The Spartan Chronicles - Volume 3

[Hydro]

Morgan Industries

Morgan Senior inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma and he closed his eyes to remove any distractions.

He swirled the brandy again and the amber liquid seemed to race around the globe-like crystal sifter. Ever so gradually he decreased the swirling with the almost imperceptible pulsing of the muscles in his palm until the thin band of liquid was almost stationary, then slowly brought the sifter to his lips, inhaling again as his nose entered the great sifter's cavernous opening.

Yes, this is very close, he thought.

He sipped, and his eyes closed with the pleasure as Morgan Senior lost himself in sensations of now and long ago, and of a certain château in Bordeaux that had surely perished with Earth. A faint smile crossed his lips and he sank a little deeper into his wing-backed chair. Morgan savored the complex flavors of the brandy, a flavor he had never hoped to taste again. He kept the small mouthful a moment longer, then languidly swallowed and the warm and gentle ambrosia seemed to tickle its way to the innermost part of his being.

Morgan sighed very softly, totally relaxed for the first time in ages.

A faint whisper of sound came from above Morgan's chair, which he didn't notice, and a white hand snaked its way toward Morgan. The hand was graceful and purposeful, and made its way unerringly toward the neck of a Morgan lost in a personal reverie. The fingernails on the hand were daggerlike and perfectly manicured.

They touched his neck, and turned inward in a smooth motion to caress his skin. Morgan started to alertness.

"If you don't like my touch I could leave," a husky female voice breathed.

Morgan smiled and his alarm left his face. He placed his partially emptied sifter on his synth walnut end table and stood up to face the interloper.

"Leave? Never. My dear, what would I do without you?" Morgan Senior asked his Number Two Consort Amilia. He stood tall and stately with a dark blue silk robe tied loosely about his waist. Amilia wore a gossamer gown, which accentuated her curves and did little to hide her full and voluptuous body.

In return she graced him with a sweet smile, sauntered up to Morgan, and kissed him. Slowly her arms wound themselves around his neck and pulled him close. She closed her eyes and she seemed to melt into his form. Mwabudike's arms found her waist and pulled her tight and he lost himself in her taste, smell, and touch. All they saw and felt was each other, and so great was the connection that they seemed to drink of each other's being.

Almost by instinct they inched toward his bed, and fell together into its silk sheets. Of their own volition the lights dimmed and went out. It was almost as though someone were watching.

++++++

Morgan woke at precisely 3:00 am. He glanced fondly to where Amilia had been, but she was gone, as was her custom. Morgan sighed, wishing he could promote her to Consort Number One, but politics intervened, always politics. In addition to her other talents Amilia was an adept courtesan and had plied the Morgan court for years before catching Senior's eye. She quickly eclipsed Consort Number 3 and 4, but even her brilliance and stunning intellect couldn't breach the ultimate power broker in such affairs: his wife. Simply put, Bali didn't like her and since she had ultimate veto power that was that. The Number One position was his wife's closest confidant and ally, and attended all ceremonial state functions. Bali felt upstaged by the rambunctious Amilia. Amilia was no great beauty, and she knew it, but her beauty was from within, and from the connections she seemed to make with Morgan. Morgan wondered if she might be empathic, but it was unlikely since an empath would not be able to pass the rigorous security in the Morgan Governmental Palace.

Morgan threw the sheets aside and, as if by magic, his Gentleman appeared.

"Good morning, Sir," Harnon said exactly. "Your bath is drawn. May I be of assistance?"

"Yes Harnon," Morgan replied easily. "Please select a Council Suit for me. The color accent I require is ruby. Low buff on the shoes."

Harnon nodded once to acknowledge the selection as Morgan passed by him on his way to his bath. "Very good, Sir."

Suddenly Morgan was all business again, and the transformation was instant and complete.

+++++++++

As always, Morgan was early for the Council Meeting of Managers. Although generally mundane, Morgan felt it was critical to keep abreast of developments in his cities, which vindicated all he had said and worked so hard for in his 125 years on Planet and before on Earth, which was a total of well over 160 years.

Human behavior is economic behavior. The particulars may vary, but competition for limited resources remains a constant. Need as well as greed have followed us to the stars, and the rewards of wealth still await those wise enough to recognize this deep thrumming of our common pulse.

Even so it was a missive from the infamous Ms. Roze that had his attention: "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."

Morgan felt oddly elated and grateful, which was a very strange feeling when dealing with Roze. From the start she had been brilliant in the Morgan intelligence service, but volatile and impossible to control - not that Paul hadn't tried, of course, but that only made it more personal between them. She seemed to lash out at authority wherever she saw it. At first this was useful, and her efforts were directed toward enemies, like the Gaians of 50 years past, or even allies like Yang. However as her abilities grew she increasingly challenged all authority, not simply those of different factions.

One day she had simply disappeared, and it was feared she had been taken out by any number of hostile elements. But no, she made her presence known all too soon, to Morgan and Paul's regret.

Ms. Roze has little notion of the difference of a prank and catastrophic damage, he thought wryly as he remembered how four years of accumulated research was wiped out in a network node overload 45 years ago. As the scientists were scurrying about trying to figure out what had happened as series of holographic angles flew through the laboratory, to the bewilderment of all present, except Paul, Morgan and other adepts of the Morgan intelligence service.

Roze was back.

Good luck, Ms. Roze, Morgan thought with every fiber of his being.

After all the trouble she had caused wishing her luck felt unnatural, but considering the circumstances quite appropriate.

[Argonaut]

Sea Hive

“What do you mean he has escaped?” thundered Yang at the terrified guard. The old phrase, “don’t shoot the messenger” was lost on Yang. Lately, he had been taking out his frustrations on whoever was nearest, seeing as those causing his frustration always seemed to be distantly removed. The guard shook visibly at the wrath of the normally serene Chairman.

“I mean he’s not in the laboratory, and he’s not in his quarters.” The guard swallowed hard as he prepared to relate the last part of his message. This would be the last time he ever agreed to draw straws to see who would report to the Chairman again. “The test subject is missing as well.”

Yang fumed, but this time he managed to contain it. His breaths were ragged and deep as he attempted to regain control. He turned and looked out the solitary window, watching the sealurks herding the fish in the nearby kelp farm once again. A lost and lonely sealurk approached the windows light, but darted quickly away as the Chairman moved to turn around.

“I do not doubt, that somehow Sinder Roze was involved in this,” he said, the cool tone being in stark contrast to his momentary outburst of rage. “I want her, and Provost Zakharov found and returned to me. The test subject, you can kill. But I want Roze and Zakharov alive. I want Roze’s picture posted on every holoscreen in every room of every base. Tell all guards and operatives to be on the look out for a gentleman travelling with two young ladies. They will be found. Or else, someone will pay.”

The guard trembled knowing that it very well that Yang meant him. The Chairman would not be past such indiscriminate punishment if it so suited him.

“Also,” Yang continued, “I want all the remaining high profile prisoners to be removed to the Remora. Once all the spheres have been relocated, the Remora is to leave port and not permit anyone to board without my direct permission. She is to have twenty-four hour air support, is that clear?”

The guard simply nodded, praying for Yang to release him soon.

“Find them, and find them quick,” Yang added, as if his point was not already clear. “Dismissed.”

The guard turned as quickly as he could and exited, trying unsuccessfully to not appear hurried. Yang simply leaned back in his chair, and began his breathing exercises again. Soon the Axis would pay.

[LightSniper]

Onboard T-2 PK Transport Needlejet
Destination: Sea Hive

Amy, you know I love your cooking. Why do you think I married you in the first place?

Frank, stop joking around, and get ready for my family coming over tonight.

Oh come on Amy, just one…

Fine Frank, if it will get you out of my kitchen. But just one mister.

“Frank!”

“Lieutenant Lancer!”

Frank scrambled inside his mind to bring back the memories of his departed wife, which seemed to be running away from him. He had flashes of Amy frequently, but every one he treated as his last. In a way, his remembrance and reverence of her memories kept her alive in his mind and heart.

“Lieutenant, we are approaching the drop area. We need to have our final briefing.” Lieutenant Walker called from outside the bunkroom, onboard the aircraft. “I’ll meet you in the briefing room.”

The T-2 was a relatively small air transport, but it did specialize in PeaceKeeper Special Forces missions, similar to the one Lancer and Walker were undertaking.

Lieutenant Lancer opened his eyes slowly and stood up from the rough bunk he had been resting on. The reality of the mission seemed to be methodically replacing the beautiful images of his wife in his mind, until none remained.

Lancer slowly walked down the small hallway, which made up the interior of the aircraft, careful not to hit his head on the aircraft’s low ceiling. The entire 15 individuals, which made up the two squads, were sitting around a rectangular table inside the aircraft’s cramped briefing room.

“Please proceed Lieutenant Walker.” Lancer said professionally, as he walked into the room and took his seat next to Sergeant Bruno.

Apparently the designers of the needlejet had not thought to put the briefing room away from the loud drone of the power plants.

“Thank you Lieutenant.”

It was a strange situation having both officers of the same rank, with no clear superior. Both lieutenants seemed to also feel the stress of the unclear command structure, but neither of them would bring the subject up.

“As you all know, Sea Hive is located at the center of a very large body of water. Thus, with no terrain other than flat water for quite some distance to the target, there is no way of approaching undetected from the air.” Walker stopped and took a short sip from a glass on the table, then he continued. “As a result, we will execute a airdrop from this aircraft quite some distance from the base. We will also be dropping armed with two compact skimmers to transport us to the base once we hit the water. With any luck, we will arrive undetected.”

Walker finished and motioned for Lancer to pick it up from there.

Lieutenant Lancer took a look around the room at the different faces, which would undertake the mission. He could tell a lot about people by simply looking at their faces, a talent he could never put to use on his wife anymore.

He finally stood up slowly which produced a slight crackle from the chair he had been sitting on, braking the strange silence.

“If all works to plan, we will arrive on the skimmers, at Sea Hive’s above ground transportation harbor. We should be able to sneak inside the perimeter defenses if we stay close to one of the various freighters arriving from other Hive bases.” Lancer stopped talking and went through in his mind about what he would say next to his audience.

“I understand that you have been speculating on what our retrieval target is, and I believe now is as good a time as any other to tell you. Simply put, we are here to capture a living alien and get him in one piece back to Axis hands.”

Lancer sat down, as the entire room erupted into quiet side conversations about the different target.

Walker stood up again and waited for quiet.

“At Sea Hive, we will brake up into squads. Lieutenant Lancer’s squad, designated Alpha squad, will work its way down through the tunnels. While my squad, designated Bravo squad will search the above facilities. The first non-human you see, take it down quietly without killing it, and hall your asses back to the skimmers. We are not hear to take out secondary targets of opportunity, so nothing fancy out there today.”

Walker motioned for Lancer to follow him to the front so that they could talk about the mission separately, while the other men stood up and headed for the rear cargo hold to get ready for the drop.

“Do you think it is possible for this mission to be a success?” Lieutenant Walker asked as he motioned for Lancer to follow him into the quiet bunkroom.

“We will succeed if we stick to the plan, and are willing to do anything for the mission’s success.” He paused. “I’m also counting on you to take command of my squad if I’m taken out, as I would do for you. I know you have contempt for my non-PeaceKeeper squad, but they are all good men and women.” Frank Lancer hated talking about his own death, but it was a real possibility.

“I will do as you ask. Hell, I’ll bet you my PeaceKeeper squad gets an alien before you even get to the base’s second level.” Walker jokingly boasted.

Lancer by far had no love for his arrogant fellow officer, but for this mission to succeed, he could not allow that hatred to get in his way.

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

Both squads looked out the rear of the aircraft, which had just lowered its cargo ramp revealing the water flying underneath them at incredible high speed. They remained silent and watched the moon’s glow illuminate their drop zone in the water.

Suddenly, a green phosphorescent light lit up the entire cargo bay, signaling that they were directly over the designated drop zone.

“Release the skimmers!” Walker yelled over the roar of the engines and water, which could even be heard from this altitude.

Two members from each squad rolled the unmanned skimmers next to the ramp, and then with one final push, the metallic jet black skimmers slid down the ramp on their journey to the water below.

The entire bay was still silent, as each member went through the drop procedure in his or her mind. They were not fearful, yet it would be false to believe they weren’t nervous or concerned.

“Get ready to jump. First Bravo, then Alpha squad. Remember to make it as quickly as possible to the skimmers, once you hit the water. The water is after all populated by Sea Lurks.” Lieutenant Lancer exclaimed as he motioned for the eight members of Bravo squad, under Walker’s command, to take their positions near the ramp leading outside the aircraft.

Walker was first in line. He took a look down the ramp into the dark abyss briefly and looked back at Lancer who was with his squad. After a short exchange of glances, and one final cocky smile, he quickly ran down the declined ramp into the void. He was followed by his pure PeaceKeeper squad.

Yuri Swerdlow and Miles Dole, both Morganites, walked up to the ramp slowly and carefully.

“Are they crazy?” The unsettled Russian asked.

“That’s the understatement of the generation!” Miles answered back as he slowly slithered closer to the ramp.

“Geronimo!”

The two Morgans turned to see their two Spartan squad members running towards them at top speed. Both stunned individuals moved just in time to see the two intrepid Spartans jump out of the aircraft headfirst, just missing the edge of the ramp.

“What the hell!” Both Morganites said simultaneously and followed the crazy Spartans out the aircraft. The two Gaian members quickly followed suit, leaving Lancer alone in the aircraft.

“Who wants to live forever anyway!” Lancer said to the empty room and then jumped to his destiny.

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

Three… Two… One… Now!

Frank Lancer pulled his ripcord, releasing his cargo of a large midnight black ferofiber parachute. Although his parachute was a little low tech, it was very effective for the purpose and it did not give off a thermal signal drop pods produced.

The drop did not require a long free fall, do to the original aircraft’s low altitude. Yet, Lancer felt like he had just hit into a brick wall when his parachute fully unfolded and caught its first gusts of wind.

He managed to look down while still keeping focus on manipulating the maneuvering controls. The closer he could get to the empty skimmers, the better.

As he watched the sea getting closer to him, he watched as his squad members hit the water hard and fast. Unfortunately the parachutes weren’t as good as drop pods in slowing its cargo down before landing.

Lancer tensed for the initial impact into the rough water below. The night’s gusting winds were battering Frank to the point almost of bruising slightly his face.

Amy, lets get these relatives out of here, and throw our own party.

Frank, stop that, my aunt is watching us.

Let her watch, she can learn something.

Frank, you’re insane…. Although, did I ever tell you how much I love insane people?

His body seemed to crumble as it hit the water, but he managed to quickly eject his parachute before it dragged him underwater. Lancer hastily looked around, as he tried to keep above the water’s waves, and noticed his squad bobbing up and down in the water like play toys trying to keep afloat.

He could feel that all his bones were still moderately working, which was a relief after the hard decent. Lancer fought to keep above the water as he slowly made his way to his squad who were moving towards the skimmer at a snail’s pace. He could only manage himself, some brief movement at the trough of the waves, but he did finally reach the skimmer with all hands accounted for.

The entire squad, tired and wet, slowly crawled into the boat. After the entire unit was in, Sergeant Bruno turned on the skimmer’s power and activated a synthmetal sheet, which covered the entire skimmer, protecting them from the elements.

They all simply sat there immobile, and waited. They weren’t waiting for anything in particular, just simply waiting for what was to come.

“This is Bravo Squad, you with us Alpha?” A low metallic voice came over the skimmer’s COM equipment.

“We read you Walker, lets link up and head to Sea Hive together. We have to make it before sunrise, or we will be sitting ducks out here.” Lancer responded into his own communication equipment.

The two parallel skimmers darted off toward their destination, Sea Hive.

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

“Bravo Skimmer, come in.” Lancer whispered over the comlink connecting the two skimmers.

Lancer’s skimmer took the lead position and slowly crept closer to a very large Hive freighter, off their forward bow. The two boats had been monitoring the process of this cargo foil for a little over an hour, and they were preparing to make their move.

“Roger Alpha, we read you.” Walker called back.

“Follow our boat in. Remember to keep it slow so your wake is minimal and get as close to the side of the enemy foil as possible.” Lancer ordered over the comlink, as he motioned for his own skimship’s driver, Sergeant Bruno, to take it in closer.

The behemoth foil was an amazing example of Hive industry and slave labor at its finest.

The two skimships slowly migrated into the foil’s wake, using its large diameter to move closer unnoticed by any of the crew of the transport foil.

Finally, after a bit of a shaky ride, the skimships managed to come abreast to the transport. They then attached silksteel harnesses quietly to the large hull, locking the two ships in place.

They all waited silently, hardly moving, waiting for any sign of their detection from the Hive crew above them.

“The sun.” Armitage simply said, while pointing in its direction. Yuri laughed over the insignificant brake in the silence.

Yet, its light rays crept ever closer to them, like a swarm of insects moving in for a kill.

The large transport foil with its hidden PeaceKeeper cargo moved through the large anti-submarine nets and perimeter defenses, which surrounded the transport harbor. Luck seemed to be holding for now and hopefully it would stay with them for the rest of the mission.

The large foil methodically moved towards the large cargo unloaders fitted to the docks and stopped. With synchronized perfection, the two parasite boats released their harnesses and slowly made there way to an sector of the harbor adorned with pleasant shadows which would hide there vehicles during the short mission.

“Don’t overload with equipment, we need to be highly mobile.” Lancer said as he unlocked a compartment inside the skimship, revealing the squad’s lethal and non-lethal equipment. “We move out in five.”

[Googlie]

Finally they had decided that with the state Kurt was in, Miles should go on ahead and try to help him psychically, then summon the three women to follow. He had left with a parting word privately to Anastasia:

“Stazi, don’t trust these two further than you can spit. I’m already regretting that you gave Angel the antidote, but watch out for the young one too.”

He’d left, closing the apartment door softly behind him.

Angel was on her immediately:

“So you’re Allardyce’s doxy, eh? Did you know that he and I had a thing going a few years back? Ah, I see you didn’t. Before your time, I guess. My, he did like my diamond gloves.”

“Oh, do shut up,” snapped Anastasia, “else I’ll give you another little sleeping jab.”

Angel sneered, “You and whose army? I’ll bet Angelica and I could take you any time we wanted, eh Sis?”

She looked over at Angelica, who had a dreamy look on her face, relaxing, with her eyes closed.

‘I wonder what she’s thinking, or whose mind she’s reading,’ thought Anastasia.

She tapped her commlink, and spoke softly into it:

“Watcher, relay to base, the hawk is closing in on the dove, then we’ll go hunt the eagle. Meanwhile I’m........”

She looked up in consternation as the door burst open, and just as the male voice said “Freeze” she activated the PCD suit control and rolled to one side, pivoting, then crouching as she took stock of the situation.

Then paused in panic. The commlink. It was still in her hand ..... and wasn’t sheathed.

Quickly she threw it across the room, and rolled after it, figuring that the intruders would fire at where it had come from.

She was right. The outer edges of the stun probe reached her, causing momentary nausea, which she fought down.

There were three men in the apartment, two with shredders drawn and the third with the stun probe. She eyed her escape route to the door. It would mean slinking past one of the men, but doable.

Just then Angelica piped up:

“Sand, guard to your right. She’s planning her escape there. Block the door.”

He nodded. The two guards closed ranks at the door.

Anastasia shuddered. Sand. She'd heard of him, but never met the demon.

He spoke again:

“Lead me in, Angelica, slowly. I’ll guide you.”

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

“Lead me in, Angelica, slowly. I’ll guide you.”

I nodded. Though what that entailed I had no idea. I’d never done this before. Oh sure, the thing with Kurt had been fun, following his thoughts – at least those that he wanted me to see – he was good at blocking, and just revealed enough to egg me on. And I never was sure how much of him I was reading, and how much he was projecting.

But with Angel it was different. She was so transparent. Eventually we had a pact that I wouldn’t read her thoughts without advising her or being invited to by her. But of course I ignored that. After all, sisters aren’t supposed to have secrets from each other, are they?

Cut the crap, kid. Get into the Yoop agent’s mind before she can erect defenses, and here’s my trail to pull in after you

I felt the insidious thought tendril insinuate itself in my mind, as it wormed its way around my consciousness.

Now probe. Broadcast around the room and I’ll show you how to filter

I stretched my consciousness, thinking of the symbols that Kurt had explained were so necessary to use to effect a true mind probe.

I was climbing the tree again. It seemed to reach forever, right through the clouds themselves, the trunk and the higher branches disappearing into an impermeable mist that signaled the base of the clouds. I climbed ever higher, until I was almost in the clouds as well.

As I continued upward things began to get misty, then opaque, with my head now in the clouds, yet still I climbed, pulling my body through. From my waist there looped a cord, and hanging by my hips was a satchel that I knew contained the tools I would need once I was above the clouds.

Finally I was through, and I paused to examine the scene before my eyes.

A branch extended at my feet, pushing out above the cloud and just disappearing back into it some ways out. Around me was a sea of white, like a snow covered névé, with trees periodically poking their heads and some branches above. In the distance was a veritable forest of trees, hazy and indistinct from the mist rising from the cloud, but there were five closeby.

One looked familiar, as if I had visited there before.

“Angel.” The name came unbidden to my mind.

Ah yes. That’s why it looked familiar. I had visited it many times. The branches were waving gently, welcoming me. I ignored their enticement.

Two others were almost barren, devoid of bark and branches, rising stark into the sky above the cloudbase.

“The troopers,” said the voice inside my head.

The two others were interesting. One was old and wizened, with numerous branches even at this level. There were some broken limbs as well, and the trunk was blackened as if by lightening. I hesitantly stepped off the branch I was standing on to make my way to it.

“That’s me, you fool. The other”

I looked over. It was shimmering in the haze, as though pulsing, becoming alternately stronger to my vision, then weakening, and occasionally disappearing from view entirely.

“She’s dampening. Quick. We don’t have much time.”

I hesitantly stepped from the branch to the cloud, my weight sinking me a little into its spongy surface. I waddled towards the tree that seemed to be growing fainter with each step I took

“Hurry,” came the voice inside my head. The weight of the satchel by my hips was getting heavier.

Finally I crossed the gap between the trees, and stepped onto one of the branches, and began to make my way down its trunk. It began to shake, as if trying to dislodge me, each vibration becoming more violent.

“Patch me in,” came the unbidden, soundless command.

I opened the satchel, and extracted a small fusion drill, and placed its bit against the trunk. I made a small incision, then reaching into the satchel again, pulled from it the syringe, and placed the injection cap against the incision I had just made, and pressed the plunger cap, sending the liquid deep inside the trunk, there to mix with the sap of the tree.

“Good, you’ve painted her,” said the voice.

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

Stazi screamed as the stun probe swiveled in her direction, as she crouched behind the counter, then felt the full wash of the discharge as it burst over her neural synapses.

As her mind went blank, she heard the sneering, gloating voice:

“Got you, my pretty. Now let’s see what kind of price we can extract from Allardyce to get his lover back, and from Zakharov for his Granddaughter.”



[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited July 12, 2000).]

[Argonaut]

Sea Hive

Zakharov watched as the large freighter pulled into the harbour. The monstrosity of a vessel was a true tribute to Hive industry and slave labour. It made Zakharov shudder just to see it.

Beside him, Sharra shivered in her wrap. The suns had not yet risen, and the cool temperatures of the night still surrounded them.

Zakharov gently put his arm around her shoulder and draped his coat around her. She cringed, at first, but eventually relaxed into the comforting embrace. Zakharov could almost imagine that it was Anastasia beside him.

The thought of his late and beloved granddaughter, brought a tear to his eyes. He gazed into the cool ocean to avoid Sharra noticing. The girl rarely spoke, but Zakharov knew that she was very much alert to what was going on.

Suddenly, movement caught his eye in the harbour. Two small ships were pulling silently away from the freighter. The fear of capture left Zakharov's stomach in knots.

"Come Sharra, we must hurry." He led the young woman to the customs gate and took out the two identicards which he had forged in preparation.

The guard examined the cards, and then paused a moment to examine a datapad. He looked intently at both of them, as if scrutinizing them and comparing them to whatever information was on the datapad.

Something is going down Zakharov thought to himself. They're looking for someone. We have to get out of here now. The guard finally allowed them to pass after a tense moment and Zakharov led Sharra up the gang plank onto the freighter.

They entered a dismal cargo hold, normally reserved for livestock at best, and took a seat onto empty canisters. The ship would take them to the mainland, and from there they could escape to Free Drone territory. There they would be safe.

Back at the customs terminal, the guard placed the datapad down after the few other passengers had boarded the ship. On it were three cycling images: one of Sinder Roze, one of Sharra and the last of Provost Zakharov. Under each picture was printed one phrase: Wanted, preferably alive...

[Hydro]

Somewhere Over the Central Chiron Sea

Bound for UN Headquarters Paul thought morosely, meaning every bit of the double meaning.

Privately he cursed Roze. Only she would be so diabolical to 'honor' him by appointing him as her second when she was away. She knew he hated UN Headquarters. It is inconceivable that anyone could conceive of a government so bound up in rules, regulations, votes, primaries, and petty officialdom. Now, Morgan society as a democracy had its elections, but never the unending plebiscites and back room maneuvering that typified Peacekeeper government. And then there was the insufferable politics that ran rampant through every aspect of the society.

It's absolutely amazing that they get anything done, Paul thought

Paul grumpily waved away a very nice attendant that offered him his choice of refreshments on the rather short supersonic flight from Morgan Industries.

Then Paul smiled. Roze had given him her power while she was gone, so why not use it? There is no use in being a shiftless drone, sitting behind an overly ornate desk as faceless and ineffectual underlings pestered you about trivial and useless details.

So, how to best use the time? First, set up a network to track Sinder-the-Loose-Cannon Roze, since she has to be 'protected', of course.

Paul chuckled at that, since it was perfectly within the bounds of a Number Two to protect the Number One.

That was a short-term goal, and a personal one, Paul admitted to himself. A more important goal is to get a probe team to infiltrate the Usurper's Datalinks. With the destruction of the Spartan's Empath Guild in Yang's planetbuster attack the Spartan's intrinsic intelligence had waned. It was sad to see the empaths of the Guild go, but now they would have to be replaced the old fashioned way. The various human factions had long ago infiltrated each other, so that was not the point; the Progenitors were an unknown quantity, and no one knew what they were doing. And no one, Paul was sure, had infiltrated them.

Paul smiled, knowing he had just the team for the job: The Raven, and his ops team lead by Rider.

Inspired, Paul clicked his holo recorder into place and started recording:

To: Commander Allardyce, Axis Command
From: (Temporary) CIO Paul Andreas
RE: Progenitor Threat

In her absence, Ms. Roze has appointed me to take temporary leadership of the Axis intelligence operations. With your approval, I propose to mount a multi-pronged operation to infiltrate the datalinks of the Progenitors. This will vastly improve our passive intelligence on a threat that we know painfully little about. The Morgan team that secured Great Clustering and saved Sparta Command from the Hive planetbuster will lead this effort. Any information that is gained will, of course, be freely shared with appropriately cleared officials of the Axis leadership.

If you have any suggestions please make them. My team will depart within days unless you specifically countermand this order.

Paul

[Googlie]

Thomass looked up and down the level four corridor to see if he was being observed, and on being satisfied that he was relatively inconspicuous, ducked under the lintel and entered the small café. He had to duck as he was a tall man, above average height, and even though he stooped to try and blend in with the general populace, he still had to watch doors and other low ceilinged rooms.

He looked around – six tables, with four occupied by the usual assortment of drone supervisors and petty officials. One unoccupied table was set against the back wall, with two decrepit chairs, and he selected the one that gave a view of the doorway out into the walkway.

The proprietor came over to take his order.

“Expresso, drop of vanilla flavoring,” he asked. As he always did.

The proprietor looked around, then bent low with his pad as if taking a food order.

“Your friend was in earlier, asking for you. He said to meet you at the site, whatever that means,” he said quietly, then standing up, and making to move away, more loudly, “Thank you sir. One moment.”

As he waited for the coffee to arrive, he pondered. This was highly unusual, but not unprecedented. He would meet Vlad at the entrance then, and take it from there.

The coffee arrived, and he was sipping in relish when he noticed immediately the two strangers walking through the door.

As they looked around, he lowered his head, and fumbled for his modified shredder in his inside pocket. The drone supervisors’ gray utilitarian uniforms made it hard to conceal weapons, but with his height he carried the deceit well.

They were looking over his way. He saw them nod to each other, and then they made their way to his table. From the corner of his eye he saw the proprietor put a hand under the counter top as he watched the proceedings with interest.

They were standing over his table now. One of them pulled from his pocket what appeared to be an official CIP badge. Thomass shuddered inwardly. Why did they have to be Counter Insurgent Police. Why not just plain clothes operatives. This was going to be messy.

He looked up, and snarled in his best offended citizen manner:

“Do you mind, citizens? You are blocking my light.”

“Papers,” asked the one proffering his badge for inspection.

“Ah, I have them here,” he replied with his hand inside his loosely fitting jacket. He stood up.

They stepped back a little, in fear perhaps – or just being prudent, as he unfolded himself to his full height. Just giving him room, he thought, but the slight hesitation was all the time he needed.

In one co-ordinated movement he kicked out with his right foot as he was standing up, catching the smaller of the two men in the groin, and sending him to a rumpled heal to the floor in surprise. Simultaneously, he brought his shredder into the face of the other and fired. The stunned look on the operative’s face was like a narcotic to Thomass as the NLG took mere seconds to render the man incapacitated. As the body crumpled to the floor, Thomass turned the shredder to the first agent, writhing on the floor and clutching his aching groin, and discharged a similar dose on non lethal gas on the hapless operative.

He looked around the café. The patrons who had nervously buried their heads in their food and drinks when the confrontation looked about to start still glanced apprehensively at Thomas as he turned to the proprietor, saying with a wink “ Give them both a double expresso when they come to – they’ll need it.” And throwing him a part credit to cover the cost.

He left to rendezvous with Vladimir.

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

He found him outside the Command center, reading up on the day’s news on the scrolling screens on the bulletin boards. Vlad had positioned himself so that he could see the reflection of anyone approaching on the monitors. Thomas approved. Yes, he was good.

“Hi, bud, what’s happening? How come you couldn’t make the café?”

“I was being tailed most of yesterday and today,” he replied. “Damnit, but these Hive counter intelligence agents are getting good. Managed to give them the slip just in time to leave you the message, then led them a merry dance all over The Hive to throw them off.”

Thomas nodded. After all, he’d been followed right into the café.

Vlad continued:

“Are you sure that you want to carry this out? After all, if they know that we’re in the base they’ll be doubly cautious – probably trip some new algorithmic codes in the security interlocks – ones that we haven’t encountered before.”

Thomas looked at his friend.

“Vlad. We haven’t failed Deirdre yet. This is our … what ….. , seventh mission together, and we’ve come through on every one. We’re an elite team now, the best The Stepdaughters have. It won’t be a piece of cake, but we’ll pull it off.”

Vlad grunted.

“What are we spiriting away this time?” he asked. “It’s better be awfully important to warrant infiltrating Yang’s HQ itself. I’m not sure that’s ever been done before. In fact, I always thought that the faction HQ’s were immune to infiltration.”

“Up until now,” Thomass agreed. “But we can’t get this anywhere else. It’s not up on his nets.”

“What isn’t?” asked Vlad.

“Progenitor Psych. We’re going to steal from Yang the ability to communicate with the Aliens.”

Vlad grunted.

“Then let’s get started.”

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

As they approached the doorway, Vlad took the lead. He was the empath of the team, a controller. Thomass always was amazed at his friend’s ability to make others see exactly what he wanted them to see, to have them act in exactly the eway he commanded.

The two guards snapped to attention. “Chairman. Madame Hsui,” they acknowledged as the two Gaian probes swept past them to the door. They continued to stand stifly to attention.

Thomass pulled his pad from his jacket pocket, and moved towards the lock. He held the screen to the optical scanner while he placed his right hand on the palmprint analyzer, and felt the familiar tiny ***** of the needle as it took the dna sample. His finger was on the transmit key of the pad during the transaction.

“Welcome , Chairman Yang,” a metallic voice sounded, as the door silently swiveled open.

They entered.

It was late evening, yet there were still hordes of citizens going about their work. They gave the two intruders scant attention, secure in the knowledge that outsiders couldn’t penetrate the Command Center of the Hive HQ.

Thomass consulted a small map display on the pad screen he carried.

“Eleven flights down,” he mumbled to Vlad, who nodded. He remembered that much.

They were careful to saunter over to the bank of elevators at an appropriate pace. Not dawdling, as Hive workers didn’t dawdle. Nor too enthusiastic. Enthusiasm was like a banner ad announcing you as a sycophantic party member or a fraudster with something to hide.

They exited the elevator at the tenth level, and sought the stairs for the descent to the eleventh.

“Just to make sure,” Thomass whispered.

In the stairwell, they undressed their pants and jackets, turning them inside out, and re-donning them.

They were now two elite guardsmen of the Chairman’s personal squad.

From various pouches they assembled somewhat authentic looking shredder rifles, which they slung over their shoulders, then pushed open the doorway and entered the corridor on the eleventh level.

Two troopers standing outside a doorway saw them emerge.

“Halt,” said one, gesturing over at Vlad and Thomass.

Vlad exerted his mind probe, but was met by a psi-blocker.

“Uh-oh, blocking me. Plan B,” he muttered to Thomass, just as the guard said to his companion – they’re trying a mind probe – be prepared. He raised his pistol to Thomass. “Just stay right there,” he commanded.

He raised his hands to shoulder height as he walked towards them, to reassure them that his intent was harmless. Behind him, the smaller Vlad unslung his rifle and moved along, partially hidden by the bulk of Thomass.

“That’s far enough,” the guard said. “One more step and I shoot.”

“Now you wouldn’t want to do that, now, would you,” said Thomass. “Someone might get hurt.”

As he uttered the last sentence he rolled to the floor, and behind him he heard the Thwuck…thwuck…thwuck…” of Vlad’s shredder as it cut down the two troopers.

Thomass rolled upright on his feet, and kicked open the door that the troopers were guarding.

“Cover my tail,” he said to Vlad. “This’ll take but a minute.”

Vlad nodded at the disappearing figure of Thomass.

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

He reached the central console, and hastily keyed in the codes that Velvetgrass Point had supplied him with.

The screens lit up, and his fingers flew, taking the journey deep into the central Hive computer, wending its way to the files containing the anxiously awaited data on the Aliens.

Ah, this must be them. He tested to see what he was accessing, and stood transfixed, gazing at the screen.

His body began to sway gently, as he stood inert, the bluish light emanating from the screens casting a sort of halo around his silhouette.

Vlad glanced down the hallway, and was perturbed to see two guardsmen arrive at either end. This was going to be tight. He glanced inside, and saw his friend motionless, mesmerized by the vision he was seeing.

“Thomass. Hurry up. Reinforcements are arriving. Get your butt in gear.”

Then he froze in horror, as a door opened in the room and a Glyph appeared. These were the Alien scout patrol units, so named by Thomass after he’d run into them innumerable times and successfully destroyed them by the dozens.

“Thomass,” look out,” he yelled.

Thomass looked up, slowly, turning round as if in slow motion, blinking in surprise. He brought his shredder up but as he was raising it he saw the muzzle flash from the Glyph’s weapon and felt the triple impact of the searing heat of the laser on his face and shoulders, the unearthly sound that resonated through his skeletal structure and the impact that knocked him from his feet as his head and torso exploded.

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

Megan Lindly sat bolt upright and pulled the jack from the console, sweating profusely.

She was dead. Or, more correctly, Thomass was dead. The character that she had so painstakingly created, and nurtured for two months now, to be the undisputed champion on the Gaian web, was dead.

Ever since her elder sister, Shannon, had brought her the game, The Progenitors she had devoted her leisure hours to it, and was the undisputed champion. And she had been on the verge of the biggest prize yet, capturing Progentitor Psych from Yang.

But dead. Killed by a Glyph, no less. The units she ate for breakfast, generally no match for even a newbie, let alone the Gaian champion. She’d have to apologize to Elspeth for leaving her with Vlad in a hopeless position, but that would have to wait.

She relived these last few minutes, when she was mesmerized.

She had started the Psych program. The resonance had begun, the weird alien language that was a mixture of sound and feeling. And she had understood it.

More so, she had not only understood it, but somehow it wasn’t a tutorial program she was running at all. She was communicating directly, live, with one of the Aliens.

Said his name was Kri’lan



[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited June 27, 2000).]

[Argonaut]

Sparta Command Aerospace Complex: Briefing Room Gamma

Sinder Roze entered the room had the first glimpse of her team. She was shocked. She had asked Colonel Santiago for a squadron of needlejet pilots as a support team. She entered the room to find five pilots, none of whom could be a day over twenty-five. She could feel her contact smiling beside her.

The squadron consisted of three men and two women. They were all young, well built and not half-bad to look at. Roze almost laughed at the thought of a bunch of Morgan Holosoap stars like these being her support team.

“Surely there has been some confusion,” Roze said quietly to her contact. All the eyes in the room were on her. “This can’t be the whole squadron,” she finished with tact.

“This is the best Colonel Santiago could offer, considering the current hostilities. The Colonel views this mission to be of too high a risk to commit a full squadron. She is unwilling to slow the war effort in order to fund Morgan’s personal vendettas.” Her contact spoke as if he had been practising that little speech for hours. It also appeared that Colonel Santiago disliked Roze far more then Roze could have imagined.

Roze walked to the front of the room and placed her portable terminal on the desk. She took a moment to analyse her new “team”. None of them were in proper uniform, as Roze had interrupted their daily regimen of calisthenics, which every Spartan was expected to participate in. They all wore Spartan Gray pants with a black sleeveless shirt with no collar. There was nothing to indicate rank or identity to establish who was who.

The first woman was quite tall, with long dark hair and a stern face. She sat beside a rather attractive young man with dark hair and a brooding expression. There was an exceptionally tall man who looked just like Roze imagined Morgan must have when he was younger. There was also a stocky Asian man and a quite women with gentle eyes and soft dark hair. None of them were what Roze had expected, but somehow she would make ends meet. She had managed with far less in the past and she would manage now.

“Good afternoon pilots,” Roze said finally breaking the silence. “As you may have guessed, I am Datajack Roze, Head of Intelligence for the Axis. This is my associate, Sam Grant.” Roze indicated the suspicious man who had remained at the doorway. He smiled, once again making it look more like a sneer then any sort of friendly guesture.

“The mission you are about to partake in is highly confidential. Therefore, you will remain in isolation from outside contact until further notice.” It was clear the pilots were not expecting that, as each shifted in their seat and shared glances with each other. Roze was impressed to watch them. No words were spoken, but the general message was conveyed to the entire group. At least they had established a good team understanding.

“We will be heading deep into Hive territory...very deep. I cannot tell you our exact destination or are target. What I can tell you is that we will need to escape with the target intact. That means we have to get in, retrieve the objective and get out without getting caught by Yang’s forces.” The squadron showed their concern as disbelief crossed all of their faces.

“We will be taking a transport in with us. You Mister...” Roze stumbled, realising she still didn’t know their names. Her finger pointed to the broody man in the front.

“Private Bradford,” he offered with little enthusiasm.

“Private?” Roze had hoped for a slightly more experienced officer than that. “Who is the senior officer of the unit?”

“I am.” Bradford’s answer certainly wasn’t the one Roze had wanted. “Along with Private Kingswell,” he added, gesturing to the woman beside him.

“Well then. Private Bradford, you will be piloting the transport. The remaining four will fly escort for as long as possible, before turning back to land. We will be operating off a small task force of ships, including a carrier. We set sail later today, so be prepared. Dismissed.”

“Miss Roze?” The young Morgan look alike raised his hand with a question.

“Now is not the time for questions Private. We have a long voyage ahead of us. Further information will be relayed to you then. Dismissed.” As Spartans, they knew not to test their commanding officer’s authority repeatedly. One by one, they filed out of the room, followed by Grant who was to escort them to their quarters.

Tired from the flight, Roze had one more thing to do before she took a quick rest. She hooked her terminal into the network and connected to her office. As expected the image of Paul Andreas filled the screen.

“Datajack. Missed me so much you had to call already?” His cocky smile indicated he was enjoying this moment. She watched as he clearly leaned back in her chair and put his feet up on her desk.

“Terribly Paul. Don’t worry I’ll get over it,” she replied with the same insincere, sarcastic tone. “What’s the latest update on activity at Sea Hive?”

“So glad you asked,” Paul remarked casually. “The place is just a buzz with activity. We’ve got a commando team moving in currently, mission objective is classified. I suspect their after information on these aliens. Chairman Yang has moved all high profile prisoners to the Remora, a small, but heavily armed foil, one kilometre west of the base. How are things at your end?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me, darling.” Paul visibly cringed at such a personal reference. “What about Stazi's team? Have they reached the target yet?”

“Unknown.” Paul’s voice changed to a more serious and professional tone. While his quarrel with Roze was one thing, Anastasia was another matter. “They failed to meet the last checkpoint. It’s possible they’ve infiltrated the base and are unable to transmit.” It was clear that he did not believe that any more than Roze did.

“I’ll keep my eyes and ears open once I get there. Do your best to keep me updated. Roze out.”

[Googlie]

UN Headquarters

I sat gazing out of the window, idly tapping the electronic stylus against the datapad, and wondering if I should go through the proper channels or bypass them. I needed information.

I opted for the latter. And swiveled the chair to face the commlink screen.

“Encryption active,” I said. A low assenting murmur came from the unit. I keyed in a number.

“Barracks, came a voice response.

“Lisa Mayberry,’ I said.

In a moment the attractive face of Lisa appeared on my screen. She hesitated for a moment, not recognizing me in my more youthful guise.

“Allardyce,” I said.

“Ah, Googlie,” replied the blonde bombshell (I wondered if that still was her nickname among the penetrator pilots, shortened just to ‘The Bombshell’)

“Lisa,” I said. “We’re on full encryption, so you can be frank. Have you heard anything at all from Miles and Stazi? No pick-up arrangements?”

“Nothing,” she replied. I understood that they were going to link up with Kurt somebody – an old Miles’ acquaintance, and spring the Professor loose, then come out overland. I really didn’t have any role to play other than the insertion. But you might try Julia Santiago – she once had an empath thing going with Miles, I believe.”

“Ah, yes,” I said, remembering now. “I will. Thanks Lisa. How’s Slats these days? Thirsting for action?”

“Au contraire, Googlie, he and the boffins are locked up every day trying to work out a counter to these new alien machines that have been appearing. Sentient Needles, he calls them. We’ve had our hides tanned every time we’ve approached one. They’re faster, more maneuverable, better armed, and the machines seem to think – almost like they are mindreading us and knowing what we’re about to do even before we do it. Weird. And scary too.”

“Oh, I know Slats and the crew will work out a counter tactic inevitable,” I said. “And thanks, Lisa. You’ve been most helpful.”

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

I punched in the code for the Gaian Air Command.

Julia herself answered.

“Ah, Representative Allardyce,” she said, all formal. She never had accepted calling me father – not that it mattered, as I really had nothing to do with her conception or upbringing other than as a donor to Deirdre. “What can I do for you?”

Julia – we’re encrypted, so this goes no further. Agreed?”

Instantly she was all solemnity.

“Shoot,” she said.

“I presume you have heard of the current Miles caper?”

I swear I saw her blush on the vidscreen.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am,” she said. Miles and I have … ‘been in contact’ ….. for a few months now.”

I bit back the retort I was going to make about his being Lisa’s man – no point in getting her edgy.

“They’ve missed their check in, and failed on a back up rendezvous. Have you heard anything from him?”

There was a pregnant pause at the other end. She was frowning, squirming almost.

Hesitantly she began:

“So you haven’t heard then…..” her voice trailed off.

“Heard what,” I almost shouted.

“I had contact with Miles a short time ago. The mission is a shambles. Miles met up with Kurt, who is acting as if he’s been mindswiped, the group split up, the Professor has disappeared, and Stazi has been captured.”

I sagged back in the chair as if poleaxed.

“Yang?” I asked. “Being held in the Sea Hive?”

“Worse,” she replied.

“Not in the Sea Hive – she was captured in Fellowship City.

“By Sand.

I reeled as if I had been physically struck.

“Googlie, I’m sorry,” Julia said. “If there is anything I can do….”

“Thanks, Julia, but I need to wrestle with this. Don’t feel bad about bringing the news to me – someone had to. Take care.”

I cut the commlink connection

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

I hit the comm key for Sinder, realizing as soon as I had done it that she was away.

Paul Andreas answered.

“Yes, Governor?”

He looked as though he was just finishing dinner.

“When you get a moment, Paul, drop in to the office. Oh, and by the way, don’t call me Governor. The name’s Scott, or Googlie if you prefer. Everyone calls me that.”

“Yes, sir. Scott, I mean. I’m on my way.”

He came in a few moments later. I ushered him to a chair.

“Paul,” I began. “Let me get straight to the point.

“Through contacts which shall remain nameless I’ve just been informed that the Zakharov rescue mision is a disaster. The group has beeen split up, with Cavenaugh having to play mental nursemaid to a Hive empath who was their main hope, and Anastasia getting captured by none other than Sand himself, my old nemesis. Oh, and the Professor has disappeared from the face of the earth.

“Paul, I was powerless to stop her going – indeed she was airborne before I knew she had left. But I understand why she did it. She needed a purpose, a mission in life. The Yoop resistance is all but dormant, and I’m sure Corazon was on the point of reinstating it as a submissive pact, and Stazi’s not the type to sit around here and watch me work. She is a trained agent – in fact once confided in me that she had been trained by the Circle itself – financed I’ve no doubt by the CEO himself.”

I glared at Paul as if it was his fault personally.

“I’m not sure what I’m asking, Paul, but it’s more than just getting my woman back. With her in their hands, Ashaandi can blackmail the Professor. Without the Professor, the Yoops might stir up trouble again. And if what Roze says is correct, the good professor was collaborating with Yang in any event in deciphering the Alien technology to aid them in weapons development.

“You have operatives already there, and others going there. What can you do?”

I left the question hanging in the air.



[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited June 27, 2000).]

[Hydro]

Somewhere in the Eastern Chiron Sea

“You lost the bet. Now go,” Steve told a mute Jay. Several of the other new recruits to the Gaian Empath Corps nodded absently, obviously relieved not to get this assignment.

Jay looked beseechingly at each of his fellow empaths for support, and found none. Their minds were shut, although some leaked a little sympathy.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. Consider it your first combat assignment!” Steve stated.

“We’re all dying to find out about the Mindworm Lady. I’d really like to know about her,” Cindy Porter said encouragingly. She was Jay’s age, had mousy brown hair, was just a little chunky, and she had a brilliant smile, which she was using on Jay right now.

Does she like me, or is she just using me like everyone else? Jay thought sourly to himself. Jay yearned to touch her mind, but that was strictly against the rules unless you are invited. Jay ‘felt’ around and there was no invitation.

“Fine,” Jay said tightly as he turned and walked all alone toward the back of the Isle of the Deep. Due to the size and roughness of the surface it would take at least 25 minutes to get to the Mindworm Lady probably was, especially since the ridges and valleys of the Isle’s surface had no real organization, beyond what man had cut or built into it to make it minimally accessible.

Jay stopped and glanced back into a low spot that they called The Valley where their squad was based. The crowd of the Corps had largely dispersed on their assignments, except for Cindy, who was still looking in his direction.

Good luck, Jay! he heard in his mind as a focused projection.

Jay smiled to himself and felt a little better. He had made very few friends since joining the Corps, unlike the popular Steve, who everyone seemed to like. Jay felt like he was in the bigger and older man’s shadow. Maybe Cindy would be a friend someday.

Thanks Cindy. I appreciate it, Jay projected back. Cindy waved at him, and then turned and jogged after her partner.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Jay muttered to himself.

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

There she is – the Mindworm Lady Jay thought.

Jay had seen her infrequently, since she kept to herself and never interacted with the other members of the Empath Corps outside of required functions. She was a mystery to everyone, since she was an officer but didn’t have any officer duties that anyone could figure out. That struck Jay as very strange since she was odd even for a member of the Corps, which was known for its quirky and individualistic members. The Corps long ago recognized that psi talent in any form was so rare that it accepted everyone and then accommodated them instead of forcing them into its mold.

She sat at the hind end of the Isle looking out to sea. A stiff wind blew against the back of her head, which faced Jay. Not a hair was out of place even in the warm breeze since it was pulled back into a bun that was so tight it had to hurt. She was obviously old since her hair was almost white and she had deep wrinkles in her exposed deeply tanned skin, but not quite ancient. To Jay she seemed worn looking, as if she were bent but unbowed from years of labor and grief. She was clearly old enough to remember the Trail of Tears after the fall of Gaia’s Landing over 25 years ago to the Hive.

As Jay watched there was movement under the Mindworm Lady, and it looked like pinkish gray confetti was being squeezed out of the business end of a meat grinder. In moments a medium sized mindworm had erupted out of the ‘hull’ of the Isle and formed a loose ball, and it made a B-line for the Mindworm Lady. It flowed slowly toward her as if slinking, picking up speed. Then it impacted on her lower back and flowed around her. It happened so fast that Jay didn’t even have time to shout or project a warning.

“Fluffy!” the Mindworm Lady yelled in a slightly surprised and irritated voice. “How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me! You scared me half to death!”

The mindworm formed a ball again, and a ‘head’ morphed onto the top of the boil that Jay would swear was ‘looking’ at her. As she yelled the mindworm seemed to shrink back and sag a little. She absently started ‘petting’ the mindworm by running her fingers through the seething mass of worms.

“Now none of that. Whining will do you no good. Just don’t do it again. What? There’s someone here? Oh…” she said as she was turning around.

She looked at Jay and a scowl formed on her face. “What do you want?” she asked in a quarrelsome voice.

“Ahhhh,” Jay stammered.

“Well, out with it!” she ordered.

“I noticed your mindworm. Fluffy? He seems to be a little unusual,” Jay improvised, not having a clue what else to say.

The Mindworm Lady blinked twice, slightly taken aback. Then her scowl softened a little. She was still petting Fluffy, who seemed to be pulsing with each stroke.

“Yes, I suppose he is,” she responded slowly while looking Jay over with a highly critical eye. After a pause she seemed to come to a decision and continued, “Why do you say that? Why is he different?”

Now Jay knew he was in hot water. He had to think, and think quickly. First the obvious.

“Ah, he kind of seems to be like, ah, an animal. I mean, an Earth animal. I’ve never seen a mindworm attack like that, or form what looks like a head when you’re talking to it. And why are you talking to it? Why not just project to it? It seems to form a pretty perfect ovoid, which isn’t at all like the swirling and almost amorphous masses that I generally think of. His sides almost seem smooth. He’s kind of on the smallish side, too, now that I think of it. His color is right, but the worms are a bit tighter. I’ve seen that on larger worms who don’t generate as strong a mutual repulsion field due to their greater mass…”

The Mindworm Lady put up her hand to stop him, since he seemed be gathering speed.

“Very good, young man. You’re not a biologist, are you?”

Jay shook his head.

“Too bad. You’re observant enough to be one. My guess is that you are an empath. Right? I think I’ve seen you with the recruits in the mindworm brigade.”

“Of course, Ma’am,” Jay responded automatically. “Private Jayson Fergeson.”

Fluffy perked up suddenly and ‘looked’ at Jay, getting both of their attention. Then he flowed over to Jay, extended a tendril, and touched him.

“He’s tasting you,” she commented dryly as she watched, her eyes watching for something that she obviously expected to happen.

::Hello earthfergeson::

To Jay the voice was high pitched with a pure tone, like that of a small child. Each mindworm was unique, but most were either abrupt and came across as being ageless, which considering they were aliens and part of an ancient sentient Planet wasn’t too much of a leap of faith.

::Hello Fluffy:: he projected back. The mindworm pulsed and moved to surround Jay’s legs, and a few worms found their way under his pant cuffs. When directly in contact with his skin they felt dry, and their strong electromagnetic fields seemed to dance across his skin, making the hairs on his legs stand up on end. All in all it was not an unpleasant sensation, as long as you knew the mindworms didn’t have feeding in mind.

The Mindworm Lady gave a pale smile as she saw the simple exchange. “Congratulations. Fluffy doesn’t like very many people. In fact, you are the first besides me he has spoken to since I lost my husband and son over 28 years ago. He seems to dislike empaths and sends them what I have been told is painful static. The fact that you aren’t gasping and clutching your head says it all. Are you sure you’re an empath?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m sure,” Jay responded. He wasn’t sure how to address her, since calling her ‘Mindworm Lady’ didn’t seem to be appropriate and no one knew her name. Might as well treat her like an officer.

“Hmph. Well I’m not, so stay out of my head. Actually, Fluffy does a fine job preventing you empaths from mucking around. Don’t you Fluffy?”

At her prompt Fluffy formed a ‘head’ and looked toward her even as he coiled around Jay’s feet.

Now Jay was puzzled. “How can you communicate, or control him if you can’t project commands?”

“Is that what they teach you at empath school? Commands? Orders? Control? Mindworms aren’t property to be commanded; they are friends and partners. I assure you that Fluffy is perfectly capable of understanding me, and he makes himself understood.”

The Mindworm Lady paused and seemed to come to a conclusion.

“Now, since Fluffy approves of you, my name is Kirsten. I was drafted into this little affair by Dee, who pulled me away from my crèche at Garden of Paradise for no other reason than ‘I need you Kirsti’. I’m supposed to be a teacher, so you might as well be my student. I’ll contact your duty roster so we can start your training. You can start by getting to know Fluffy. Is that OK Fluffy?”

Fluffy pulsed again, but Jay didn’t have a clue what it meant. Kirsten gave him another of her pale smiles and she nodded.

“Run along now,” Kirsten said as she looked back out to sea.

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

Jay walked into the fungal cave where he and Steve had set up residence. Steve was piling supplies in one of the corners that was sure to be dry in a storm, and turned around when he heard him enter.

“Well? How did it go?” Steve asked as he walked over toward the doorway.

Jay didn’t respond right away, and let the pause continue for several seconds.

“I don’t really know. She told me I’m her student now. And I think she just gave me her mindworm Fluffy,” Jay said with a partially stunned voice.

Outside there was a skittering sound and a medium-sized mindworm boil barged into the small cave. It formed a ‘head’, looked around the room from the doorway and spotted Steve, then carefully advanced on Jay, being careful to keep Jay between him and Steve. Reaching his legs he coiled himself around and pulsed a few times.

Jay smiled, feeling what Fluffy meant.

“No, the earthuman Steve won’t hurt you, even if he is big. And no he isn’t a food animal, and you can’t eat him. No, I’m not going to change my mind, unless he makes me mad.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to be stunned.

Jay was beginning to really like Fluffy.

[Hydro]

UN Headquarters

I've never met Governor Scott Allardyce in person before, and he is just what my dossier on him say he is: tall, ruggedly good looking and charismatic, sharp, and young. His voice and demeanor are not that of a young man, however: he exudes confidence and authority, and wears it well. On a truly young man it would be considered a cocky or insolent swagger, but on Scott is it simply Authority.

So here I am sitting across from him, and he is asking me for what amounts to a personal favor. Not an unreasonable favor, mind you, since he has sound tactical and strategic reasoning. Stazi is all that Scott says she is: granddaughter of Prokhor Zakharov; UoP terrorist formerly in the employ of Morgan to cause chaos for the Spartans, as he surmised; a skilled operative trained by the Sand and other members of the Circle, although I bet Stazi never told that to Scott; and wildly beautiful. I suppose that if I were as fortunate as Scott to have Stazi as my significant other then I would move heaven and earth to get her back, too.

Still, in the intelligence business it never hurts to do favors, particularly for those in authority, and especially for those that are outside of your standard chain of command. Contacts are worth their weight in gold, be they trivial or high ranking, but particularly if they are high ranking. Basically, those with favors and 'leverage' can do their job well, and throw in a little talent and you can become legendary - if you don't get killed first.

Scott is waiting for my answer, and I'm not going to disappoint him.

"Sand, eh? I've locked horns with that crusty old bastard more than once, and I even came out on top occasionally. He was my protégé back in the Hive-Morgan alliance days, and Yang 'insisted' that we work together. Of course I did everything in my power to prevent that, and Newbie agreed. Having Sand running around loose at Morgan Industries is a very bad idea. There is no love lost between us.

Now, to the question 'What can I do?' Well, I can get Stazi back, but against Sand that will be costly. The only hope we have is to deploy multiple teams and overwhelm him, and accept the fact that there will be casualties.

We may even be able to eliminate him, if we're lucky," I ended.

Scott's eyes glittered. It was clear he would love that. He and Sand had been blood enemies ever since he, Gecko and Burge had tried to assassinate him so many years ago to protect Santiago. Too bad all they did was partially incinerate and disfigure him, and earn his eternal hatred. I'm sure that Gecko and Scott are on Sand's list. After all, Sand tortured and then eliminated Burge, and so Scott and Gecko are next.

"Can you do that?" Scott replied hopefully.

"No guarantees. If it were a simple assassination then I would say that we might be able to. But our objective will be to free Stazi, and that limits our options. Our lethal options, that is."

Scott nodded. "I understand."

I continued. "Sand is a first class intrusive empath, called a ripper in psi lingo. We'll need several top grade empath rippers of our own, and they are extraordinarily rare. It will take a while to round them up and get them integrated into the teams. I'll get right on it. We will require more resources for the training, and to support these activities since I will be diverting people from other operations."

"Route it through me, and just keep it reasonable. Do what you can."

"Fine. Is there anything else?"

Scott looked a little relieved, but still anxious. "No. Thanks Paul."

I smiled at him. "Don't mention it."

+++++++

Back in my office I made a call to an old University friend at Morgan Industries. She is a specialist in nano technology, which is perfect for high-end probe actions. All it takes is the appropriate resources, which Scott has just graciously provided me with, and a little creativity to push their capabilities. Nanos can be constructive, or destructive. It all depends on how they are designed. They can't be seen and are difficult to detect, and are easy to conceal and carry. If I am right, the nanos I have in mind will literally give Sand fits.

I have a second recipe in mind, too. It will be perfect for tracking my favorite loose canon.

[Argonaut]

Hive Freighter Orion: Deep in Hive Territory

Zakharov watched as Sharra slept, curled up on the cold synthmetal floor. Even as she slept, the poor girl fidgeted and mumbled in her sleep, tortured even in slumber by the memories of her past. Zakharov would always despise Yang, knowing he had caused this torment to Sharra. Zakharov also felt a pang of guilt, knowing the had contributed to her torment.

Zakharov had never before felt connected to one of his subjects. He had never looked at them as human beings, merely as necessary casualties in order to better the lives of the rest of humanity. But as he had watched Sharra, writhing with under the alien beam and looking so much like Anastasia, the reality of the situation suddenly dawned on him that it was wrong. What he did to his test subjects was no better then the torture Yang performed on his prisoners. That was why Zakharov planned to make things right.

He had been examining the small datapad that he had stolen from Yang’s lab. He had downloaded information on the geography and boundaries of Hive territory and was trying to determine the safest and quickest route to this new factions territory. They had been forced to leave Sea Hive much early then Zakharov had hoped, and they now found themselves with an extreme shortage of supplies.

From what Zakharov had determined, the boat would land them at a bunker near a Hive base called Fellowship City. If they could reach that base, they would be able to hide within the masses of drones amid the Hive underground. That would give them enough time to gather supplies before they made the long trek along open terrain to Free Drone Central. If they were to seek any other form of transport, they might attract too much attention to themselves. However it would be viewed as more efficient if two drones were relocating near the border, on foot, rather then sending an entire transport rover for two lowly drones.

The old freighter creaked heavily as it rolled over a heavy swell in the sea. The noise awakened Sharra, would looked around her, momentarily disoriented, before noticing Zakharov and remembering her situation. She had barely spoken since they had escaped, and Zakharov did not blame her after what he had done.

Sharra sat up and rested her head against the damp synthmetal wall. She clutched her stomach as the rocking of the ship once again took it’s tole on her conscious body. She vomited, the nausea being to intense for her, and wiped the bile from her mouth as the desperation once again began to overwhelm her.

Zakharov got up and pulled her over two him, away from the mess on the floor. He wrapped an arm around and began to whisper to her soothingly.

“It’s okay Sharra. Just a little bit longer,” he said in a hushed tone. He gently grabbed her arms and began massaging the pressure points near her wrists, which affected her equilibrium. Finally, she relaxed into him as the nausea passed, resting her head on his shoulder. “Just a little longer.”

[This message has been edited by Argonaut (edited June 29, 2000).]

[Argonaut]

Data Angel Special Task Force: S.F.S. Pericles

Roze sat in her cramped office on the tiny foil and felt like throwing up. She had taken three anti sea-sickness pills and still the nausea threatened to overwhelm her. She would have to talk to Morgan when she got back about the effectiveness of his merchandise. Roze almost laughed at the thought of Morgan actually caring.

Despite the sea-sickness Roze was very lucky to be where she was. While Colonel Santiago’s pilots were not exactly what Roze was hoping for, the two ships that she had been provided with were more than adequate.

The S.F.S. Pericles was a Spartan prototype, a carrier which had been adapted to use a deep pressure hull, allowing it to dive beneath the waves and out of the sight of Yang’s forces. It was of destroyer size, but it’s cargo space was limited do to the confines of the hull. Still, it had ample room for her squadron of five and her reserve team.

Her escort was the S.F.S. Hydra, a basic submersible shard foil. It was equipped with AA defence systems and plasma steel armour, providing the necessary fire power to protect the carrier. The only moment the two ships would be really vulnerable would be at the moment of launching, and the way Spartan carriers were organized, that would be a minimal amount of time indeed.

A knock on the door indicated that her two guests had arrived. She took one more of Morgan’s seemingly useless pills just in case and then called her pilots into the office.

Private Bradford and Private Kingswell entered, sitting in the two seats opposite Roze’s desk and looking typically Spartan. They sat upright with perfect posture, staring straight ahead, quite in contrast with Roze who leaned back in her chair and had her feet up on her desk.

“We will be approaching the launching site shortly,” Roze finally began. The two privates’ eyes remained focused ahead, although she knew they were listening intently. “Private Bradford, you will be flying with Grant and myself in the transport as I have already mentioned. Private Kingswell, you will be leading the rest of the pilots as Angel One.” The twitch in Private Bradford’s face indicated that he was not entirely comfortable with that decision.

“You have something to say, Private Bradford?” Roze queried. His expression reddened, realizing he had not been composed as he had thought.

“No sir,” he responded firmly.

“For Chiron’s sake, Bradford. You aren’t in Sparta anymore. I’m not even a senior officer. You’re allowed to make suggestions to me.” Roze found these Spartans to be far to wound up for her liking. She had seen them relaxing off-duty, in the mess-hall, but in every breifing they behaved as thought they had a synthmetal rod up their rear-ends.

“With all do respect sir, you are a ranking executive within the Axis chain of command. You are also the supervisor for this mission. Therefore it would be inappropriate for me to question your orders.” How typically Spartan Roze thought. What was that old saying, when in Rome? Where was Rome anyway?

“Well then, Private Bradford, as your senior officer I am ordering you to speak your mind and explain to me why you reacted when I placed Private Kingswell in command of the squadron.” Roze was standing firmly at attention, doing the best impression of the Colonel that she could. The humour was lost on them.

“Yes sir. My only concern was that, under normal circumstances, I lead the squadron with Private Kingswell as my second. I would like to know what I did wrong to deserve this demotion.”

“You are not being demoted Private, you are being promoted. You will not be leading the squadron because you will be on special assignment with me and Grant, and will therefore be unable to lead the other pilots.”

“With all do respect sir,” he said finally looking at her. She had obviously got his attention now, except he seemed even more concerned then before. “I’m not an operative.”

“I am aware of that Private, I have read your file.” The Spartan once again turned red and reverted his gaze straight back to the office’s rear wall. “However, your combat skills will be required at the target. Now, for the time being I cannot release any further information to you. If the mission does not succeed, you will each be protected by how little you will actually know. Dismissed.”

The two privates immediately stood up from their chairs and left the room. Roze slumped back in her chair and sighed heavily. She couldn’t figure out which was worse, her sea-sickness or her Spartan headache.
[This message has been edited by Argonaut (edited June 29, 2000).]

[senatus]

Sparta Command


Corazon Santiago brought the chaos rifle up to a  well-muscled
shoulder in a smooth motion.  Over a century of practice allowed her
to sight and fire at her targets in a fraction of a second.  Four
disintegrated in succession.  She ducked, rolled, and reloaded a new
fusion energy pack, then rose and squeezed off two more shots without pause. 
She scanned the target grounds for a moment, even though there had been
only six automated targets, before activating the safety of her weapon.


"Care to try, Sister Miriam?"  Santiago offered politely to the
first of her two guests, holding out the rifle.  In the background,
one of her Spartan Elites shifted slightly, no doubt instinctively uneasy
about the presence of an armed non-Spartan in his commander-in-chief's
presence.  Not that there was any reason to be truly concerned, of
course.


Miriam Godwinson felt uncomfortable with the heavy rifle, but manners
were manners, and in Sparta, one should do as the Spartans did.  So
instead she nodded and stepped forward, the energy weapon pointed carefully
at the ground, and toggled the safety off as Santiago ordered the random
target sequence to repeat.  Not that she had more than a prayer of
hitting these things, but at least an old, old friend had once taught her
how to hold and fire a rifle without completely embarrassing herself. 
Sven Alfredsson is still alive, she thought.  I have to
try to find him.  But he is somewhere in "Fellowship City" - Great
Conclave! - still under Yang's control, and Jessica's not yet ready
to go deep?"


The holotargets appeared and Miriam fired, tensing for the nonexistent
impact.  She missed, of course, but not by more than a metre, which
was pretty good at twenty metres' range for her.  She failed to dodge,
however, as the holotargets oriented and fired low powered lasers at her,
marking her as "dead".


"The holotargets appear randomly, and thus have the advantage of surprise. 
But they are stationary and are programmed with delays mimicking a human
opponent.  So exercise your own advantages of mobility and initiative." 
Santiago advised matter-of-factly.


"Private McCollough.  Demonstrate."  Santiago ordered Sister
Jessica, who stood beside her faction leader.


"Yes Ma'am!"  Jessica took the chaos rifle, and waited for the
holotargets to begin their sequence.  When they did, Jessica threw
herself into a shoulder roll, keeping the rifle balanced along her forearm
so that her other arm and hand could slap the ground to break the fall,
and push her off to the side before the targets could reorient.  She
took the time to spot each of the targets before attempting to bring her
weapon up; lining up the first, she fired and then dodged to her left,
swinging the rifle in line with the second then third targets while firing. 
Lasers pulsed into the position she vacated, but Jessica ignored the distraction
and dodged again.  Three more times the chaos rifle whined its weird
harmonic pulse, and the sixth target "disintegrated" holographically. 
Then Jessica noticed the laser tag indicator winking on her vest.


Santiago pointed to the third target, which Jessica realized she had
barely missed.


"Always make sure your enemy is dead before turning your back
on him."  Santiago instructed with clinical dispassion.  Still,
she was privately pleased; Jessica's performance was as good as any Spartan
trainee's would've been - which was to say as good as any other
faction's battle-hardened troops.  If the other Believer soldiers
could do so well with Spartan training, that - combined with the rumoured
zeal that the old Believer military had been able to muster - would produce
effective assault troops to supplement her own Spartan forces.


Not that the Believers have the resources to produce many troops
as yet- but who knows how long this war may last with the Aliens. 
A smart soldier always made sure she had enough ammunition in her belt
to serve for a sustained battle, Santiago thought.


At the same time, Jessica looked momentarily uncomfortable.  If
Santiago thought that was because of her "poor" performance a moment ago,
Miriam knew better.  The thought of killing doesn't come easily
to Jessica.  But it will become a regrettable necessity in the Lord's
service.  We must talk about that soon.


Santiago sat down cross-legged on the ground and gestured for her guests
to do the same.  Jessica sat easily in her Spartan fatigues, Miriam
a little more uncomfortably in her orange robes.


"So, Sister, I have been considering your needs, which will be to establish
a formal base of operations - I mean, a place of worship - soon. 
Looking over Federated Territories, I am prepared to recommend to the Junta
that the area north-west of Assassin's redoubt be granted to your followers. 
The area is heavily wooded now, providing an excellent source of start-up
minerals, and there is even a monolith nearby that you could make use of
for a second base.  You would want to clear some of the fungus there,
though.  We can provide you with some old fission formers to start
you off."


Miriam and Jessica looked at each other, then Miriam turned back to
Santiago and bowed her head briefly in gratitude.


"We thank you for your assistance, Colonel, and we would like to take
you up on that.  However, we had hoped to be able to return to our
old homelands, beginning with what is now called Great Clustering."


Santiago arched an eyebrow.  Great Clustering had been claimed
by this "Foreman Domai" for his "Free Drones".  But no doubt Miriam
knew this, so she waited for the Believer leader to continue.


"Our problem isn't our tech level," Miriam explained.  "You have
generously opened your datalinks to us, and the advance of human science
has been staggering - especially the possibility offered by fusion reactors. 
And we can always... obtain new technology from other sources.  Nor
is it with raw energy reserves, thanks especially to Sinder Roze. 
No, our biggest problem is infrastructure and growth.  If we start
from scratch, I fear it would be some time before we can contribute in
any substantial military fashion to the Axis and yourself.  Our probe
operatives will, of course, be at your disposal.  But sooner or later,
actual fighting will have to take place," - Miriam emphasized subtly
as much as for Jessica's behalf as Santiago's -

"and the Lord's Believers are determined to do our part, the sooner
the better."


"But," Miriam continued, "if we start with a base right in the thick
of things, we will shave off years of infrastructure builds. 
Plus, it is close to our old homelands and the brothers and sisters still
oppressed by the Hive - so the local proximity will make our contributions
more efficient, should the war progress favorably.  As well as cut
down transit times for our probe operatives, or whatever military forces
the Legions of the Faithful could provide."


Miriam waited for Santiago's response.  She'd had some time now
to get to know the Spartan leader, and had decided at the outset with Jessica
that stating the advantages in military terms was the most likely way to
get her pact sister's support.


Colonel Santiago frowned in thought, her finger absent-mindedly tracing
the outline of the Hive continent on the ground.  Finally she looked
up and nodded.


"Your arguments make sense to me, and I am willing to support them within
my capacity as Axis Commander-in-Chief.  However, ultimately you will
have to work this out somehow with Domai.  I am not positioned to
intervene on your behalf there.  You might wish to put your arguments
to Commissioner Lal; this is a civilian and legal matter and thus within
his domain."


"Lal!"  Miriam exclaimed before she could help herself.  Temper,
temper.  Lord, please guide me with your wisdom and patience. 
"Commissioner Lal is... well, his faction isn't exactly the most pro-active
and decisive on Planet."  Which was a diplomatic way of saying that
his so-called "democracy" was an inefficient bureaucracy that catered to
the demagogues.  She and Lal had argued about this before her defeat;
Lal had had the effrontery to demand that the Lord's Believers emulate
these ideals right in the middle of the war with Yang!  Well, Heaven
wasn't a democracy, and neither would His church on Planet be led other
than by holy vision and the teachings of the Conclave Bible.  In the
end, however, it hadn't mattered as Yang's troops tore down the spires
of the Great Cathedral in New Jerusalem.


In spite of her Spartan reserve, Santiago had to smile.


"Yes... he can be a bit... indecisive... at times."  Privately,
Santiago thought if Lal had spent even half the time establishing a capable
military as he did in kissing up to his precious Charter, the Axis might've
had the military might to finish the Hive before the Aliens had
entrenched themselves.  Ironically, the only other faction leader
who appreciated the truth that political power flowed from the muzzle of
a shard projector was Yang... and possibly Miriam, religious fanatic that
she was.  Ah, well.  A general had to establish strategy based
on the resources she had, not the resources she wished for.  A sudden
thought came to her.


"You might want to try contacting Lal's current deputy, Scott Allardyce. 
You'll find that he is perhaps more... realistic... in establishing goals
and methods, than Pravin Lal is.  He's also an experienced political,
and may be able to broker a deal between you and Domai if you can
convince him it's in the Axis' interests."


Jessica caught Miriam's eye and nodded almost imperceptibly.

[Rynn:]

Warriors’ Harmony

Ron sat entranced as the alien continued speaking – resonating she had called the language style – after the holovid had finished. She gave him a short history lesson spanning the last 4000 years - the collapse of the Progenitor civilization after the resonance pulse from Manifold One had swept through the Tau Ceti system. The break up of the remnants of the race into two factions – the Usurpers, who were spacelocked without the infrastructure on their planet, Harmony, to support the landings of the giant starcruisers, and the Caretakers, who grubbed on the desolate planet surface until they had built themselves back up into a starfaring civilization. The building of the Rim Systems planetoids by the Usurpers who lacked the power to wrest Harmony from the Caretakers control. The enmity that erupted as the Progenitors wanted to replicate the experiment, but this time controlling it. The Caretakers wanting to return the six manufactured planets back into their infant sentiency, and to keep them there, inviolate and pristine. The skirmishes that broke out periodically as the Caretakers tried to break free for the stars, or the Progenitors tried to win back some of the sacred sites on Harmony’s surface.

“Tell me about your living aircraft,” he asked, and waited as the resonator/translator worked its magic for the trooper.

She altered:

“Ah, yes. The Gnats. I am not too familiar with them, and indeed had never seen one until they arrived here those turnings ago, but from our history they are bred for fighting.

“The crew are identified as hatchlings, and bonded with the infant craft, growing up together, and learning to communicate instantaneously empathically. They become a complete unit, together, the two hatchling progenitors and the gnat itself. What we find interesting is that the crew is always of the opposite sex of the gnat – two male warriors with a female aircraft and vice versa.”

Ron thought that fascinating, as he pondered her comments.

“So what happens if a crew member dies while not with his or her craft?” he asked.

“Then either the Gnat is retired for breeding, or it performs the suicide song and flies to its death in honor of its crew,” she altered.

“So no-one else can fly them. That’s interesting,” said Ron, as they decided it was time for sleep.

Shauna and Ruth had long since dropped off into slumber.

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

He lay awake thinking of what they had gotten themselves into. It had seemed such a neat idea. Make their way to the aerospace center at Courage to Question, use Ruth’s ability to get to the hangars, and commandeer the Gnat that had befriended Ruth, and fly to Spartan or Morgan held territory.

But it was not going to be that simple.

He’d need to question the alien some more in the morning.

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

Courage: to Question

Teerts awoke with an ache in his belly. He needed food.

He rumbled out of the cot and waddled over to the dispenser in the corner shaking his head and flaps to knock the sleep from his eyes. The incessant beeping of the reslink communicator intruded on his almost trancelike actions and with a grunt he went over to the console and punched in the receive command.

“Wazzup?” he resonated, and immediately stiffened to attention and assumed the head bowed position of submissiveness as he recognized the familiar face and tusks of Conqueror Marr.

“Governor Teerts. I arrive at the Aerospace Center in a tenth. I will expect to see you at the Command Center in two tenths,” came the resonance. “Is there anything new to report?”

Teerts pondered, and absent-mindedly tapped a claw against his lower tusk while he thought. ‘What had happened since last Marr had a report beamed to the orbiting scoutship? Oh, the attack on the Hive base – but of course he would know that from their surveillance capability from orbit. Ah, yes, the report from the trooper at Warriors’ Harmony.

“Your human guests are making their way for their meeting with you,” he altered. “We expect them today.”

“What?” came the altered interrogative from Marr. “You make no sense. What guests? I have no meeting arranged.”

Teerts cringed at the unexpected force of the Conqueror’s statement. ‘Things can’t be going well,’ he thought, ‘if this upsets him.’

“I’ll investigate right away,” he resonated in reply. “There must be a misunderstanding. I’ll contact the trooper who sent in the report and ask her for clarification.”

“Do that, and quickly,” altered Marr. “I want no unauthorized humans around us for several turnings. Our war council has much to discuss.”

Teerts bowed his head in meek submission. So much for his rumbling stomach – it would have to wait.

“I will meet you at the Command Center,” he resonated obediently.

Marr signaled assent, and the reslink went silent as he cut the connection.

Agitated, as he would now be going hungry for some time, Teerts fumbled for the frequency of the trooper who had reported meeting the little human contingent, and tapped in the sequence with a talon.

After a short pause, the sleepy face of the trooper appeared on the small screen, and the reslink hummed with the interrogative resonance:

“Sir?”

“Ah, trooper,” he altered. “I have just been in contact with Conqueror Marr who is returning today. He has no meeting with any humans. In fact, he was quite specific that no humans were to be allowed near our headquarters for several turnings. So you will interrogate them, stay with them, and while not under arrest, you will not let them out of your sight or hearing. I’ll relay orders to your garrison commander. Is that clear?”

“Yes Sir,” the altered resonance came grumpily.

“What is your name, trooper, so that I can couch my command to your commander in the proper form?”

“Chatho,” she altered.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Warriors' Harmony

Great, just great. I have to act as broodnurse to three aliens and walk with them all the way back to their homestead to the north. The malehuman had said that it took them a complete turning to reach here from where they dwell. And if I am not to let them outside the range of my sense receptors then they must accompany me to my barracks while I pick up necessities for the journey. I wonder if I can commandeer a rover for the journey as it will be slow with the female and the hatchling. And what do they eat and how will we communicate if each time the malehuman needs to set up that clumsy translation apparatus in order for us to understand each other. I had thought that maybe I intuitively understood their language…I mean I did at first, but alone with the malehuman neither he nor I could understand each others’ resonances. Only when the female with her young were awake was there no problem.

Chatho?

What the heck? Someone resonated my name and I don’t see anyone nor did my flaps react to the waves. What on Chiron is happening?

Chatho. I am Ruth, the hatchling. I am in your mind, Chatho, that is how you understand our human communications.

In my mind? How can this be?

Let me show you. Come, visit mine.

……….discontinuity…………

I am in the tent with the humans. To one side I see the malehuman, lying on his side, with his head on his arm, sleeping peacefully, snoring gently. I am being held in the arms of the femalehuman named Shauna. I have a warm sensation filling my stomach. There is a pleasurable feeling as my lips are clamped to an appendage on her mammary gland as I suck and partake of her life giving fluids. She is talking to me.

“There, now Ruthie. You’ve got to have some breakfast, baby, we’ve a long day ahead of us to get to that Alien base to get to the aircraft.”

I am conscious of cutting my mother off at the pass.

“Mommie,” but no sounds are heard – I am in her mind. We are linked telepathically. I hear mother again, audibly.

“Ruthie. What are you doing. You’ve mind-linked us with the Alien.”

I am inside the femalehuman’s mind now too – a jumble of ideas and fears, defenses being hastily erected even as I trail along with Ruth’s sentient probes of her mother.

…………She’ll understand our plans – will take steps to stop us getting access to that spacecraft…what was her name…ah, yes, Yelle …anyway she won’t let us near it so we’ll be stuck for the next ten years with Yang’s bodyguard and we won’t ever be able to get loose and hold him to his bargain to give us back the Believer bases…..Ruthie I can’t believe that you’re doing this……how naïve………I need to waken Ron, he’ll know what to do…………………………..ah yes, he’s stirring…………….

I see the small cottage where they lived, on the edge of the Hive Covert operations headquarters. The two armed guards are always present, and then of course there is the companion/nurse/maid/guard herself, always around. I sense the despair of ten more years of this, with the promise of frequent visits from members of…The Circle… a feeling of dread washes over me as I contemplate this concept………. I sense the hopelessness of it all. Then the exhilaration as the alien craft befriends Ruth, and the beginnings of a plot being hatched to travel to Courage: to Question to steal the craft and use it as a bargaining chip to have Yang comply with his promise to return the two Believer bases of Fellowship City and The Leader’s Horde to Miriam’s control. And now the despair and frustration as Ruth is transmitting to them what she has discerned in me that I must accompany them back to their cottage and their forced confinement, probably with fewer relaxations of the regimen than before, since their attempted escape.

I thought unwittingly of other ways that they could escape – I could commandeer a rover and we could just drive until we met civilization – but then I remembered that we were on an island, with only four Progenitor bases and the Hive ops center – there was no other civilization.

Then I remembered the Monolith. To the south of Spires Ascendant. And it’s apparently wonderful powers. Rumor and speculation among the troops was that they were the remnants of the Builders’ work when they planetformed Chiron. A single facility that with the ancient Progenitor Builders economy comprised a Psigate, Bioenhancement Center and a Nanohospital rolled into one. They were linked across Planet according to the rumors, but no warrior of the Usurpers, whether lowly trooper or mighty conqueror, had been able to fully penetrate their secrets. Oh, the repair and hospital capabilities still functioned, but the psigates were closed and silent to any attempt to activate them.

Take us there came the command into her mind.

‘But…”

Chatho found herself agreeing, and looking forward enthusiastically to the journey of exploration with these weird aliens.

“Come with me,” she resonated, as they broke camp and headed for the barracks to pick up her needed gear.

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

They were fortunate – or perhaps Ruth used her coercive powers, but Chatho was able to requisition a small transport rover for them to travel in.

In a few hours they would be in the outskirts of Spires Ascendant.


[This message has been edited by Rynn: (edited June 30, 2000).]