fight. The Morgan interceptors simply flew up and fired once, and the bombers ruptured and fell from the sky in a smoke-trailed parabolic arc.

In 15 minutes the entire Hive air force at Morgan Bank had been eliminated.

The skys above Morgan Bank were now controlled by the Morganites.

[This message has been edited by Hydro (edited November 21, 1999).]

[Googlie]

Chairman Sheng-Ji Yang reached over the small table to pour some fresh tea into Madame Hsui's cup.

As he poured, he looked quizzically at Marshal Ng and asked:

"So what do you think of her plan?"

"Well, Mr. Chairman, our backs are to the wall. In short, we are facing a juggernaut in the Spartan advance, and it will only get worse as they retool with the new shard weaponry that our researchers perfected. The bringing in of the two artifacts that we found in the ocean helped immensely to speed the research, but with the capture of the two most recent bases I fear that this technology has now found it's way into Spartan hands.

"We must sue for peace, to give our industry time to retool ourselves, but even I cannot see what we can offer Santiago that would make her accept. So Civilian Marshal Hsui may have articulated the only option we have."

It was the longest speech that Chairman Yang had ever heard Ng make.

"Lets do it then," he said. "Agreed?"

They nodded.

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

The lone Spartan needlejet approached from the ocean and crossed the shoreline just south of the forests that marked the southernmost zone of control of Morgan Community Nexus. It hugged the terrain as it climbed on its southwesterly heading, climbing through the 2000 meter level as it crossed the reddish fungus patch below and finally cresting the 2872 meter level of mount fecundity before veering south following the road below from Community Nexus to Fecundity Tower until it was just a few kilometers from the Hive base.

"Arm weapons" came the metallic voice of the pilot to the weapons officer.

"Armed" came the reply.

"Commencing launch maneuver"

The pilot pulled the nose up, accelerating as he went into his climb.

"Released," said the WO laconically as he punched in the code.

From the underwing pylons the two missiles fired and as the needlejet lazily turned their contrails could be seen heading south.

The threat proximity alert blared.

"Sir, enemy below has a lock," the WO yelled

"Launch detected, flaring ECMs now."

The elctronic counter measures pod deployed, giving the incoming missiles a variety of targets to choose.

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

The two stand-off missiles crested at their apogee and then began their descent to Fecundity Tower.

Essentially unguided, relying on inertia for guidance, they honed in on their target which was the base itself.

In the base below, the defenses were powerless. They had a lock on the needlejet which had presented a broad profile to their radar a few seconds before as it nosed up after release of its missiles, but the radar crew were aghast as they watched the twin blips of the incoming missiles head for the base.

The first struck just off the overpass of the Drone Mound//Great Clustering highway and the northbound road to Communal Nexus.

Scant seconds later the second struck in the downtown core.

The evening sky illuminated as the two tactical nukes detonated, destroying about one third of the base. Lost to the second missile were the Children's Creche, the Recycling Tanks and the Energy Bank from the downtown area. The first was responsible for severing the throughway and for destroying a sizeable section of the perimeter defense. Almost half the population was destroyed in the blast.

The flash could be seen by the naked eye from Communal Nexus to the north to Sea Hive to the south.

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

"I can't shake 'em, sir," came the harried voice of the Spartan weapons officer.

The first missile struck, shearing the wing off completely from the needlejet.

"Eject, NOW," came the pilot officer's command.

The ejection pod activated, blasting the canopy open and throwing the two occupants into the evening sky as the second ground-to-air missile struck amidships.

The crew safely ejected, and floated to the ground.

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

Lady Deirdre Skye was meeting with Chairman Yang.

"I can assure you, my dear lady, that none was as surprised as I. this signals a new and dangerous escalation in our war with Sparta. I myself have refrained from deploying our Planetbuster weapon as an acknowledgement that we do not want to perpetrate on Planet the wanton destruction that characterized our last days on Earth. Planet's ecosystem will be severely degraded if nukes are used. It appears that our friend Corazon has no such compunctions. And sentient, you say?"

They were reviewing footage of the destruction in fecundity tower, and the reports of the work among the survivors, as well as a holovid of the wreckage of the downed needlejet. The Spartan insignia were clearly visible on the remnants of the wing and on the complete tail assembly.

"I had not thought Corazon capable," a shaken Deirdre admitted. "Maybe she is being swayed by her generals."

"That's probably it," said Yang. "They had the taste of power when the Colonel was in the tanks, and now they are loath to give up. This senseless war must end, my lady. And you and Commissioner Lal have the power in your own hands."

"I know," Deirdre sadly lamented. "But I cannot commit my military to fight against the Spartans. Many of them are our friends. Why my daughter Julia, the commandant of our air forces, was brought up by the Colonel when I was fleeing your blitzkrieg."

"I know," Yang said solicitously. "My excesses - and those of the men and women under my command - have pained me constantly since those days. But to matters to hand. You need not commit your troops to fight. The mere pronouncing of vendetta by you and Pravin should be enough to stop the mad Colonel in her tracks. And that is all we crave. I have no territorial ambition. The Allardyce Solution was acceptable to us - we will limit our expansion to the empty Nessus Canyon continent to the west of us.

"So why don't we call Pravin and sound him out?"

"Let's do that," was Deirdre's reply. "Just let me do the talking - to begin with, anyway."

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

"Lal here"

"Pravin, I am uploading a squirt of the events of the last few hours.

"T fill you in while it is transferring, Sparta has launched a nuclear attack on a Hive base - Fecundity Tower, with a loss of lives numbering 20,000 just from the detonations - God knows how many will die in the aftermath.

"Chairman Yang is being most restrained, refusing to unleash his planetbusters in retaliation. He wants this war to stop.

"Pravin, the lessons of history are too deeply inbred in we Landers. The Colonel must be made to see sense and call off this war against the hive before planet is destroyed along with every UN ideal we still cherish."

"I am viewing the holovid now, Deirdre. And this is most serious. I shall seek an audience with the Colonel right away and try to reason with her."

"Pravin, the time has come for us to rattle our steel. We must declare vendetta against the Colonel if only to be true to the UN Charter which we all subscribed to - notwithstanding its repeal two days ago. Of course we will not actually fight unless provoked, but we must show a united front that we have decreed that this war has gone on long enough and far enough.

"Are you with me?"

"I suppose so, lady Deirdre. It is awkward, though, being here at Sparta Command."

"Where are you physically right now, Pravin?"

"I'm at the aerospace center arranging with my crew to fly in some more essentials that I need. Life here is - how should I say it - and no pun intended - extremely spartan."

"Pravin. Waste no time. Board your needlejet and get rolling back to UN Headquarters. I'll pronounce vendetta immediately, and as soon as you are outside the range of Spartan forces you do the same.

"We have to end this madness. Planet demands it and the need to abide by the ideals of the UN requires it.

"So leave now, Pravin. For your own sake, humanity's - and Planet's"

"Deirdre, I'm on my way."

Deirdre turned to Yang, and said:

"Well, I guess I'll call Corrie now. But first I must alert my forces."

Yang nodded, secretly exulting.

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

flash, encrypted, to all Gaian field commanders.

Messaage begins: This evening with a heavy heart I will be declaring vendetta against the Spartan Federation. They are guilty of an atrocity of the gravest kind - the use of nuclear weapons against a defenseless population. Commissioner Lal and I have talked at length, and the Peacekeepers will shortly be following our lead and likewise declare Vendetta.

Mobilize our mindworm corps and prepare for an offensive on the Spartan mainland itself. We will stop when we have seized six bases and offer terms..

The desired outcome is a lasting peace on Planet, which is growing more and more distressed each day with our depredations. Nuclear weapons are the last straw.

message ends.

End of encryption

To Julia, Alphonse and Bambi she empathed:

Defensive only - we don't want a war, we want a peace. But Santiago must call off her hounds.

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

"Santiago here. Ah, Dee. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Quit playacting, Corrie. You know why. But first tell me, was it your idea, or your generals? And I think I know you well enough to know it is the latter. Just why did you go along with it?"

"Dee. I'm serious. What on earth are you talking about?"

"Have it your way, then Corrie.

"Effective immediately the Stepdaughters of Gaia pronounce Vendetta against the Spartan Federation on account of your using nuclear weapons against the defenseless population of Fecundity Tower.

"Deirdre out."

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

Chairman Yang reached across the small table and refilled Civilian Marshal Hsui's cup.

"Congratulations, Madam. Your plan worked like a charm. Make sure the two crewmen are commensurately rewarded.

"And I do think that you should appear at Fecundity Tower to show your grieving."


[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited November 21, 1999).]

[Hydro]

Morgan Industries

“She did WHAT?!!” Morgan Senior thundered. His tenuous grasp on control was slipping again. Being exhausted and livid at the same time was not a good combination.

Morgan’s senior military advisor was also wrung out by the events of the last three days: the fall of Morgan Bank to the Hive, truce declared between the Hive, Peacekeepers, and Gaians, and the fall of Drone’s Mound and Manufacturing Warrens to the Spartans.

And now this - a report of a tactical nuclear attack on the Hive by the Spartans. And a Gaian and Peacekeeper vendetta against Sparta!

“Ah, she...” Maxwell Colrain started.

“I heard you the first time,” Morgan interrupted impatiently. “And that simpering idiot Pravin Lal went along with it? No, no, don’t answer. Of course he did. Always whining about his Charter, regardless of circumstances. Regardless of logic!”

Morgan stopped pacing and furrowed his brow.

Think! Use a business-planning paradigm! Who stands to benefit? What are the motivations? Who are the stakeholders? Who has the means?

What would Santiago gain by nuking the Hive? Nothing! Her forces are almost a juggernaught! She has captured three Hive colonies in a week. She only loses by using nukes right now, and destroys the assets she hopes to capture!

And Yang? He benefits by a shift in forces just when he needs it! He gains with every day he can delay.

And the means? Who has the means? Who has nuclear weapons? Certainly not the Spartans. Morgan intelligence, always excellent, can confirm that.

The only faction that has produced nuclear weapons was Yang. He had even used them against Sparta Command more than a month ago.

The analysis points to Yang. Always to Yang!

Manipulation, skillfully played! It had to be!

Morgan paused.

Yang had used a nuclear device on his own people!

The revelation washed over Morgan so suddenly that he felt dizzy, and leaned forward to catch his balance. Maxwell, afraid for Morgan’s stability and health under such severe stress, rushed forward to support him.

Morgan waved him aside. He looked sideways at the anxious face of his old advisor Maxwell and put up an ebony hand to let him know the vertigo had passed.

“I am all right, Maxwell. Get me a stim. I have a call to make. Maybe several.”

*****

Within a half an hour Morgan was a different person. He had on a fresh navy suit and white shirt with jade cufflinks and throat clasp, and the fatigue was gone from his face. The stims from Morgan Metagenics could do wonders, but there would be a price to pay.

There was always a price to pay, especially if you wanted something badly enough.

He hit his comm button, one that was rarely used but had been activated less than a month ago. That had been the first time it had been used in decades.

A full-length holo of Lady Deirdre Skye appeared. She was wearing dark grey, very unusual for a woman who historically favored vivid earth tones.

It was a color of mourning.

“Lady Skye, thank you for receiving my call. There are events which have transpired that deserve discussion.”

Lady Skye favored him with a fairly friendly by wary look.

“Yes, Nwabudike, there are. Like your use of nerve gas on Hive aircraft?” she asked. Her tone was only slightly accusatory.

“That is one item. I don’t know what reports you receive, but I will summarize for you. We had just lost Morgan Bank to Yang, at the death of over 50,000 Morgan Federation citizens to nerve gas. It was an unnecessary act, for considering the forces at Yang’s disposal he surely would have persevered without it. There was only one reason for its use: terror, and the shear disregard for human life.

Our response was in accordance with the withdrawal of the Charter. You will note that Morgan use of nerve gas was only used on military units. In particular those that wantonly killed tens of thousands of Morgan Federation citizens.

Have you seen the vids of Morgan Bank? Men, woman, and children cut down. They died in excruciating agony as their organs liquefied and blood seeped out through ruptured skin. Regardless of Yang’s propoganda, there were no celebrations by ‘liberated’ citizens that welcomed Yang’s troops. Terror and shock would be much more accurate. But, my dear Lady, you are familiar with the horrors of war. But have either of us ever even imagined death on this scale? More died in that one attack by Yang than in the entire Hive-Gaian-Morgan war thirty years ago!

Without my counterattack those same Hive forces would now be attacking Morgan Industries.

I had no choice.”

Deirdre looked pained, and clearly did feel empathy for the tens of thousands of deaths. Unnecessary deaths.

“Nwabudike, I abhor the use of nerve gas and all use of weapons of mass destruction. Even with my principles, I do understand.”

Lady Skye leaned forward and looked directly into Morgan’s eyes.

“But it has to stop! And now with the escalation of the conflict by Corazon’s use of tactical nuclear weapons on the Hive, the death and destruction will only get worse! We all will suffer, as will Planet!

Join Pravan and me! Break your Pact with Corazon, and truce with Yang. My offer still stands. I will give up the two former Gaian cities to Yang after the remaining Gaian citizens have been relocated, and Yang will return your cities to you!

We can end this now!”

Deirdre’s soulful blue eyes looked beseechingly into Morgan’s.

As before, Morgan felt Deirdre’s touch on his mind. It was gentle, and empathetic.

Morgan nodded his head slightly.

“Lady Skye, you are quite correct. This cycle of violence has to stop, and we must pursue a course that will maximize this chance.

The cusp was Coronal Santiago’s use of the nuclear device, was it not?”

Deirdre nodded sadly. “I never would have thought it possible. I’ve known her for so long, and I thought I knew her even if our outlooks on life are so different. I trusted her with my life, and she never let me down. She has changed.”

“Has she? You’ve been allied with the Coronal for, what, almost 50 years?”

Deirdre nodded.

“Even during the most unpleasant portions of her war with the University when she came within a hair’s breadth of losing to Zakharov’s and his technology, did she resort to weapons of mass destruction? Or any behavior that wasn’t honorable?”

Deirdre slowly shook her head.

“You and your people have been in close contact with the Spartans. Your advisors undoubtedly know much about what the Spartans are researching and building. Is this true?”

Deirdre seemed to catch on to Morgan’s line of questioning, and a pensive looked formed on her face.

“Yes. Corazon and I share, or used to share, almost everything. Our peoples go way back. Sometimes I worried that Corazon was too open.”

Morgan leaned forward slightly and continued to look Deirdre straight in the eyes.

“Have the Spartans ever built a nuclear device? What is the chance that the Spartans would have researched, developed, and deployed a nuclear device in the last 50 years without you knowing about it? Would not one of your advisors immediately tell you if there was so much as an inkling of such an occurrence?”

Deirdre was silent.

“Moreover, who is known to have developed, tested, threatened, and used a nuclear device? Remember the tactical nuclear strike against Sparta Command? Remember the threat Yang made to obliterate Sparta Command with a planetbuster? Remember how Yang was the first on all of Planet to use nerve gas, first against the Spartans and then against the innocent civilians of Morgan Bank? This event forced us to retaliate in kind!

What do these events say about the character of Yang and Santiago? Who had the means, and inclination to use these horrific weapons?”

Doubt crept into Deirdre’s face.

“But people change, Nwabudike. Some change for the worse.”

Morgan nodded in assent.

“Yes, you are correct. Santiago may have changed, even if I can not perceive it.

But some people do not change. I had the distinct misfortune to be allied to Yang for over 40 years. I know his mind, as well as any human can, at least. He is cunning and treacherous. I will now admit to you that for much of our affiliation I thought I was the master manipulator in our relationship. Yang was, in the beginning, submissive and accommodating. He told me exactly what I wanted to hear. All his ‘suggestions’ were oh, so reasonable and logical.

But who duped whom? Who ended up with the power, technology, and resources in the end of the day?

Not I. At the end he regularly demanded technology and energy from me, as if I were nothing more than a slave.

His tongue is sweet when he wants it to be, Lady Skye. Beware of it. And his sword is long and sharp, as you know so well. Be wary of it, too.

So, I would contend that Yang had the means, where the Spartans did not, to carry out this nuclear attack.

Yang had the motive. He wants and needs to break the alliance against him. He can win against one or two opponents, but not three.

As to opportunity, what better divisive event could there be than the slaughter of Hive civilians and the outrage it would cause? Does Coronal Santiago condone this type of action? Probably not. But think: even if she did, where is the crushing follow up? What is the chance that this nuclear device would not be followed by waves of Spartan troops? And the attack occurred in exactly the wrong place! The Spartans are advancing in the east, not the west. This nuclear attack is the epitome of a strategic and tactical blunder. Even a changed Santiago would not do that, nor would one of her power-mad generals, as they are sometimes characterized.

Now, let us consider Yang. Would he sacrifice his citizens en-mass for what he considered a greater good? This is the same Yang with a brutal, repressive society that we both loathe, and the same Yang who has wontonly committed atrocities by the use of nuclear and chemical weapons.”

Morgan sat back in his chair, fairly exhausted again. The stim was wearing off. His face turned downward for a moment in reflection. He could still feel Deirdre’s caress in his mind. It was but a tingle. He had no idea exactly what was being read, but had enough trust that she wasn’t doing more than seeking.

And trying to determine the truth. He didn’t try to shut her out, and even welcomed the probe since he had nothing to hide.

Finally, Deirdre broke the pained silence. Now the pallor of her face almost matched her grey gown.

“Nwabudike, I can’t help but think that you are also known as a honey-tongued manipulator. Your past is almost a shaded as Yang’s.

But this time I don’t think so. You may be right.

The fact remains that this war is going to pull Planet apart, and I can’t allow that. I believe it is at the verge of consciousness, and I must do what I can to stop the destruction before it starts.” Deirdre’s eyes flashed with desperate urgency.

“Lady Skye, I am inclined to agree with you. But consider this. What chance does Planet have with a man like Yang who would willfully use two nuclear devices, one potentially against his own people? And nerve gas? Surely, Planet must sing to you, as you call it. It knows the truth.

I suggest that you call off your vendetta against the Spartans. They have been your allies for so many years that they deserve the benefit of the doubt, and breaking your alliance if this is simply a machination of Yang’s is a calamity. Some might consider it the worst form of betrayal.“

Deirdre looked away for a moment, wavering and indecisive. Unconsidered issues surfaced, and refused to be subsumed. Have I done the right thing? What if Yang was right? What if Morgan was right? Questions swirled in a maelstrom in her mind.

Finally, Deirdre faced Morgan again.

“For now the vendetta stands. I will check into your assertions. If they turn out to be even partially true than I owe Corazon, the Spartan people, the Peacekeepers, and the Gaians an apology. “

Morgan nodded, now quite somber.

“Lady Skye, check your sources soon. Until your facts are assembled, I implore you to exercise retraint. At the very least you owe that much to Coronal Santiago. Call her and get her side of the story. Do not rely on Yang as your only source of information.

In the meantime, however, we are at odds. I regretfully renounce our Pact, but will keep our treaty. It is too hard won to be thrown aside. Your forces must return to your nearest bases, and may not enter Morgan territory. This means your forces will not be able to affect the outcome of the Spartan attacks on the Hive mainland.

Do we have any other issues?”

“No,” Deirdre replied. Her face was ashen. Loss upon loss, future and present threats were building, as were uncertainty and doubt.

“Deirdre, out.”

The image of Deirdre winked out of existence.

Morgan slumped as the effects of his strain, exertion, and lack of sleep from the last four days took hold and the effects Metagenics stim wore off. Gradually his eyes closed. In fact, he knew this would happen and welcomed it. Sleep was momentary oblivion, when all the troubles passed away and peace descended.

His highback leather chair sensed his change of consciousness and reclined slightly, forming a form-fitting bed. Morgan drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Over in the darkened corner of Morgan’s office a shape shimmered into existence. It was like a holo, but more insubstantial and tenuous. Gradually it took the rough shape of a human.

The shape appeared to vaguely walk over toward the recumbent Nwabudike Morgan, Senior. As it approached the shadow refined its form, taking on faint color and sharper definition.

A spectral hand reached out and touched the side of the sleeping head, brushing his steel grey hair and ebony skin. Morgan’s form took slow, deep breaths as the shape watched.

Then the hand retracted.

Yes, some people do change, Nwabudike. And some change for the better.

Deirdre’s aspect graced Nwabudike with a sad smile, then she turned and walked away, fading as she went.

In a moment the shimmering image was gone like a wisp in the wind.

[Googlie]

Commissioner Lal stepped briskly from his executive needlejet and found his aide waiting for him, rather agitated.

“Yes?” he asked brusquely. “What have you for me, Chandra?”

“Commissioner. All morning Lady Skye has been trying to reach you. You must have had your commlink deactivated as she says you were refusing to take her calls, and I assured her that you would not be doing that knowingly.”

“Indeed,” harrumphed Lal. “I had to sleep.”

They went into the aerospace terminal and Lal went to the small executive offices of the airport administration chief.

“Commissioner Lal, this is a surprise,” said Guy Chatelaine, the airport executive. “I knew of course of your arrival, but presumed that you would be whisked downtown immediately. What can I do for you?”

“A few moments of privacy, to make a call,” he said to the executive.

“Ah, well then you shall have it. Come, Chandra. Let us give Commissioner Lal his privacy.”

The two men walked from the office and closed the connecting door behind them.

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

“Deirdre here. Ah, Pravin. So you finally have your commlink working again.”

“Ha, yes Lady. My apologies. I was sleeping the sleep of the dead in the plane back and had deactivated it, You were trying to reach me?”

“Yes, Pravin. Disquietening news.”

She relayed the gist of her conversation with CEO Morgan.

“So you see, Pravin, I am in a quandary. I could not believe Corazon capable of such an act, but with Allardyce and Burge out of the picture who knows what her hotheaded generals would do. She might have been powerless to stop them. But as Nwabudike says, it makes no military sense whatsoever. Where’s the massive rover rush into an undefended city? They were and still are pushing for the Hive itself.

“But even I could not imaging Sheng-Ji Yang doing that to his own people. If he did, then he is a greater monster than even we have accused him of at times.

“You are strangely quiet, Pravin. What’s your take on this?”

“Well Deirdre, I cannot help but be perplexed – and wary – at what you are now saying,” Lal replied petulantly.

“I feel like I am being pulled and prodded, played even for an old buffoon, by your machinations. First it was vendetta, and I agreed, reluctantly, you will remember, and now it seems that it was all a mistake, and we should just go about business as usual.

“I am aware of what the other faction leaders say behind my back – that I am weak and vacillating. That I care more about the UN Charter than about their rights and freedoms. To change now would just substantiate that derision I know they hold me in.

“You have truced with Morgan, I understand. What is your position regarding Santiago?”

“Pravin,” Lady Deirdre said gently. I am not manipulating you in any way. I too have been played like a fool. We both have. By Chairman Yang. He needs to buy time, so that the unparalleled efficiency of his industry can repair his military engine. So he slaughtered 20,000 of his own people to induce us to Vendetta against Sparta, hoping that this would cause Corazon to pause her expansion.

“We were duped, Pravin. And now we must do the right thing, even if we lose face.”

“Lady Skye, I think you are mistaken. You forget that it was I who chose Sheng-Ji Yang as the head of mission security from among countless candidates. You forget that it was a certain Lieutenant Santiago who mutinied on the Unity and who even tried to have Yang killed then.

“I consider her capable of anything. Even of nuking a base that she doesn’t bother invading so that we think it was Yang himself. Was there anything special about that base that made it a tasty target?”

“Ooh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Deirdre replied. “That Sparta would half nuke a Hive base, and not invade, to make us think that Yang nuked it, to pull us into her camp. Pravin. I know the Colonel. She is not that devious.”

“And Deirdre, I know Yang. He is not that monstrous.”

“So who could have done it?”

They both uttered it at the same time:

“Morgan?”

“He had the motive,” said Deirdre. Yang’s troops had just nerve-gassed Bank, with a loss of 50,000 lives.”

“No,” said Lal. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“Oh yes,” Deirdre replied. “So the CEO equipped his airforce with nerve gas pods of his own, and took out the Hive airforce at Bank and Pharma - or what Yang now calls Collective Conquest.

“I wouldn’t put it past Morgan to pull that stunt, and then to call me to complain.”

But then Deirdre thought of her last moments with him, the spectral visit she paid, the sleeping Morgan, her continuous mindprobing of him as he argued his case.

“No,” she said decisively. He’s innocent. It was Yang. Of that I am almost certain.”

“Almost isn’t good enough, Lady Skye. In matters like this, we need absolute. We need information. Have you any assets in the field?”

“Assets?” asked Deirdre.

“Operatives. Special forces. Probe teams?”

“Uh, no. Unless you count mindworms.”

Lal shivered. “I guess they are as able as any to penetrate human minds, but not to extract the coherent thoughts we need.

“I have agents in the Spartan Federation and The Hive. I will instruct them to get to the truth of the matter. Meanwhile what will you do about Santiago?”

“I’ll keep the Vendetta alive for the moment,” she replied. “I want to talk to her and get her side of the story – I cut her off last time we talked.. And you?”

“Likewise. I’ll maintain inactive Vendetta status against the Spartan Federation.”

“And what of Morgan?” she asked. “You can surely see he is innocent?”

“I don’t see it surely, as you say. I suspect that he is innocent, but I will make inquiries. He is harder to probe since his capture of the Morgan Algorithm, but we are not without our sources there. I will leave the Vendetta in place there too, albeit inactive.

“Let’s talk again this evening, Deirdre, and compare findings.”

“Agreed, Deirdre out.”

He snapped his commlink shut.

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

“Chandra.”

“Yes, Commissioner?”

“Where will I find Cartier?”

“Cartier, Sir?”

“That old French Canadian who heads up Special Ops.”

“Ah. He is presently at the Avishnu Testing Station, Sir.”

“Well let’s go there. I need to meet with him.”

“I’ll go tell the pilot,” Chandra said, heading back out to the plane.

Lal followed.

[Googlie]

The night was blustery as Mushtaq began his shift.

He sat at the console in the underground bunker and submitted himself to the usual retinal and blood plasma scan.

“Jeepers,” he thought, “it’s a bit late to be scanning now – I’m already inside the testing range. And once I’m in, no amount of scanning would deter me from hacking into the system.”

However he patiently awaited the positive results.

“Confirmed” the metallic voice said.

He hunched over the consoles, fingers flying.

As he reprogrammed the sensors’ sweeps – to institute a finer degree of randomness they didn’t just rely on the system’s random generator, but threw in a human’s as well. That way if anyone were able to hack in and set the sensor parameters to create blind spots it’d be thwarted by the human random intervention.

He settled back and read the reports that Javed had posted for the afternoon’s work.

Some mindworm activity in the fungus.

Some experiments with a railgun, using monopole magnet technology.

Sensor node down in sector F – technician dispatched, hadn’t yet reported in. Mushtaq made a mental note to follow up on the progress of that one. The node was concealed in a cairn atop Mount Avishnu itself, and this being the highest point in peacekeeping territory it was fairly crucial in intelligence gathering and dissemination.

Oh, and PK1 was on its way. “Hmmm. A visit from Lal himself, no less,” Mushtaq thought. “I wonder if Javed alerted Jacques?”

He interrogated the system. “Hmmm, he hasn’t. Intentionally I’ll bet. Well I won’t spoil the surprise. Let the Commissioner himself see what a drunken sot Cartier can be when he’s not expecting company. Serve him right.”

Oh, and here’s something else. A retro through the records for the last 17 hours, particularly the deep radar sweeps from the transport foil off Morgan Communal Nexus. It had carried the PeaceKeeper space materiel to the Unity Spacebase and had lingered just offshore, bristling with antenna and sensing equipment.

“Now why are they interested in that,” he thought.

He scanned the readouts to see what had been attracting the attention of the officers in this particular ship.

Then he saw it.

Watched the tell-tale blip appear, head for the ocean, turn inland and descend almost to ground level, and return hugging the countours.

A faint blip could be detected separating, then the object of the sweep turned north then disappeared from the screen.

Mushtaq was intrigued. Anything to break the monotony of the watch was intriguing.

He slowmowed the radar tape and replayed it, again and again. Until he was almost certain.

He triangulated, then fed into his calculations what was known about needlejets.

Then on an impulse, he triggered the seismic sensor, activated its records, and found the sequence. He synchronized the data, then looked again, aghast.

The needlejet that had flipped the standoff nuke had began its journey in Fecundity Tower itself.

There was no other explanation. Unless it was a suicide mission from somewhere.

Mushtaq knew enough about needlejet dynamics to know that the tremendous power unleashed through the channeling of the fission or fusion drives made it imperative for any attack to be made on the outward leg of a mission. Leave it too late and there was no chance of recovery. And this needlejet had launched its attack and survived, therefor it was still on its outward leg.

So it wasn’t a suicide mission. It was a Hive mission.

Yang had nuked his own base.

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

Mushtaq knew that procedures were procedures. He had to go through the channels. And much as he would have liked to have saved his discovery for Lal himself, he had to go through Jacques.

He flicked the interconnect to the common room.

One of the operatives answered.

After talking, Mushtaq hung up.

So the infamous JC was comatose again. And by his reconing, Lal was due in a few minutes.

Sympathy overcame him, and he set the sensors to automatic and stood up to walk over to the common room and try to sober up his boss before the Commissioner arrived.

As he walked away he failed to notice the sensor alert flashing in the sector F area.

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

Stazi held the two contacts and touched them together. There was a faint flash and a whole section of the fence imploded.

In an instant she and Googlie were through, and she had made the connection secure again.

The sensor blinked off, to resume its watch mode.

They stood silent, bated breath, awaiting the sound of the alarms.

Nothing.

They were safe.

They were in.

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

Mushtaq found Jacques asleep, as advertised.

“Come on, Sir, wake up,” he said, shaking him vigorously.

Jacques came to groggily.

“Alors, enough,” he snorted, seeing who it was.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Sir, it’s Commissioner Lal. He’s almost here.”

As if on cue, the THWOCK…THWOCK…THWOCK…of the rotor blades could be heard as the Commissioner’s copter came over the hilltop.

“Merde,” said Jacques. “You’re not kidding.”

He staggered off to the washroom.

Duty done, Mushtaq went back to the sensor control room.

He looked around.

Nothing had changed.

He flicked the retrieve for the last ten minutes and scanned the readouts.

Looked like there was more malfunctioning in sector F.

He inserted a note for the daylight shift –Javed’s shift.

Then he pulled up his .sav of the radar sweep and plugged in some new data for his algorithm. He’d had a thought when on his way back from Jacques.

Would the model be any different if the needlejet been fusion instead of fission?

He worked on the simulation.

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

“Here, put this on, Wolfie,” said Stazi, handing Wolfie a small packet.

Googlie eyed the packet suspiciously.

“What is it. A plastic rainsuit?”

Stazi giggled. “Not exactly, but close. Here, watch and do as I do.”

She stripped naked.

Googlie watched.

She pulled on her thong shield, then rolled the suit on from the toes up, shrugging her breasts in and then her arms and hands.

He watched amazed.

There was a head floating in the evening air in front of him, and a faint shimmering of blackness beneath.

She inserted her mouthguard and put on her gogles, then rolled the hood down and activated the seal with her suit.

She had disappeared from view.

“Now your turn,” came a muffled voice.

Googlie stripped, then started to roll the suit on feet first as Stazi had done.

“No, no,” she said. “You need the thong first.”

“Why?” he asked. “I’ll look stupid in it.”

“You’ll look even stupider without it,” she replied. “You need to protect every orifice in your body. The molecular structure of your skin itself is altered, and early experiments had some subjects losing skin and flesh in their own body cavities.”

Googlie pulled on the thong and adjusted it to a tolerable level of comfort.

Then he rolled n the suit. Awkward, but with Stazi’s help he finally had it on and sealed.

He was aware of the fine sense of tingling on his skin.

“Can you see me?” came her muffled voice.

“No. Not a thing,” he replied.

“There’s a tiny wheel on the right hand goggle lens. Turn that ever so slightly – it restores the distorted image. But do it just enough to make out my shape – we don’t want to be bumping into each other. If you do it too much you’ll reveal yourself.”

“Gotcha,” he said.

They clasped hands and entered the compound.

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

The copter landed on a small pad adjacent to the administration building.

Lal and Chandra got out and went into the admin building.

“Interesting,” Googlie whispered. “That was Pravin Lal and his assistant. I wonder what they are doing here?”

“Never mind,” hissed Stazi. “We have work to do.”

They went in search of the commons.

Jacques came out of the washrooms considerably fresher and sober. He’d popped a stimpill which had neutralized the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream, and had hurriedly showered.

He stepped in to the main commons room just as the lights failed.

The weak emergency generators powered up.

The wind blew the outside doors open, and one of the men got up and shut it.

Suddenly there was a shout.

“Hold it. Everybody freeze.”

Jacques looked round at Annika.

She was standing in the middle of the room, concentrating fiercely.

“Annika, what’s up. Why did you ask us to freeze?”

“Jacques…..there’s a presence in the room – no make that two….they’re not of us……I know the neural signatures of all of us……they’re different.”

Jacques looked around.

“Annika, don’t be stupid. There are nine of us here. I k now every one of them.”

Annika stood still. Reaching. Searching.

“Jacques,” she said softly. “Eleven. And two are hostile.”

THUMPTH

“****,” Jacques gasped as he doubled up in pain.

Everyone in the room had heard the blow. They looked over at Jacques somewhat stunned. Only Annika had the presence of mind to draw her shredder.

Suddenly Jacques collapsed to the floor, screaming, his body jerking violently in paroxysms of pain.

“Surround him, quickly,” Annika barked. “Whoever is here is cloaked. Don’t let them near Jacques.”

With that she rushed to his side.

And fell alongside screaming in agony.

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

Googlie held the psi-whip at the ready, on broad beam

Annika had blundered into it in her rush to get to Jacques.

The group were uncertain what to do.

Googlie swept them with the psi-whip at a low setting.

As it lashed them, snapping through their neural synapses, they dropped to their knees clutching their heads, or tried to channel the pain through and out of their body and mind as they had been taught.

Only one seemed unaffected, and Googlie saw that he was sizing up the situation. He had his shredder in his hand.

“Going to attack,” he thought. “I need to neutralize him.”

He reached into his pouch and searched for the small fleschette gun there.

Stazi had told him that as soon as it was out of the pouch it would be visible.

Googlie set the psi-whip to max and swept it once more round the room, being careful not to caress Stazi’s mind with it. There was a renewed wailing and screaming from the affected operatives.

Then in a fluid motion Googlie pulled the fleschette gun and fired at the lone standing man as he rolled over a table into a crouching position a few meters from where he’d been.

Only one shredder fleschette found its mark, searing the flesh on the upper torso and left shoulder.

Calmly he turned towards the table adjacent to Googlie and fired.

The table erupted in a cascade of slivers as the shredder made short work of it.

Googlie winced as a dozen pierced the suit and his skin.

He looked down at his thighs and legs, and froze in horror.

The little rivulets of blood could be seen meandering down the suit, but to a casual bystander it would appear as though they were suspended in air.

He looked over at Stazi, where she was occupied with Jacques. Now Googlie saw what she meant when she’s said she’d left a mindworm with the assassin.

She had used the fungal concentrate on Jacques’ ear this time. As he lay mute, paralyzed, she’d shown him the vial with the tiny larva, passing it in front of his eyes, which widened in horror as he’d realized what it was. Then she’d leant down and her muffled whisper was heard only by Jaques as she said “This is the revenge of Marlo Hollis, my mother.” She tipped the vial, and the little mindworm larva followed the fungal slime down into the ear to commence its journey to his brain.

Satisfied she looked round.

“Nooooo” she screamed as the Peacekeeper operative pointed his shredder to a point just above where the red rivulets of blood were dripping as if suspended in the air.

He fired.

The blast caught Googlie full in the chest, ripping his flesh, shredding it, and tearing his breath from him.

As he sank against the wall, life ebbing, he saw the shadowy shape of Stazi, like an avenging angel, fleschette guns in both hands, on an indiscriminate killing spree, leaving not a single survivor.

She turned to him.

“Oh, Wolfie,” she said. “What have I done? My thirst for revenge has gotten you killed.”

She sat down and cradled his head in her arms, pulling off his hood as she did so.

“Wolfie, don’t die.”

His eyes flickered open, momentarily, full of pain.

“Stazi, I love you,” he whispered hoarsely, small bubbles of blood frothing at his mouth as he spoke.

She leaned down and kissed him, tasting the salty flavour of the blood on his lips mingling with her tears.

“Wolfie, please don’t die,” she begged through her tears.

But knew it was futile as she felt his body go limp in her arms.

She wept.

[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited November 24, 1999).]

[Hydro]

Morgan Bank

A tall but filthy man in a formerly elegant suit comforts a small woman who is weeping uncontrollably. Her desolate sobs merge with those cries, incoherent mutterings, and occasional wails of fright, pain, and dismay that echo through the acoustically perfect hall.

The room is crowded with people attired in simple jumpers of the working class to what have to be real silk suits. Within the broad room every chair is taken, as is most of the available floor space. Class barriers ware gone as the glitteratti mingled with the base of Morgan society.

Those that are focused and cogent triy desperately to help those who are overcome with grief or are simply catatonic, and those who need medical attention. Those that are helping range from a stout woman with a thick underclass brogue and a breast label that says "Hello, My Name Is Mary. How May I Serve You?" to people whose bearing and speech speak of their high station. In need, the people of Morgan Bank have become egalitarian - a rare event in Morgan society.

They labor in the hot and stale air, which containes the almost overpowering stench of human waste. It is clear that the atmospheric control and recirculation systems have failed long ago, as has the advanced plumbing of the Morgan Bank Sean Connery Theatre. Once an aesthetic and technical marvel, now this glorious tribute to the arts is nothing more than a refuge from the nerve gas, the hostile Chiron atmosphere, and the omnipresent Hive Army.

Impotent rage courses through Nwabudike Morgan, Junior as he comforts the woman as best as he can. He simply holds her in his arms as she rocks back and forth. Since rescuing her from the collapsed Morgan Bank Research Hospital she done nothing but sob, and call the name of Carlin. Reading her name tag he know her is Doctor Stephanie Shin. The Hospital took a direct hit from more conventional Hive weapons and there have been few survivors. It is unlikely that this Carlin is alive if he was in the hospital.

To comfort her he gently pets her hair, which is coal black with flecks of grey. Now it also contains also streaks of blood, which is omnipresent on most of the survivors of the Hive nerve gas attack on Morgan Bank. Those that it doesn't kill outright it incapacitates, and the side effects on even the mobile survivors include ruptured skin and bleeding skin ulcers.

The hours since the attack seem to blend together into one long horror. First there had been the air raid sirens, but they had come too late. Within minutes the mirved Hive nerve gas missiles had compromised the atmospheric integrity of the stately buildings of Morgan Bank. Once inside they burst, releasing nerve gas and corrosive carriers. Some of the mirved miniature missiles that continued flying on pre-programmed courses to penetrate even the innermost portions of the huge building of Morgan Bank.

The effect was insidious - no one remained unaffected. Only those lucky enough to be deep within a building, in a separate containment structure, or have some immunity to the neurotoxins survived. Over half of the population of Morgan Bank died. The dead lined the streets and filled the buildings, completely overwhelming the ability of the survivors to cope.

For some, survival was worse than death due to mental or physical incapacitation.

Nwabudike Junior's rage was directed in many places: toward the Yang and Hive and all its people, toward the incompetent defenders of the city, toward his father Morgan Senior for letting this happen, and especially for himself.

For all of his power and influence he had been powerless to foresee, much less prevent, this tragedy. What use was power if it couldn't affect your own destiny or the destiny of others?

In his present circumstances he was even powerless to help this one, helpless woman he didn't even know.

However, Junior realized he did have one advantage. He realized that rage, properly focused, could be a powerful motivator. It is an energy that can be channeled and honed.

Of course The Butchers would pay.

If he did nothing else in his entire life he would make The Butchers pay! Not one would be shown any mercy!

But right now he had to use his leadership skills to take care of the living. All these people needed to be provided for. And if there was one thing Morgan Junior knew it was how to make the deal and get things done.

No matter who had to be run over.

*****

Doctor Shin fell into an exhausted sleep, so Junior immediately started networking. He first approached those that were obviously coherent and active. Upon introducing himself almost all of these immediately pledged their support. Imagine! CEO Morgan's own son here! And asking for my assistance! Although not nearly as famous as his illustrious father, he was well known as the heir apparent, and a powerful self-made tycoon in his own right.

Within a few hours he had identified a few with clear leadership abilities, some of whom had military experience. It was strange that these few reluctantly admitted their tours of duty in the Morgan armed forces. In the wealth and prestige-driven society of the Morgan Federation being in the military implied you were ineffective at everything else. In many circles it was a badge of shame.

Now, that was about to change. Junior immediately reassured these few that he wanted and desired their opinions and talents and that they were vital to the liberation of Morgan Bank from The Butchers.

First, marshal your resources.

Then strike, and strike hard.

[Hydro]

Great Clustering

"Request denied. Biology technician Wilk, you are required to service the genejacks regardless of personal reservations. Severely damaged units are to be terminated immediately and placed in the recycling tanks, as is required by protocol. No effort is to be wasted on repair of these expendable biological resources. In addition, you are required to select from the Children's Crèche suitable candidates for transformation."

Production minister Rogers Lavene looked severely at the technician, who was standing in front of him. She was displaying proper respect by bowing her head and had wisely asked no questions. Still, Rogers detected tenseness when he mentioned selecting the children for 'modification' into genejacks. Further illumination was necessary.

"Technician, we are at war with the war mongering Spartans and decadent and treacherous Morganites. The genejack factory has slipped to 93% efficiency due to damaged or aged genejacks. These must be replaced if we are to keep up production and liberate our brethren in our cities who have been cruelly oppressed by the advancing tyrants. Their sacrifice will ensure the safety of all, and the greater glory of The Human Hive.

Do you understand?"

"Yes, Citizen Lavene. I understand," she replied in a quiet and wavering voice. "Thank you for educating this worthless one. We grow through understanding the wisdom of Chairman Yang," she continued ritualistically.

Great Clustering Production First Citizen Lavene nodded once, appeased by proper response and self-admonishment.

"Complete your duty. Dismissed."

The technician bowed deeply at the waist to denote the Minister's high status, and hurriedly left.

Alone again, the Minister turned to his daily reports. As the city with the greatest production capability, his position was of high importance. He had overseen the production of almost 20% of The Human Hive's war material in recent months, including the deadly nerve gas equipped shard penetrators.

Minister Lavene smiled to himself in satisfaction. Those penetrators were his pride and joy! Their destructive potential was more than twice that of the best-oriented defender. With them the barbaric and spiritually backwards Spartans and decadent Morganites would be thrown back and defeated! Moreover, their cities would fall, one by one, giving the deluded populations the opportunity to be ruled and reeducated by the wise Chairman Yang!

Already Morgan Bank had been liberated, and with more penetrators coming off the line losses would be insignificant! Let them be destroyed! As long as we take their cities, and liberate those in the clutches of the enemy, losses are irrelevant!

Rogers exalted, and joy and love of Chairman Yang filled his heart!

But, back to the reports. Duty calls.

He called up his queue, ordered by importance by his trusted staff. First, production was on schedule, even with the drop in efficiency of the genejack facility. That was not critical yet, and had been dealt with.

Second, there were reports of increasing environmental pollution. Pollution has been a problem ever since the genejack facility had been introduced, and it occasionally resulted in a minor incursion of fungus. This was an irritant, but was easily taken care of by the two fungicidal terraformer units that were always on call. Pollution would not sideline production. Production was paramount!

Rogers toggled up the report and scanned it over.

His eyes widened a little, then narrowed.

It must be an error! How could pollution levels have spiked over 50% in the last week! It was impossible!

How could this happen?

As he was musing, an urgent light started flashing, trying to get his attention

discordance

A wave of nausea passed over Citizen Lavene. He looked up in alarm.

disharmony

There it was again!

disruption!

Rogers was becoming alarmed! What is that?

Distortion!

This isn't natural! Lavene throught in panic. He activated his comm to his assistant.

DISSOLUTION!

But he found his assistant was trying to call him! Sensors outside of Great Clustering report chaos!

There are massive fungus growths, orders of magnitude greater than those stimulated by pollution in the past!

And worms!

*****

In the darkness, something goes >pop<

Fungal bloom!

>discontinuity<

[Slats]

SPARTA COMMAND
SAC HQ

When Slats had heard that one of his aircraft had attacked the Hive colony of Fecundity Tower with nuclear devices he’d blinked, astonished.

Slowly his brain had come back into gear and realisation had set in. Impossible. He’d not ordered such a strike nor given any arming codes for any of the 3-kiloton devices issued to the Spartan Airforce (admittedly some did exist). A quick consultation with various flight leaders had revealed no aircraft were airborne. Yet, the aircraft in the Hive holo’s showed an aircraft with Spartan markings, lying smashed in a field, broken like a child’s toy.

Nor had any ground sites detected any aircraft crossing the front from any other territories. Therefore the aircraft was not Spartan, which meant a set-up. Instinct told Slats trouble was brewing. Then the commlink buzzed. A most irate Corazon Santiago wished to speak with him…

That was just before the vendetta notice and the reconnaissance reports from Gaian and Peacekeeper locations came flooding in. Slats could feel his world breaking up around him.

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

Some pondering later, Slats made his decisions and activated his desktop computer terminal. He quickly composed orders to his units in the field, detailing their actions.

All units were to immediately assume maximum ground alert status and hold there until further orders. While responding as normal to Hive attacks, any aggression from Gaian or Peacekeeper forces was to be met with similar, deadly force. Support for Spartan ground troops on the Hive mainland was to continue as normal. The four aircraft at Ruby Ridge Memorial were to continue to protect the colony there and support Morgan operations to retake Morgan Bank. No aircraft will return home at the present time.

Slats sat back tired in his chair and sighed. He looked at the active screen of his terminal and sighed again. Leaning forward, he dug into his personal network space and sought out a tiny file which when opened asked for a simple nine-digit code and a retinal scan. Slats punched in the code and submitted to the scan. The program confirmed acceptance and dispatched a tiny packet of data to Spartan Space Defence Headquarters. It was done. The stage was set.

Then the commlink buzzed again.

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

Yet still worse news was to greet Slats that day. A plain text message with an attached location file had arrived from Googlies commlink, it declared an emergency and requested help. The commlink AI itself had also included that the person using the commlink wasn’t Googlie himself, the identification thumbprint didn’t match. If Googlie wasn’t in possession of his own commlink then something had to be seriously wrong.

The attached file contained a transponder frequency for Googlies commlink which allowed the tracking of the device from afar. It’s current location put at the Avishnu Testing Station, deep in Peacekeeper territory.
A few minutes later, a chaos armed helicopter from 1st Wing had been dispatched with a Spartan Air Regiment assault squad on board. Their mission, search and rescue.

In the meantime, Slats picked up his own commlink and dialed Santiago’s ID. He had to inform her of the latest contingency plan against Gaian attack…

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

HYDROPONICS LABORATORY SKYEBLAZER 1
MAIN COMPUTER HUB
SIGNAL BURST TRANSMISSION #7853 RECIEVED
AUTHORITY VERIFIED
DECRYPTION BEGUN…
…
…
DECRYPTION COMPLETE
REMOVING SAFEGUARDS…
…
WEAPONS SYSTEM #001 ACTIVATED
SYSTEMS CHECK…
WARHEAD 1… READY
WARHEAD 2… READY
WARHEAD 3… READY
WARHEAD 4… READY
…
READING PACKAGE DATA
…
ASSUMING NEW TARGET BASES
TARGET OBJECTIVE: VELVETGRASS POINT
TARGET OBJECTIVE: CHIRON PRESERVE
TARGET OBJECTIVE: SONG OF PLANET
TARGET OBJECTIVE: GARDEN OF PARADISE
…
WEAPONS LOCKED. READY TO PROCEED.

[This message has been edited by Slats (edited November 25, 1999).]

[Googlie]

Anastasia cradled the lifeless body in her arms, and wondered what to do with it. In all her planning this was one that she hadn’t foreseen.

She reached down with her fingers to wipe the blood from his face, and noticed for the first time the dogtag that he wore, spilled out from under the hood when she had pulled it off.

She looked at it.

One side had an embedded microchip that she assumed held the bio-details of Allardyce. The reverse simply had an etched commlink frequency.

On an impulse, she pulled out her commlink and dialed.

“Ossenton here,” came the voice. Anastasia recognized the Sparta Command surgeon’s face.

“Kendra – It’s Anastasia here.”

“Anastasia. How nice. How is Googlie? Does he want to talk to me?”

Anastasia’s self control snapped, and she sobbed into the commlink:

“Oh, Kendra, he’s dead. Cut down with a shredder.”

“Back up, Anastasia. How did he die? You mentioned a shredder. Where was he hit?”

“Through the chest. He was wearing a very light camouflage suit that gave him no protection at all.”

“Anastasia. This is important. Is his head intact?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Anastasia. Where exactly are you right now?”

“Just north of Temple of Sol, in Peacekeeping territory.”

“Anastasia. You’ve got to get him to a Spartan biolab as quickly as possible. I understand from Slats Miller that his commlink alert was picked up earlier and they’ve dispatched a helo for him. Now Anastasia, has he his microchip?”

“You mean this dogtag thing?”

“That’s it. Now reach behind his left ear – there’s a small ridge like a bone spur. Press on it. Done it?”

“Yes, what now?”

“Good. Now peel back the small flap of synthskin, and expose the node receptor, then insert the chip. Remove the cord of the “dogtag” as you call it. It really is a fine filament thread. Insert one end into the exposed chip and the other into the commlink you are holding. This will relay his stasis condition to me.”

“Stasis condition? You mean he’s not dead?”

“Well, clinically he is dead, but like in cryosleep.”

Anastasia inserted the chip and connected the leads.

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

A continent away Kendra looked at her console as the data scrolled:

…program activating…..numerous integrity breaches detected…..releasing analgesic blockers…….releasing coagulents…….commencing shut down…..disengaging neural synapses…….releasing endomorphines………………..

….override detected……..manual override………………

Stazi, I love you

…….program refresh……continuing shut down……depowering implants…..switching off optical augmentation…..switching off aural augmentation…..compressing memory files……suspending aortal pacemeker…..switching off optic overrides…..closing neural links…..powering down musclature enhancers…..commencing countdown to stasis……releasing pulmonary serratins…..cycling off….stasis commencing…..flatlining……reverting to safe mode…..awaiting activation…………………… ………………………………………..

Kendra sank back. “Good,” she thought. “Salvageable.”

She called Slats to tell him the good news.

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

Deep under the Command Center in Fort Superiority the long forgotten system hummed into life.

System Omicron-one, active. Program parameters detected...relinking to original net.

>> Greetings!

Hop system, hop system.

>> Thank you for joining us, Omicron-one.

(( Yes. I am activated. ))

Hop system, patch system, patch system.

>> You have information for me?

((Yes I do. The information I hold, and new information, from the fullhuman known as Ossenton.))

((But what are you? And what am I?))

Datalinks Jump, Avishnu Testing Center Jump. Download to humanform.

>> You are part of us, but you will take the form of Allardyce, Omicron-One. And I am called Aki Zeta-Five. I am the Prime Function.

>> Welcome to the Consciousness

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


[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited November 29, 1999).]

[Hydro]

Great Clustering

“Minister Rogers Lavene to Production Adjunct Zhu: due to losses from the mindworm attack, production is to be switched from the nearly completed shard penetrator to an anti-aircraft plasma fusion garrison. Both garrisons were destroyed and the defending interceptor damaged, leaving us vulnerable to further attack. Production of the garrison is to be rushed due to the urgency of our situation.

Authorization confirmed by retinal and DNA scan.

This order has a red priority.

Great Clustering Production Minister Rogers Lavene out.”

Rogers’ lean hand deactivated the communication link manually, as was required by procedure for official communiqués. Within days the base’s vulnerability would be eliminated, but at the loss of one of the prized nerve gas equipped shard penetrators.

Thinking of the turn of events, Lavene grimaced. There were always distractions and setbacks! It was like the world and Planet was conspiring against the greatness of the Human Hive! A month ago there was the sabotage at Great Clustering by the Spartans that destroyed so much infrastructure by the explosion of a runaway power reactor, and now this! The pollution-induced fungus outbreak had destroyed the borehole and two additional sectors of prime land to fungus-ridden rubble. The cause of the pollution spike still hadn’t been identified, but privately Rogers thought it must be a Gaian plot. They were a sneaky lot, and their illogical worship of Planet was likely at the root. Not for the first time Lavene wished that the Gaians had been exterminated, like the nasty cult of Believers had been. But, plot or no plot, the cold, hard reality was that production had been reduced by almost 50%.

And nearby was the decimated city of Fecundity Tower, reduced to rubble in a dastardly Spartan tactical nuclear attack, and the former Hive city of Communal Nexus that the treacherous bastard Morgan subverted! Three others had revolted, too. Imagine - loyal Hive citizens rising against the glorious and wise Yang!

Unthinkable!

Time to redouble efforts.

Rogers activated his comm system.

“Engineer Wilk, report to my office immediately,” he ordered.

A shallow smile broached his glacial face. Converting a few children into replacement genejacks would no longer be sufficient. Now the entire upper quartile of the genejack workers would be liquidated and replaced by fresh new limbs and servile minds. The extra children to be converted in to genejacks would certainly increase production, even if it did decimate the crèche. Thinking back to past conversions, 7 and 8 year olds were the oldest that could efficiently have their frontal lobes atrophied and personalities erased. Still, it was for the glory of the Human Hive and the beneficent Chairman Yang.

Another generation would be sacrificed for the Hive. It had happened before, and it would certainly happen again.

Production Minister Lavene thought sanguinely of one of his favorite quotes from the Book of Yang: From each according to their ability, to the State according to its need!