The Spartan Chronicles - Volume 3

[Googlie]

Courage : To Question

The two delegations took their places around the conference table.

In the center of the table sat the micro-translator machine, the resonance receptors pointed to one side and the projectors to the other.

Chairman Yang stood at the middle of the table eyeing the receptors and remained standing until the Hive delegation were all seated.

They always filed in in the same order:

Civilian General Sang Shimoda, Minister of Applied Science; Civilian General Manshan Chow, Minister of Production; Civilian General Virgil, Finance Minister, and Acadamicienne Pauline Sy.

Then the military:

Generals Peake and Masterton, Air Marshall Lew and Admiral Hy.

Finally, walking in together came Marshall Ng and Civilian Marshall Hsui.

They sat down on uncomfortable chairs, made for torsos other than their own, and looked across the table.

Seated opposite was the Usurper command.

At the center, Conqueror Judaa Marr. With him, the Manifold Six commanders:

General Commander M'uth;
Xenobiologist 'Yossli;
Superior Master N'Kal;
Ambassador Kri'lan
and
Junior Stochastic Canla.

From the orbiting Planetary Scoutship 393_s

Distinguished Commander Nang Sk'aard, its captain;
and
Chief Engineer Sartor

And sitting with the Manifold Six delegation, the young Progenitor, Conqueror Zzar.

Introductions were made.

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

"And so we must go on the offensive," resonated Marr. "I am of a mind to take the battle to the heartland of these - Spartans - you know them by?"

Chairman Yang nodded.

"These Spartans," Marr continued.

""This way we will be fighting an offensive battle, which we Progenitors are ideally suited for. Our Ogres are practically indestructible, and will form the spearheads of our armies, and your shard troops will form its backbone."

"I disagree," the Chairman said.

"The first priority must be to recapture our bases, where at least we will find a sympathetic population. Then we can concentrate in ridding my continent of the nuisance factions - Believers, Drones and Gaians, to say nothing about the Morgan turned base that has been immune until now as the base for The Redemption.

"But now that the Unity Core Salvage mission has returned successfully, that base's immunity no longer applies.

"That should be our first priority."

Judaa Marr flapped his mandibles in agitation:

"No, no," he resonated. "That is false tactics. Do not be swept by emotion to regain your lost bases. These will fall into place in due course.

"No, let us concentrate in dealing this Colonel a body blow. South of their capital lies a small, lightly defended, I'll wager, base, Blast Rifle Crag. We will seize this base as a clawhold on their continent, and from there fan out to take their capital, and leave the rich pickings of the western tip until the end."

Air Marshal Lew snorted. "How? It is well outside of our range. The drop pods have limitations, you know."

Conqueror Marr looked over at Sk'aar:

"Fill in the details," he resonated imperiously.

Sk'aar leaned forward:

"Before we left the orbiting Scoutship I sent a resonance burst to the Sol wormhole where Commander Haart is waiting with our Battlecruiser Impaler and Scoutship 229_s commanding their return to Manifold Six orbit. I also transmitted the specifications for adding drop pods and heatshields for their remaining five Ogres, and the specifications for the conversion of the Impaler's fifty Gnats for Manifold Six duty. They will be here in a few turnings."

Engineer Sartor added:

"And I have asked the weapons officer to see what can be done with the Impaler's planetary bombardment and interspacial torpedoes to make them useable on our surface.

"But remember, although we have these weapons, we do not have the technology to construct or even reconstruct them. Once damaged or lost, they are lost forever and cannot be replaced. Our only hope is to conquer Manifold Six completely, with the help of our Hive allies, or to grow enough bases to a sufficient size to construct the six subspace generators needed to summon the Battle Fleet itself to our aid. We do not even know if these generators could be built in our ally's bases."

"What of the defense of out own bases?" the Xenobiologist Canla altered.

"We think they are secure," resonated General Commander M'uth. Each base has four Ogres and two Gnats committed to it, with one being fitted with offensive weapons, and the other defensively equipped. Plus we have the usual 3-res garrison squads as well in each base."

Judaa Marr turned to the Chairman:

"Do you concur that this is the optimal plan?" he resonated interrogatively.

Sheng-ji Yang turned to his commanders:

"Give me your reasoned opinions."

Marshal Ng took the iniative:

"We are reduced to eight bases, six of them on the continent, and two offshore. Our allies have generously committed four of their scarce Ogres to our defense, and they are deployed at … just a moment. Do we have holomap projection capability?"

Junior Stochastic Canla nodded assent, and sketched a small sequence of moves in front of her with a taloned claw. A holomap of manifold six appeared in front of them.

Ng continued:

"Co-ordinate 26/96, the bunker on the road from Fellowship City to Great Clustering; 31/95, the bunker northeast of Seat of Proper Thought; 26/106, the bunker northeast of Labor network. It was at location 28/108, the bunker on the road northwest of Unity lair, but we ordered it withdrawn when the base was overrun by the Spartans. The final Ogre is operational in the bunker 32/106, southeast of Social Engineering Den."

"But what about your headquarters. Is it not worth defending?" resonated Marr.

"Indeed," replied Ng. "But we have withdrawn our command structure from The Hive to Sea Hive, although both are adequately defended."

"Although I note that the Professor with whom we were working has disappeared, and I am given to understand that one of your prisoners has been spirited away," altered Marr. "Is this not so?"

Ng squirmed, and looked over to Civilian Marshal Hsui with the mute plea 'you field it'.

She did.

"Zakharov will return to us. We have his granddaughter in our custody. As for the loss of the Morgan, we consider the exchange to be worthwhile, for we have finally eliminated the redoubtable Datajack Roze …"

Air Marshal Lew interrupted:

"I'm afraid not, Civilian Marshal. The mission to destroy her failed. She escaped."

Conqueror Judaa Marr looked on.

How had he gotten involved with these incompetents?

He jumped in:

"Let there be no more discussion. We are in command of this offensive, and it shall be done as I say. Look to your own defenses and if you so wish, you may use the Ogres as offensive units if you wish. Just remember again, once damaged or destroyed, they cannot be replaced.

"This meeting is terminated. I will advise you of the arrival in our skies of The Impaler"

[Rynn:]

Hive Covert Operations Headquarters, vicinity of Nessus Canyon

The chopper came in low over the canyon's edge and dropped down to the floor below, skirting the walls until it came to the patch of fungus to the south of the depression. The rotors kicked up the dusty red sand of the canyon floor as it settled in the fungus.

The doors opened, and Sand descended first, followed by Anastasia, then Angel and Angelica.

Anastasia looked around. The view was bleak in all directions. Desert scrub climbing the canyon walls on three sides, and a low depression just north of the fungus jungle in which they had landed. In the depression Anastasia saw what appeared to be a deserted homesteader's cottage. She had heard of these, Hive colonists who were perhaps more Spartan inclined, individualists, who had deserted the Hive community life and struck out on their own. Chairman Yang had tolerated them, and indeed had recruited some of them into his forces as advance spies. She thought she just could make out the shadow of a much larger building, but it was difficult to see well in the heat haze rising from the canyon floor. That seemed to be where they were headed.

As they descended, the shadow loomed larger, though from what she couldn't say.

Then she saw the two rovers appear in the valley bottom, just to the northwest, heading in the same direction she was going.

Then to her amazement the valley floor seemed to open up, as great doors slid aside allowing the vehicles to enter. They remained open for the pedestrians to also enter. Now Anastasia saw how she could have seen what appeared to be shadows. They were in fact, just that, caught by the setting suns.

As they entered, the great doors slid shut again.

The two rovers had come to a stop, and a young woman was being helped out of one of them, both legs encased in full medipacks. A guard and another woman were waiting for her as she limped from the rover, leaning on its driver for support.

"Ah, Kyella, how are you?" she heard the wounded young woman ask.

"As well as can be expected, Shauna," came the reply. "This time you will not escape. Where is Ruth?"

"Safe, I trust, and away from you monsters," came the spirited reply.

This exchange drew Sand's attention as he was leading his contingent across the floor. He stopped in mid stride.

"Shauna?" he asked, as he recognized her. "And without Ruth? And no Ron? Haraad will not be pleased."

She spat on the floor. "Ask me if I care," she replied testily. "None of this would have happened if Yang had kept his part of the bargain, but oh, no, he had to doublecross me. We were co-operating fully, but he welched on his commitment, so blame him for the whole fiasco."

Sand chuckled.

"Ah, Shauna, ever the negotiater, eh? Never mind. We have some company for you, to help while the time away."

He indicated Anastasia with a sweep of his hand.

Shauna looked over at the tall, athletic, brunette, just a little bit older than her, she reckoned. She nodded.
Anastasia nodded back.

"Hi," she said.

Suddenly Shauna stopped, head lifted, as if sniffing the air. A small smile played across her face, and she nodded almost imperceptibly. Then she went on.

'Hmmm. I wonder what that was all about?' Anastasia thought. She followed Sand to the rooms off to one side. Shauna disappeared with Kyella to another room.

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

They all met later that evening in the common room, for dinner.

Then Ashaandi entered the room.

"Ah, Anastasia," he said. "The Angelic Assassin. How you disappoint me. We had you earmarked for stardom, perhaps even as the Joan of Arc of the dormant University faction. But you lost your idealism. Pity. Now you are the consort of the disgraced Allardyce.

"Your Grandfather has disappeared, you know."

Anastasia blanched.

"Where… how…"

Ashaandi chuckled.

"Just walked away from Yang. Most irate was the Chairman. That's why you are here, you know. As bait."

"But where…" her voice trailed off at seeing the twinkle in Ashaandi's eye.

"Probably having dinner right this moment with your Allardyce. Yes, that's right. Turned up in Great Clustering, and was whisked away by Miriam to a crimes tribunal trial at the UN."

He turned to Shauna.

"And you, my dear. What we could have done had you thrown your lot in with us. But you didn't. So Ron was the bait that kept you docile. Now he and your daughter are gone. So you'll be the bait that brings her back… just like Anastasia here.

"So get to know each other. And do make friends with Angel and Angelica. They can be quite disarming when they want to be. Ah, but of course. Anastasia - you and Angel have crossed paths before, in training, if I am not mistaken. You bested her then. It will not be so easy now. They are a very potent sister act. They will be honing their skills on you both.

"And of course Kyella will be keeping an eye on everybody. Isn't that right?" he snapped at her.

She nodded, eyes downcast.

"I will not fail this time," she said.

Ashaandi nodded.

"Correct. There will be no failures again in The Circle. I have spoken."

He turned on his heel and left the room.

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

Anastasia?

What the heck? What's this?

Anastasia. It's me, Shauna. I'm in your mind.

You're an empath?

Well, I read minds. But I'm linked to my husband right now, and he is what is referred to as a compellor. He's on his way here with a Spartan operative that we've worked with before, on a rescue mission for you, of sorts. His name is Kurt. He contacted me when we were outside earlier.

Hi Anastasia.

Hello Kurt. This is weird. Miles Cavenaugh and I came to get you, and after he found your location, left me with the sisters.

I'll say. Now pay attention. You will need to team together to counter Angel and her sister. Her sister is also an empath, albeit quite weak right now… she's in training so to speak. She and Angel work very well together…

Tell me about it. I'd have escaped from Sand if she hadn't been with her sister. I was wearing a personal cloaking device and would have slipped out, but she was able to indicate where I was through telepathy.

Exactly. Now, Shauna, keep your mind open to me and Miles at all times. We'll take shifts so that none of the Circle empaths can read you, and through you, keep the bridge to Anastasia open until we can get there. I don't think you are in any physical danger - oh, maybe some rough play will lead to a bruise or two, but be on your guard constantly. Team together to combat their teaming.

I've handled Angel before, I can do it again. I've a few tricks I've learned since last we met. But her sister is a different thing. I've never battled with an empath team before.

That's why you and Shauna need to work as a team. And Miles and I will help. Anastasia. You've had some anti-psi training?

Just the usual Circle stuff. I'm not an adept if that's what you're getting at.

No. But the Circle techniques are good. If you can remember how to channel, then you can keep Shauna bridged while making it hard for Angelica to penetrate. She will, eventually, but it will cost seconds - and they will come in handily. When do the sessions start?

First thing tomorrow. Sand wants to see if Angel is fully recovered from the Great Clustering blast, so we're going hand to hand.

OK. Either Miles or I will be with you to combat Angelica. Good luck.

Thanks, and goodnight.

Goodnight Shauna.

'Nite Anastasia

You can call me Stazi.



[This message has been edited by Rynn: (edited July 23, 2000).]

[Googlie]

Courage : to Question

Judaa Marr sat still as first the Hive delegation, then his senior officers, left the conference room.

As Young Conqueror Zzar and Junior Stochastic Canla made to leave he looked up:

"Stay," he resonated quietly.

Kri'lan and Superior master N'kal, who were just edging out of the doorway, caught the slight eddy of resonance, and turned as one to re0enter the room.

"Conqueror?" they resonated, as one.

"No, not you two. Begone," Marr altered. "I wish only these two."

Kri'lan and N'kal left quietly.

Canla oozed apprehension, so palpably that the smell receptors of Zzar quivered as he sensed her unease. He for his part was excited. To be in the presence, alone - well almost alone, with the great Conqueror Marr , was a singular honor. He waited in anticipation.

Judaa Marr did not keep them waiting long.

With a sweep of a taloned forelimb, he brought the holomap projection back to life, and turning first to Canla, then to Zzar, he resonated interrogatively:

"Do you agree?"

Canla caught the wave, and cradled it, passing it from flank to flank, searching for deeper, perhaps hidden meaning. 'Agree to what,' she mused inwardly. 'With what? That we should take the offensive and not wait to be garroted in our sleep by these alien intruders like the bovines we slaughter for our feastings? That we don't help the Alien ally, Yang, to recapture his territory and bases and free his subjugated citizens? That we cross half of manifold Six just to strike a blow at the enemy we perceive as being strongest, perhaps spending all our energy and squandering our significant, yet tenuous, technical superiority in one grand gesture?'

She looked over mutely at the Young Conqueror Zzar for support.

He was intently examining the holomap.

She began, hesitantly:

"I, ……. I,…"

Marr resonated quietly, in a friendly manner:

"Share your thought process, Canla. Only by doing so - as I will mine, and as Young Conqueror Zzar will shortly do his, can we learn from each other. Do not be afraid - there is no right or wrong answer, only more attractive and less attractive options. So share."

Canla altered: "I am unused to this, Conqueror Marr. The advice you usually seek of me is not normally of a military nature."

Zzar raised his head, listening intently.

'So the Conqueror is in the habit of soliciting opinions from the junior officers,' he thought. 'I must learn from this. If I am to command in battle, as Superior Master N'kal has indicated, then I must not be above listening to the thoughts and fears of those I command.'

Canla continued:

"As I see it, Conqueror Marr, we are at an impasse at present. The aliens cannot attack further, as we have given our ally the weapons to do significant damage if deployed defensively, with the Battle Ogres. With our 4 Ogres and two gnats for each of out four bases, we are nigh impregnable.

"We need to expand, and grow our bases and our population, and rapidly. Just a short distance west of us is the landmass occupied by the faction known as the Gaians - with philosophies similar to the detested Caretakers."

As the resonance reached them, both Marr and Zzar shuddered, turned and spat on the floor, as did Canla at the mention of the word, Caretakers.

She continued:

"I believe that the obliteration - or occupation - of their bases should be our primary goal. The landmass south of then isthmus alone would support twenty sizeable bases, of which at surely six could be grown to support the infrastructure necessary to build subspace generators in the pattern necessary to signal the main fleet and summon it here."

Marr intervened immediately, fluttering his mandibles in some agitation, as he altered:

"And have my victory denied? Have me beholden to Supreme Conqueror Hra'ath? Is it not enough that I have to beg for weapons and supplies from Commander 'Ychet Haart and her officers in The Impaler, when she should clearly be obeying my commands?

But go on."

Canla resonated:

"Well, if not to build the subspace generators, at least to provide you with an unbeatable army and the infrastructure to support it for planetary conquest without the Supreme Conqueror's assistance.

"But there is another reason why this sub continent of Manifold Six should be our goal. Our Scoutship reconnaissance shows us what we believe to be the Ancients' Manifold Nexus located there. What a prize to have that in our grasp. Perhaps even to invoke its powers imbued within it those hundreds of thousands of turnings ago by the Ancients."

Marr pondered.

This did indeed make sense, so much so that he wondered if he might have been over hasty in exercising his partially inbred, partially developed reputation for going for the thorax of his enemy.

He turned to young Conqueror Zzar.

"And you?" he resonated.

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

Young Conqueror Zzar had been studying the holomap as Canla had been resonating.

He could see the attraction to Marr of a quick strike to the heartland of these aliens who self resonated as Spartans. It had always been Conqueror Marr's style. Who was the strongest, where was their head, go for it. Never the soft underbelly. Never the swift amputation of a limb, the slow weakening through loss of blood, loss of strength, loss of will.

But this ego could be a weakness, Zzar thought.

Sure, the exhilaration would be immense…the sensation of being unstoppable as the usurper troopers stormed from one base to another, but then what? And by how much would the enemy be crippled when the advance stopped?

He began:

"The initial conquest will be easy. Their base known as Blast Rifle Crag will fall almost without casualties. We will move along the ridge to Fort Legion, where that too will fall, but not quite so easily. Then we will sweep down towards their headquarters, Sparta Command, which will be panicking, as all their defense positions are to the south and east. They thought themselves unreachable from the west, so we will, after a short and bloody, but glorious battle, take that base."

Marr's interjected altering grated on Zzar.

"And then their leader will sue for peace!"

"I think not," Zzar altered in return.

"We will continue eastward from Sparta Command to take their base of Hero's Waypoint, which perhaps will mark the limit of our eastward expansion."

"Why so?" resonated Canla, intrigued by the Young Conqueror's grasp of the strategic implications of the military situation.

"beyond that lies a vast desert," Zzar altered. "Our slow moving Ogres and long lines of supply will make us sitting targets for the fleet Alien rovers and needlejets.

"No, we will then move north of Fort Legion to capture Halls of Discipline, Centurian Cove and Training Camp. That may represent the zenith of our invasion. To the west of Fort Legion lies one of Manifold Six's highest mountains, and a heavily forested area that again would bog us down. To the south of Hero's Waypoint lies a wide meandering river and a valley that would make us but fodder for the alien sharpshooters."

Zzar swept his arm across and through the holomap, and the seven Spartan bases changed color and assumed the familiar shape of the usurper bases.

Marr resonated:

"Would the Alien intruders not now sue for peace? Surely they would recognize their hopeless position if we decimated their number of bases?"

"Alas no, I am afraid," Zzar altered.

"Watch. The color gold will represent the industrial and population strength of the aliens."

Again Zzar moved a forelimb through the holomap.

A huge golden crescent of bases materialized, from the figure-of-eight island held by the peacekeepers with its eight bases, down through the Morgan continent and through the captured Hive, Believer, Free Drone and Gaian bases, crossing below the Emerald isle until it stopped at the four ex-University Spartan bases.

"We have not touched their capacity to reproduce or to make war," he resonated softly. "They will not sue for peace."

Judfaa Marr regarded the young conqueror speculatively.

"You have not indicated your thoughts - merely expanded on my strategy. What would you do?" he resonated.

Zzar paused, then took the plunge

"Distinguished Conqueror, while you are right in that the capture of the Spartan headquarters would deal a severe blow to the pride of the alien invaders - and at little cost to our troops, it is but merely symbolic."

Zzar shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and continued:

"And for that reason I believe that we should open more than one front.

"Being small, we are weak in units, although our small number easily out-tech the aliens. But for that reason we should listen to the Chairman's pleas, and plan with him to liberate some of his conquered bases. This will give him a larger population base from which to draw recruits for his armies as the base reclamation proceeds. Many of these humans will have friends or even broodmates in other, as yet to be unliberated, bases and will fight with fervor to liberate them.

"And Canla is right. The capture of the Manifold Nexus would be a ring on our tusks like no other. And should not be expensive as we understand that this Gaian faction is new and weak.

"So, in reality, we would be operating on two fronts - Blast Rifle Crag and the Manifold Nexus, while just giving support to our ally for his offensive. We would not be stretched to thin at that."

Judaa Marr the two younglings.

There was much truth in what they both said.

His eyes were drawn to the golden crescent still evident on the holomap.

"You are both right," he resonated abruptly. "But the time is not yet."

His forelimb swept the display.

"The key is their production capacity, as you so rightly resonate.

"Therefore we will not stop at the seven bases around Sparta Command. After their capture we will foray westwards to the north of the Arzamas Forest, sweeping all before us right to the gates of Fort Superiority itself.

"And we will help our ally to recapture his erstwhile bases. The objective will be the three southernmost land bases, Unity Lair, Socialism Tunnel and Deep Passages. When that has been achieved, then Chairman Yang will have no further claim on our seconded personnel. They will then be freed to cross the sea and claim the Manifold Nexus for the Progenitors. And you, Canla, will lead that expedition, which means that you will need to familiarize yourself with the troops you will be commanding during the Yang offensive."

Turning to Zzar, Marr dropped the bombshell.

"And you, Young Conqueror Zzar, will command the Northern Expeditionary Force with the objective of driving the Spartans from their continent."

[Hydro]

Laborer's Throng

"Get that out of may face!" Mel almost yelled at the well-meaning Drone citizen who offered her a 'Domai Dusie' cocktail. The partying had started early and was still going on, and these revelers had no interest in helping their allies the Spartans.

Mel brushed the more-than-tipsy woman aside, causing her to spill her 'Dusie'. She didn't seem to notice or care.

"Rog, get these halls cleared. Now! I don't care if this is Domai's base, all I know is that we have to change our C&C in four hours to The Drone Mound."

Roger, her harried aid, lost his smile and nodded. He whispered into his comm, and three Spartan soldiers walked into the hallway. They gently, and irresistibly, moved the throng that was encroaching on them out of the way. In moments the hall was cleared.

Mel looked at the soldiers and some of the miffed expression left her exasperated face. "Good. Now keep them out. If anyone intrudes, shoot them."

The soldiers didn't even blink, but saluted smartly. "SIR! Yes, Sir!"

"Ah, sir. 'Shoot'? Isn't that a bit…extreme," he said tentatively. He clearly saw that Mel was in one of her moods, and a direct challenge was liable to result in tread marks on his backside.

Mel furrowed her brows, and Roger winced, braced for a pasting.

But it never came.

"Fine." Mel looked over at the sentries, who were watching the exchange very attentively. "No lethal measures. But keep them out."

Once again, the soldiers didn't flinch. "SIR. Yes SIR."

Looking around Mel found something else to get mad about. "Where is that sled? Mr. Collins, you told me it would be here 10 minutes ago!"

"Ah, yes Sir," Rog responded, getting on his mike again to track down the cargo sled.

Mel sighed, wondering why she was surrounded by such incompetence, and such a bewildering array of blithering idiots.

"Now, get Jess off her a** so she can demob the situation holo. We can't run a war without that…"

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

Finally, a moment of peace, or what passed for peace. Mel looked around at the beginnings of her new tacs room at The Drone Mound, which was barely operational. Big wig politics required the switching of bases, and the moving of the 'temporary' Hive Theatre tactical command from Laborer's Throng to Mound. Mel knew she couldn't do anything about that, so it was no use worrying: Just get it done, and get it done right. If you have to run over some officious bureaucrats and a few underlings, then so be it.

However, the Command Communiqué she had recently received she could do something about. In fact, it was her duty.

Mel punched it up again to make sure she understood it.

To: Captain Mel Cassaroni, Hive Theatre Commander
From: Field Marshal Wang, 2nd Armor Commander, Sparta Command
CC: Coronal Corizon Santiago

RE: Tactical and Strategic Objectives

Due to the high losses expected during future offensives on the remaining Hive holdings, the Axis Command has changed the Hive Theatre strategy from the Chop-and-Drop fast attack and occupation of Hive colonies to tactical harassment and the destruction of Hive infrastructure. The objective is to preserve Axis resources while systematically denying the ability of Axis enemies to effectively mount an offensive campaign and to limit his ability to resist a future Axis offensive operation.

You are ordered to enact this policy effective immediately.

(Holo excerpt for Captain Cassaroni's eyes only, personal encryption authorization required: Mel, don't read more into this than you need to. If you see an opportunity to liberate additional territory from the Hive then do so. Be wary of committing too many of your men, since you are not liable to get significant replacements. You can expect some anti-aircraft choppers soon, but only those in production at captured Hive bases. Domai may help, since his primary bases are on Yang's continent, but his troops are likely to be poorly trained. The Gaians are busy elsewhere, and have a significant presence on Morgan lands. Miriam is expected to provide ops security, but will otherwise be of little military help. Santiago is preparing recent Spartan production to be ready at another theatre. Keep me informed. - Wang)

Mel agreed with this assessment, and especially with the addition of more anti-aircraft ability. The Hive seemed to be concentrating on aircraft, and the intelligence report of three Hive shard nerve gas choppers being near completion was worrisome.

There were many targets of opportunity for a harassment campaign, and Mel mentally ticked them off.

Tier One Targets:

Boreholes - number one target. Each Hive base generally has one, and they provided most of the Hive's mineral and energy resources

Sensors - destroying these decreases defensive ability, and reduces the Hives' line-of-sight, giving a tactical advantage to the attacker

Bunkers - the Hive has these at almost every road junction, and destroying these increases the speed of a ground attack, and allows easier destruction of a ground-based Hive offensive

Tier Two Targets:

Condensers - there are few of these, but destroying them can decrease growth and put stress on remaining cities

Formers - the Hive makes cheap formers that can be replace quickly, but destroying them disrupts their production ability, which is already limited due to a significantly diminished production base. Also, with no formers it is difficult to replace destroyed infrastructure, and if they are afraid to use them and don't then they are as good as destroyed

Tier Three (Non-priority) Targets:

Roads - the Hive has already cut roads into hostile territory to blunt a Spartan attack, so no additional roads need to be destroyed

Farms and forests - there are so many of these that destruction will not measurably affect Hive production, and it would reduce the ability of the base to survive when captured by Axis forces

Recalling her holo map Mel knew that 3 boreholes were within immediate striking distance. A priority would be given to the boreholes for their new capital Sea Hive, since it has little mineral production otherwise, and for The Hive, which is almost behind Spartan lines.

Mel quickly drafted orders for her ground and air units and set them off.

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

The Hive Theatre army didn't have much artillery, but what they did have was behind the lines. Moreover, since it was behind the lines it didn't get used, and since it didn't get used they weren't considered important, particularly for the type of mobile warfare that Sparta Command loved most. Getting assigned to an artillery unit was considered a 'penalty box' for officers, and a slightly shameful cushy assignment for the enlisted. Basically, Sparta didn't put their best into units that weren't essential, and since they almost never saw action they never improved the experience and morale. Of course, even an 'average' Spartan is very, very good. Other armies would call them veteran, but in an army wholly composed of commandos and elites they were definitely second-class in the great pecking order.

Life was uneventful, all things considered, for Spartan artillery. When orders came in for action, and 2nd Lieutenant Pat Morris was more than a little excited.

"OK. Look sharp. This is our chance! Get these pieces of sh*t rovers in gear! We have a date with destiny at The Sea Hive!"

Those around Pat in the rover's cabin groaned ever so softly. Pat was given to theatrics, and exaggeration. With nothing to do all day that was a common avocation.

"Gomez! How are those chaos guns doing? Brigade report!" Pat almost yelled into her mike. As she did so the rover lurched sideways, and everyone's body was yanked uncomfortably even with the anti-G five point inertial harnesses.

"All operational, and spit-shined within an inch of their lives, SIR! We're ready to shoot us some Hive!"

"Roger! Pilot? Status! Ken! Pay attention!"

"Just driving, Sir. Avoiding rocks and trees. Situation nominal. These Hive roads seem to have some holes in them. I wonder who put the holes there?" a playful Ken quipped. He knew 'Lieutenant Patty', as she was called when she wasn't within earshot, wouldn't appreciate his irreverence, but he did it anyway. That was why he was still a downright old private piloting a second grade rover instead of on the front line.

"Flyeye up?" Pat asked.

"Affirmative," the distracted voice of Reyes Rodriquez intoned from the comm engineering station. "Coordinating holos now, and patching through to HQ. No enemy activity. HQ confirms with available sensor data."

Pat smiled and took a deep breath, relishing the faint rush of adrenaline.

"ETA to target?" Pat asked for the second time in the last 10 minutes.

Five minutes closer than the last time you asked, Reyez thought to himself. "4.5 minutes, Sir."

Pat nodded, and flipped on her mike to all rovers in her brigade. "2nd Lieutenant Morris to Pounder Brigade: when you reach the assigned coordinates link targeting computers, lay down proximity fire to refine simulations, then blast the hell out of that damn* borehole! I want to see clouds of metal and rock within seconds! Morris out."

Pat deactivated her secure comm. Looking around see could see her crew focus, and there wasn't a slacker among them. Although she wouldn't admit it here and now, she was pleased.

"Sir, target in sight. Routing flyeye visual. Rover 2 has begun firing, now 8 and 10," Reyez said.



The visual appeared in a 3D oblique view, with each rover the size of a thumb. The distant borehole was absolutely enormous, like a great, roundish rent in the surface of Planet. By comparison the rovers were specs of dust. The 'small' conduits coming out of it were each actually 10 meters in diameter, and occurred in clusters of 100. They appeared 'small' simply because the borehole was so big. Surrounding the sides were the engineering crews and warehouses of automated machinery that maintained the borehole, which was the infrastructure that ensured its mining and energy production.



The rover reverberated with the energy discharge of the now obsolete chaos turrets.

"Give me visual of the borehole, 500 meters from the rim that is nearest to us," Pam ordered.



"Yes, Sir," Reyez responded, and the oblique view was replaced with a ground eye view.

The enormous borehole looked placid, except that there were little brilliant explosions of white light where the chaos energy 'formed' from the artillery. Nothing was actually thrown, like conventional artillery of old. Instead, the energy was transferred to its new point, which could be tens of kilometers distant. The incendiary flash of super-excited air molecules released energy and heat in a 'chaotic' form, hence the name. Each 'artillery' blast wasn't as powerful as a direct chaos discharge from a rover or airplane, but it had a wider area of effect.

Initially Pam was disappointed. The little white lights seemed so small, and ineffectual. Then one of the little white lights formed on one of the conduits, and it ruptured, and ruptured spectacularly. White and yellow boiling, raw energy erupted out of the conduit, and the rupture grew, and fully engulfed the adjacent conduits in the bundle. The rupture followed the conduit both down into the borehole, and it flowed along the conduit over the ground, where it detonated a mammoth transfer building. The resulting explosion was most satisfying.

Then another flash detonated near the edge and a chunk of rock and reinforced earth calved off and fell into the borehole. It seemed tiny and to be moving in slow motion, until Pam realized the little chip was 100 meters wide. After a moment the chip disappeared into the blackness below.

Next, an automated liquid metal conduit bundle broke, sending fountains of yellow-red magma-hot metal into the atmosphere. The little jets arced 150 meters up, where it started to cool to red, then a luminescent dark red as its parabolic arc tended downward. Each little jet was 10 meters in diameter, and when it impacted wetly on the edge of the equipment warehouses it creating even more destruction.

Even at this distance flashes of light and deep rumbles of the ongoing destruction reached the rovers, punctuating the regular staccato of the rover chaos projectors with an intermittent throaty growl.

The displays were spectacular, but still the borehole showed no sign of giving up. It was simply too huge. More chunks spalled off the sides of the fissure, and the surface buildings and conduits created a maelstrom of heat and raw energy discharge. But each little, bright light of chaos chipped a little more away.

"Sir," Reyez interrupted. "HQ tells us that they have seismic activity. Its epicenter is 2 kilometers beneath us, and it's a Richter 5.5."



"Any signs at the surface? Are you sure it's associated with the borehole?"

Reyez was distracted, being completely hooked into the holomatrix virtual reality. "Yes, Sir. They're sure. The epicenter is too tight, and the onset was 10 minutes after we started. It could mean a cascade collapse."



Reyez stopped, and hunched over his VR rig.

"Wait. More info. The epicenter is almost continuous, and it's moving. Moving upward. "

The intermittent deep rumble stopped being intermittent. Now it formed a throaty and continuous groan that was growing in volume.

"Upward?" Pat repeated, alarmed by what that might mean.

"Affirmative."



In between the firings of the chaos turrets the rover started shaking, which was surprising since its heavy-duty shocks and energy attenuation suspension system were supposed to mitigate all but the most severe jolt.

"Ah, Sir…I think we need to get out of here."

The scene at the borehole momentarily transfixed Pam. Instead of having 'little' 100 meter chunks of the curved edge crumble and fall into the depths, now the eastern third of the rim gave way and slid in a leisurely fashion into the depths of the borehole. Pam had never seen anything like it. It was…majestic, in a horrifying sort of way.

"SIR!??" Reyez yelled above the growing din to get Pam's attention.

Pam snapped out of it, and slapped her mike.

"Pounders, return to base. Best possible speed. Morris, out," she yelled as she belted herself in.

Almost in a choreographed dance, the rovers of Pounder's Brigade wheeled around and exited the way they came. Considering the situation, the fact that they maintained such order was amazing, as was their reaction time. Their departure was a bit choppier than their arrival, since they were enduring a magnitude 7 earthquake and the rovers had a hard time staying on the remnants of a road.

"My god! Look at that!" Reyez commented.

In the holo, which still played in the command cabin of Rover 1, showed the surface of Planet as it rolled like the waves in the ocean, with the focus being the borehole itself. Pam was fascinated, never having seen the effects of a surface S waves of an earthquake. As the ground surface rolled unnaturally the rim of the borehole completely collapsed, and the slabs of rock, buildings, and metal slid inward in one catastrophic event, almost like the earth puckered inward. As it did the center of the borehole became brighter, a rich, almost sultry red.

"Faster Ken. Faster," Pam said almost to herself, and her pilot.

"Trying, Sir," Ken said, his tight voice exhibiting his concentration. His playfulness was long gone.

Behind them the ground surface near the borehole seemed to slump further, and titanic cracks radiated from the now crumbled and widened rim of the borehole.

The ground became red, and abnormally bright, as viscous liquid rock from the mantel of Planet welled up and vomited onto the flat plains near Sea Hive and The Hive.

From the sky it looked like a gigantic, blood shot red eye of an angry beast.

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

Her HQ set up, Mel reviewed recent activities: two boreholes destroyed, one by artillery at Sea Hive and one by aerial bombing at The Hive. The bombing of the third borehole failed at Labor Network, since the young Gaian pilot dropped his load too early.

Mel smiled at that. Lots of men, and particularly young men, were accused of just such a 'crime'.

All in all it was a good day's work. The destroyed minerals alone were worth the production of one of the remaining Hive cities, and that was exactly what Sparta Command was looking for; if you can't kill them, make them bleed to death. It made the real estate less valuable in the long run, but who cares - that is for civilian administrators to fuss about.

Now, if the Hive doesn't shoot down our bombers we'll be in good shape.

Then Mel corrected herself. If the Hive does literally rise to the occasion they will shoot down our bombers, but our counterattack will kill all of their remaining interceptors, and future-bombing runs will be done with impunity, and will make mincemeat of any Hive aerial assault. Even the two Morgan interceptors at Great Conclave, who were moderately well trained, could take out a mediocre Hive bomber, and the Axis has twice as many interceptors right now than the Hive did. Adding the captured and allied bases on the Hive continent, the Axis had a production advantage, even if some of it was not geared totally for war material.

Mel understood Wang's private message that, all and all, there would be losses. The key was to keep the losses manageable, and make sure the Hive lost more.

Mel sipped some more ersatz coffee, and was reasonably happy for the first time in days.

[senatus]

The Leader's Horde

Supercoolant systems engaged.

Primary core booting... boot load enabled... application software
enabled. Strategic analysis unit online.

Auxiliary processors booting... application software enabled.
Tactical analysis unit online.

Polling peripheral interfaces.

Peripherals responding: command interface online. Underwater
sensors online. Thermal trackers online. Topographical database
online. Transponders online. Naval datalinks online.
All ships responding.

Maritime Control Center: Operational.

---

Sea Hive

"It's ready."

Admiral Hy faced the most feared man on Planet as he delivered his long-awaited
message.

Brief, and to the point, although open to interpretation, Sheng-Ji
Yang considered. Hy's face conveyed no anticipation of reproof for
the long delay, nor hope for praise. The admiral simply reported
and awaited instructions, despite the fact that the simple statement confirmed
the ascendancy of his navy and therefore himself.

Many on the Hive council had privately resented the vast consumption
of resources this secret project had required. Yet none had dared
protest; each time its construction status had been reported in Council,
the Chairman had simply nodded. This alone was sufficient to indicate
his continued approval. Such was the respect - no, fear, Yang privately
admitted, that he was accorded by his subordinates.

Fear was a two-edged sword. Yes, it allowed him to issue commands
without having to argue or cajole others. Ashaandi ruled his Circle
with this tool. Yet it also dampened initiative. Fear precluded
rational thought. It stressed the mind and therefore the whole.
It was wasteful and inefficient, and it was used too often as the Hive's
principal means of enforcement. Ultimately, it coerced the individual
mind, and did nothing to improve the collective. That was an imperfection
in the vision that would have to be eliminated... some day.

Yes, some day, Yang thought. But that day is in the
future, and my focus must be upon the present situation. Such as
ensuring the survival of the Human Hive until true group consciousness could
be achieved. And this will help ensure our survival.

"Good." Yang spoke at last. He did not remonstrate for the
many delays - that was pointless. He looked at Admiral Hy's impassive
face, and saw the thoughts behind it.

"You are perhaps wondering why we have been willing to wait so long
and invest so much effort in this?" Yang asked.

Hy hesitated. The Chairman did not often ask for the opinions
of his subordinates. But when he did, he demanded a complete and
truthful response.

"Yes, Chairman. While I am personally... gladdened by the expansion
of my service's capabilities," Hy did not say '`delighted',
for the Chairman also saw strong emotion as a weakness. Hy continued.

"... I have wondered why we have committed ourselves thusly,
instead of directing that energy into the production of more conventional
military."

The Chairman nodded. It was the duty of the student to question
and the teacher to explain.

"Consider: our land and air forces, to date, have been consistently
outclassed by the opposition. Our bases fell to the enemy too easily,
despite our defensive advantages. But our enemies, primarily the
Spartans, have relied upon airpower support of a land based advance.
However, that advantage is nullified if we deny them the opportunity to
engage us, and the vast resources they have deployed on land will be of
no use to them in the water. `This is in many ways a water planet,
and it can be ruled from the waves. With sea power, rugged terrain can
be bypassed and enemy strongholds isolated. Once naval superiority is achieved,
Planet is ours for the taking.'" Yang quoted Corazon Santiago
from memory, having made it a point to study the teachings and minds of
his greatest adversary.

"I see the wisdom, Chairman. We have indeed suffered numerous
defeats," Hy admitted, knowing that the Chairman never criticized the utterance
of truth. "But now we have powerful allies?"

"Ah, yes. Our allies."

Yang leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, looking inscrutable
as always.

"It is interesting, is it not, how quickly we have come to rely upon
them. As necessity has forced us to. And yet, must we not be
curious as to why they are aiding us? And what is their ultimate
aim? Somehow, I find it difficult to believe that their goal is,
in the long term, consistent with the principles of the Human Hive.
Nor do they seem to be greatly interested in the ultimate evolution and
uplift of humanity that the Hive represents. Has this not occurred
to you?"

Admiral Hy paled slightly. Indeed, it had occurred to him and
probably others of the Council, but he had not dared to question the apparent
direction of the Chairman.

Yang seemed to read his underling's thoughts, and sighed to himself.
Fear is unproductive.

"Survival in the present is a prerequisite to definition of the future.
But evolution cannot be served by focusing solely upon the present.
We shall remain allied with the Progenitors for now... as we must.
But should the relationship sour, we must plan to deal with the aliens.
And if... or perhaps, inevitably when that occurs, our forces must
be prepared. The aliens are most formidable..." Yang
looked at Hy and raised an eyebrow slightly, inviting the admiral to complete
the thought.

"... The aliens are formidable, but their forces consist entirely of
ground-based war machines, and flying craft that cannot take or occupy
sea colonies on their own." Hy finished quietly.

"I tell you this, Admiral, only so that you may prepare your forces
and tactics accordingly. Do not discuss this with anyone. Do
not record this in any fashion. Do not disappoint the Hive
in these instructions." Sheng-Ji Yang said matter-of-factly, and
Hy shivered almost imperceptibly. In his years of service to the
Hive, Hy had seen the Chairman angry enough to threaten only twice.
Seeing Yang completely dispassionate was far more frightening.

Fear is a flawed tool, Yang thought. But it is, at times,
a useful one.

"Now, let us put our new resource to the test. I have chosen an
insignificant target whose loss will be noticed by no-one."

---

Nautilus Pirate Submarine Reaver, near Morganic shipping
lines

Captain Ulrik Svensgaard looked about the bridge of his flagship with
the hungry appreciation of a man looking over the naked form of his lover.
This was the first, greatest effort of his "Nautilus Pirates". Soon,
he and his fellow travelers and renegades would be in a position to establish
their very own sea base, using the resources captured from a dozen merchant
vessels. Then, they would be able to prey upon and plunder the landlubbers
as his ancestors had once swept along the Nordic coastlines of old Earth
in their fearsome longships.

Let the other factions of humanity continue with their foolish struggles
for military dominance or lofty principles. Survival of humanity?
Democracy? Let the others do such work if they wished to try.
Svensgaard wasn't interested in any of it. Did a shark concern itself
with the migrations of fish? The gradual change of oceanic temperatures
over the years? Of course not. Ironically, Ulrik Svensgaard
was very knowledgeable about those same oceanic topics that the
shark ignored, but the principle was the same. Life was meant to
be lived in the here and now. Svensgaard knew this to be a truth
more fundamental than anything Yang or Miriam espoused. And of course,
life was meant to be lived well. Preferably with the spoils
of other people's efforts. Such as that big, slow Morganic transport
dead ahead.

Pity it isn't Gaian, Svensgaard thought. Those Greenpeace
Rainbow Warrior castoffs were even easier meat for his sea wolves than
Morganite or PK ships. Though for all his contempt for the pacifist
Gaians, he wouldn't mind a chance to grapple and board Lady Deidre Skye.
A man can dream, can't he?

"Unidentified contact! New vessel bearing at 292 degrees, range...
range 12.2 nautical miles!" Svensgaard's sonar man suddenly called
out.

The pirate leader swore even as he instantly called up his holotac display.
Despite appearances, Svensgaard was every bit the professional naval officer
when in combat.

"How the hell did it get so close?!" Svensgaard demanded, even
as Lieutenant Windsor moved over to the sonar station.

"Definitely using military quality ECM." The tac officer reported.
That was bad; it meant that whoever was out there likely knew the Reaver
was nearby.

"Morganic?" Svensgaard queried. No-one else was likely to
be escorting Morgan's merchant ships in these waters, yet the whole point
of coming here was because most of the Morgan navy had been sunk by the
Hive Resonance Fleet six weeks ago. It was in the news, dammit.

The tactical officer studied the ECM patterns and exclaimed in surprise.

"Not Morganite... sh*t, Hive?!"

That was bad news. Still, Svensgaard knew he could evade anything
he couldn't fight.

"Speed?"

"62 knots. Definitely on an intercept course, Captain."

"Gotta be a destroyer." Svensgaard scratched at a grizzled chin.
Still, on direct pursuit vector, even a destroyer couldn't match his
top speed of 70 knots. However the Hive vessel had known he was out
here (assuming it wasn't chasing the Morganite merchant - and the intercept
course with Reaver implied it wasn't), it couldn't catch him.

"New unidentified contact! Vessel bearing 17 degrees, range 14.7!"
The sonar man yelled again.

"Same ECM pattern as the first." Windsor reported tersely, some
tension showing in her voice.

Two destroyers. At least they took him seriously. This made
it a real challenge, and Svensgaard grinned in sudden enthusiasm.

"Set depth to 380. Flank speed, evasion vector. Once we
hit the thermocline, fire decoy torpedoes and rig for silent running,"
he ordered.

The two Hive ships changed vectors as well. The hunt was on.
But who was the hunter and the hunted? The tension increased as the
minutes passed, and the two Hive ships closed slowly, since Reaver
had to choose a vector between them.

"I've broken through the ECM, got an acoustic read coming in."
Windsor informed him. "It's... Jeezus! That's a foil!"

Svensgaard swiveled his chair to face his tactical officer, his jaw
opening in disbelief.

"Bullsh*t! How can a foil do 60 knots?"

Before Windsor could respond, the sonar man screamed one last time.

"New contact in stealth mode dead ahead! Range 1.2, bearing..."

The Hive resonance destroyer had accelerated around the pirate vessel
and then lurked directly in its path as soon as the chase had begun.
Before the unfortunate seaman could finish his warning, he and Reaver
were blown into fragments, along with one Captain Ulrik Svensgaard and
all of his aquatic ambitions.

The sharks had found their prey.
[This message has been edited by senatus (edited August 02, 2000).]
[This message has been edited by senatus (edited August 02, 2000).]
[This message has been edited by senatus (edited August 07, 2000).]

[Hydro]

Great Conclave

Miriam put down her Conclave Bible, having reviewed and savored her favorite passages in the Book of Job.

The Devil torments, and God tests, Miriam thought. I have been tormented, but that is only a means to God's end, God's plan. Even the Devil and his minions are merely God's tools. That is what succored me through my long years of agony, and Yang's attempt at breaking my Faith, which he called 're-education'. God sharpens his tools through adversity, and I have been sharpened so that I may do His will.

Miriam crossed herself and whispered a heartfelt prayer.

Now, to secular duties, which grow ever more burdensome. Miriam reached over and activated a holo program from a panel in her small study. Unasked, Jessica had been kind enough to compile a history of humanity on Chiron and an annotated outline to historical events. More information could be accessed through the Datalinks of Great Conclave, formerly Great Clustering, and the outline was set with embedded links that Jessica had also been thoughtful enough to provide. Miriam finally though she had a working understanding of the tumultuous years since New Jerusalem fell to the godless hordes of Yang.

The upheavals in politics after her incarceration left Miriam a little breathless. Before she was placed in Yang's punishment sphere, the Spartans had been a miniscule faction banished to the northern edge of what was called Zak's Continent above the Arzamus Forest, and the heretical and irreverent Prokhor Zakharov had been the largest and most technologically advanced faction on Chiron. How Santiago had managed to grind him under her heal Miriam knew she would never quite understand. It must all boil down to the fact that Santiago was a brilliant strategist, and that she understood advantage where others only saw defeat and despair. However, regardless of the cause, she knew she would be forever grateful to Santiago for humbling what was truly a dangerous man - Zakharov. And she had shriven the Godless Yang of most of his empire, weakening him so that the Believers might again be free of his tyranny. It was quite clear that she deserved respect, even if she did not understand the Truth. Santiago, too, is God's tool, and a powerful one at that, even if she did not know it.

Scrolling through the history of Great Conclave, it seemed that a great many of the Believers from New Jerusalem and Godwinson's Hope had been forcibly relocated to Great Conclave in the decades after the war. They had suffered from Hive pogroms ever since in an effort to sear the Faith out of the Faithful.

Sadly, it had largely worked, since the Believers at Great Conclave now accounted for less than 16% of the population. Most of the rest were malleable Hive drones, many of whom didn't seem to care who was their leader.

More opportunity to save souls, Miriam thought hopefully and fervently as she continued to absorb the information.

A list of the Hive pogroms at Great Conclave came up. They were the standard fare that the Faithful had borne throughout history: job discrimination, confiscation of property, closing of places of worship, forced relocation, public humiliation, imprisonment, torture, execution, mass re-education, genejacks…

Genejacks? What are genejacks? Miriam wondered, as she activated the link for more information.

As Miriam read about the genejacks her horror grew: Believer children taken, their frontal lobes surgically and chemically atrophied, muscle, skeletal, and nervous system enhanced, and then placed into endless toil. It was one thing to persecute and kill the Believers, for in doing so their faith is tested. A Believer may be killed, but they are then a martyr and their soul goes to heaven. But, it was quite another thing to remove their ability to believe. It was diabolical, a plan worthy of Satan.

A picture appeared of an old and worn genejack, with her shaved head and a pucker in the middle of her forehead where her higher brain functions used to be, forever marking her as a genejack.

Miriam shivered. More horror of science and its immorality. When man dares to play god he degrades God's creation.

Miriam hurriedly shut off the holo reader. Thankfully, it was time for vespers.

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

The choir sat down and the last notes of Ode to Man's Desiring by J.S. Bach faded from the air.

A man in red vestments rose from his bench that was to the right of the altar and took two steps toward the pulpit. In a sweeping motion he raised both his hands, palms up, to signal the congregation to rise.

"Go in peace and serve the Lord!" Minister Harfelt intoned.

"Praise be to God!" the congregation responded.

The young dark haired minister crossed himself once, and the congregation did likewise in return. Vespers was complete.

Slowly, the solemn attentiveness dissolved, and small side conversations started. The parishioners made no haste to leave, as that would be unseemly, and each would then miss an opportunity to discuss the affairs of the day with old friends and confidants. People dressed in their best started forming clusters of twos and threes, and a low murmur filled the sanctuary. For the truly Faithful, vespers was the social event of the day.

Miriam rose from her place in the choir. A woman by her side gently touched her shoulder to get her attention and whispered, "That was beautiful! You have a lovely voice!" Her eyes were a little misty.

Miriam smiled brightly. So much had changed, but that which is the truly meaningful always stays the same. The simple joy of singing elevated the spirit, and it brought the soul closer to God. In many ways it was one of the most divine ways of communication, for it unified the whole of a disparate humanity into one, multifaceted and rich voice. Look closely and you can see the hand of God in the land and its people, but listen closely and you hear his Voice in the music.

Miriam reached up and touched the woman's hand. With that simple human contact another level of understanding beyond communication passed between these two women. "Yes it was. God was here."

The woman nodded, knowing that the beloved Sister felt the same way. She disengaged her hand and walked back to the vestibule, her choir robe softly swishing about her ankles as she went.

Miriam paused, enjoying the moment. To see the Faithful, congregated and worshiping together after so many years almost made her weep with joy. It was almost more than she could hope for but, yet, it was true. In the blackest hours of her torment she had dreamed of vespers, of the choir, and the unity that it brought. Memories of the sight of light through the stained glass window, the feel of the polished wooden benches against her back, and the sounds of voices in prayer and song - it had sustained her then, even as it restored her now. Truly, God is Great!

Movement to the side of the choir apse drew her attention, and she saw a man in a nondescript brown robe approach. He stopped a respectful distance away. Miriam nodded slightly, allowing him to come closer.

He bowed to Miriam.

"Sister," he said reverently, "here is the information I informed you about. I brought it to you personally to ensure it was not intercepted, or corrupted." The tone of the man's voice indicated that the matter was of some urgency, and in his hand he held a datacrystal, which he offered to Miriam.

She had received a vague note that 'important information' would be arriving for her this evening, but the note had given no details as the form or manner of delivery.

"Thank you Brother Gale. I will attend to it immediately," Miriam responded as she took the crystal from the Brother's outstretched hand.

"We cannot allow unbelievers, or those possessed by Satan, within our hallowed ranks. The unclean will infect the Body of God. They must be washed out! Purged!"

Miriam nodded. Some Believers were concerned with expanding the Body of God, while others saw their task to be preserving its holiness. This Brother was clearly of the ladder ilk.

"Yes, that is true. I will attend to this matter immediately. Go in peace, and server the Lord."

Brother Gale's hard eyes remained trained on Sister Godwinson's as he bowed to accept her dismissal. Then he turned and left the chapel.

After watching the brother leave she brought the crystal to arms length in front of her eyes. The crystal was such an innocuous and plainly beautiful item - clear, with only 12 facets. But it could contain information that could shake mountains. Incongruity?

Miriam kept tight hold on the crystal, and proceeded to her apartment. There, no doubt, her questions and concerns would be answered.

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

Miriam popped the crystal out of the old fashioned reader.

Miriam frowned. The crystal contained a detailed dossier that showed, in exquisite detail, the transgressions of a supposedly loyal Believer. The evidence was damning, and overwhelming. Numerous Believers of irreproachable character had sworn affidavits attesting their witness against this individual. Individually their observations and opinions were mere suspicion, but together the case was hard to refute.

Miriam sighed.

Allegations, Miriam thought, against one of my own.

Such a wound must be stanched. The guilty party must be called to account.

Miriam activated her comm circuit.

"Sister Jessica, report to my domicile."

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

Jessica paced quickly down the hallway in response to the unusual summons. Sister Miriam was always orderly and punctual, and had a routine for daily activities from prayer to management of domestic affairs. To break this routine meant there was something serious that needed attention, which was not surprising when considering that Great Conclave was in the middle of a war zone that embroiled the Hive, Spartans, Believers, Moran, Gaians and Free Drones, not to mention the malevolent and mysterious alien race.

Suddenly Jessica was worried. Was there an imminent Hive attack? Or perhaps some political upheaval that negatively impacted the Believers? The Believers were weak right now, and to a large extent they were at the mercy of the larger factions. In many ways they lived at the sufferance of the Spartans, and to a lesser extent the Gaians, Peacekeepers, and Morganites. Certainly the Believers had cause to mistrust the pagan Gaians, and the materialistic Morganites. And volatile Peacekeeper politics could always drift against the Believers, potentially causing great harm.

Worst of all, there might be reason Santiago was displeased. Jessica furrowed her brows as she walked. Maybe Santiago found out that she was the originator of the idea for the blackmail and base swap that Scott had 'facilitated'? She had a hard time believing that Santiago would take being blackmailed with good grace. Was it possible that she is taking her wrath out on someone who can't defend themselves? Miriam, and the Believers? Could she have harmed the Cause?

Jessica shrugged these thoughts off. Such worrying is not productive, and Miriam will be able to explain herself in moments.

Arriving at Sister Miriam's apartment Jessica took a moment to straighten her robe, and then placed her hand against the recognition pad. The pad glowed a faint green, and the door opened and Jessica walked in. Miriam was sitting at her study, and she stood as Jessica entered.

"Good evening Sister Jessica," Miriam stated with a tight smile. "Please, my child, have a seat." She waved toward a spare seat next to her desk.

Jessica nodded and walked over to her seat and sat down. Miriam did likewise.

Looking at Miriam's diminutive figure, it was easy to read her body language: she was concerned, even apprehensive. And her eyes were focused squarely on Jessica, as if looking into her soul.

"Child, you have been a true and loyal servant to the Church, and me" Miriam started hesitantly and slowly, like a parent might talk to a child when they have very bad news, "but there have been serious allegations made against you."

Now Miriam had Jessica's undivided attention.

"Allegations? What kind of allegations?" Jessica asked in a pensive voice.

Miriam paused, as if unwilling to answer.

"Child, you must be strong, and have faith in God."

Jessica felt her heart drop into her stomach.

"Jessica, you are accused of being a witch."

[Argonaut]

DataDeCentral: Axis Central Intelligence Agency

Roze stood there, amazed at what had been accomplished in so little time. The glorious colours of the monsoon jungle surrounded her as she stood, in the centre of this strangely earth-like forest, without a sign of civilization for miles around. That was the brilliance of it all.

Below Roze’s feet was one of the most advanced Covert-Ops Centres on all of Planet. From there, computers monitored events in every faction and every facility that could be tapped. Hardly an inch of habited territory on Chiron wasn’t being monitored by the mighty computers below her.

Down there, Roze’s Data Angels, the mission code name she had adopted for her employees, worked day and night decrypting and analysing information, deciding what was crucial and what just might come in handy in the future. None of them were allowed to leave the facility without special arrangements, because none of them even knew where they were.

The idea, first of all, was to create a centre without a physical location. More of a nexus of thought where we could trade intelligence, turncoats and technique. The second goal was to hide it from the very probe teams who used it. Nothing could be more secret than a collection of information that spends ninety-nine percent of its existence dissolved into the ether. It’s what Roze called, putting the Covert, in Covert-Ops.

The only people to ever have seen the facility were the Gaian workers who had constructed the facility. Deirdre had been generous in providing workers to construct the facility, largely to ensure that no damage came to the lush vegetation that flourished here. Even Deirdre and her workers, however, were never clear as to where the facility was constructed, as their route to the construction site was always different, and always controlled by Roze herself.

Morgan, as well, remained completely oblivious to the facilities location despite providing the funding for the entire operation. He was merely instructed to deposit credits at an account in Garden of Paradise, not even being informed what the money was for. He complied, with some grumbling as always, and the facility was completed in record time.

Roze breathed in one last gulp of air through her micro-breather, and looked at the life around her. It seemed like such a shame not to be able to enjoy it more. Suddenly worrying she might soon turn into another Deirdre, Roze disappeared into the facility’s entrance and vanished without a trace.

*********************************************

UN Headquarters

Zakharov walked down the halls of University Base, nodding to those he passed. The twin suns shone down brightly on the University Headquarters and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Zakharov couldn’t imagine a more perfect day for a picnic.

He wandered over the hills of St. Petersburg, through Lomonov Park to where Anastasia sat waiting for him. She looked beautiful as she sat there, her white gown blowing gently in the wind. She saw her grandfather approaching and smiled. From behind Anastasia, another figure came into view as he made his way over the hill. It was Yang.

Zakharov began to race towards Anastasia as the Chairman strode confidently towards her. No matter how fast Zakharov tried to run, he never seemed to move any closer towards Stazi. Yang moved closer and closer, and to Zakharov it seemed that Stazi moved farther and farther away. He tried to call out to her, but he found that suddenly he could make no sound.

Zakharov watched with horror as Yang drew a shredder pistol and aimed it directly at Anastasia. Yang smiled at Zakharov as he pulled the trigger, and Anastasia fell limp, her white dress stained red with blood.

The Spartan guards seized Zakharov on either side, and dragged him before the judges bench. Santiago stood, flanked by Miriam and Yang, all three of them sneering down at him. Each was adorned in the traditional black robe of a Justice of the Peace, and Santiago in her hand carried a large gavel.

“Prokhor Zakharov,” Santiago announced, “You have been accused of vast atrocities against the human race. You have destroyed lives in your endless pursuit of knowledge. You have failed your own faction. Your own granddaughter is dead because of you.” Behind them, a holoprojector displayed a picture of Anastasia in the park. But this time, it wasn’t Yang who pulled the trigger, it was Zakharov.

“This court now finds you guilty.” With these last words the gavel came hurtling down towards the bench.

Zakharov breathed heavily, his lungs unadjusted to breathing proper oxygen, making it difficult for him to catch his breath. He felt a strange ooze around him as hands lifted him out of the rejuvenation tank. His muscles, still limp from their long relaxation, almost failed him before a steady grasp caught him. It was Sharra.

“Prokhor, it’s all right.” Sharra’s voice quickly brought Zakharov back to reality. He looked around him at the other rejuvenation tanks, and suddenly it came back to him. The nurses in charge of the tanks waited patiently with a towel, allowing Zakharov time to regain his bearings.

“It’s all right Prokhor.” With that, Sharra gently led him towards the waiting nurses and back towards reality.

[senatus]

Private E-mail, standard encryption


Received From: Jessica.McCollough@Believer.gov
(sent: 21 days ago).


Dear Sharra,


I hope you get this e-mail sooner rather than later, although I remember
how "fast" the U.N. is at setting up PlanetNet accounts. Then of course
it'll take some time before you can figure out the manuals - UN manuals
are badly written in all official languages. Bureaucrats! Still, I'm certain
the Academician will help you with computers. He's probably saying we're
really backwards for using old-fashioned e-mail right now :-). But actually,
I did try to com you, only nobody there seemed to know who you are. I know
in some Hive bases they don't give their citizens last names, only numbers;
but you can register for one of your own.


Before I go any further, I wanted to apologize to both you and Prokhor
about what happened on the plane. Although the Lord's Believers were at
fault (I don't really want to go into it), please believe that this was
by no means the intention of Sister Miriam or any of our leaders. Sadly,
there are people amongst us who have difficulty interpreting the Lord's
Will. Just between you and me, Sister Miriam was so shocked by what happened
that I think she's going to adjust our official doctrine and policies because
of this incident; we've sort of lost our way a bit in the many years of
diaspora and need to focus on fundamental principles of Faith. I guess
I'm sort of rambling here, but I'm just grateful to God that He chose to
see you safely to the U.N, and I hope you and Prokhor can forgive us for
our trespasses.


Which sort of brings me to my next point - I heard that you were thinking
of visiting while the Academician was in the 'tanks. I really wish you
could come, but I probably won't be able to be in town - business. And
unfortunately, until we clean up our act (frankly speaking), I don't think
we can offer you a hospitable stay. It pains me to admit this, but nothing
got solved by hiding from the truth. Instead, I hope I can visit you next
time I'm at U.N. H.Q.?


I also heard that Governer Allardyce offered Prokhor immunity when you
both arrived at the U.N. Speaking for myself and not Sister Miriam, I think
Prokhor might want to refuse. Until he goes to trial, there will always
be suspicions and allegations hanging over his head. Besides, when Dr.
Lal comes out of the tanks, he'll probably be required to conduct the trial;
legally the allegations against Prokhor took place before the Charter was
revoked. I think the Academician would be best advised to clear his name
now that he's got a chance to. It's sort of like Confession; owning up
to and facing the past. It's something we all have to do sometimes. Recently,
I had to break one of God's most sacred commandments, and I tell you it
weighs heavy upon my soul. I can only confess my sin and ask forgiveness
of God, but I know He has promised forgiveness to all of us.


Prokhor may well ask why do I care about him - it's true he and Sister
Miriam aren't exactly good friends :-(. But let me tell you something,
Sharra: Prokhor cares for you, I can tell. And I've always been taught
that love and compassion for our fellow human beings is the greatest gift
we can offer to please God. Please take good care of that relationship,
and let him know I'm praying for you both. Preferably when he's drinking
something so he can snort and spray liquid all over himself (kidding...
sorta :-).


One last thing, don't be afraid to ask Scott for help. He's very busy
and very important, but I sense he's a truly decent human being and he
does try to help people.


Anyway, stay well until we meet again.


Yours in Christ,


Jessica McCollough.


P.S. If you find out what "Googlie" means, please let me know.


P.P.S I'm sure his reputation for being a lech is completely unfounded,
but I know firsthand that you can take care of yourself.
[This message has been edited by senatus (edited August 07, 2000).]

[senatus]

Sparta Command, 12:32 Eastern Spartan Time

In the very heart of the deepest, most secret chambers of the
Department of Inquisition, a man screamed.

This alone was hardly an unusual occurance in the headquarters of
the shadowy organization responsible for the internal security of
Sparta. Many had suffered here before; in cells scattered
throughout the building, several other unfortunate individuals
were suffering even now.

What was unusual this time was that the victim was far more
accustomed to being the giver rather than the recipient.

Ishmael Skye, self-styled Prophet of the Cult of Planet, writhed
on the floor in private agony before the mental projection of his
master.

You have failed me, earthIshmael. You have failed Planet. You
have failed your God.

"My Lord Moor! I beg forgiveness! Spare your humble servant!"
Ishmael's pleas issued forth from a twisted mouth, but more
importantly, from his mind.

The irony of the scene was particularly intense. Ishmael Skye
was alone in the private quarters that belonged to Sparta's Grand
Inquistor. Alone, unless you counted the shell of a human who
had once been the Grand Inquisitor - a man he himself had
humbled, dominated, and then destroyed until only a shell
remained: a mask that Ishmael wore for over a year while secretly
ruling Sparta's Counterintelligence Service. And now, Ishmael
Skye was humbled, dominated, and in danger of destruction himself
before his own Master.

It had been many months now since his Master, his God, had
contacted Ishmael. That had disappointed Ishmael at first, but
at least he had been free to rule his Cult, and now the
Inquisition, in a matter he hoped was pleasing to Planet. He
exerted considerable influence over Sparta's environmental
policies; and if it was unusual for the Department of Inquisition
to take an interest in such things, no-one had dared comment. At
the same time he had kept his tampering hidden from those who
could've interfered - namely the Junta. In particular, Santiago,
Burge, and Allardyce. But Burge was long dead, Allardyce had
left for Lal-Lal land, and Santiago herself was fully occupied
planning a war and polishing her beloved artillery pieces. He
had masterfully balanced on the line between exerting enough
influence to please Planet, but not so much as to get noticed.
He had infiltrated his Cultists into the Inquisition, and even
recruited a few fanatical worshippers of Planet within the ranks
of Sparta.

"My Lord Moor! How have I failed Planet? Is not the Spartan Psi
Corps shattered, its master dead, as you instructed?" Ishmael
begged.

Yes, earthIshmael. You have done this as required of you. But
you failed to destroy Santiago. And now she and her minions
threaten Planet itself with their uncleanliness.

"But Sparta now runs a clean economy; surely the Hive or Morgan
with their planned and free market economies are worse enemies of
planet?" Ishamel asked, then cringed at the stinging response.

Do not question the ways of Planet, and your God, earthIshmael.
The Hive and Morgan are not your concern.

"How may I make amends, O Great Lord?" Ishmael asked.

If you would seek Communion with planet, do as I command:
Continue to catalog the evils of Santiago. Obtain the
disposition of her forces and report them to me when I call for
you. And I have a specific task for you now.

"I live for Planet, O Lord. How may I serve?"

You remember the woman Ayola. She who was one of the
granddaughters of Zakharov. Is she still alive, as I instructed?

"Yes, Lord Moor. I allowed the Grand Inquisitor to mutilate her,
but not kill her. All believe her dead, but I erased the records
and minds of all who watched, and placed her body in the cryocell
as you commanded."

It is time for her to serve Planet. Have her revived, and I
shall come for her. DO NOT FAIL AGAIN!

"I shall not fail, Master." Ishmael grovelled in the renewed
presence of the incarnation of his God, as a particularily
intense wave of mental energy washed over even his own powerful
shields. Only his God could be so mighty.

The Presence diminished, and Ishmael Skye got up from the floor,
ready to serve Planet.

---

Hive Covert Ops Base




"Gullible bastard, isn't he? And crazy to boot." Sand commented
sardonically, even as he wiped sweat from his brow.

"Quite insane," Ashaandi confirmed. "But a very powerful psionic
nonetheless, which is why I required your assistance to boost
me."

"How long have you been using him?"

"I've been his 'Lord Moor' for years, now. I think the first
incarnation of Moor was solely in the man's mind, but I took the
dream and form and became his 'God'".

"And you used him to help destroy the Spartan Empath Guild? And
feed you military intelligence? Sweet." Sand whistled,
impressed.

"Yes. It seems he's been able to thrive even when I was held in
that damned psi containment cell for months. He's quite
resourceful."

"So you kept Ayola Zakharov alive? Why?"

"I thought she'd be a useful card to have sometime." Ashaandi
confirmed.

"Zakharov is too cold-blooded to be blackmailed, though?" Sand
queried.

"Probably true, although I hear he's getting soft in his old age
- even adopted a drone girl. But Ayola can be used as leverage
on Anastasia, and vice-versa." The Circle leader explained, and
Sand nodded.

"Probably a good idea to get what you can out of this Ishmael
character before he drowns in the deep end, too. And I thought
Miriam was a nut. This guy takes the whole fruitcake."

---

Sparta Command, Department of Inquisition, 16:44 EST

Ishmael Skye plotted with renewed energy. He would do as his
Master, Lord Moor, had instructed. But even better, he would
complete what he'd set out to do long ago. The odds were risky,
of course, but Planet was with him.

He would kill Corazon Santiago.

Ignoring the Grand Inquisitor, who had an unfortunate habit of
drooling when not under direct control, Skye summoned his
immediate underlings, and moments later three men stood before
him. Two of his original cult, and the most loyal of his recent
converts. Skye had probed the last man himself, and had been
more than satisfied at the man's strength of conviction. The
cult had to be careful, of course, but new converts were
necessary for growth.

"Lord Moor has returned." Ishmael announced, and the three men
looked startled despite themselves.

"Are you ready to serve God?" Ishmael asked rhetorically, and
all three men nodded in unison.

"We serve."

Ishmael issued his instructions and explained his plan.

---

Sparta Command, Parish of the New Covenant, 22:17 EST




As evening services ended, a handful of dedicated Believers -
mostly soldiers attached to Spartan command - bowed to the cross
and left with somber demeanor. It was at this time that a
solitary figure slipped into the emptying sanctuary.

Benjamin Michaels shrugged off the detested greatcloak. He
would not come into the Lord's House wearing the attire of a
false religion. As Ishmael Skye had confirmed when he probed
the trance-trained soldier, Benjamin Michaels did indeed serve
God with fanatical devotion. He just didn't worship the same
one that Ishmael did.

Michaels walked into the antechamber, startling the minister who
was now putting away his robes.

"Code Mark - Joshua 4-11. I need to speak with Sister Jessica."

[This message has been edited by senatus (edited August 16, 2000).]

[Argonaut]

UN Headquarters

“I still don’t think this is the best idea Provost.” Scott Allardyce sat behind his desk, with Zakharov and his aide opposite him. Zakharov was looking much healthier this time, as he had back in the days before Unity and he seemed much more himself now.

“If you allow yourself to be put on trial,” he continued, “I won’t be able to protect you. As it is, Lal should be returning fairly soon to resume his duties and you’ll be completely on your own.”

“I am aware of that,” the old academician responded. “The fact remains that I have been accused of committing crimes against humanity. If I have, then I should be duly punished, charter or no charter. Otherwise I leave myself open to constant attacks from the likes of Santiago and Miriam and there will be no chance of me making a new start. As you have already said yourself, you cannot protect me for ever, nor should you.” Scott knew that every word Zakharov had said was true. Yet, somehow he felt he had to do more for him, after he and Stazi had worked so long to see Zakharov free. Still, he could not refute Zakharov’s logic.

“Fair enough Provost. I believe there is a flight for UN Criminal Tribunal leaving later this evening, I shall see that you are on it and that no security leaks will announce your departure this time. I recommend that you and your aide prepare whatever belongings you have.” Zakharov nodded his head in agreement, and rose from his chair.

“Before I go, Scott,” Zakharov began. It was clear from his tone that they were no longer talking officially. “What of my granddaughter? Has she returned yet?”

“I’m afraid not.” Scott had hoped to avoid that question, despite knowing that such a thing was impossible. Still, he could not bear to tell the old man that the granddaughter he so longed to see was captured on a mission intended to set him free.

“The mission is overseas,” he lied, “and she’s only been checking in, there hasn’t been any direct communication. As soon as we can get a message to her, I’m sure she’ll race back to see you.”

Zakharov nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. As the academician turned to leave, Scott noticed that his aide, Sharra, still stood there looking at him quizzically. She seemed not to notice his gaze.

“Can I help you with something?” The question startled the young girl, causing her to blush as she averted her eyes to the ground. She could barely be more than twenty.

“Sorry sir, it just...well...” she was smiling awkwardly as both Scott and Zakharov watched her intently. “It’s just...I was talking to Sister Jessica... and she kind of wanted to know...Why do they call you Googlie?”

************************************************** ***********************

Data DeCentral

Roze examined line after line of garbled code. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. She had tried every advanced decryption code she knew and she still couldn’t make any sense of it.

“Damn these University codes! Where the hell did they come up with anything this advanced, that long ago?” Roze’s assistant, Kat, didn’t answer as she puzzled over the same lines. Normally, advanced algorithms contained codes, within codes, but they could still be broken into. A job like this should have taken no more than a day. They had already been at it for over two. There had to be something they were missing.

Kat was bored of it now. She was tired of staring at the same stupid screen which didn’t make any sense. She had begun to think that there might no be anything there at all, just a plant to waste the time of any probe who bothered to steal it. Still, Roze seemed to think it was something important and she was the boss.

Absently, Roze tried a program that substituted basic numerical values, and based on certain probabilities, translated the code into text. After a moments pause, the screen filled with what looked to be a series of words, but none of them seemed to make sense. It had been a waste of time anyway. Nobody used such a basic encryption code except for journals and private messages. Kat as just about to hit the refresh key when Roze shouted ‘hold it’.

On her master screen, Roze pulled up the window which allowed her to access Kat’s work screen. The words seemed to be nonsensical, not in any recognizable language. But just because it wasn’t recognizable, that didn’t mean that it wasn’t a language. One word had been the clue, the very first word of the entire file: Navaho .

************************************************** ********************

Sparta Command

Will let the hot water pour down over his head, the heat of the shower easing the pain and wiping away the grime. Every single muscle in his body hurt, at least that’s what it felt like.

Since they had come back from the mission with Roze, things had gone from bad to worse. The squadron was personally blamed for the loss of the transport needlejet and of the Hydra. They had all been placed on probation, and their planes were given to other more ‘experienced’ pilots. They hadn’t even been in the military a year and all ready they were being pushed out.

They had spent their time since doing every form of manual labour possible. They had hauled jet-fuel all over the aerospace complex, levelled terrain for new runways and they had even been forced to clean the toilets in the officer’s barracks. It was clear that nobody wanted teenagers in the Spartan Air Force anymore.

Will reluctantly turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. As he made his way into the bedroom to get dressed, he was shocked to find Kirstie sitting there, a sly smile on her face.

“Oh my,” she said with feigned bashfulness. “The least you could do when you have company around is to put on a pair of pants. Do you mind if I come over there and towel you off?”

“Kirstie,” William began, but it was clear from her reaction that she knew what he was going to say. It wasn’t the first time they’d been through this.

“Look Will, you need to face the fact that she’s gone. Eventually you’re going to have to move on with your life.” Kirstie put her hands on his shoulders, trying to comfort him. For someone so young it was strange that he was carrying around such a huge weight on his shoulders.

Will pulled away, uncomfortable with the close proximity between the two of them. He liked Kirstie a lot, and she was an incredibly attractive woman. But somehow, Will couldn’t give up on the chance that Sharra might be alive somewhere out there. And until he knew for sure, he couldn’t consider starting something with Kirstie.

“Anyway, the rest of the gang and I are all going down to the off-duty lounge. Are we going to see you down there?” Kirstie had made her way to the door, understanding that Will was uncomfortable. Will nodded his head, and Kirstie smiled softly as she pulled the door closed behind her.

[Googlie]

The bridge of the Battlecruiser Impaler was a scene of frenetic activity as it readied to exit the wormhole.

The tension was palpable as a faint hum emanated from Commander ‘Ychet Haart - a low unending resonance that transmitted the stress she was under. This was in turn picked up by one or two of the underlings on the bridge, who did their best to avoid amplification and retransmission, but somewhat unsuccessfully.

It was always the same since the ion drive exhaust residue of the caretaker ship had been detected many turnings ago back at Epsilon Eridani. Careful egress, always with a couple of Gnats to scout ahead, sensors active, then okaying the Impaler to emerge, with the Scoutship protecting the rear in case of any danger from the wormhole.

"Launch," barked Haart, as the snout of the Battlecruiser emerged into the real-time space of the Alpha Centauri star system.

The four Gnats rocketed from the launch bays, sensors deployed, and commenced the scan of neasrspace.

Within tenths they had the location mapped and the resonance echo signature logged of every orbiting body around the twin stars of Alpha Centauri.

The 'All clear' was relayed.

"Only the res signal of Sk'aard's Scoutship, still maintaining station," came the reassuring resburst from the senior Gnat pilot.. "Oh, and some residue at the periphery of the asteroid belt - messy - fusion drive - probably those aliens that Conqueror Marr talked about. Turnings old, though."

'Ychet Haart exhaled noisily.

"Good," she resonated briefly.

The crew relaxed, as the message was relayed to the Planetary Scoutship 229_s for Commander Toku Krill to follow the Impaler into Alpha Centauri nearspace.

"Summon Chief Engineer Sth'aap," resonated Haart sharply.

An underling jumped to obey her command.

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

"Report," barked Haart.

Sth'aap cringed at the harsh resonance, and collected his thoughts.

"Thrall Commander Haart," he began, "I have both good news and bad news."

Haart snorted, a gesture of contempt at the failings of these junior officers - she wanted a report, not an excuse.

"Go on," she commanded.

"Well, we decoded the resburst of Marr, and got to work right away. As you know, we sent all of our Mark II Ogres - ten in all - together with the five each from the two Scoutships to Manifold Six at Conqueror Marr's request. We have only the remaining five Mark IIIs.

"Our engineering hangars have been active, and we have carried out some modifications in order to create the Deathspheres that the Conqueror suggested.

"To each Ogre we have mated two Gnats, taking from each the requisite weaponry and armor and abilities modules - somewhat crude, but very effective. The result is a formidable fighting unit of considerable strength and versatility.

"The drive is the Ogre's Quantum Chamber, tested to a 96.01 efficiency and powered by a Deuterium-tritium mix. The primary weapon is also its string disrupter emitter cannon, which we believe to be a combination of temporal disruption and resonance technology taken to its highest degree. Unfortunately we are not able to replicate this technology, so only five weapons platforms are available, As to its defense, we have retained the Ogre's Stasis Generator, which relies on temporal field distortion. From the Gnats we took the flight capability, in the form of their gravitonics, but had to double the output to cope with the much heavier mass of the Ogre base.

"As to secondary weaponry, they could, of course, retain the Gnats' inherent Air Superiority, although they would then lose some weapons effect when attacking the aliens' ground based forces as a result. We estimate around 50%, which we deemed to be unacceptable. Accordingly we retained the Gnats' Blink Displacement capability, which mated to the Ogre shell, provides an enormous advantage in being able to distort and bypass any base's defensive capability. In addition, though, they will retain the dissociative wave capability, which, while conferring no advantage in attack, will nullify any alien advantages in specialized electronic and other elements of combat bonuses they might have devised.

"Also, by grafting two Gnats to the Deathspheres weapons concept, we have somehow been able to induce regenerative powers. As you might be aware, the Ogres, as a class, when used in other planetary engagements, have suffered from our being unable to repair any damage they might sustain. However, communication with the embedded sentience of the Gnats reassures us that they will be able to self diagnose damage and effect repairs - of course, an early visit to one of our Monoliths - assuming our forebears seeded Manifold Six with any - should provide not only a morale boost for the crew, but will expedite any repairs and regeneration necessary."

"But this is wonderful news," Haart boomed. "What can possible the bad news be?"

"Well, Thrall Commander, unfortunately the Gnats' cloaking technology only seems to work in space, and while it is possible to modify it for Manifold Six use for slower moving ground based forces, we do not have the technology to apply it to airborne units.

"And, as mentioned earlier, they will not have the ability to attack alien aircraft, and will have to rely on their defensive capabilities.

"But, perhaps as importantly, the empath crews will be useless with the Deathspheres, as they will be totally unfamiliar with the commands and operating procedures. They might be valuable crew members when mated with some of Conqueror Marr's elite young conquerors, but only in a secondary capacity."

"So of our sixty Gnats, we have converted ten?" Haart altered.

Sth'aap shuffled nervously.

"Not quite," he altered in return. "Unfortunately we lost six more when attempting the conversions - they did not survive the necessary adaptations to their exoskeletal membranes, and the loss of their graviton powers was too much for their somewhat hatchling sentience, and they expired - without even being able to sing their deathsongs, I understand. It created some considerable unrest at the time in the hangars."

"Would we be able to perform a similar operation on the twenty Mark II Ogres now on the surface?" Haart asked.

"Undoubtedly, although they would be significantly less powerful, with only pulse 8 armor and resonance bolt weaponry. And I fear that we would be limited to the Mark II's Fusion equivalent drive, as the Gnat's Singularity engines would not be able to be converted. And with only forty-four left, we would be at risk to use forty of them in converting the Ogres to miniature, less effective, Deathspheres.

"So more effective would be to retain the Ogres as are, and provide air cover for them with the Gnats."

Haart mumbled her assent.

"Yes, you resonate well," she altered.

"The conqueror will be pleased. You have done well. You are dismissed."

Sth'aap rocked from one limb to the other, his mandibles working agitatedly.

"Well?" Haart asked impatiently. "What now?"

"With your permission, Thrall commander," he altered, "There is an idea we have been passing resonances on in the engineering workshops that we would like to bring to you for consideration."

"I await, then," she altered in reply.

"Bring in deputy engineer 'Ycraet," he resonated to an orderly.

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

The bridge doors irised open, and a young engineer joined the group nervously.

"Tell the Thrall Commander your theories," commanded Sth'aap.

The young engineer bared her neck in obeisance, and began.

"Honored Thrall Commander," she resonated, "First let me say what an honor this is to be in your august presence…"

"Yes, yes," Haart altered. "Your theory - what is it?"

Even more nervously, she continued:

"You, of course, know of the Great Progenitor Library, and its construction?"

Haart's eyes twinkled, and her flaps fluttered in silent mirth - which elder or commander did not know of the library?

"Yes. Go on," she altered.

'Ycraet continued.

"Well, the library was - and still is - the sole joint venture between the Usurpers and the Caretakers, immune from this blood fued - where the accumulated knowledge of millions of turnings is kept. It is a manufactured world, in geosynchronous orbit around Harmony, built by the Usurpers, but tethered to Harmony by a space elevator maintained by the Caretakers."

"Yes. Yes. What of it?" Haart resonated impatiently.

"We can perform the same function on Manifold Six," 'Ycraet altered.

"A library?' Haart snorted contemptuously.

"No, no," 'Ycraet altered. "We can assume the role of a space elevator to pass materiel to and from Conqueror Marr's bases to anywhere else on Manifold Six, provided the unit has what I believe the aliens referred to as 'drop pod' abilities - the devices that Sk'aard equipped the earlier Ogres with to allow them to withstand the gravitational pull of the Manifold.

"Getting them there is no problem - it is the uplifting of them that gave rise to our idea. As the latest of the Galactic Battlecruiser line to be produced, the Impaler has the latest in Progenitor technology, and our tractor system rivals even that of Supreme Conqueror Hra'ath's Galactic Battleship Resonance itself.

"From a geosynchronous orbit, we could train the tractor beam on Courage to Question, and it would have the same effect as if there were a space elevator from them to us. Thus the Conqueror would have the ability to make orbital insertions anywhere on the surface of Manifold Six. And the twenty Ogres that he already has have drop pods, as they are called."

Haart tapped a tusk reflectively. "Well I must resonate, this sounds like a splendid idea. How vulnerable would we be to an orbital attack if we were in geosynchronous orbit? I would want to be far enough removed that my Gnats would have ample warning of any surface to space weapons launch."

"Well, that is one problem," 'Ycraet admitted. "We need to be just outside the Manifold's atmosphere for full effect. The beam's efficacy weakens the more distant we are."

"Unless we relay it somehow," interjected Sth'aap, mandibles quivering.

"We could station one of the scoutships in low orbit to act as a tractor relay. The dissipation from us to them will be minimal, and the full effect will be transferred to Marr's base. At the same time, it could be a haven and training ground off Manifold's surface for the Deathsphere commanders and for the Gnat pilots as well - a sort of Cloudbase Academy, if you will."

Haart caught the resonance immediately, savored it, and altered:

"Indeed. Admirable work, you both. Set up the specifications and I will alert Commander Toku Krill that his 229_s is being renamed The Cloudbase Academy"

Her guffaws permeated throughout the bridge, setting the mandibles of her crew clucking with delight.

She abruptly stilled the resonances. "Get me Conqueror Marr. I will advise him that he has at his disposal five Deathspheres, forty Gnats, a 'Space Elevator' and a 'Cloudbase Academy'. And if we send Commander Sk'aard to an orbit through the axis of the Manifold, Marr will, in The Impaler and the Planetary Scoutship 393_s, have two of the six subspace generators in position that he will need in order to summon Supreme Conqueror Hra'ath's battlefleet to Manifold Six."



[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited August 16, 2000).]

[Googlie]

U.N. Headquarters

I chuckled.

"Ah," I said, "That takes me back a whiles. It's an old term we don't use here on Planet, derived from my pre-Lander days on Earth. It's taken from an organized sport called 'Cricket' - look in the datalinks, it might be there. Played with a bat and ball, somewhat like another similar sport called 'Baseball' - some of the young Spartans play that - they will have seen a few of the Landers at it at some time or another I guess.

"Anyway, I was what was called an all-rounder - a batsman who could bowl, and I bowled a ball that seemed to come from the back of the wrist and spin one way, but in reality spun another when it bounced…"

I saw that she was utterly confused.

"Here. Let me demonstrate."

I had a paperweight on the desk - an ugly ball of an early attempt at glass manufacturing from the rough Chironian sands.

I picked it up, and showed Sharra how I gripped the ball, then simulated an overarm bowl showing how the wrist broke on delivery but the ball rolled off the fingers with a different spin. Zakharov looked on intently, reminding me of a nagging thought that I needed to mention to him.

Turning back to Sharra, I continued:

"The batsman, seeing the wrist flicking on the delivery, would anticipate the ball breaking a certain direction when it pitched on the ground just before he made his stroke, but in reality it broke the other way, often coming of the edge of the bat and being caught by a fielder.

"It's called a 'googlie' - and that's how I got the nickname.

"One of the best batsmen around in those days is actually working with me here - General Gupta - nicknamed 'Sweep'. It's named after a cricket stroke that actually was a very effective counter to the googlie."

I could see that, her question answered, Sharra wasn't all that interested in the game of cricket, so I shut up and turned to Zakharov.

"Provost," I began.

He looked at me quizzically.

"Yes?" he asked.

"When you were …….. working ....... for Yang, did you run into an alien who called himself or herself Kri'lan?"

"Why, yes," he boomed. "He was my main contact - one who understood the workings of that damned resonance translator machine and who really took the time to get to understand how we humans ticked. But why do you ask?"

"Oh, the name came up in a conversation recently and I just wondered if he was known to anyone. Thanks."

Zakharov nodded, and made as if to go, but my comment forestalled him.

'Prokhor."

He turned. My use of his first name was unusual, and he recognized it for that immediately.

"Yes?"

"You only talk of Anastasia. Did the Colonel's jailors - or Chairman Yang for that matter - not tell you that Anastasia was one of twins?"

He started.

"Why no," he replied. "You mean I have two granddaughters?"

"Had," I corrected him. "It pains me to be the bearer of bad news, but your other granddaughter - Ayola - was tortured and killed by a Spartan terror squad. If it is any consolation - and I know it isn't - she was a wonderful woman, and in fact rose to become the personal aide to the Colonel herself. I guess Santiago felt she was doing your family a favor by her appointment, but both Ayola and Anastasia were active participants in the University Resistance Movement, Anastasia more flagrant, but Ayola as a 'Mole', which is how she came to be captured, interrogated and tortured by the Spartan splinter covert operations group."

"I see," said Zakharov quietly. "And when did this all happen?"

"Just about a year ago," I replied. The Colonel was missing, I was running the civilian government of the Spartan Federation, and Ayola was my aide. I didn't even know at that time that she was your granddaughter. I even have my doubts that Santiago knew, but she must have. Security is too tight around her …. And yet she couldn't have known about the resistance involvement. Well, no matter.

"I just thought you should know."

"Thank you, Scott," the old academician said gravely, then took Sharra's arm and they left my office.

I turned to the commlink and keyed the sequence for Velvergrass Point.



[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited August 16, 2000).]

[Argonaut]

Private E-mail, Standard Encryption

Recieved from: sharra@PlanetNet.pk
Sent: Today

Dear Sister Jessica,

Sorry it has taken me so long to reply, but these computers are quite difficult and just learning to type is using up a lot of my time.

I'm also sorry that i didn't get a chance to come and see you while Provost Zakharov was in the rejoovenation (sp?) tanks, but I could not find passage that was affordable enough, and I hated to ask any favours because of my connection to Prokhor.

I still would like to come and visit you, but Prokhor has decided to go ahead with the trial, and I can't leave him at a time like this. Perhaps when it is all over, you can explain to me some more about your religion.

In the mean time, I hope things are well with you and that this letter finds you happy.

By the way, a few questions:

1. I thought you were in Great Conclave? Where is Christ?

2. What does P.S. stand for?

3. What is a lech, and why do I need to protect myself from Governor Allardyce?

If you get a chance, I would appreciate answers, but only if you have time. I know you are a busy woman.

Sincerely,
Sharra

Oh, by the way. I asked Governor Allardyce what "Googlie" meant. He said something about a "ball" and a "cricket"? Does this make any sense to you?

[Hydro]

Morgan Industries

Authorization DNA scan affirmed – subject is Paul Andreus, official title: Morgan Industries Trade Minister

Bioscan – no anomalies detected

Nano scan – 14 medical nano types present, negative unauthorized nanos

Meme biological scan – negative

Brain pattern sync 99.7% with archive data - within allowable parameters

Entry authorized.

Welcome, Paul.

Paul listened intently as the security scanner voiced its results and then relaxed a bit when the scan came up negative. Just because the scan was a standard protocol didn’t mean he took it lightly, not by any means. One slip or moment of inattention could mean death in the covert ops business. There was always a price to pay for the heady rush of adrenaline.

Or discomfort, Paul thought wryly, recalling his last incident with Rose. It had taken actual surgery to remove the tapeworms.

Paul dismissed that recurring negative thought, even as he was more than a little envious at Rose’s ability to penetrate even the tightest security by finding weak links, either electronically or by subverting people. In that infamous case, his people.

Walking into the entry chamber, he stopped for a complete changeout of atmosphere and a secondary scan. This precaution was added after Yang had pioneered pico ‘tag alongs’ that homed in on a target’s DNA, followed as a discrete distance, and then collected real-time information about everything that person did or said. The only way to get rid of them is to literally suck them away in a quick atmospheric exchange.

Measure and counter-measure. That is how the game is played.

A green light flashed, indicating all clear. A dataslip flashed with a report on terminated devices and bioagents, which Paul ignored. It would be automatically stored for review, and right now there wasn’t time.

I wonder if Rose knows about tag alongs, Paul thought as he smiled to himself.

Inside his inner sanctum, Paul looked at a holo readout. It showed a representation of the area north of the Monsoon Jungle near Gaian territory. That would be near the ‘secret’ Spartan ops center. On this display a small red light winked, and some hololinks could be seen in the upper corner that would pull down more information.

Seeing the display, Paul chuckled to himself as he sat down in his immersion holo matrix and prepared to engage it.

Tagged like an animal. Serves the loose canon right, he thought with a mote of self satisfaction. At least she isn’t quite so loose any more.

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

“Hello my love,” Ahdia purred as she ambled up and took Paul’s hand.

As always, Adee’s beauty took his breath away. Her highlighted deep and rich ebony skin, broad, flat nose, and full lips were simply sensuous, and she carried them with an easy, regal grace. Today her black hair was plated with intricate hand carved wooden beads. Somehow the gray in her hair seemed to shimmer, accenting the swirling deep red and brown of the tiny beads.

Then Paul looked again. Gray? When had her hair started to gray?

Subtle, always subtle, and that was why Paul loved her so.

Paul gently squeezed her hand as she pulled him forward, and she squeezed back just as gently. They knew each other so well. Paul had known Adee since they were in graduate school at the University Nigeria in Port Harcourt, and this Adee had known Paul for almost a hundred years now.

“What do you have for me, soulmate?” Paul asked.

Adee looked back at him and gave him a sideways smile. “Lots of things. But some are for later,” she said, reading his mind. “You have your situation reports, which I noticed you ignored. You have to absorb them sometimes, and several are quite urgent. In other news, Newby is concerned that Yang has installed a meme in Junior, and wants you to look into it. His medical scan came up nominal, but the deep psych showed some anomalies. You need to give that a priority.”

Paul was looking over a holo of a data summary of the deep psych scan, and a series of multicolor diagnostics flashed by, with numbers and error bars to bracket the visual pattern.

“Yes, I can see why he is worried. I would be too, since memes can be hard to identify, and harder to eradicate.”

Paul looked up. “Excellent job in the summary, by the way. When did you become a deep psych expert?”

“I’m an expert at everything now. Didn’t you know?” she replied playfully.

Paul started, realizing that what she said was true. Every once in a while the AI was so real that he actually believed this was his Adee, the real Adee. Just after his realization he experienced a sharp pang of loss, the same pang that he always felt when he realized that Adee was long dead, killed in a pointless terrorist attack during the Biafran Secessionist War of 2027. Small by Earth standards of the time, the West African Chaos of 2027 had consumed much of the western coast of Africa, including Adee. The Chaos had crushed most his idealistic hopes, and those hopes had only resurfaced with Newby, and with a resurrected Adee.

Paul reached up to brush her cheek with the tips of his fingers.

Soft and smooth. Just like he remembered. But for one last caress…

Adee reacted to the touch. “Paul, are you OK?” she asked, concerned.

“No. I mean yes. Just remembering,” he responded, smiling sadly.

Adee warmed, feeling for Paul. She knew of his loss, and felt for him. How could she not?

“Is there anything I can do?”

“You’re doing it,” Paul said definitively as he let his hand drop to the side. “Just by being here.”

Adee understood. Indeed, she understood more than Paul knew. Mwabudike Senior had personally made sure that her AI knew everything about Paul, and that she would be everything to Paul. It was wise to nurture resources, especially human resources. And ‘Newby’ was a friend, which made the imperative all the greater.

“There is one more message you will be interested in,” Adee mentioned with a mischievous look on her face. “You will never guess who it’s from.”

Paul looked at her, and saw that she was enjoying their little game.

“Never? It can’t be one of my ops, or our associated ops. It can’t be Ashaandi or Sand, or any of his nefarious minions. Hmmmm. Zak? No. Well….”

Paul thought for a moment longer.

“You’re right. I can’t guess.”

Adee stated, “Miriam Godwinson.”

Paul smiled. She really knows – I never would have guessed

“Really? Well, what does she want?”

“It seems one of her close associate has been accused of being a witch,” she stated in deadpan. “Although she doesn’t come out and say it in her very sort message, she needs a favor. I think you know the ‘witch’ in question: Jessica McCollough.”

“That nice young, pluckish, and prudish Jessica a witch? She doesn’t strike me as the broom-riding type.”

Adee glared at him.

“Maybe resisting the charms of that old lech Allardyce proves it,” Paul continued, nonchalantly looking at Adee.

“Only a witch can resist the ministrations of a warlock…”

Finally Paul got his wish and Adee exploded. “Oh be quiet! This is just another example of a male-dominated edifice of religion persecuting a women based on a backward mockery of justice, and due to fear…”

Paul put up his arms as if to ward off blows, knowing he had pushed her button. Between the reactionary Sunni Muslims and fanatical proselytizing Protestant Christian sects, and warring tribal factions of Yoruba, Ogoni, and Edo, Nigeria had been torn apart. Women always seemed to be both target and casualties, being relatively powerless in the male-dominated Nigerian society.

Paul laughed in a friendly way indicating that he surrendered. “Yes, you’re right. Just don’t hurt me. I’ll help if I can. Anyway, I like doing favors, especially when I know I can deliver. Miriam wouldn’t have asked me otherwise.

Put her on!”

[Hydro]

Great Conclave

Jessica was stunned.

“Witch?” she responded weakly. “Me?”

There was a silence.

“But I am not an agent for the Damned,” she said. “I am not!” Jessica’s voice changed from being stunned to being stunned and a little angry.

“You don’t think this is true? Do you?” she asked plaintively, looking intently and hopefully at Miriam.

Miriam reached over and took her hand, holding it firmly between her own. Jessica could feel her strength flow into her, and she drew from it. That was Miriam’s gift – touching people, understanding people, and giving of herself. That is why she was so loved.

“Child,” Miriam said gently, “I know your heart is with God. But there are those who have a belief that is as devout and true as yours, but their fervor is directed at their conception of God’s purity, and their desire to protect the Body of Christ. That which differs from their version of righteousness is suspect, and they are threatened by what they do not understand.

“The Body of Christ has suffered many wounds, since the first of Man’s transgressions in the Garden of Eden to the lancing of the Lord at Calvary. Each of these damages God’s creation and harms the Body of Christ, and only by faith and renewal can the wound be cleansed and healed. We have suffered no less on Planet than those who have passed before us, and the trial by fire that we Believers have borne at the hands of Yang has tested our mettle. Some have grown and been tempered from Yang’s fire, others have been quenched and are lost to us, and yet others have been made hard. In their unyielding hardness they perceive a threat to the Lord’s Body in all the dark corners where they cannot see and cannot perceive. These corners are unknown to them, and they fear them and the Dark they think lurks there, for they wish to protect the Body, and stamp out Dark corruption. They seek to cleanse and heal the Body of Christ by destroying what they see as evil. They react as their hearts tell them to. Because they do not understand they call these dark corners ‘evil’.”

Miriam let Jessica absorb this statement for a moment.

“They do not understand you, Child. You are different. You are opaque to them, and therefore dark and evil in their mind. I do not mean different in a biological way, for God makes each of us a unique creation, that is his gift to us. But God has bestowed on we undeserving humans many gifts, some of which are beyond our ken. We poor humans will never be able to grasp the fullness of God’s plan, its intricate ways, or all of the gifts he has to bestow upon us.

“Some of God’s gifts are unknowable, and some are miraculous. You, dear Child, have the ability to see where others are blind.”

Miriam smiled knowingly and looked intently at a sobered Jessica. She understood Jessica’s turmoil, and her gift of second sight.

“Those who hate you do not see the Dark, Child. They do not see at all, for they have no sight. They cannot see what they do not understand.”

Jessica’s fear and terror faded. Everything Sister Miriam said was so true, so clear. Even as she shrank at the horrifying thought of being aligned with the powers of Darkness, and that other Believers truly believed it to be true, she drew strength from Miriam’s support.

“But what of the accusation?”

Miriam looked a little sad, but steadfast. “There will have to be a Tribunal, and you will have to be tried. Your accusers are true and loyal Believers who have influence, and they can’t be ignored, and they will be satisfied with no less. The evidence will be weighted, all of the evidence, not just what these hard souls have shown me. The Tribunal will be formed of senior Deacons chosen by the hierarchy, and they will decide based on their faith in God and understanding of the Bible.”

Jessica looked crestfallen again. “I see,” she said in a small voice. Jessica could see her world crumbling, failing faster than she could repair it. It made her feel…helpless, and alone.

Miriam saw this, leaned forward, and squeezed her hand to get her attention.

“Don’t fear Child! Trust in God! Everything we see, everything we do is part of his Plan! I believe in you. But we must make the others believe in you, too! Show them that you do God’s work, and believe in God’s plan!”

The change was startling, for Miriam’s countenance fairly sparkled and her eyes blazed, and Jessica felt the energy.

“If you do God’s work with your gift, then it will dispel most of the doubts,” Miriam stated confidently. “You will allow them to see, casting light in their darkness so they can cast away their fear.”

Jessica felt like she was on a rollercoaster, crashing to troughs and then rising to an apex just as quickly as she plunged from bleak despair to hope and understanding.

“But how?”

“I don’t know,” Miriam said simply.

Jessica plunged again.

“But, I know someone who does,” she continued with a twinkle in her eye.

Smiling, Miriam gently released Jessica’s faintly trembling hands, patting them as she activated the comm channel.

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

Paul Andreus grinned expansively.

“So, it is done! One of my operatives will arrive within the day. We are a little thick anywhere Yang is, aren’t we? Have to keep an eye on the bastard! I think this will work splendidly! A worthy mission, and we will both profit from it!”

Miriam nodded in agreement.

“Yes, we all will grow in God,” she said, emphasizing ‘God’ ever so slightly.

If Paul noticed he didn’t let on.

“Excellent! If you need anything else, Sister Godwinson, just let me know.”

Paul switched his gaze to Jessica. “I must say that you will make a fine addition to our venture! I happen to know of a Morgan operative that could learn from you and you from him, and of a crack Gaian psi team, too.”

Paul’s infectious grin broke into a full-fledged smile. “But you’ll find out about that soon enough. Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise, now would I?

Well, I must thank you both. You have solved one of my vexing problems, and I hope I have helped both of you. If you need anything please give me a call.”

Paul’s holo image abruptly winked out, leaving the room much emptier now that Paul’s exuberance wasn’t taking up all the room.

Jessica was stunned again.

“Psi team? Heathen Gaians? Progenitors? I…I don’t know what to say,” she said flatly.

Miriam patted her hand affectionately.

“Then say a prayer and give thanks to God,” Miriam said matter-of-factly as she got up and left the room.

And Jessica was still stunned, but excited at the same time. As she worked it over in her agile mind the situation seemed to click, and fall into place. This mission would serve the Believers, and Humanity, and in serving Humanity it served God. It would poke that Godless Yang, who seemed to delight in tormenting the Faithful, in the eye, and in the long run punish him for his actions, and his betrayal of Humanity itself. It was a Godly mission, a mission with purpose, and righteousness. Infiltrating the aliens would allow priceless information to come into Humanity’s hands. It might save Humanity from a dark and truly evil fate.

Slowly a mote of comprehension crossed her face.

Maybe God does have a Plan for me, Jessica thought to herself, a little in awe.

[This message has been edited by Hydro (edited August 17, 2000).]