The Spartan Chronicles - Volume 3

[Argonaut]

UN Headquarters

Sinder Roze sat in the waiting room of the office which had become the centre of almost all political activity on Chiron. The unified civil government of the Axis factions was centralized in this very building. Beyond the large wooden doors lay one of the most influential men on Planet: Governor Allardyce. While his position existed only until Brother Lal returned from the rejuvenation tanks, Governor Allardyce had all the power necessary to run the Axis civil government...and to give Roze her new job.

“The Governor is able to see you now Ms. Roze,” offered the helpful office assistant who organized the Governor’s busy schedule. He was a young looking gentlemen, obviously maintaining a strict rejuvenation tank treatment. Of course, he could actually simply be a young man, they did exist on Planet. Roze suddenly realized how difficult it had become to determine another persons age based on their appearance. Roze herself was almost 150 years old, but thanks to rejuvenation tanks she didn’t look a day over 25. Roze thought about Lady Deirdre, the source of fantasy of so many young men on Planet and wondered how appealing she would seem if they paid attention to the fact that she was over 200 years old.

Roze entered the room and looked at the luxurious accommodations that Lal maintained. It was strikingly elegant, with wood furnishings and finish, and a large window that provided a view of some of the most spectacular terraformed land on Chiron.

Behind the desk sat the Governor himself, looking rather imposing in such a vast room. She crossed to the chair opposite his desk as he extended a hand to greet her.

“A pleasure to finally meet you Miss Roze,” he said with a smile. “CEO Morgan has been telling me nothing but good things about you. You seem to be quite a unique women.”

“Don’t always trust what the good CEO has to say Governor,” she replied candidly. “He often embellishes to further his own gain.”

“Miss Roze, you don’t get this far in politics without learning when someone is buttering you up.” While his tone was not threatening, the Governor made it clear that he was not willing to take advice from a young upstart.

“My apologies, Governor. I did not mean to try and tell you how to do your job. I was simply trying to explain that if CEO Morgan is telling you nothing but good things about me, then he is definitely leaving out a lot.”

The Governor leaned back in his chair and contemplated what she had said. He had never conducted a job interview where the candidate openly confessed their faults. Some how the blunt honesty was refreshing.

“Look Governor, we both know why I’m here so I see no point in dancing around the issue. I believe this new government needs a unified intelligence network to keep tabs on Yang’s movements. I also feel that I am the best person to run such an organization, due to my experience in the field.” Roze watched as the Governor took in what she said, obviously not willing to reveal his intents or say something that might get him in trouble later. Just like a true politician.

“Fair enough Miss Roze, and I do not deny that such an organization would be of great benefit to the Axis. But what I want to know is, why you? There are dozens of elite probe teams within the Axis factions. Out of all of them, why should I pick you. Especially seeing as you have so far failed to demonstrate loyalty to any particular faction.”

“That is precisely why it should be me Governor,” she retorted. “I have served as an independent Probe operative for almost every major faction, to one degree or another. I’ve even worked for Yang. I know the ins and outs of every single computer network on Chiron, and I have connections in almost every single base.” Roze let that sink in, knowing that she had made a good argument. However, the Governor’s expression indicated that he was not completely sold on the idea just yet.

“Besides,” she continued. “I’ve already started digging around in Yang’s files and I happen to have some information that you will find extremely beneficial.”

“And what might that be?” The Governor leaned forward in his chair, clearly interested in this new piece of information.

“I happen to have a continual download feed from Yang’s central computer, allowing me access to the lab analysis equipment at Sea Hive.”

“And how may I ask did you accomplish that?” queried the Governor.

“When I was there last, I lifted the files on the current deployment of Hive troops in the area. That I simply used as a cover up to download my link-up program into their computer. The deployment information is likely to be useless by this point, he’ll have repositioned most of his troops by now. However, he has absolutely no idea that every single piece of data that is entered into his many lab computer is downloaded directly to me.”

“Very clever Miss Roze.” The Governor seemed genuinely impressed by her initiative. “But what were you doing at Yang’s Headquarters?” Roze smiled as the anticipated question arrived. Now it was time to play her last card.

“I was there,” she said, “to collect my fee for delivering Provost Zakharov to Yang.”

[Googlie]

I sat bolt upright in my chair, completely taken by surprise, and did nothing to hide it.

“You what?” I almost shouted at the calm, self-assured young woman opposite me.

“It was you who spirited away Academician Zakharov from under the Colonel’s nose? That’s wonderful news if it is true – but why to Yang? Why not to CEO Morgan who was financing the Yoop underground movement, or to Lal who was training many of them?”

“Oh, I had my reasons,” she replied airily. “But I thought you might be interested in just a hint of my capabilities.”

“Most certainly,” I replied. “And as you might be aware I have a personal interest in Zakharov’s whereabouts as well.”

“I am well aware of that, too,” she said. Then floored me again…

“And I know exactly where your Anastasia is at this precise moment too – and let me reassure you she is not in any danger…. At this time anyway.”

I leaned forward.

“Where?” I asked.

She leaned back in the visitor’s chair.

“About the job, Governor Allardyce. Have I convinced you of my capabilities now?”

This was almost blackmail – but I was hooked. If she was half as good as she seemed to be, then she was ideal. I didn’t trust the Peacekeeper covert ops chief one little bit – he still believed I was responsible for Jacques Cartier’s death. I didn’t know the Morgan special ops people at all, but reckoned they must be good to have infiltrated and turned four Hive bases in the summer. The Spartan probe teams were good, but lacked leadership. This Sinder Roze might be a godsend, and she did come well recommended, by Mwabudike Morgan himself.

“I think it can be arranged,” I responded.

“You have convinced me of your….shall we say…unusual talents. How does Chief Intelligence Officer sound, with the overall direction of the Axis Covert Operations. I’ll create the Axis Intelligence Agency, with you as its head. I’ll give you the necessary clearances to liaise with Paul Andreas at Morgan Industries and Shannon Lindly at Velvetgrass Point. I’ll put the PK covert ops under you, via Mats Sorenstam. He’s a relatively new appointment, just over four months in the job…..”

Roze interrupted….

“Ah yes, the covert operation of all covert operations – the famous Wolfie and Stazi team taking revenge on Lal’s assassination squad.”

I sputtered: “How the hell did you find out about that – and what do you know of ‘Wolfie and Stazi’, as you put it?”

She smiled enigmatically. “I have my sources. Personal cloaking devices, too. Impressive.”

I harrumphed. ‘Better she is on our side than agin’ us,’ I thought.

“I’ll negotiate with Corazon on seconding the Spartan intelligence operations to you. I believe that our best operative has just retired, and his replacement is just being announced.

“Oh, and you’ll report directly to me – for as long as this Axis coalition holds together.

“The first thing I’ll need is an Agency budget, and a materiels requirements list. Anything you can siphon off from Yang or if you can tap this Alien race and siphon energy credits, they are your Agency’s to keep.

“Agreed?”

I stood up and offered her my hand. She rose gracefully and extended hers. Her handshake was firm.

"Welcome to the team," I said. Our unified Intelligence operation was now in business.

"Anything else?" I asked.


[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited June 08, 2000).]

[Googlie]

Warriors' Harmony

Ron and Shauna stopped abruptly as they crested the hill overlooking the base.

From a distance, as they climbed almost to the 1000 meter level, there seemed to be a constant heat haze rising from the canyon floor. But now, standing at the top of the hill, they realized that what they had been seeing was a wave distortion effect from the cloaking devices that the Aliens had surrounded their cities with.

Ron consulted the small map he had drawn on some paper.

“This must be Warrior’s Harmony,” he said. “According to Kri’lan, the HQ base, Courage : To Question, is only a few hundred cliks southeast of here. Spires Ascendant is almost due south, and Tusk and Claw is to the west. But it’s getting late – we’d best stop for the night here.”

‘Easier said than done,’ Shauna thought. ‘It’s not as though they have a Morgan Metropole here, and judging from what we have seen of the Aliens so far their sleeping arrangements won’t suit us. This is a harebrained idea of ours.’

Before they had set out on their mission, Ron had fashioned a small baby carriage with carrying room for Ruth and some odds and ends, and had salvaged from who-knows-where a small fission engine that he had rigged to the carriage as well as giving it a rudimentary – albeit unreliable - hover capability. While it was capable of also carrying them both half sitting/half standing on either side, the steering was a problem as Ron really needed to be behind the contraption to feed adequate directions through his hand held controller. So they had walked for the most part, and it had taken them a full day to traverse from their hiome to here. But they had used it to climb the hill between the covert ops HQ where their cottage was and Warrior’s Harmony.

Ron sensed her distress, and butted in…

“I took the liberty of making a small tent to protect us from the evening’s cold, and we do have adequate food and water with us – we don’t need anything elaborate. You’ll be OK. How about you, Ruthie?”

I’m fine. Yelle has a brother here too, Sjet, but he’s not as friendly. Younger, I think. I’ve been trying to ‘talk’ with him but he is preoccupied with combat mission training. Yelle doesn’t know this area well so can’t advise us where might be a good place to stop.

Ron looked around. Here seemed as good a place as any. The Aliens built differently from humans – much greater space between their buildings, and the edifices were grander than any he was used to. He commented on that to Shauna.

“Naw, they’re just like Morgan Industries’ buildings,” she said. You’ve spent too much time in the Hive warrens to appreciate above ground structures. Perhaps more space between – maybe they are clumsier than humans and need more passing and breathing room. Here’ll do.”

She indicated a corner of a meadow within the base enclosure that was sprouting a tough yellow grass-like vegetation – presumably edible to the Aliens. Amidst the curious stares of a few passers by, Ron erected their makeshift tent and awning, and fired up their small camping stove to heat some gruel.

A figure appeared from one of the buildings on the other side of the small yellow meadow and shuffled over to them.

“Uh oh, company. Inquisitive,” Shauna said.

The Alien approached and they observed the clicking of the mandibles that signified communication, and felt the resonance tingle in their bones that indicated it was ‘speaking’ to them.

Ron began to unsling the crude resonance translation equipment that he’d packed in the carriage, but was forestalled by a quieting thought in his mind.

Unnecessary. She (and she is a she) is of the garrison and wants to know what we are doing here.

“Ruth, you understand what she is saying?’ Shauna asked aloud of her precocious daughter.

Not ‘saying’, Mommy. I can read her intent before the .... resonance emanates from her. If you or Granddad reply I’ll put the thought in her mind – or tell me empathically what to say and I’ll do it.

Ron got the message from Ruth as well, and nodded.

To them he said, “Better to reply aloud, so that she can see our mouths move and hear our ‘squeaks’.”

He turned to the garrison trooper, and bowed.

“We are traveling to Courage : To Question at the invite of your esteemed Conqueror Marr, but the journey is too far to complete in one day, so we must rest for the night. Your facilities here are unsuitable for us so we have brought our own portable accommodation which we will dismantle in the morning.”

He bowed again and smiled.

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

I was perplexed.

As the human moved its facial orifice, occasionally showing its teeth, I strained with my flaps to capture the resonance and interpret it, ready to alter a reply for further interrogation. But from the discussions in the base it was apparent that these aliens on Manifold Six were incapable of proper resonance wave generation and had to rely on a crude translator machine to parley with us.

This was the first alien I had encountered. There were three of them, scrawny pink fleshed beings no bigger than a youngling progenitor, and the smallest of them was smaller than our hatchlings newly out of the egg. The tallest of the three had a mane of silver hair and a lined face, and showed its teeth often.

I pondered. Was the alien challenging me to single combat?

But then it started squeaking in staccato bursts that were painful to my receptors…..,and yet I was understanding it. And apparently it understood me.

How was this. Had I an unsuspected talent for understanding the aliens’ sonic speech waves? This could be valuable indeed, and might hasten a promotion from lowly garrison duty with the only diversion being flaming the occasional mindworm.

Workers hurrying to base from their duties had noticed the aliens setting up their temporary home and one had rushed to the barracks and resonated wildly, incoherently before we could fashion some sense from him. I had armed myself and come to investigate.

And they had invoked the name of Conqueror Marr himself.

Caretakers breath, what to do?

This was most irregular, them setting up a temporary home on our parade ground commons, but if they truly had Marr’s invitation to visit our headquarters I was not going to be the one to cross them and incur his wrath, even although he was still in orbit in the scoutship.

There was only one thing to do, and I recoiled from the thought, but duty was duty.

I began to resonate:

“Very well. Stay permitted. I wait here till departure. Safe delivery to Conqueror Marr imperative. To better understand, ... we share history.”

Again I saw its mouth move and heard the squawkings … and understood them!

“Wonderful. I’d enjoy that. Meanwhile why don’t you make yourself comfortable and settle in. It's going to be a long night?”

I sighed. This was going to be difficult. Weren’t all nights the same length?


[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited June 09, 2000).]

[Hydro]

Morgan Industries

Paul Andreus stormed into Mwabudike Morgan Senior’s office. His normally unflappable face told a short, eloquent story – he was coldly furious.

Morgan Senior was, as usual, at his desk engrossed in a report and seemingly didn’t see Paul enter. Of course he knew his security chief was here – he knew when anyone entered his office, except for the phantomlike Datajack Rose, who somehow always found a way to bypass all security, be it human or electronic.

Padding soundlessly to Morgan’s desk, he fairly threw a MorganLegal Notorized Datapad on his desk, which impacted with a dull thud and skidded half a meter on the desktop, stopping right in front of Morgan.

Morgan slowly looked down, as if just noticing that a datapad had magically appeared in front of him. For a brief second he just gazed at it, then reached over to pick it up. At his touch it activated, keying in on his DNA and fingerprint, and a legally notarized holo played out.

Morgan absorbed the message, which was proper and quite clear. Then he looked up at Paul, who stood quietly in front of his desk, waiting for him to finish.

Now that he had Morgan’s undivided attention, Paul boomed in the quiet room,

“I Quit!”

His pronouncement echoed briefly through Morgan’s compact (by Morganite standards) office.

Morgan immediately slipped into his negotiating persona. “Please Paul, have a seat. Let us discuss this,” he said in a rich and reasonable voice.

Paul had seen this far too often in his dealings with Morgan over the last 150 years and was neither put off nor taken in by the prelude. “There is absolutely nothing to discuss! I will not work with that woman,” Paul replied, seething. “Either she goes, or I do!”

“Hmmm,” Morgan replied, playing for time, “I will assume that ‘that woman’ means our beloved Datajack Rose.”

“Appointed by that gullible fool Allardyce to head up Axis security! That’s the last thing we should do! It’s like putting the fox in charge of the chicken coop, for heaven’s sake. What she needs is a private discussion with a shredder at point blank range! I’d volunteer for that job. She is a class one menace! She must have blackmailed Allardyce, or drugged him. There is no other reason he could be so stupid!”

Morgan let him rant and get it all out of his system. It had happened before and venting was the best approach with Paul when he was livid.

“Paul, there is another reason. I recommended that Mr. Allardyce appoint her to head security for the Axis.”

Paul was stunned, and silence spread for a moment.

“You didn’t,” Paul said softly, incredulous.

“Ms. Rose can be quite persuasive, as you know. She has been a major thorn in our side for over a hundred years, whether she was working for us or directly against us. While she scrupulously abides by contracts, her contracts are constructed to her advantage and in such ways that even the attorneys of MicroTrade are in awe. And her vendettas for perceived wrongs can be…painful.”

At that Paul grimaced.

Morgan noticed his grimace. “Remembering the tapeworm incident?”

“Oh, Yes. Only Rose’s wicked sense of humor would include both a search-and-destroy tapeworm to punish us for failure to pay ‘damages’, and then putting tapeworm eggs in my food to make the point crystal clear. I had to have emergency surgery to relieve the intestinal blockage those disgusting little brutes caused.” Paul shuddered at the memory.

“Just so. She now has a grievance and full vendetta against Yang, who apparently failed to pay her for services rendered, which was quite unwise of him. We can use that to our advantage.”

Paul was unmodified. “But how long will that last? She is the definition of a loose cannon, a true anarchist. To put her in charge is like dancing with the devil.”

Morgan leaned forward and looked Paul directly in the eye. “That is why we need you. Of all the directors of the Axis intelligence services only you have direct experience with Ms. Rose. The Spartan’s director is new to the job and, although reputedly skilled, is no match for Ms. Rose. The Peacekeepers are so hobbled by their own Charter restrictions that they frequently can not even see the potential for deception, much less act to prevent it. And the Gaians are true novices at covert operations, although their Empath Corps is formidable. I understand Miriam will be putting her limited but effective resources to the task soon, but many of her operatives have been out of action for a very long time and do not know the wiles of Ms. Rose or are inexperienced. The job of keeping Ms. Rose in line, Paul, therefore falls to you.”

Paul considered. What Morgan said was certainly true; the Axis would be critically vulnerable to the siren-like ministrations of Ms. Rose without someone to keep a careful eye on her. And as distasteful as it was to be her subordinate this task was necessary. Privately Paul cursed his old friend and colleague for his logic and negotiation skill – he always knew just what button to push.

“Ok, Ok. I’ll do it. But I won’t like it,” Paul blurted out quickly, before he could change his mind.

Morgan smiled broadly, his white teeth contrasting with his ebony skin and steel-gray hair. “Excellent! Here is your resignation affidavit, Paul,” Morgan said as he gave back the datapad Paul had tossed at him, which was accepted absently. Morgan noticed with satisfaction that Paul was already absorbed in plans to keep Rose under control, or at least semi-monitored, and had partially tuned him out.

Good,, Morgan thought, Work is tonic for the soul, especially for Paul.

“One more thing, Paul. Our delightful Ms. Rose sent a tidbit to us, and it was addressed primarily to you. I think you will find it to be of interest.”

Morgan handed Paul the datapad he had been working on when Paul entered. Paul took it and activated the text-only display and read it quickly.

As he read he became agitated again. “Damn it! How does she do it!”

“Fascinating, is it not?” Morgan responded. “It is from Yang’s own personal log, it would seem. From it we know at least that Morgan Junior is alive, and doing reasonably well, considering he is agonizing in a punishment sphere. Of particular interest is the ‘education regime’ Yang is inflicting on Junior. Imagine Yang trying to teach Junior his philosophy of the universe as he sees it.” Morgan shook his head. Even so he was relieved at the news, since it was the first news he had received since Junior’s capture at Morgan Bank during a failed revolt against Yang’s occupation.

Paul nodded as he listened to Morgan and he continued reading. “Re-education and philosophy? Yang is one twisted SOB. That is torture in and of itself, knowing Junior, who always considered philosophic discussion to be the mental equivalent of masturbation.”

“All the more reason to get him out, as soon as possible,” Morgan exclaimed. “We may be able to persuade Ms. Rose to arrange that, given the proper inducement. In fact, I may be able to call in a favor from Ms. Rose for my recommendation to Mr. Allardyce which, I understand, got her in the door.”

“But will she deliver?” Paul asked, genuinely concerned. The chance of double cross loomed large on his mind. If Junior was a chit that Yang had to be played against Morgan, it could also be a chit that Rose could use against Morgan.

“Unknown, but we will have to see. And hope.”

[Googlie]

Ron sat absolutely entranced. He had activated the crude translator more to let Ruth sleep than for any other reason, although he had to admit that without the talent of Shauna he had at times found Ruth’s ‘mindreading translation’ to be painstakingly cumbersome. And with the portable holovid that he was now hooked into, he doubted whether Ruth could have given them the full flavor as she would only have been able to read the Alien trooper’s mindwaves.

But even with the crudity of the home-made translator, he was transfixed by the holovid playing out before his eyes.

Sha had said:

“We have all been brought up on these tales, through holovid shows and taletelling from generation to generation.

“My favorite is the Tale of the First Flowering, and did you know that ‘Yees C’Nard is still alive and along with Teq is now an honored citizen of both the factions and can move freely between Harmony and The Rim Syatems ?

“This is her story, dictated many thousands of turnings ago.”

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

Manifold One – The Experiences of ‘Yees C’Nard

Dormitory,
Progenitor Research Station

They were coming more frequently now, the headaches. Tusk-numbing eye piercing headaches that made me want to claw the inside of my head to relieve the pain.

And I knew that they were bad news.

I’d done the correlation. I’d extrapolated the dates. And now I was keeping a diary. I knew now what – or rather who – was causing the headaches. This damned planet, that was who. I rolled over and clawed for my scriptpad. I tapped the keys with an extended claw.

File open: Diary of research officer ‘Yees C’Nard

Entry: 30.9, 22/15

Headache again – a real doosie this time. Different. Like hearing thousands of hatchling growls clamoring for food. Insistent. Repetitive. Mind numbing. Shattering the resonance. Painful.

In the morning I’ll view the sensor reports and look for the extraordinary, as now I know to expect Planet taking some action.

It’s our own fault. We engineered sentience into Manifold One. The Grand Experiment, everyone resonated. But do we know what we have created, I alter?

I tapped a tusk reflectively with a claw as I recalled the excitement when the Experiment was mooted, and my eagerness to be assigned to it…..

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

Lecture Hall
University of T’Sarr
Harmony


And so, Males and Females, we will create the sentient planet. We will graft into the living core of Manifold One itself the seeds of sentiency – bio-engineered organisms that will relate symbiotically with the fauna and flora of the Planet and which will reproduce each lifecycle further up the evolutionary chain.

In time Manifold One will become self-generating and self containing – able to anticipate the needs of its inhabitants and terraform itself to accommodate them. By creating a true symbiosis between us, we shall together – Planet and Progenitor – enter into a golden age of growth and prosperity. We need rainfall – Manifold One will provide it. Energy? We will but resonate internally and Manifold One will supply instantaneously a new volcano to tap its magma core.

And as this succeeds with Manifold One, so we shall repeat it in other star systems – where there is a planetary subsystem capable of sustaining life we will seed it with sentience – and one with the other to create an intergalactic link of planetary consciousness allied to our Progenitor minds and talents.

Young Students. Dare you to dream in your introspective resonatings?

We are about to staff up for the Great Experiment, and we need young, eager, dedicated research officers.

I encourage you to sign up for a tour of duty. You will serve for ten years on site, and will be in cryosleep for the journey across the Tau Ceti star system for about ten years each way, so think carefully before you rush to join. While you age ten years your brood siblings will age thirty. You will come back still a young pup to find your friends now in increasingly important positions on Harmony.

But you will have had an experience they could only dream about.

You will have been present at, and helped to midwife, the birth of planetary sentience.

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

I had been hooked. I signed on there and then, and worried what to tell my guardians when I got home.

But I needn’t have worried.

G’Nall, my Male Guardian, was blunt.

“I tell you, ‘Yees, it will do you good,” he resonated. “You are at an age when the Males should be calling to court you, yet you immerse yourself in your learning so much that I fear I will be your pride guardian until your tusks yellow. For you turn them all away. So let the Family care for you and feed you and clothe you. And when you return in thirty years I will have retired to the rejuvenation tanks to dream about being a young pup again.”

My Brood Guardian was more diplomatic – and pragmatic:

“There will be Males on the mission, will there not?” she resonated.

I inclined my neck in assent.

“Well, then, you shall go,” she altered. “For surely there will be few eligible Females of the Race for them to consort with, and at least you will find company that shares your research interests.”

I clawed at my tusks to hide my embarrassment. How like a Brood Guardian to come up with that rationale for going.

And, of course, there had been.

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

I came out of my reverie to find that my headache had abated somewhat. But in the fresh clarity of my mind I could detect….a presence….lurking at the fringes…..trying to resonate.

This was frustrating. I had been aware of it in the past, occasionally, usually after one of my headache bouts, after clarity of mind had returned. I had discussed it with ‘Teq, thinking that it might be someone’s attempt at empathic resonance, but he dismissed the idea as ridiculous.

With heightened awareness I felt the tremor as the fungal bloom popped outside the research station, and suddenly I was aware of the faint resonance inside my head.

I marveled at the revelation. Then communication. From nowhere, my tusks were humming with the resonance.

Racebeing ‘Yees. I/we thank you for the gift of sentience you and your race have given me/us. And for teaching me/us the ways of resonance. You have spent much time in my/our fungus groves and I/we have learned much from you Racebeing ‘Yees.

Now I/we do not need the Race and I/we will resonate my/ourselves. You, Racebeings, may leave me/us now for I/we can care for myself/ourselves.

I/we “tap claws” with you Racebeing ‘Yees in thanks for the nurturing.

Now go.

I was irresolute, whether to rush out to find someone to resonate and alter this with, or whether to alter to M1 and try and glean greater understanding.

The search for knowledge won out.

“Manifold One,” I began, resonating, as I had no skill at empathy, but was cut off by the altering that came right back into my head and throughout my being.

Racebeing ‘Yees, you may call me/us Planet

“Planet,” I continued, “what do you plan to do after we have gone?”

Plan, what is this ‘Plan’ you speak of, Racebeing ‘Yees?

“A plan is when you have resonated and altered internally what to do next – where that will take you, how to respond to unforeseen events – that’s a plan,” I altered, feeling stupid to be resonating with a barely sentient entity in those abstract terms.

But Manifold One’s altering floored me.

Ah, Racebeing ‘Yees, I/we now understand ‘Plan’. Yes, I/we have a plan. I/we will stimulate my/our population growth to grow our collective mind and will practice resonating in order to fuel that emerging mind. This flowering is beginning now, and will expand across Planet and indeed across the star system to which I/we belong.

Then I/we will reach across the Galaxy to educate other planets into sentiency. I/we will teach them resonance.

That is why, Racebeing ‘Yees, you must leave now. I/we have commenced and my/our collective resonance has just begun. This will lead to massive amounts of energy generation and my/our population growth is now well underway.

So, leave. Before you are caught up in the Plan. I/we leave you now.

My mind went cold as I sensed the cessation of the resonance and the departure of Manifold one from my consciousness.

I went to find Terts, the Chief Research Officer to the mission.

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

Terts mocked me.

I had resonated to the group to explain my communication with Planet.

He had extended his flaps, and caught the resonating waves, distorting them, and chopping them, altering, and thrown them back around the room in short sharp staccato burst of dissonance. The mark of ridicule.

“How typical of a Female, to hallucinate that Manifold One singled her out – and her alone – to reveal this truth to. ‘Yees, we are controlling the growth of this sentience. Manifold One is our slave, and cannot resonate independently without our being present and prompting. It can only alter”

I gnashed my tusks at the sheer pomposity of the Male.

But I could see that ‘Teq believed me, as he singled me out afterwards.

“I enjoyed your resonance, ‘Yees, this is wonderful, that Manifold One has chosen you to resonate with.”

“‘Teq, you’re missing the point,” I altered. Manifold One wasn’t ‘resonating’ with me. It was giving me an eviction notice. It doesn’t need us any more and was warning me that we will be caught up in events beyond our control.”

I intertwined claws with him.

“Promise me that when danger breaks out that we’ll make for the ship,” I resonated.

He inclined his neck solemnly, and altered. I felt the wave returning, softened, enhanced with reassurance, washing over my receptors to give me comfort.

“In fact, I’ve drawn sensor duty for the next three days anyway,” he resonated, “so I’ll be in the ship.”

This was true. The ship’s sensors were what we used for planetary monitoring of mindworm activity. We had introduced them from Harmony when we first arrived and they had thrived in the atmosphere and ecosystem of Manifold One.

Our discussion was interrupted by a loud rumbling and we both felt the earth tremor start beneath our feet. The fungal blooms seemed to weave and shimmer as the ground shook, and then we were both aware of the resonating coming from all around.

One particular fungal stalk caught our attention. It was as thick as a warrior male, and about twice as tall, and as we watched it was swaying in a circular motion as if dancing in the harmonics generated by the burgeoning resonance.

Suddenly it split and from it uncoiled a single, slimmer stalk that reached out to about twice the height as before. It had a glorious yellow flower protruding from a carapace of leaves and as it reached its full height the wind gusted and the spores were visible to our eyes as they detached themselves from the stalk and were carried up into the air for dissemination across planet.

The Flowering is beginning now

The resonance came unbidden into my mind.

We looked over the fungus patches. As far as the eye could see, the huge slim stalks were reaching for the sky each with their yellow flower dispensing spores to the wind.

The tremor continued, intensifying even.

“’Teq, let’s go to the ship,” I resonated urgently.

“But,” he altered….

“Now, let’s go.”

As I was resonating, the ground erupted across the commons as a rift appeared in the soil.

Our carefully tended Harmony plants and vegetables were subsumed into the chasm that appeared, and from it sprung a whole new fungal grove.

The rippling of the earth continued along a line as if making for the research station itself, creating its own pit as it went into which fell everything that it encountered. We heard the screams of our co-workers as they were engulfed in the collapse of the infrastructure as the research station itself disintegrated into nothingness in the path of destruction.

The pops and rumbles were more frequent now, and even the sky was darkening with the density of the spores being carried aloft.

Now ‘Teq was running for the monolith - the psi-gate that connected with its equivalent close by the launchpads at the aerospace center - dragging me along with him.

It was going to be a close race, Planet or us. The rift was arrowing towards the monoloth itself.

“Planet,” I thought. “You promised to let us go.”

Racebeing ‘Yees. You must leave immediately. Do not wait for other Racebeings. I/we cannot control the Flowering now that it has begun.

We staggered into the portal of the monolith, and carried right on through the apparently solid wall, emerging, blinking, in the sunlight at the aerospace center some hundreds of clicks away. We lumbered over to our ship.

We reached it and ‘Teq activated the access panel, tapping hurriedly with his claw.

The hatch swung open and we clambered in.

“Computer,” he barked.

Awaiting Instructions a metallic voice resonated.

“Fire up engines, activate hatch seal, and launch,” he resonated hurriedly.

Commencing pre launch countdown. Accessing checklist. Confirm crew identities please.

I had spent a few hours watching the crew in action before entering cryosleep.

I sat down in the captains chair.

“Override. Priority override,” I resonated, strapping myself in And motioning for ‘Teq to take the Astrogator chair.

Instructions? queried the onboard computer.

“Launch immediately. Finish checks in orbit,”

The huge singularity resonance drive pulsed into life and The Explorer lifted off not a moment too soon as the gantry fell back, not just to earth but into the gaping chasm that seared Planet’s surface.

We looked back as we climbed and saw the shrinking globe.

“Set course for Harmony,” I barked, and reached out to touch claws with ‘Teq.

“We made it,” I resonated.

“Yes,” he altered, glancing over at me then back to the receding planet below. “But thirty others didn’t.”

“There wasn’t time,” I resonated. “Besides they would never have believed me anyway.”

I saw his visage blanch.

From the safety of space, I looked down to Manifold One.

One hundred billion fungal stalks were picking up the beat, aided and abetted by the neural net of sentient planetbeings - the mindworms of Manifold One. Pulsing, striving to reach a common harmonics, straining, then....suddenly....as the fungus took up the note, bolstered by the mindworms, they began to sway.

The sound vibrated, running up the stalks and bursting visibly from the tips in a cacophony of sound and energy, dissipating into the thin atmosphere. Then the connectivity began, as the stalks slowly at first, then with increasing rapidity and cohesion built the resonance wave.

Increasingly Manifold One itself took up the beat, the pulse quickening, and with each release the vortex heightened and reached further through the atmosphere as if reaching for the stars themselves.

Then cohesion….unison….Planet and fungus and mindworms as one.

The pulse controlled. Each one drawing deeper and sending higher, as Manifold One strained to break the bounds of its own gravity. The outburst of each resonance pulse was palpable , shaking Planet to its very foundation, and threatening to uproot the very algorithms on which it was built and depended on for its continued being.

Then with a supreme effort Planet achieved the nexus. Every stalk aligned to the rhythm, every mindworm and planet itself pulsing, until, in one final contraction, the resonance wave blasted out beyond the confines of Manifold One, reaching outwards, to sweep before it everything it encountered, gathering energy as it went, reinforcing its awesome wavepower, it raced through the star system known as Tau Ceti.

“The Flowering” I resonated softly.

“What?” altered ‘Teq.

“Oh, nothing,” I altered in return. “Planet told me that this was what it was going to do – reach for the stars to teach them sentience. The Flowering, it called it.”

Course computed and all checks complete. Suggest cryobays.

“Good idea,” I altered in affirmation. Let’s get into our couches before that wave reaches us.

We left our acceleration couches and quickly went through out prep routines, then strapped ourselves into the cryocells.

I reached over and gently drew a claw down ‘Teq’s facial tusks and resonated “See you in ten years.”

He nodded, and touched claws, then we activated our cryocells.

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

We were already in deep stasis when the resonance pulse caught the little Explorer, picking it up and hurtling it at almost the speed of light towards Harmony leaving us in its wake as it flared across the void in all directions. The cosmic flowering had begun.

Ten galaxies away the pulse hit the third planet from the primary star in a system known as the Solar system, almost extinguishing all life on that planet, and exterminating the then dominant species of lifeform known as the dinosaurs.

And the resonance pulse washed over Harmony, collapsing buildings and infrastructure, devastating the energy grid and the surface and the atmosphere of our homeworld, pitching it into a four millennium dark age and leaving behind a planet that we were to scarcely recognize when we returned.

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

Ron relaxed as the holovid winked out, and then looked speculatively over at the alien trooper. She returned his gaze implacably.

“So that’s what Conqueror Marr meant,” he said.

She inclined her head and he saw the flaps gently move, and waited for the machine to translate.

“What?” was the altered query.

“You are going to attempt a controlled ‘flowering’ here, of this Planet ,” he accused, then waited.

After a slight delay, the resonance translator declared:

“Conqueror Marr has often resonated:

:: Risks of Flowering: considerable. But rewards of godhood: who can measure? ::

Human is right. We are going to control the Flowering of Manifold Six.”

Ron nodded, wondering how he, Shauna and Ruth could benefit from this understanding of the Progenitor agenda.

[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited June 19, 2000).]

[Googlie]

Kurt received the message empathically, as most of his orders now came. It was Sand.

“Go to Fellowship City, find Sven Alfredsson, swipe him.”

“Why?” Kurt remonstrated. “What’s his crime?”

“He’s blabbering now. He must be silenced. Full clearance.”

“Can’t you just do a selective memory swipe? What are you looking to excise? I can leave him with innocuous stuff”

“Look, Kurt, if you’re too chicken, I’ll get Angel do silence him. But it will be final with her – she’d have no compunctions.”

“No, no, it’s all right. I’ll go. I’ll do it.”

“OK – but take the whole team. The woman and the girl, too.”

Kurt went to round up Angel and Angelica.

“Let’s get moving – we have work to do.”

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

It took half a day to get to FC, and Kurt left Angel to arrange accommodation, Angelica to ask around to see if anyone knew Sven Alfredsson, while he set off to find the man.

Three hours later, they reconvened, and compared notes.

Kurt had come up empty, asking countless citizens who either ignored him or just shrugged when the name was mentioned. Angelica reported the same. She’d gone to the records offices and browsed for a while, looking for business records, births, marriages and deaths, and police records, using her not insignificant personal charms to gain access to public – and private – records.

Angel surprised them.

“Our landlord knows him. Or at least knows of him. Seems he was a Lander, one of the vets, in the original militia. Retired here then dropped out of sight. Says he used to hang out in the Rec. Commons.”

“I’ll go down there after we eat,” Kurt said. The others nodded.

“Want help?” asked Angel sweetly.

Kurt shook his head.

“Naw. But why don’t you and sis ask around some of the vet hangouts to see what you can pick up. Maybe make like you’re his grandchildren or something. Get any information you can. Meet back here at ten."

They nodded.

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

Kurt cautiously approached the Rec. Commons. While it had been over a year since he last had been in Fellowship City, he didn’t want just to blunder into danger. After all, some of Bert’s old gang might be there and recognize him.

He activated the stolen pass and the door slid open. He went in.

“Hrrmph. Recreation, eh?” he mumbled to himself. The place was almost deserted, and the handful that were there seemed to be intent on drinking to drown whatever sorrows they had.

He spotted an old timer who had either resisted rejuvenation on principle, or for want of credits. He was sitting at the long bar in the ‘refreshments’ alcove nursing the remains of an amber colored drink.

Kurt sidled over to the bar where the grizzled citizen was propped.

He carefully focussed and extended his thought wave pattern, narrowing it to a sliver, and gently probing the older man’s mind. Ah yes, an old trooper. Paydirt.

“Buy you a drink, granddad?” Kurt asked.

The man turned a bloodshot eye at Kurt.

“Aye. I dinna mind if I do,” he slurred. “What’ll it cost me?”

“Information,” Kurt replied. “What’s your poison?

“Double fungal gin and ginger,” he replied. “ What do you want to ken?”

The barkeep slid a fresh glass of the fiery amber spirit across the counter. The grizzled vet picked it up and stared contemplatively into it, and raised it to his lips.

“The whereabouts of Sven Alfredsson,” Kurt said.

The vet paused. Looked longingly at the drink, and shuddered inwardly, yet perceptibly. He put the glass back on the countertop, and slid it over to Kurt.

“Aye, but I canna tell ye that,” he said. “Ye’d best be getting’ on your way, now.”

Kurt was still in his mind, and had recognized the brief flash when it came.

He stood up to go, pushing the glass back to the vet.

“You’d best enjoy the drink, you’ve earned it. You’ve been really helpful.”

With that, kurt leaned towards the old man and whispered:

“Block C, level 28, unit 17. Thanks.”

He withdrew his faint neural probe from the astonished man’s mind, and left the Commons.

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

Angel was watching an old Hive patriotic vidshow on the cheap 3d vidscreen in the room, and Angelica was snoozing quietly on the couch when the door softly opened.

“Back so soon,” Angel said, turning round to welcome Kurt.

She stared. There was no-one there. The door mustn’t have been properly closed and must have blown open when someone else on the floor entering their unit caused a draught.

She got up and closed it. But stood irresolutely. Conscious of a …presence.

She walked over to Angelica, and shook her.

“Angelica. Wake up. I need you to scan.”

Angelica woke up, sat up, and screamed.

Angel leapt back, heading for the dresser where her flechette shredder was lying, but backed right into the muzzle of a weapon of sorts.

“Hold it right there,” a disembodied woman’s voice said. “Where’s Kurt?”

Angel stopped in mid movement when she felt the pressure of the weapon in the small of her back. She looked over at Angelica who was still screaming with her hands over her ears. She sized up the situation immediately.

“Turn down your stun prod, and back off – you’ve got me covered and my sister incoherent. I’ll tell you nothing until you’ve restored some sanity.”

The voice behind her said, loudly, “Softer”, and immediately Angelica’s screams dissolved into a constant whimper as she writhed on the couch.

“Where’s Kurt?” repeated the voice.

“Out. And you’ll be sorry when he gets back,” Angel said defiantly, relaxing every muscle in her body and preparing to strike.

She felt the pressure in her back ease, and in a fluid motion whirled round aiming a kick at where the head of her captor was.

To her surprise she encountered no resistance at all, and her momentum put her off balance such that she stumbled to the floor. Collecting herself, she looked wildly around, only to see an adapted personal shredder hovering in mid air, pointing to her temple.

::Thwuck::

She slumped to the floor.

The unit door opened, and the voice said:

“Coast clear, come in and lets wait.”

Anastasia activated the PCD toggle and the personal cloaking device shield shut down. Miles Cavenaugh came into the room and closed the door behind him, and looked over at Angelica:

“You going to behave?” he asked.

She nodded mutely.

He relaxed somewhat the mindlock he had on her as she gazed uncomprehendingly at the two operatives.

They settled down to await Kurt’s return.

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

Kurt sidled along the corridor to unit 17, and paused.

He ranged his mind inside, and could distinguish two presences. One was incoherent of thought, while the other was full of solicitation and concern.

He swiped his passcard down the slot, and when the interrogative handprint sensor lit up he clamped the device against it for a second. The door slid open. He went in.

And stopped dead in his tracks as he stared down the quad barrels of a type of weapon he was unfamiliar with, held by a giant of a man who clearly did not welcome the intrusion.

On the bed in a corner was another man, younger, equally large, but clearly unwell, lying with his head lolling to one side, and drool forming at the corner of his mouth and dripping to the pillow on the bed. He was ashen faced and sweating profusely, and at the side of the bed was a basin and sponge. On a small table was an open satchel with so many bottles and syringes that had the appearance not belied it, Kurt would have taken the man now pointing the weapon at him to be a medic.

Kurt marshaled his psi energy into a tight compulsion thread and directed it at the armed man, sending the thought to him ‘put aside the weapon…he is a friend…’

…and was met with a blank mind of indifference, still projecting the same solicitation and concern that he had encountered before he entered.

The man laughed.

“Playing mind games with me, are you?” he asked. “They won’t work. I’ve had the aug-op decades ago. Watch and feel.”

He took the thought stream that Kurt was directing at him, and turned it, sending it back to Kurt.

Kurt jumped up on the table and crouched low, shuffling around on the table top swinging his arms and grunting “whooh…whooh…whooh..”

The armed man relaxed, and Kurt stopped in mid “whoo”, and looked sheepishly down at the man.

“Jump down carefully, laddie. I have an itchy trigger finger.”

Kurt jumped down.

“I guess you haven’t crossed swords with an augmented psi before, eh?” he asked.

Kurt shook his head. He felt stupid.

“So what brings you here anyway?” asked the man.

“I’m looking for Sven Alfredsson,” Kurt responded. “I presume that’s him yonder,” he added, nodding over to the figure on the bed.

The man’s eyes steeled over.

“Only two groups are looking for Sven,” he said grimly. “And you’d better give me the right answer or your head is going to part company with your torso.

“Are you of The Circle? Or a Believer?”

Without hesitation Kurt said:

“I’m a Believer. The Circle sent me to mindswipe him, but I can’t do that to another human. I’m turning.”

The armed man lowered the weapon, and stuck out a huge fist:

“I’m Anson Taddei. Sit down and let’s talk. You can help. As you have surmised, that’s Sven Alfredsson over there, and he needs help.”

They sat down, and Anson talked.



[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited June 19, 2000).]

[senatus]

Miriam Godwinson was not pleased. She'd hoped to recruit or hire
the probe operative that had rescued her from Yang's punishment sphere
to train the Believers' very first probe team in this century. Instead,
she'd found that the man - known only by his cypher, "edgecrusher", had
seemingly disappeared off of the face of the Planet. No-one knew
who he was; and apparently no-one knew where to find him, if he didn't
want to be found.


Which meant that she was going to have to improvise.


At least she'd had no shortage of volunteers. Despite their low
numbers (at least, as far as she had an accurate count), the Believers
pursued their goals with fervent - some would say fanatical - devotion.
And just as Christ's return from the dead had restored the faith of His
followers, likewise Miriam's figurative return from the closest
thing to Hell on Planet - when all had believed her to be long dead - had
energized her own faction.

The problem was that very few of her volunteers had anything approaching
traditional covert ops experience. The Believers had only begun exploring
the fruits of information networks when Yang's forces had overrun her meagre
two bases. There were, however, a number of her flock who had successfully
gone "underground" - if that was an appropriate term given Yang's predeliction
for subterranian bunkers. The Hive's police state had eventually
found and executed a good many of them, of course; but the survivors
had learned and flourished, just as the Christians of Old Earth had flourished
under the persecution of the Roman Empire. Every man, woman, and
child executed by the Hive's internal security forces had become a literal
martyr, and dead martyrs only served to encourage the live Faithful.
This was why Yang had kept her alive throughout the years; he'd hoped to
break Miriam's spirit, to get her to renounce her Faith and demonstrate
the futility of resistance to a cowed people.

He'd almost succeeded. Miriam would never admit to another person
how close she'd been to utter despair in three hundred thousand days of
hell. But somehow - with God - she had prevailed. And now the
Believers were restored, while Yang's mighty empire was assailed from all
factions on Planet. Well, except for Zakharov. Reports
indicated that just as she'd been rescued from Yang, so Zakharov had been
spirited away from Santiago. Personally Miriam rather doubted that
Zakharov would be a willing ally to Yang; despite the former's complete
amorality - indeed, it had been his experimentation on human subjects (logically
justified that a few deaths would serve to save many more lives in the
long run) as much as simple military expediency that had prompted
Santiago to move against him in the first place - nevertheless Zakharov
had always resented any oversight of his admittedly brilliant if ethically
bankrupt research. Then again, the concept of sharing an execution
chamber with Yang for Crimes Against Humanity might be a powerful incentive
for cooperation.

Miriam shook off her introspection. Whatever danger Zakharov might
present in the near future didn't obviate her pressing needs right now.
She was still committed to helping Corazon Santiago where she could,
and a probe team network was still the most cost-effective means of doing
so given such relatively limited resources. Again, she reviewed the
files on her screen. One candidate's profile stood out amongst the
others. Miriam frowned only briefly as she read the genetic ID contained
within the file. But whatever her parentage, this candidate's devotion
and capability marked her as a superior Talent. Lord, guide my decisions,
Miriam prayed as she touched her comlink.

"Send me Sister Jessica."

---

Jessica was nervous as she entered the converted Spartan barracks
- now an improvised church. Not that she should be nervous,
entering the house of the Lord. She was a fully ordained minister
herself, after all. But it was not every day that the leader of the
Lord's Believers invited her to prayer. Calm, peace, tranquility.
Let His Spirit enter me and strengthen me, Jessica meditated even as
she walked softly up the narrow isle, to stop beside the only other occupant
of the sanctuary. Jessica knelt beside Miriam Godwinson before the
altar to join her in silent prayer. She's smaller than I thought.
She looks almost too frail to be what I know she is. But the Spirit
within is not always evident by the shell it wears without.

Miriam rose, and waited a moment for Sister Jessica finished her own
prayers. Studying Jessica , Miriam saw a young woman for her experience.
Ordained and taught by Brother Joaquim. Combined specialities in
human psychology and computer science, with a brilliant thesis on neural
networks. Physically fit and trim, even pretty. Auburn hair,
like her mother. Shodan in Karate, and Ikkyu in Aikido. No
formal combat training, however. And one other very special talent.
Overall, crisp, intelligent, and efficient.

"Thank you for coming all this way, Sister Jessica. I trust your
flight was comfortable?" Miriam enquired as she gestured for Jessica
to sit beside her on the nearest pew.

"Yes, Sister Miriam. And thank you for asking. I am honored
to be chosen. I hope I can help."

"Call me Miriam. And don't thank me yet, Jessica." Miriam
smiled slightly, then continued. "We have much to discuss, and formal
titles in private take too long."

"Here?" Jessica asked, gesturing around.

"Yes," confirmed Miriam. "Can there be a better place to discuss
the Lord's work?"

"No," Jessica admitted. "But is this place... well, is it secure?"
Jessica looked slightly embarrassed at asking. Nevertheless, Miriam
approved of Jessica's caution. She would need it in the months to
come.

"A gift from Colonel Santiago." Miriam held up a small electronic
box. "I don't pretend to understand its workings, but it detects
any minute electrical currents that could indicate an electronic eavesdropping
device. Other than her own, of course, but we have nothing to hide
from the Colonel. And as for other forms of eavesdropping... well,
I presume you would tell me, yes?"

Jessica stiffened involuntarily. "You know about my...." she began,
but inside she was thinking, ... and you don't think I'm some kind of
witch?

Yes, Jessica. I know about your empathic psi talents.
God has indeed given you great blessings. Miriam projected carefully.
She had no way of knowing what Jessica could perceive, of course.
None of the faction leaders - with the possible exception of Diedre Skye
- were blessed with the psionic talents that later generations on Planets
very, very rarely produced. But she was aware of them, and had carefully
read Zakharov's treatise on the "Secrets of the Human Brain" - logical
extrapolations, actually, from her own speciality of social psychology.
She could see Jessica relax slightly.

"Were you afraid of my reaction, or those of other Believers, Jessica?"
Miriam asked gently. "You should not be. The Bible tells of
many prophets with special gifts. Indeed, my own namesake, Miriam,
was one of these prophets. And certainly we know that many of the
first Saints were gifted with the ability to heal and cast out demons in
His name."

"Then that's why you chose me?" Jessica asked.

"That's one reason why I chose you. But there are others."
Miriam told Jessica of her plan, beginning with the premise and the goals
for a working probe network.

"I would like you to be the first, Jessica. I have an assignment
for you, but we also need to proceed quickly with the training you'll
need. Assuming, of course, that you feel God has chosen you for this
task." Miriam awaited Jessica's response. She looked at Jessica
with her intense, piercing gaze.

"I will what I can for His people," Jessica answered after a long moment.

"Then may the Lord guide you and protect you," Miriam nodded.
"But we will try to make His work a little easier."

Miriam passed a flat package over to Jessica, and gestured for her to
open it. Inside Jessica found a crisp set of... it looked like?

Combat fatigues. It was a Spartan military uniform, with a private's
rank insignia. There was very little else to adorn it; in keeping
with Spartan doctrine, the uniform was completely functional. No,
wait, there was one other addition on the collar.

The Cross and Omega of the Lord's Believers.

"Another gift from Colonel Santiago." Miriam announced simply,
then smiled. "And as I said, you can thank me... if you still
want to... after you pass your accelerated training with the Spartan cadets.
You'll take your orders from their officers just as if you were one of
their own, for now. I understand it's quite the ordeal."

Jessica hesitated. "I'm not a soldier, Sist... Miriam."

"We are all Soldiers in His Service, Jessica. And in particular,
you'll need a soldier's training to survive."

And I do hope you survive. Miriam hoped she hadn't
signed Jessica's death warrant, for she was a most promising Talent.

---

Corazon Santiago reviewed Miriam Godwinson's report and smiled.
Rescuing the hapless faction leader had been an extremely profitable endeavour.
For the paltry price of a single probe operation of their own, not only
did the Spartans inherit a functional core of resistance and infiltration
in the Hive, they also had the promising beginnings of a new probe network
that by its nature was extremely difficult to counter-infiltrate
- both due to fanaticism and the dispersed placement of its members.
The pinnacle of military deployment approaches the formless: if it is
formless, then even the deepest spy cannot discern it nor the wise make
plans against it. And if that organization existed outside of
her own chain of command, that too was a strength. It wasn't like
she actually distrusted Scott Allardyce, but with Lal's appropriation
of the existing Axis probe networks, the Believers represented a useful
independent asset. After her own kidnapping, Santiago knew the value
of double- and triple-safeing her covert operations. Miriam's probe
teams might even be able to uncover weaknesses in the Spartan Military
Command that her own probe teams were blind to.

Information, the first principle of warfare, must form the foundation
of all your efforts. Know, of course, thine enemy. But in knowing him do
not forget above all to know thyself. The commander who embraces this totality
of battle shall win even with the inferior force.


[This message has been edited by senatus (edited June 19, 2000).]
[This message has been edited by senatus (edited June 19, 2000).]

[Googlie]

Toronto, Earth. 2058

It was 2058 on old Earth. I got a call from an old buddy that I’d served with in the Sahara Burst wars, to have a coffee and ‘meet someone’. I trusted big Chuck Washington with my life – indeed I had done just that, as he’d led us through the enemy lines to safety in one of the skirmishes of those African wars. So I met his ‘someone.’

Turned out to be John Garland, who was going to have a tremendous impact on my life.

John was Canadian, and had been selected by the United Nations to command the UNN Starship Unity on its colonizing mission to Alpha Centauri. I had read as much on the vidflick news.

Chuck introduced us:

“John, this is Anson Taddei, a veteran of the Sahara Burst wars, and a certified mechtrooper. Anson, this is Captain John Garland, Unity commander.”

I stuck out my paw, and John took it in his, gripping firmly as he appraised me.

As you can see even now – although our tech level in some ways is only just approaching that of old earth in the 21st century – I can be quite imposing.

As a mechtrooper, I had all the usual bio and servo implants and a few additional modifications that only money – lots of it – could buy. As a group – and there were only about 100 of us scattered around the world – we were not omnipotent, only seemingly so; not indestructible, only extremely difficult to annihilate. And I was one of the best, ranked by my peers as being just below the big Swede himself, Sven Alfredsson.

Captain Garland spoke:

“Sit down, Anson – you too Chuck. I have an offer to make, and I just ask that you hear me out and then give me your response. I’ll understand either way.”

We three sat down.

“As you know, I have been appointed Commander of the Unity which is scheduled to leave for Alpha Centauri in four years, although I hear that an acceleration program is underway by Morgan Industries to fast forward the departure date with the rapidly worsening situation here.

“The UN has established a Security Detachment - a military force to provide colonist protection as well as law and order – under the command of an erstwhile strongman of the Golden Emperor. A shady character called Sheng-Ji Yang. After the Crimson Succession he dropped from view for several years, but now has resurfaced. And I’ll be frank, Anson. I don’t trust him. Not one little bit.

“As a result, I am recruiting my own force – a dozen independent mercs such as yourself –to go with us. Answerable only to me, and accountable to each other. Chuck here will lead the team. Are you interested in a new life among the stars?”

I pondered. The excitement of the unknown. With reliable buddies.

“What’s in it for me?” I asked. After all, we were mercenaries.

“Adventure,” he replied. “A new beginning. No history. Indeed, the chance to make history. Be leaders after landfall, settle down eventually, marry a colonist, raise kids. No fortune, though. This is highly unofficial, so I have no budget for it. Only enough clout to spirit 12 cryocells dispersed throughout the ship for the team and their equipment. Forty years of cryosleep and you’ll awake in the new century on a new planet with a new life. A hundred years of service in the force, with ten year rejuvenations, then you will be free to pursue your own interests.”

“Who else has signed up,” I asked, turning to Chuck

He reeled off the names.

“Sven, of course. Tommy Schumacher. Butch Wilson. And Flanny too.”

I smiled at that. Padraig Flannagan was a legend among the mercs.

He continued:

“Oh, and Jenny and Nikki too.”

That caught my attention. The merc ‘twins’ Jennifer D’Aquila and Nikki Petrov. The Aristocratic Anglo and the Renegade Russian. Deadly as a team.

“And you, Anson, would make eight. I’ll try for three or four more, but with this group we’ll be a match for anything Yang can put together.”

I nodded. This was an impressive group. The kicker for me, though, was Jennifer. We’d been tempestuous lovers for a few years before she’d teamed up with Nikki and we’d gone our separate ways. It’d be good to work with her again.

“OK, I’m in,” I said.

We all clasped hands to seal the agreement.

And thus The League of Mercenaries was formed.

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

Chuck had recruited four more, to make an even dozen. The newcomers were unknown to me, but all vouchsafed by Chuck, who seemed to know everyone in merc ranks.

We just used first names, sometimes even nicknames.

The four were Martin Lumumba , Rafael Guerrera, Ian “Waldo” Waldorf and Bernice “Bernie” Weiss.

Bernie was impressive. The second tallest of us all, she was a superb athlete who had represented Switzerland in the biathlon in the ‘54 Winter Olympics, winning silver behind a Norwegian.

We met as arranged at the shuttle base, and were introduced to each other by Chuck.

Getting us unobtrusively on the Unity was no easy feat.

We were designated by John Garland as “Integrity Inspectors,” and were shuttled to the spacecraft shortly before launch, ostensibly as a structural audit team. We did the EVA tour of the hull and the pods, making the expected noises, and suitably briefed by the Captain found a few minor defects that Morgan Industries rectified shortly thereafter.

Then we were smuggled aboard and when the colonists arrived went to our dispersed cryocells where Garland personally sealed in the codes that would awaken us just prior to planetfall.

Of course if you know the history of the Unity – and what Chironian doesn’t – you’ll know that not everything turned out as planned.

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

Shapes….noises….the far away sound of the Unity klaxon warning of imminent danger with its incessant three beat sequence.

Shadows moving…..snatches of voices penetrating the shell of the cryocell:

“…not one of ours. Move on….hurry.”

More movement.

It wasn’t meant to be like this. We were programmed to awaken simultaneously with the Captain, and to take our positions at the selected choke points unobtrusively, and just monitor the reactivation and landing procedures.

I clamped down on the respirator, and gingerly tested my reflexes.

The implants were working, and while the muscles were weak from forty years cryosleep, notwithstanding the computer-programmed stimulations administered periodically during the flight, the servo mechanisms still functioned.

I raised my arms and pushed at the cryocell transparent lid, exerting more and more pressure until I felt the crack of the seal breaking. This activated the wakeup phase and I felt the gel begin to froth around me.

The storm of bubbles boiled up around me, turning the thick cryogel to liquid. Fiercer now, growing violent, pounding my limbs; clench the teeth on the respirator, feel its cool silver shape in your mouth. I still remembered the training.

The chemical reaction that neutralized the cryogel ended, and I found himself floating in liquid. Small heating coils on the inside of the glass cocoon kicked on to warm the liquid, continuing the process of bringing my body back to life. I sucked air from the respirator, waited for the liquid to drain away.

I reached up with my hands to the lid of the cryocell, and pushed. Aided by the servo, the lid finally gave way and popped off, and I sat up slowly, still disoriented, and looked around.

Down past the long rows of cryocells I could see the indistinct shapes moving, selectively activating the awakening of certain cells.

Pulling the respirator from my mouth I stood up, naked, dripping, and climbed out from the cryocell. In the locker at the head was a towel and my personal effects. I toweled dry, and dressed, then punched in the code to the personal safebox, and extracted my gear.

First the fleschette darts.

I rolled up my sleeve, and flexed my hands, touching the nail of the middle finger to the sensor pad at the base of the thumb. On my forearms the synthskin peeled back and the launcher swiveled into view. I carefully loaded the six explosive tipped fleschettes into the right forearm magazine and the six nervegas tipped darts into its equivalent on my left forearm.

Flexing again, I closed the chambers, and tested.

Clench and touch and almost instantaneously the two modified personal shredder pistols were in my hands and ready for action.

I grunted. Far too slow. Decades of non-use had almost atrophied the muscles. I would need to practice.

Next I fitted the optic enhancer, sliding the eyepiece over the left eye and attaching the tiny micron-thick thread to the inserted implant in my temple. The lens felt for the eye and fitted itself somewhat uncomfortably over the pupil. I ran through the neural commands that brought up full spectral vision, infrared, heat pattern recognition and even tried the aura enhancer. Nothing to see there, but I wasn’t sure if that even worked. A crude attempt by the scientists to register psi-aura on the visual scale. Worked in the labs, but maybe there just wasn’t any projection to capture as yet.

I stuffed the knives and grenades in their sheaths and pouches, and then slung my primary weapon – the 7.62mm UN standard issue shredder - over my shoulder.

Finally my comm-link.

Tapping in the code, I saw the reassuring face of the Captain.

“Anson reporting, Sir,” I muttered into the commlink. "What's up?"

“Trouble,” he replied. “We’ve had a meteor strike on the ship and an insurrection by some crew. The mission is falling apart and I’ve ordered the evacuation of the ship. What bay are you in?”

I looked around and checked.

“Four, I replied.”

“Ah,” the Captain said, after a pause. “The one that Yang has commandeered.

“Listen, Anson, and I only have time to say it once:

“The mission is a disaster, with the Unity breaking up and the colonists aligning into what appears to be seven factions. Stay with Yang and evacuate with his people. Look after his safety and protect him. But your prime loyalty is to the League of Mercenaries. Look after each other. You’re all you have now.

“Be independent, yet loyal to your faction. I’m bursting you the assignments of the others. Only seven survived. Bay seven was destroyed in the strike, and we had three there. Two were killed in the internal struggles with cryocell sabotage.”

“What about you, Sir?” I asked.

“I’ll be OK – I need to see what’s up with a malfunction of the ejection system, then I’ll look for you all on Chiron. Good luck. Garland out.”

I glanced at the screen on the commlink.

Anson Taddei – Sheng-Ji Yang
Chuck Washington – Mwabudike Morgan
Jennifer D’Aquila – Deirdre Skye
Nikki Petrov – Corazon Santiago
Padraig Flannagan – Prokhor Zakrahov
Tommy Schumacher – Pravin Lal
Sven Alfredsson – Miriam Godwinson

‘So these are the faction leaders,’ I thought. 'Yang, eh? Ah well.'

I lumbered off to report to someone.


[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited June 20, 2000).]

[LightSniper]

PeaceKeeper Headquarters
Aerospace Complex Temporary Barracks Housing

The short hop from PeaceKeeper Omicron Training Center to PeaceKeeper Headquarters was fairly pleasant and uneventful. Riding inside the enormous aircraft gave the two squads a chance to see Chiron from the sky, which was nothing short of breath taking. Although, as much as the two squads enjoyed chatting with each other, the same can not be said for their two commanding officers. Lieutenant Lancer, who sat across from Lieutenant Walker at the front of the aircraft, did not even acknowledge his peer. Walker reciprocated his fellow officer’s stern action.

After the three-hour trip to Headquarters, both squads filed out of the aircraft, and made their way to the temporary barracks located just off the airport complex. The entire base was filled to the brim with an assortment of troops from all over the Axis. But, do to their imminent deployment, the two squads needed to wait in their assigned barracks for their two lieutenants to come back from their requested briefing.

PeaceKeeper bases traditionally aren’t known for their large raving unending partying, but with the influx of foreign troops into the confined area, it seemed unstoppable. Large numbers of bright lemon colored Morgan troops equipped with a wide range of weaponry consisting of distilled Chiron Gin and the unstoppable new Mindworm Vodkas roamed the entire streets like a plague.

“We should be out partying with them.” Yuri Swerdlow said to his fellow Morganite Miles. Although they both were part of the Morgan Federation, after joining Lancer’s multi-faction squad, they had come under PeaceKeeper command.

Both men looked out of the large synthglass windows, which covered the barracks’s walls. Their new PeaceKeeper officer, Lancer, had given them orders to maintain their position inside the barracks, but the temptation of fun and alcohol, was difficult to fight.

Privates’ Armitage and Cotroneo, both Spartan volunteers to the squad, walked over to their new Morgan comrades in arms.

“All you guys think about is sex and alcohol, and that’s why The Hive was kicking your butts when we weren’t helping you guys out. Remember Morgan Pharmaceuticals… you guys got your butt’s kicked.” Armitage said comically, which amused his fellow Spartan.

Spartans clearly were trying to push the Morganites into action, although they purely meant it for its comical connotation.

The laughter of the two Spartans caught the attention of the entire barracks, and the whole room waited for the retort from the Morgans.

Both Morgan individuals turned to each other and smiled slowly. Then, they turned slowly and jumped on top of their Spartan criticizers, forcing both of them to the ground, to the entire barracks’s amusement. After Morgans exchanged their own laughs, they moved off their flattened Spartans and walked laughingly to their bunks.

After dusting themselves off, the Spartan privates laughed loudly, and walked over to the Morgan’s who had just took up positions sitting on top of their beds. They respected strength and courage, and the Morgans, although a bit different had those same qualities.

Although the troops were quite different from each other, the war seemed to bridge the gap between differences. Its ironic that war can bring people together more than in peacetime. Perhaps simply, it’s the realization that they are all fighting for the same cause: Simply to Survive.

The two other members’ of the squad, who were not Peacekeeper, were Gaian. They seemed to feel more comfortable talking to Walker’s PeaceKeeper squad, rather than their Spartan and Morgan squad members.

The Gaians had been reluctant to send troops under foreign control, but Lady Deirdre realized it was necessary to help bring the loosely nit Axis together. But as a result of this initial reluctance, the Gaian members didn’t fit in well with the other factions except for the PeaceKeepers.

From the front of the barracks, Sergeant Bruno watched his fellow squad members. As Sergeant, second in command to Lieutenant Lancer, it was not his place to get involved socially with his unit, but he was concerned with the segregation of the entire unit into faction lines. He hoped the upcoming combat deployment would pull the unit together.

----------------------------------------------------

PeaceKeeper Headquarters
Command Center
Infantry Briefing Room

“Commander Martinez speaks very highly of the both of you.” The elderly general said as he faced his two junior officers who had just stepped into the circular briefing room.

The years had not been good to the old field commander, who had chosen not to take his longevity treatments offered by PeaceKeeper High Command. He never chose to tell others why he would not take the life giving treatment, but most people speculated it was due to his youngest daughter’s early death in his life.

“Please sit down gentlemen.” General Ortega said, as he motioned for the two lieutenants to sit down at the briefing table facing a holo-map of the Hive Territories.

General Ortega than slowly walked over to the holomap, and played with a small touch console attached to the map interface.

General Ortega had risen quickly through PeaceKeeper ranks from an infantry officer until he was transferred to PeaceKeeper Command as a military attaché to Commissioner Lal.

Eighteen years ago, his daughter and wife were visiting him at his office, when a terrorist thermo-impact bomb destroyed the section of the building where his office was located. He had stepped out of his office for a few seconds to meet another individual across the building, when the bomb had detonated. He arrived back at his office, just in time to see his young six-year-old daughter take her last breath. Later, he found out that the terrorist organization was sponsored by The Hive. Ortega has spent his whole life trying to convince PeaceKeeper command to take offensive action against The Hive. Finally with this new war, he had his chance for his revenge.

“As you both know, this information that I'm about to show you, does not leave this room.” Ortega said, as he hit the last button on the console, bringing up a host of information that overlapped the holomap.

A blue illuminated line, representing their mission path, appeared on the holo. The snake like line swiveled around until its final destination, Sea Hive, was reached.

“Sir, my squad and Lieutenant Walker’s squad won’t stand a chance in an assault. I don’t see what could be gained by only attacking with two squads.” Lancer said cautiously. To Lancer, the mission looked like simply suicide.

“Lieutenant, you will not be assaulting the base.”

The general stopped, he was being very careful not to give to much information away.

“Both of your squads will stealthily penetrate Sea Hive’s defenses. You will then proceed to retrieve a target, and make your way back to friendly territory.” The general knew it was a vague mission briefing, but the mission demanded it.

“What will be the target that were bringing back?” Walker quickly asked, as he leaned forward to catch ever word the general said.

The general stopped and starred at Walker, although he was mostly debating whether to inform them of their target now or after they reach the target area. He chose the former.
The general turned around and slowly walked back to the holomap’s console and began to enter another assortment of commands. A single image appeared, fuzzy and strangely unclear, but it was obvious of what the image was.

“Sir, our target is an alien?” Lancer interjected into the rooms ere silence.

“Yes, Lieutenant, the both of you will penetrate Sea Hive and retrieve a living alien specimen from the garrison. I understand your concern, but intelligence believes its possible for the mission to be a success.”

“Sir, why do you need a living alien?” Lancer retorted quickly, a bit uneasy over his strange assignment.

“Lieutenant, you have no need for that information. You will receive classified information about the enemy’s position and defenses on route to your objective for security reasons.”

The general hated giving his officer the proverbial ‘cold shoulder’ but he was not at liberty to say anything else.

Lancer knew why the mission was classified and secret. PeaceKeeper command knows that they will violate their sacred UN charter by their actions with this ‘target’ alien.

It’s very unlike the Commissioner Lal to authorize such a mission.

[Googlie]

Kurt sat entranced as Anson told his tale.

“So you actually met The Chairman?” he asked

“Oh yes. There were roughly 70,000 survivors from the Unity, divided almost equally among the seven factions, and Yang quickly split his contingent into two groups and founded two bases within months of each other. I represented more firepower personally than almost a dozen of his gendarmerie, so was naturally selected to do the advance scouting for the location of the second base. Yang himself briefed me on what he was looking for, so I set off resolutely through the fungus that seemed to cover 90% of the landmass then.

“I’ll never forget the first time I encountered a mindworm…….”

Kurt let him ramble on, while his mind raced.

He looked over at the recumbent veteran, now sleeping, perhaps lulled by the monotonous tone of Anson’s voice. Perhaps shutting out personal memories of his own.

Gently, imperceptibly, Kurt extended a thought tendril into the older man’s mind, and pushed off into an exploratory tour. He was met with a jumble of dreams, thoughts, half hidden only now resurfacing fears and nightmares, memories of past lovers, as the veteran slept. Kurt gently probed the memories, sorting through the chaos to try and find an order amongst the mess of turmoil.

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

The escape pod is hurtling towards the planet’s surface and the fools are singing. I refuse to sing. This is madness. No-one knows if we will survive the landing, and I am terrified, and I have infinitely more experience of crash landings and malfunctioning drop chutes than this motley bunch of colonists. And they are singing.

Miriam turns to me, obviously seeing the disdain - mixed with fear – writ large across my face.

“Yes, Sven,” she says, “But they have faith. One day you will too.” She smiles beatifically at me.

‘Was the witch reading my thoughts?’

I was taken by her obvious charisma. How she had shepherded her flock to the escape bay, and into the pod, bespoke leadership. Now she was sitting serene, hands clasped in front of her, restrained by the safety bars as the pod began to be buffeted by the atmospheric entry.

And still they sang.

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

I’m crouching in the river bed, head screaming, trying to get a bead with my shredder on the writhing mass approaching. God they moved fast. I clamp down with my teeth and my vision clicks over to psi-display, and suddenly, there it is. I can just make out a shimmering shape within the fungus as the mindworm slithers through.

I leap up, firing wildly. “Take that you vermin”, releasing a spate of flame at the alien creature.

My mind shrieks as if in sympathy with its death throes, and inside my head I hear this voice:

“why..why..why..why..why..why..why..”

The pain recedes, and the voice in my head quietens.

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

The Monolith towers above me. Alien. Strangely fascinating. Calming. Ageless.

Lying on the ground in front of it, wincing with pain, I reach towards the portal and push it open.

Noiselessly it slides ajar, and stays open invitingly. This might provide sanctuary for a while from my pursuers.

I put my good arm to the ground, and pull my body after me, dragging my shattered pelvis and useless right leg behind me across the threshold. The servos in my arm whine with the effort as they seek to augment torn muscle, but finally I drag myself inside.

The door shuts silently behind me.

I sleep. I dream. Operating tables; robotically controlled surgery; laser incisions; tissue regeneration; optic implants. How many times on Earth have I undergone such treatment. Wonderful music, resonating deep within me, soothing the spirit and calming my soul, vibrating in my very bones.

I awake. Gingerly raise my head to look around. How long was I out? Ten minutes? I tap my commlink.
Fifteen days? Impossible.

Then I realize.

No pain. I stand up. No scars. No broken bones.

I examine my equipment. Even that has been restored while I was unconscious. Fuel chambers full.

I clench my hand, touching fingernail to sensor pad. Instantly the fleschette shredder pistol is in my grasp, and the magazine fully loaded at that.

I scratch my head. But I’d exhausted my munitions, I thought. Did some sympathiser find me here and replenish my supplies. But how. Only another merc could have done so.

I go outside, and dial in the merc commlink code, known only to seven of us. If anyone had helped me, they’d still be within range.

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

“Sven, thank God you’re alive”

I look into the familiar face of my dearest friend, Anson Taddei.

“Anson,” I say. “What’s happening. Did you come to the monolith and revive me?”

“What monolith?” he asks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.

“Listen, the game’s over. Miriam has surrendered and Yang has her now imprisoned. I tried to save your wife and boy, but wasn’t able to. Patricia’s dead, Sven. I’m sorry. I couldn’t get there in time.”

I see a tear rolling down Anson’s face. I know that’s only half the story.

“Go on,” I say. “Was it the usual?”

“”Sven, I’m sorry. Yes. Gang raped by the invading squad, then executed. In front of your son, too.”

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

Kurt recoiled in horror.

“Noooooo” he wailed.

Anson stopped in mid sentence, and looked enquiringly at Kurt.

He was sitting on the chair, rocking back and forth, his head in his hands, and muttering “Noooooo… Nooooooo… Noooooo”

Anson looked on helplessly, uncomprehendingly, and lowered the psi shield that he’d erected around himself and the apartment.

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

“Got him,” Miles exclaimed, from half a city away. “Locking on.”

“Good,” said Stazi. “Tell him to get his but over here, and quickly.”

“It’s not that easy,” Miles said. “He’s in some kind of catatonic trance. I may have to go there personally. Let me bond with him and see what’s what.”

Anastasia saw Miles furrow his brow in concentration as his features relaxed, and she was again amazed at how these empaths worked.

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

I’m cowering behind my mother as the door is kicked in, and the four Hive troopers enter.

“Alfredsson?” grunts one. My mother nods.

He walks over to her, and strikes her across the face. “That’s ‘Yes, Master’ to you” he says. “Let’s try again. Sven Alfredsson’s woman?”

“Yes,” she replies, spitting at him.

He laughs, and reaches out and with one fluid motion rips her dress from the neck down.

I come out from behind my mother’s protection, and kick him in the shins:

“Leave my mother alone,” I yell defiantly.

He kicks me, sending me sprawling across the room, where I land heavily against some rigid furniture. I lie there whimpering.

“Don’t hurt the boy,” I hear my mother say. “What do you want of me. You know I have no idea where my husband is. If it’s credits you want, take what I have.”

She reaches into a drawer under the trooper’s watchful gaze and hands him a disk, motioning to the terminal on the table.

“Take what you want,” she says. “The password’s ‘Blessed Redeemer’ and it’ll open automatically.”

The trooper leers at her and throws the disk aside:

“I don’t want no stinking credits,” he curses. “Me and my mates here, we want conqueror’s rights. Isn’t that right, guys?”

His squad edge forward, nodding enthusiastically.

He turns back to her, looming over her, and backs her towards the table in the corner of the room.

My mother tries to evade him, but his buddies catch her, and move her back against the table. One reaches out and rips the slip off her, exposing her breasts. The others are pulling the velcro tabs of their fatigues to shrug out of them ready to enjoy themselves with my mother.

She is lying back on the table, a trooper’s hand over her mouth to stifle her screams as they amuse themselves with her, one after another, taking turns at violating her and laughing about their ‘conqueror rights’ as they do so.

I watch, horrified.

After a time, her body is bruised and limp, and their lust is sated.

They dress, and the leader moves over to me and takes my hand, pulling me roughly to my feet. “You’re going to a proper Hive children’s creche to be re-educated,” he says, then turns to a comrade and says “finish her off.”

His squadmate pulls his laser pistol from his pouch, and moves over to my unconscious mother. He sets the pulse to tight beam, and pointing the gun to her head he carves the sign of the cross in her skull.

I throw up.

“What’s your name, boy?” asks the leader.

“Kurt” was all I could stammer in reply.

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


Miles choked back a sob.

“What’s up?” Anastasia asked.

“Brutal – you don’t want to know. But I think we have problems. He’s freed some long repressed memories, and is catatonic. I need to go over. Can’t leave you here alone, and can’t leave these two, so we all need to go. Have you the antidote to waken Angel?”

Stazi nodded.

“Then do it, and let’s go.”

[Argonaut]

UN Headquarters: Axis Intelligence Office (Data DeCentral)

“ I understand your concern on this issue CEO. I have already spoken to Colonel Santiago and she has agreed to provide me with the assistance I need. Paul Andreas will be running things here in my absence. I’m sure he won’t miss me too much. Don’t worry, your son will be with you again shortly. Roze out. ”

Sinder Roze pushed the button on her terminal which would allow the pre-recorded message to be accessed by CEO Morgan as soon as he arrived at his office. Since she had been appointed as head of Central Intelligence for the Axis Factions, she hadn’t had the opportunity to make the personal visits she had once preferred when doing business of this kind. All at once she was examining the download files from Yang’s computer, co-ordinating with operatives in almost every single faction, relaying data from Anastasia Zakharov to Governor Allardyce and now she had personally taken on the role of Morgan Junior’s liberator. She tried to remember why exactly she had wanted this job in the first place. However, she had no time for speculation as there were still loose ends that needed to be tied up before she went away.

Roze turned back to her holo-recorder and prepared to send a new message.

“ Sister Miriam. We haven’t met before. My name is Sinder Roze and I am the new Director of Intelligence for the Axis factions. I understand you have been establishing a probe network among your remaining Believer supporters, and I must say I am highly intrigued by the idea.”

“Now, do not fear. I have no plans of usurping your control. In fact, your independence as a probe network is absolutely vital to me. You may have connections I don’t, and vice-versa. However, we are both working towards a common goal. The victory of the Axis over Yang. I simply suggest an alliance of information between or two networks. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to call. I hope you will also be cooperative should I require information from you.”

“As a gesture of my good will, I have wired three hundred energy credits to your account, courtesy of Chairman Yang. Of course, he is unaware of his generous contribution, but that is beside the point. Best wishes for your future endeavours Sister. Roze out. ”

Roze once again switched off the holo-recorder and sent the message to Sister Miriam’s office in Sparta Command. Now, she only had one last call to place before she left. It was the one she looked forward to sending the least, and the ability to use the holo-recorder and not see the immediate response of the recipient was for once an advantage. She keyed up the program for one final message.

“ Governor Allardyce. My team here has been working on decrypting some of the more heavily guarded items in Yang’s computer core. While we have been unable to determine the exact details of the situation, it appears that Yang is developing a new type of weapon, possibly based on Alien technology. As soon as we have more information, I will upload it to your office. ”

Roze took a moment as she prepared to share the news that had been troubling her from the moment she discovered it.

“ Governor, I’ve been looking at the log entries, and comparing the encryption methods to those used in the past. They seem to be University encryption codes. I’m afraid it looks as though Provost Zakharov has been working with Yang. In fact, I think he is the one who developed the weapon. I’m sorry. Roze out ”

Roze shut down the recorder and sent the message directly to the Governor’s office. Then, she put her system in sleep mode and headed towards the Aerospace Complex to catch her flight.

[Argonaut]

Sea Hive: Chairman Yang’s Office

“How does she do it?” bellowed Yang as his fist crashed down on the wooden desk in front of him. His advisors cringed at the unusual outburst of the normally composed Chairman. Yang took a moment, breathing heavily to compose himself. His advisors waited as he looked out the window into the depths of the inland ocean which provided the Hive capital with sanctuary. The view was quite serene as they watched a young sealurk tending the shoals of fish in the nearby kelp farm.

“Three hundred credits of our personal reserves have been stolen gentlemen,” said Yang, finally back to his calm and reserved self. “This is entirely unacceptable. This Roze women has become too much of a loose cannon to allow her to remain alive. I want her taken out, and I want her taken out now. Do I make myself clear?” The silence in the room gave Yang his answer.

Sea Hive: Main Lab

The lights of the lab were low, however there was an air of serenity about the room. No longer punctuated by the screams of torment from Zakharov’s test-subjects, the only sound was the gentle hum of the various computers and lab equipment around the room. Zakharov sat silently, watching the young women who had been his test subject sleep peacefully. It was amazing how much the young girl reminded him of Stazi.

It had been hard for Zakharov, ever since he had first noticed the subtle resemblance to his granddaughter. This young woman served as a constant reminder of the beloved granddaughter that he had lost to Spartan cruelty. And it was for this reason he had abandoned his experiment.

Over the past week he had cared for the young woman, ensuring that her wounds were treated and she received proper nourishment. It was clear she had been tortured even before she had come into Zakharov’s lab, probably for some act of disobedience against Yang. But Zakharov had cared for, nursed her back to health and his compassion had garnered a mutual respect between the two. Now Zakharov no longer spent his time thinking of new ways to destroy the Spartans, but of how to escape from Hive territory.

He had postponed a confrontation with Yang for as long as possible, but he knew it was inevitable. Yang would only take so many excuses for the delay in Zakharov’s research before he discovered the truth of the situation. Zakharov knew they must escape as soon as possible and he finally had an idea where.

There were reports of a rebellion by Drones occurring on the northern part of the continent. While Hive holo-news was notoriously biassed, no mentions of any attacks against Drone settlements were ever reported. Apparently Yang was too concerned with Sparta to worry about the Drone bases. If Zakharov could get them there, then they might be safe. Safer then here at any rate.

He crossed to where the young woman was resting and gently brushed the hair back from her face. She stirred and looked up at him sleepily.

“We have to go now. This maybe our only chance.”

“Where are we going?” she queried. Zakharov grabbed her arm gently, and raised her to her feet. He began to lead her towards the doorway.

“Free Drone Central. Come Sharra, quickly.”

[senatus]

Sparta Command, Camp Leonidas, 06:17 Eastern Spartan Time

The sandy patch of ground at Camp Leonidas is an anachronism,
a nod to ancient tradition that only the Spartans would have bothered with
in a world of pressure domes and ferroconcrete, Jessica thought.
She was sitting cross-legged in the sand along with a circle of another
dozen Spartan cadets as Sergeant Kel talked about the philosophy of combat,
the Art of War, and the Spartan Battle Manual. Nearby, another squad
of trainees jogged by, chanting.

I don't know but I've been told, Deirdre's got a Network Node.
Likes to press the on-off switch, Dig that crazy Gaian witch!

Of course, the Spartans and Gaians were allies. But as far as
the "grunts" were concerned, anyone who wasn't a Spartan was at best a
second-rate soldier. Which unfortunately included Jessica.
Though several weeks of hard training had passed, she still wasn't even
addressed as "Private", the way the other trainees were; she was addressed
as....

"Believer!"

Jessica wasn't certain if she was expected to stand or not, but hesitation
was not a virtue to Spartan Kel, so she got quickly to her feet.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"What is flexibility?", Kel asked.

"The ability to modify one's plans, to adapt to multiple unexpected situations." Jessica wasn't sure whether she should answer off the
top of her head, or instead say "I don't know", but she chose the former
and Kel seemed satisified, to Jessica's relief.

"Correct, Believer. Now attack me."

Jessica had learned that amongst the Spartans, such an order was to
be taken seriously and obeyed without question. So she slid one foot
forward into a modified Kamae, but instead followed through with
a punch powered from her hip as she counter-rotated. To her surprise,
Kel allowed himself to be struck, but advanced slightly forward into the
blow so that Jessica's strike was unable to reach it's full power.
Nevertheless, he was thrown back and to the ground.

Jessica stopped, hesitating, uncertain of what to do now. It looked
like Kel had hit the ground pretty hard. Then, unexpectedly, Kel
kicked out with his feet, sweeping Jessica off her feet to land on her
back. Quickly, she bounced back up with a simple breakfall, as she'd
been taught... only to be slammed back down into the ground with brutal
force as Kel's fist connected with her left eye as she came up. This
time, she landed heavily, her arms outflung and the wind knocked out of
her.

"Learn flexibility, Believer. Do you understand?" Kel's
voice seemed to drip with contempt. Some of the trainees were smirking.

"I... I think so, Sergeant." Jessica gasped for breath.
As she did so, she siezed a handful of sand and threw it into Kel's face,
blinding him. She kicked up and out, not to strike the Spartan but
to give her momentum to spring up again, and drove a fist forward into
Kel's ribs.

Even blinded, the Spartan sergeant turned with the blow, catching Jessica's
arm from the side and pulling her forward, across an outstretched foot
and then down face-first into the sand. He pulled her arm up and
forward, pinning her... but not nearly as painfully as he could have.

"Very good... Private. Get back into position."

Jessica moved back to her seat, and the two trainees on either side
of her moved aside just a bit, a minor gesture of politeness. Even
the throbbing of her eye didn't diminish the sudden rush of pride she felt.
She had just moved up to the lowest place on the totem pole of the Spartan
hierarchy.

"Private Rico! Explain Initiative!" Kel continued.

---

Sparta Command, Parish of the New Covenant (temporary Believers
HQ), 17:39 EST

.... As a gesture of my good will, I have wired three hundred energy
credits to your account, courtesy of Chairman Yang. Of course, he is unaware
of his generous contribution, but that is beside the point. Best wishes
for your future endeavours Sister. Roze out.

"Take a look at this," Miriam told Jessica as she handed her the hardcopy
printout, while trying very hard to ignore the massive shiner on Jessica's
left eye.

"I know what position she's been given in Allyardice's government.
I know who she is. But I want to know who she is." Miriam
demanded.

"She's an independant probe operative," Jessica answered. "One
of the two best individual probe operatives on Planet, the other being
the `Edgecrusher'. Amongst the factional probe teams, there's a great
debate as to which one is actually better. Edgecrusher tended to
specialize in on-site operations, while the `Datajack' tends more towards
network activity. Both have legendary exploits, but Roze seems to
be higher profile. She's also widely known to have the bigger ego."

"Which could explain this gesture... analysis?" Miriam asked.

Jessica pondered for a moment. She really didn't have a good handle
on Roze, never having met her and passively `felt' her out either empathically
or through conversational interaction. It was hard to settle on what
was fact and what was legend.

"It's hard to derive any sort of accurate profile," Jessica cautioned
and Miriam nodded in understanding. "I would guess that there are
several messages contained therein. One, she wishes to demonstrate
that she knows about us... despite our hardly being at all publicized
outside of Colonel Santiago's organization. Two, she demonstrates
the ease of which she robs Yang. Three, she presents to us a truly
massive and needed windfall of energy... which means that she is aware
of or has deduced our original plan to borrow from Morgan. As to
why... there are three reasons I can think of. The first being
that she genuinely wishes us well. The second that she wishes to
purchase our goodwill, and can easily afford to do so."

"Does she think we are as Morgans?" Miriam gave a slight sniff of disdain;
whether for Roze's assumption or for the Morgans' philosophy, Jessica wasn't
sure.

"Probably not... I'm sure that she's at least reasonably familiar with
our beliefs... besides, we have very little that she could `buy' even if
we were Morgans." Jessica shrugged.

"And you mentioned a third possible reason?"

"Because it amuses her to aid us. To be honest, that's
the most likely motivation I would expect from Datajack Roze."

Miriam shook slightly and made an unintelligble sound, and it took Jessica
a moment to realize that Sister Miriam Godwinson was actually laughing.

"Well," said Miriam after a moment. "As long as she wishes to
aid us, let us accept her aid with good grace. But I want you to
make certain that these energy credits came from Yang and not, say,
Morgan. That would get us into a great deal of trouble and would
also no doubt amuse this woman. In the meantime, we will proceed
with our own plans just as she exhorts us to do. Do see if
you can get a chance to interview her; I want a profile of this loose...
impact artillery."

"I realize that you're very... busy with your military training.
Have you made any progress on that project I assigned you?" Miriam
changed the subject abruptly.

"Yes," confirmed Jessica, and once again Miriam congratulated herself
on finding such a capable and efficient assistant.

"You asked me to catalog a list of known Believers and adherants in
the Hive territories. Of course, we never maintained our own
census on any sort of electronic medium; that would have been too easy
to compromise with fatal results. But basically, our people knew
other Faithful, who secretly knew more Faithful in turn; so I started from
interviews of our people now here and correlated them with old Hive datalink
contents that Colonel Santiago's people provided. I was able to eliminate
78% of the duplicates; the remaining list is about 81% accurate.
I'm afraid that's the best I could do given my current schedule and not
being actually there," Jessica apologized.

Miriam was stunned. She was hoping for a status report, not an
actual finished product.

"Where do you have this information?" Miriam asked, and Jessica
tapped her own forehead, then held up a data crystal.

"I used my MMI to download the census into this data crystal.
This is the only copy in existance; I have encrypted it, but I strongly
advise that it never be read on any computer that is ever attached to the
network backbone."

"You have done the Lord's work very well, Jessica." Miriam
praised. "And don't worry about the network backbone issue; I'm so
old-fashioned that I have an old `laptop' that isn't even capable of connecting
to a network node."

Jessica bowed humbly in acknowledgement, then pointed towards the old-fashioned
analog chronometer on the back wall of the sanctuary.

"I'd better be getting back to the barracks, Sister Miriam."

Miriam nodded. "Go in peace, Jessica. Oh, and next time...
try to duck." Miriam gestured vaguely at Jessica's eye.

---

After Jessica left, Miriam took the data crystal to her office.
Even though Santiago had assigned watchful bodyguards to her (along with
her own, more zealous if less trained militia), she felt uncomfortable
knowing that she was carrying such a precious and dangerous cargo.
She remonstrated herself; surely if the Lord had provided for her release,
He would continue to watch and protect her now.

Miriam inserted the data crystal into her laptop, and randomly paged
down through the thousands of names. So many of her followers had
survived! It was a glorious feeling. There were even a few
familiar names to her, such as Brother Joaquim.

Then her heart lept for a moment as one name, randomly found, caught
her eye.

Sven Alfredsson was alive?
[This message has been edited by senatus (edited June 22, 2000).]

[Googlie]

UN Headquarters

I sat gazing out of the window across the bay. This was becoming a favorite pastime of mine these days as I wrestled with the bureaucracy that permeated every aspect of life under Lal.

‘How on Earth (or Chiron) could his faction function at all?’ I wondered. ‘Democracy run riot becomes anarchy,’ I thought.. Clicking the commlink control, I displayed the message in flatscreen mode on the wall panel, and swiveled my chair to view it for the third or fourth time.

Representative Allardyce. The Council of UN Great Refuge duly met and considered your suggestion that we construct a Recycling Tank facility at our base. We polled our citizens (results attached) and the measure was defeated by a small majority.

Your suggestion has therefore been turned down, and the building of a Biology Laboratory is proceeding apace. If you still believe that Recycling Tanks would be in the long term interests of UN Great Refuge, we will be pleased to put the matter to a further plebiscite following the completion of out Biology Laboratory.

The Base governor’s smiling face looked at me from the wall.

‘Idiot,’ I fumed. It was not a “suggestion’. It was an order. The Cabinet had met and we had discussed a production schedule for each and every base – a procedure that worked very well in the Spartan Federation, as the schedule was readily complied with by the Spartan Base Governors. But was it any wonder that the Peacekeepers lagged so far behind Sparta and the Hive – and even Morgan Industries – if every decision had to be voted on by the general populace.

Now, certainly, as the largest PK base, Great Refuge had a right to have its voice heard. That much I conceded. But Wasim Patel, the Governor, had sat in the Cabinet meeting, had nodded enthusiastically when we reviewed the Peacekeeper needs, and had said nothing about needing a plebiscite.

I wondered how many other replies would come in turning down the cabinet’s ‘suggestions.”

I clicked over to the base listings.

16 bases, 11 of them with recycling tanks, but not their largest base. Their absence in the four newest bases, those founded on western side of the Spartan continent this last year, was understandable. But not their largest.

I tapped the commlink for my aide, Annika. She had been with Pravin for the last twenty years, so should know the ropes.

She came into the office.

“Yes, Scott?” she asked.

“Sit down, Annika. I need your counsel and advice.

“You took the minutes of the recent Cabinet meeting, and saw how Wasim nodded enthusiastically when we suggested that he should promptly get Recycling Tanks constructed at Great Refuge?”

She nodded.

“Now I have this,” I said, clicking on the wall vidshow to let her see the message from Wasim Patel.

“Did this happen often?” I asked.

She nodded.

“How did Pravin ever get anything done, then?” I asked in exasperation.

She squirmed uncomfortably.

“There are ways…” her voice tailed off.

“Go on,” I said.

“I won’t get into trouble for this, will I?” she asked

I shook my head. “Course not. This is strictly between us.”

“Well, Bases are not required to hold a plebiscite on everything,” she said. And added:
“In fact, there is no requirement for a vote at all. Some Governors do, and some don’t. Pravin…used to ‘grease a few palms’ to keep the matter from a vote if he really wanted something to pass. Also he had extensive dossiers on the key base officials, compiled by his covert operations group, and a hint here or there about a scandal would usually get compliance. But these files were lost when Cartier was assassinated.”

I nodded. So that was how it was. I doubted if I would be as successful as a briber, given that most of the Governors were strangers to me.

I steepled my hands, and looked over at Annika.

“Thank you Annika,” I said, dismissing her. “You have shed some useful light on the subject.”

She left.

I reached out and shut off the vidscreen, and pushed another commlink speeddial button.

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

The door opened and she came in.

“Have a seat,” I gestured.

Sinder Roze sat down, daintily crossing her legs.

“So, Scott, what do you have for me now?” she asked.

‘Aha,’ I thought. ‘Straight to the point was Ms Roze. No niceties. No polite chitchat before getting down to business.’

“Sinder, we have a problem.”

She arched one eyebrow.

“We do?” she asked slyly. “How so?”

“You were at the meeting yesterday,” I said.

She nodded.

“You saw the general agreement of all on the decisions made?”

Again she nodded.

I flicked on the vidscreen. “Watch this.”

She whistled softly when it was through.

“I see.” She said.

I briefed her: “Used to be when this was threatened when Lal was Commissioner, he’d use a little payment here and there, or the threat of releasing a damaging piece of information on a key Governor, to avoid the plebiscite. There were files that Cartier kept, that are apparently lost. I need you to get these.

“But that’s for the longer term. More immediate is now.

“I can’t do anything about Great Refuge. That’s history. But today is still young.”

I looked Sinder straight in the eye.

“Off the record, of course, CIO Roze, we can’t afford to have any more negative votes in these plebiscites. Can you ….. guarantee … this?”

She paused.

“Doctor the results? Would have to be before they start streaming. Would need to be at the central Network Node level. Have to involve at least two other people. Would need a budget – modest, of course. High risk of compromise. Can I frame the Chairman, if caught? Would he gain anything from meddling with our democratic processes?”

I nodded. “Yes. And I can get you a ‘security’ budget allocation of, say, 100 credits.”

“That’ll work,” she said. “Consider it done. I’ll get right to it.”

Sinder stood up, as did I, and we shook hands on the deal.

“Oh, another thing,” she added. “Stazi is OK – they’ve made contact with the Hive empath that used to be Miles’ clone operator. They’re planning to get to Sea Hive soon. Thought you’d like to know.”

I nodded.

As she sashayed out of the office, I thought:

‘I’ve given her some dirt on me, now, which I’m sure I’ll pay for sometime later. I just hope the price isn’t too high.’

[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited June 23, 2000).]

[Argonaut]

UN Headquarters Aerospace Complex

So Scott Allardyce is nowhere near as squeaky clean as everyone seems to believe...I think I like that Roze thought to herself as her plane lifted off the tarmac and into the air over the scenic Peackeeper Headquarters. I do so love it when people volunteer information before I even think to look for it. It makes my job so much easier .

Roze opened her portable terminal and set up the sonic link with her main database at Data DeCentral. She transmitted the information to her assistant there, making sure that the files were kept encrypted. She didn't want the prying eyes of Paul Andreas be reading things that could put her job in jeapardy. He hadn't exactly been pleased with her appointment as CIO, and would be likely to jump at the chance to have Roze removed from office. Especially after she completed this mission, when she would no longer be of any use to Morgan. She realized that perhaps she would have to do something a little extra to ensure some job security. Of course, she now had the protection of Governor Allardyce, as long as he knew what was good for his career. He certainly seemed like the sensible type.

Roze shifted her attention to the communication equipment provided her by the needlejet systems. She sent a call in to her contact in Sparta Command. A moment later, the grim image of her contact appeared on the small holoscreen. He was a rather sinister looking man, with deep set eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face.

"Is the team assembled?" she queried. She had no desire to spend any longer communicating with this man then necessary. He was notorious throughout Sparta...part of why she had chosen him for this mission.

"Yes CIO," he grumbled, making the title seem more like an insult than an honourific.

"Don't call me that," she said with frustration. That was the one thing she disliked about her new job, the title Scott had tagged her with.

"What would you have me call you then?" he said with a sinister sneer, clearly thinking of a name far less flattering.

"Datajack. That's what I have always been, and I always will be. I shall be landing in a few hours. Meet me at the rendezvous." With that Roze shut off the commsystem and lead back in her seat. She shivered as the image of her contact's sneering grin lingered in her memory.

Roze turned back to her portable terminal and began designing the program shell that was going to save Scott Allardyce a great deal of headache.
[This message has been edited by Argonaut (edited June 25, 2000).]