Destroyer from the Lost Planet, page 31
North America, said David simply.
You overvalue yourself, David. You’re not the only man who can serve my ends.
Oh, but I am, said David. Without me you can be blinded by a single nuclear weapon. You could find yourself unable to communicate with your commanders, and your commanders unable to relay orders to their drones. Unless … you have me.
Anzû was thoughtfully silent. If he’d ever harbored hopes that David was unaware of his unique power in this situation, such hopes were now dashed. David clearly knew he had something of great value to bargain with, and he was prepared to play his hand.
Well, at least this might lead to a deal, thought Anzû. And a quick one.
North America is my demand, said David. And it’s a small price to pay. Take it or leave it.
Let me think on this, said Anzû. In the meantime … where are you?
I’m only a few days from Earth, said David. There was silence on Anzû’s end. Where are you, Anzû? Or are you too distrustful to share such information?
But by then the telepathic link had been broken.
David returned to sleep, confident that this conversation would resume shortly. He only hoped that his outrageous territorial demand would exceed Anzû’s patience because, to his great surprise, it was becoming increasingly difficult to fight off Inanna’s charms.
Chapter 20
“All right, David,” said the admiral. “The gang’s all here, everyone you requested. Before we get started, on behalf of all of us, let me welcome you and Catharine home.”
“I’ve got you on speaker, admiral,” said David, “and your adjutant is participating. We have another participant with us who shall remain silent and nameless.”
Catharine leaned toward the speaker phone. “Good morning, Lord Enki, Mister President, admiral, and all the others who’ve kindly responded to our call. Thank you so much for your show of support. Admiral, you may sometimes hear me addressed by the name Ketura, rather than Catharine. Although I’m unaccustomed to allowing others to rechristen me, this particular moniker was conferred by none other than His Majesty King Enlil, a wise gentleman, long may he reign.”
“Long may he reign,” echoed those on Lord Enki’s pyramidion, and the blessing was echoed yet again by those in D.C., albeit in a less organized way.
“So, David,” said the President, “what’s the plan? What do you hope to gain from it? And what can we do to help?”
David cleared his throat and explained his plan in a few sentences. Evidently, his plainspoken explanation got its point across, as both Enki’s pyramidion and the D.C. contingent erupted into the crosstalk of a dozen voices.
The President’s voice gradually overcame all the others. “Ladies and gentlemen, from this point on during this call, no one here in D.C. will speak on the phone unless I say so. Is that clear?”
Crickets.
“Okay,” continued the President with some annoyance. “Now that that’s been settled, let me be the first to ask the obvious question: David, are you planning on destroying yourself and the admiral’s adjutant in the course of this mission? Because, if it’s been your assumption that such a plan would be approved, you’ve wasted everyone’s time.”
David shook his head. “Mister President, I have no intention of placing the admiral’s adjutant in the slightest jeopardy.”
“And what about yourself?”
“If my plan works, Mister President, I’ll return to you undamaged. I assure you that I’ll take such measures as are reasonably practicable to ensure my personal safety even if the plan doesn’t work. But if it doesn’t work, my personal welfare will be the least of your concerns.” It was time for David to politely assert himself, even if it embarrassed some of the security professionals. “It’s my understanding, Mister President, that we are presently in a standoff with the enemy that could be ignited at any time—possibly even inadvertently—into a nuclear conflagration of indeterminate size and duration. Do I have that right, sir?”
When the President didn’t reply right away, Enki’s booming voice did. “That’s correct, Mister Ambassador.”
“Good morning, Lord Enki,” said David. “Thank you. If there is a nuclear conflagration, it’s my understanding that tens of millions of people could die in the first few minutes of the conflict, with resultant fallout that’s likely to kill hundreds of millions more and could render large swaths of our dear Earth uninhabitable for the foreseeable future.”
“That is a likely outcome,” said Lord Enki. “Mister President?”
The President sighed loudly. “Yes, but we mustn’t forget that our enemy takes the same risks, and he doesn’t seem to have anywhere else to go, so he’d perish, as well, as would all his acolytes on this planet.”
“I believe that you and our enemy both understand that,” said David. “And the side more likely to capitulate, rather than suffer such a conflagration, is the side whose leadership loves its people more.” David hesitated. “I have no doubt that our side is the more compassionate, which places us in a quandary, as I don’t believe we’re prepared to cede control of our planet to this interloper.”
“Damned right we’re not,” said the President.
“So,” said David, “if it’s a choice between losing one ambassador or the whole planet, the planet wins that toss. And permit me to remind everyone that the last time there was a deadly air battle with this enemy there was substantial collateral damage, even though only a few nuclear weapons were deployed, the entire population of Earth amounted to no more than a few hundred thousand people, and most of those were far from the site of battle.”
There was a long silence.
“Mister President,” David resumed, “I’m no stranger to you. You know me well enough to know that I’m no fool and I don’t want to die. But, so far, no one has presented another plan that would give us any shot at eliminating the threat while minimizing collateral damage. In short, at the moment, it’s a contest between my plan … and no plan, where no plan means waiting for the tinder to be ignited by the enemy at a time deemed most advantageous to him, or by some yahoo on our side—with a messianic complex—who decides to ride a nuke to his target of opportunity. As I see it, the less time we take to execute my plan, the less likelihood of such a disaster.”
The admiral cleared his throat and jumped in. “David, what would you need from us to proceed with this plan?”
David explained what he would need from Gary and Buck.
There was a bustle at the D.C. meeting, over which the President could barely be heard. “Mister Director, did you have a question for the ambassador?”
“Yes, sir,” said a new voice as it approached the phone. “Mister Ambassador, NSA Director here. What if this whole plan is a ruse allowing you to join up with the enemy on terms advantageous to you personally?”
The President was evidently offended by the question. “Now, hold on—”
David jumped in. “I welcome the question, Mister President. The director would have been remiss not to ask it.”
“Go ahead,” said the President reluctantly. “You can answer, if you think it’s worthwhile.”
“To your question, Mister Director, I can only ask what possible benefit you think I could reap out of the plan I’ve outlined.”
The NSA Director said, “Well, what if he offers you immortality … or a nice chunk of prime real estate?”
“He’s already offered me those, Mister Director, and much more,” said David.
“So, are you tempted by anything he’s offered you?” asked the director.
David paused. He looked up at Catharine and Ninurta, both of whom were obviously jarred by his hesitation, and anxiously awaited his answer—as though there were perhaps a fifty-fifty chance he’d sell them both out.
At least he could understand Catharine’s reaction. No woman wants to feel that her man can be tempted by another woman, any woman—even the Queen of Heaven. The truth was, until this morning, Anzû had been unable to tempt him in the slightest with the promise of Inanna. So, what was different about today? he asked himself. Then he realized the truth of it. She’d looked different today. Today, she’d looked exactly like his deceased wife Sharon. He silently resolved to make Anzû pay for that dirty trick.
What amazed David more than Catharine’s insecurity was Ninurta’s. Evidently, he regarded David as a genuine rival for Inanna’s affection—a former crush of the goddess he loved. Ridiculous. Ninurta was a hero of historic proportions, and, by any measure, an Adonis. (For all David knew, Adonis was a Greek iteration of Ninurta.) But, as much as every man has some Narcissus in him, David could only shake his head at any notion that Inanna might set aside the great Ninurta for a half-breed from Canarsie.
David rolled his eyes impatiently at both of them, and turned back to the speaker phone. “Mister Director, one of the things Anzû offers is immortality. Show me a man who proclaims his own death to be such a trifling matter that he wouldn’t be tempted by such an offer—and I’ll show you a liar.” David sighed and shook his head resolutely. “But to be tempted is not to betray, Mister Director. I could have accepted Anzû’s offer before now, or I could accept it right now—from the comfort and safety of this antimatter craft. If I were to do so, how could I be helped by my plan?”
After a brief pause, the director conceded simply. “I see your point.”
“By my way of thinking,” said David, “other than arranging the logistics of the plan I’ve outlined, your toughest job is to plan for what happens if Anzû forces me to kill him. The possible reactions by his forces are almost innumerable, and the task of preparing our forces to respond will be … bewildering.”
The admiral came back on the line. “They could go nuclear, David. And … lights out.”
“That’s correct, admiral,” said David, “but that’s a strong possibility even if we do something else—and it’s an inevitability if we do nothing.”
Lord Enki’s voice boomed in. “And what can the Anunnaki do to aid in this plan?” he asked.
“Lord Enki,” said David, “the best thing the Anunnaki can do is to act as though you have no idea what’s going on. Give our pilots the best jammers you’ve got. Other than that, don’t react at all. Keep away from the whole thing.”
“But won’t Anzû be suspicious of our inactivity?” asked Enki.
Concerned that Lord Enki might still be stewing over his fighters’ earlier failure, David framed his reply carefully. “Not necessarily, my lord. As you’re aware, when American fighters engaged with Anzû’s in the past … no Anunnaki fighters interceded.”
Enki’s coldness was palpable. “That was a result of sabotage by Anzû’s traitors in our midst,” he said.
“Yes, my lord,” said David. “On the other hand, Anzû doesn’t know how the Anunnaki would have responded if your fighters had actually received the American distress signal. As far as he knows, Anunnaki policy might be hands off.”
“We’ll do as you’ve asked, Mister Ambassador,” said Enki.
“Thank you, my lord. My advice to my countrymen about Anzû is this,” said David. “Use misdirection whenever possible. Confuse him about what you’re doing. Make him doubt his understanding of the tactical situation and his own instincts. Keep him on his toes. It’ll make it that much easier to knock him on his ass.”
Less than thirty-six hours after David’s conference call with the heads of state and the U.S. intelligence community, Gary and Buck were already flying their SF-5s south along the Chilean coast.
“Want to point out your future in-laws’ winery?” jibed Gary. “Over.”
“What’re you askin’ about?” asked Buck vaguely, returning from a reverie. “Over.”
“Muñoz Estates,” said Gary. “Over.”
“Where’s that?” asked Buck. “Over.”
Gary shook his head in exasperation as he cycled through camera feeds. “Never mind, boss. You gettin’ enough sleep?”
“I s’pose,” said Buck. “You know, I think we’re just about passin’ Sofia’s family vineyard. Over.”
“Do tell,” said Gary with a laugh. “Over.”
“Yeah,” said Buck glumly, “she’s got her own squadron, and today’s Game Day. Over.”
“She’s in the mission?” asked Gary. “Over.”
“Yeah,” said Buck, “she’s second wave. She told me. Over.”
“You know she’s not supposed to tell ya,” Gary admonished. “Over.”
“Yeah, I know, but—”
“Never mind, Buck,” said Gary. “Hey, did they give you a full complement o’ dragonflies? Over.”
“I think that lady Evelyn said they gave me four hundred and thirty-seven. Your loadout should be on your digital manifest. Over.”
“That’s what I’m checkin’,” said Gary. “It says I only got three hundred twenty-two. Over.”
“Probably all they could make in the time allotted,” said Buck. “Besides, what difference does it make? Far as I understood orders on this mission, those little bugs’re not much more’n chaff. Over.”
“They could be more important than that, though,” said Gary. “Out.”
In the silence of space, still far from the battle brewing on Earth, Ninurta’s cruiser barreled past the moon behind a long-range antimatter passenger craft.
A few hours earlier, Ninurta had removed himself to the cruiser’s communications room. David’s face popped up on Ninurta’s main screen.
“Hello, commander,” said David.
“Hello, David,” said Ninurta. “Have you heard from your friend by radio?”
David could only snicker at Ninurta’s characterization of Anzû as his friend. “Not yet.”
“Perhaps it’s time to sleep,” suggested Ninurta. “Isn’t that when he usually turns up?”
A blue light flashed on David’s console. “I may have spoken too soon. I’ve got an incoming call. I’m breaking this communication. I’ll let you know if it’s him.”
“Go to,” said Ninurta.
David terminated his connection with Ninurta and flipped the switch nearest the flashing light. The screen lit up with the words: Incoming. Request identification?
“Yes,” said David, “request identification.” He’d learned from the manuals that he could operate many aspects of the craft with voice commands.
The words that appeared on the screen raised his ire: It’s your new commander, David.
David stiffened his posture and reluctantly said, “Admit contact.”
Anzû’s patched-up face filled the main screen, rendered a bit more horrible by its mocking smile.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this call, Anzû?” said David, concealing his disgust.
“I’d prefer your calling me commander,” said Anzû. “If that’s too much, you can call me sir.”
“Either will be fine,” said David, “but only after I’ve agreed to join your cohort.”
“Oh?” said Anzû, feigning surprise. “I thought that was a done deal.”
“You were mistaken … commander.” In that context, the deferential word sounded patronizing, which was just what David wanted. “First, I need to speak with you face to face.”
“You’re dissatisfied with the view from your console?” said Anzû, filled with self-disgust. “You wish to see me live and in-person?”
David nodded. “Yes.”
“And how do you plan to arrange the meeting, David? I assume you’re not fitted out for a spacewalk. Incidentally, how near are you to Earth?”
“We just passed the moon.”
“We?” said Anzû suspiciously.
“The lieutenant commander and I,” David specified.
“Oh? She’s still with you?”
“Of course. There was no place convenient to drop her off.”
Anzû shrugged and winked. “I suppose you could have dropped her off … anywhere. Let me see her, please.”
“Later,” said David.
“Now!” said Anzû with frightening intensity.
David looked out through the cockpit door. “She’s a bit tied up right now,” he said with a conspiratorial smile.
“All the better,” said Anzû. “Please put on that headset lying on the pilot’s table. There’s a camera in the visor.”
David put on the headset and floated to the dormitory area, where a furious Catharine was bound to a chair with tape and yellow vinyl rope, much as the android had been, but more securely.
“Ah,” said Anzû, “the familiar damsel in distress. David, press the Speaker button on your headset. I want to speak with her.”
David pressed the button.
Anzû said, “Why are you so angry, my dear?”
Catharine stiffened to hear his voice. “You mean, besides your attempts to have me assassinated?” she asked, glaring at Anzû through the camera. She glanced darkly at David before replying to Anzû. “Because all men are trash,” she spat out. “And, by your voice, you’re a man.”
“I suppose I’d pass for one in the catalog,” said Anzû, “though not a lovely one such as you admire.”
“Were you not born of a woman, Mister Trash?”
David felt a brief surge of anger emanating from Anzû; not through the electronics, but through their psychic link.
“I was,” said Anzû.
“Then why have you no respect for one?”
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
“You’ve created a whole army of soldiers—” said Catharine “—or should I say a forest of blockheaded trees?—and not one is a woman.”
“You’re wrong, Ketura,” said Anzû gravely. “I respect a woman.” He smiled. “I just don’t trust her. She has her own agenda, such as continuation of the species, but she has no real respect for a man’s agenda—unless, of course, his agenda happens to coincide with hers. David, press the Mute button.” David did so.
Anzû’s voice was full of exasperation. “Kill her. Kill her now.”
David smiled for Catharine’s benefit. “Why?”
“I need you to demonstrate your unquestioning loyalty,” said Anzû.
David said in an almost jocular way, “I don’t think so.” He began walking back toward the cockpit.
You overvalue yourself, David. You’re not the only man who can serve my ends.
Oh, but I am, said David. Without me you can be blinded by a single nuclear weapon. You could find yourself unable to communicate with your commanders, and your commanders unable to relay orders to their drones. Unless … you have me.
Anzû was thoughtfully silent. If he’d ever harbored hopes that David was unaware of his unique power in this situation, such hopes were now dashed. David clearly knew he had something of great value to bargain with, and he was prepared to play his hand.
Well, at least this might lead to a deal, thought Anzû. And a quick one.
North America is my demand, said David. And it’s a small price to pay. Take it or leave it.
Let me think on this, said Anzû. In the meantime … where are you?
I’m only a few days from Earth, said David. There was silence on Anzû’s end. Where are you, Anzû? Or are you too distrustful to share such information?
But by then the telepathic link had been broken.
David returned to sleep, confident that this conversation would resume shortly. He only hoped that his outrageous territorial demand would exceed Anzû’s patience because, to his great surprise, it was becoming increasingly difficult to fight off Inanna’s charms.
Chapter 20
“All right, David,” said the admiral. “The gang’s all here, everyone you requested. Before we get started, on behalf of all of us, let me welcome you and Catharine home.”
“I’ve got you on speaker, admiral,” said David, “and your adjutant is participating. We have another participant with us who shall remain silent and nameless.”
Catharine leaned toward the speaker phone. “Good morning, Lord Enki, Mister President, admiral, and all the others who’ve kindly responded to our call. Thank you so much for your show of support. Admiral, you may sometimes hear me addressed by the name Ketura, rather than Catharine. Although I’m unaccustomed to allowing others to rechristen me, this particular moniker was conferred by none other than His Majesty King Enlil, a wise gentleman, long may he reign.”
“Long may he reign,” echoed those on Lord Enki’s pyramidion, and the blessing was echoed yet again by those in D.C., albeit in a less organized way.
“So, David,” said the President, “what’s the plan? What do you hope to gain from it? And what can we do to help?”
David cleared his throat and explained his plan in a few sentences. Evidently, his plainspoken explanation got its point across, as both Enki’s pyramidion and the D.C. contingent erupted into the crosstalk of a dozen voices.
The President’s voice gradually overcame all the others. “Ladies and gentlemen, from this point on during this call, no one here in D.C. will speak on the phone unless I say so. Is that clear?”
Crickets.
“Okay,” continued the President with some annoyance. “Now that that’s been settled, let me be the first to ask the obvious question: David, are you planning on destroying yourself and the admiral’s adjutant in the course of this mission? Because, if it’s been your assumption that such a plan would be approved, you’ve wasted everyone’s time.”
David shook his head. “Mister President, I have no intention of placing the admiral’s adjutant in the slightest jeopardy.”
“And what about yourself?”
“If my plan works, Mister President, I’ll return to you undamaged. I assure you that I’ll take such measures as are reasonably practicable to ensure my personal safety even if the plan doesn’t work. But if it doesn’t work, my personal welfare will be the least of your concerns.” It was time for David to politely assert himself, even if it embarrassed some of the security professionals. “It’s my understanding, Mister President, that we are presently in a standoff with the enemy that could be ignited at any time—possibly even inadvertently—into a nuclear conflagration of indeterminate size and duration. Do I have that right, sir?”
When the President didn’t reply right away, Enki’s booming voice did. “That’s correct, Mister Ambassador.”
“Good morning, Lord Enki,” said David. “Thank you. If there is a nuclear conflagration, it’s my understanding that tens of millions of people could die in the first few minutes of the conflict, with resultant fallout that’s likely to kill hundreds of millions more and could render large swaths of our dear Earth uninhabitable for the foreseeable future.”
“That is a likely outcome,” said Lord Enki. “Mister President?”
The President sighed loudly. “Yes, but we mustn’t forget that our enemy takes the same risks, and he doesn’t seem to have anywhere else to go, so he’d perish, as well, as would all his acolytes on this planet.”
“I believe that you and our enemy both understand that,” said David. “And the side more likely to capitulate, rather than suffer such a conflagration, is the side whose leadership loves its people more.” David hesitated. “I have no doubt that our side is the more compassionate, which places us in a quandary, as I don’t believe we’re prepared to cede control of our planet to this interloper.”
“Damned right we’re not,” said the President.
“So,” said David, “if it’s a choice between losing one ambassador or the whole planet, the planet wins that toss. And permit me to remind everyone that the last time there was a deadly air battle with this enemy there was substantial collateral damage, even though only a few nuclear weapons were deployed, the entire population of Earth amounted to no more than a few hundred thousand people, and most of those were far from the site of battle.”
There was a long silence.
“Mister President,” David resumed, “I’m no stranger to you. You know me well enough to know that I’m no fool and I don’t want to die. But, so far, no one has presented another plan that would give us any shot at eliminating the threat while minimizing collateral damage. In short, at the moment, it’s a contest between my plan … and no plan, where no plan means waiting for the tinder to be ignited by the enemy at a time deemed most advantageous to him, or by some yahoo on our side—with a messianic complex—who decides to ride a nuke to his target of opportunity. As I see it, the less time we take to execute my plan, the less likelihood of such a disaster.”
The admiral cleared his throat and jumped in. “David, what would you need from us to proceed with this plan?”
David explained what he would need from Gary and Buck.
There was a bustle at the D.C. meeting, over which the President could barely be heard. “Mister Director, did you have a question for the ambassador?”
“Yes, sir,” said a new voice as it approached the phone. “Mister Ambassador, NSA Director here. What if this whole plan is a ruse allowing you to join up with the enemy on terms advantageous to you personally?”
The President was evidently offended by the question. “Now, hold on—”
David jumped in. “I welcome the question, Mister President. The director would have been remiss not to ask it.”
“Go ahead,” said the President reluctantly. “You can answer, if you think it’s worthwhile.”
“To your question, Mister Director, I can only ask what possible benefit you think I could reap out of the plan I’ve outlined.”
The NSA Director said, “Well, what if he offers you immortality … or a nice chunk of prime real estate?”
“He’s already offered me those, Mister Director, and much more,” said David.
“So, are you tempted by anything he’s offered you?” asked the director.
David paused. He looked up at Catharine and Ninurta, both of whom were obviously jarred by his hesitation, and anxiously awaited his answer—as though there were perhaps a fifty-fifty chance he’d sell them both out.
At least he could understand Catharine’s reaction. No woman wants to feel that her man can be tempted by another woman, any woman—even the Queen of Heaven. The truth was, until this morning, Anzû had been unable to tempt him in the slightest with the promise of Inanna. So, what was different about today? he asked himself. Then he realized the truth of it. She’d looked different today. Today, she’d looked exactly like his deceased wife Sharon. He silently resolved to make Anzû pay for that dirty trick.
What amazed David more than Catharine’s insecurity was Ninurta’s. Evidently, he regarded David as a genuine rival for Inanna’s affection—a former crush of the goddess he loved. Ridiculous. Ninurta was a hero of historic proportions, and, by any measure, an Adonis. (For all David knew, Adonis was a Greek iteration of Ninurta.) But, as much as every man has some Narcissus in him, David could only shake his head at any notion that Inanna might set aside the great Ninurta for a half-breed from Canarsie.
David rolled his eyes impatiently at both of them, and turned back to the speaker phone. “Mister Director, one of the things Anzû offers is immortality. Show me a man who proclaims his own death to be such a trifling matter that he wouldn’t be tempted by such an offer—and I’ll show you a liar.” David sighed and shook his head resolutely. “But to be tempted is not to betray, Mister Director. I could have accepted Anzû’s offer before now, or I could accept it right now—from the comfort and safety of this antimatter craft. If I were to do so, how could I be helped by my plan?”
After a brief pause, the director conceded simply. “I see your point.”
“By my way of thinking,” said David, “other than arranging the logistics of the plan I’ve outlined, your toughest job is to plan for what happens if Anzû forces me to kill him. The possible reactions by his forces are almost innumerable, and the task of preparing our forces to respond will be … bewildering.”
The admiral came back on the line. “They could go nuclear, David. And … lights out.”
“That’s correct, admiral,” said David, “but that’s a strong possibility even if we do something else—and it’s an inevitability if we do nothing.”
Lord Enki’s voice boomed in. “And what can the Anunnaki do to aid in this plan?” he asked.
“Lord Enki,” said David, “the best thing the Anunnaki can do is to act as though you have no idea what’s going on. Give our pilots the best jammers you’ve got. Other than that, don’t react at all. Keep away from the whole thing.”
“But won’t Anzû be suspicious of our inactivity?” asked Enki.
Concerned that Lord Enki might still be stewing over his fighters’ earlier failure, David framed his reply carefully. “Not necessarily, my lord. As you’re aware, when American fighters engaged with Anzû’s in the past … no Anunnaki fighters interceded.”
Enki’s coldness was palpable. “That was a result of sabotage by Anzû’s traitors in our midst,” he said.
“Yes, my lord,” said David. “On the other hand, Anzû doesn’t know how the Anunnaki would have responded if your fighters had actually received the American distress signal. As far as he knows, Anunnaki policy might be hands off.”
“We’ll do as you’ve asked, Mister Ambassador,” said Enki.
“Thank you, my lord. My advice to my countrymen about Anzû is this,” said David. “Use misdirection whenever possible. Confuse him about what you’re doing. Make him doubt his understanding of the tactical situation and his own instincts. Keep him on his toes. It’ll make it that much easier to knock him on his ass.”
Less than thirty-six hours after David’s conference call with the heads of state and the U.S. intelligence community, Gary and Buck were already flying their SF-5s south along the Chilean coast.
“Want to point out your future in-laws’ winery?” jibed Gary. “Over.”
“What’re you askin’ about?” asked Buck vaguely, returning from a reverie. “Over.”
“Muñoz Estates,” said Gary. “Over.”
“Where’s that?” asked Buck. “Over.”
Gary shook his head in exasperation as he cycled through camera feeds. “Never mind, boss. You gettin’ enough sleep?”
“I s’pose,” said Buck. “You know, I think we’re just about passin’ Sofia’s family vineyard. Over.”
“Do tell,” said Gary with a laugh. “Over.”
“Yeah,” said Buck glumly, “she’s got her own squadron, and today’s Game Day. Over.”
“She’s in the mission?” asked Gary. “Over.”
“Yeah,” said Buck, “she’s second wave. She told me. Over.”
“You know she’s not supposed to tell ya,” Gary admonished. “Over.”
“Yeah, I know, but—”
“Never mind, Buck,” said Gary. “Hey, did they give you a full complement o’ dragonflies? Over.”
“I think that lady Evelyn said they gave me four hundred and thirty-seven. Your loadout should be on your digital manifest. Over.”
“That’s what I’m checkin’,” said Gary. “It says I only got three hundred twenty-two. Over.”
“Probably all they could make in the time allotted,” said Buck. “Besides, what difference does it make? Far as I understood orders on this mission, those little bugs’re not much more’n chaff. Over.”
“They could be more important than that, though,” said Gary. “Out.”
In the silence of space, still far from the battle brewing on Earth, Ninurta’s cruiser barreled past the moon behind a long-range antimatter passenger craft.
A few hours earlier, Ninurta had removed himself to the cruiser’s communications room. David’s face popped up on Ninurta’s main screen.
“Hello, commander,” said David.
“Hello, David,” said Ninurta. “Have you heard from your friend by radio?”
David could only snicker at Ninurta’s characterization of Anzû as his friend. “Not yet.”
“Perhaps it’s time to sleep,” suggested Ninurta. “Isn’t that when he usually turns up?”
A blue light flashed on David’s console. “I may have spoken too soon. I’ve got an incoming call. I’m breaking this communication. I’ll let you know if it’s him.”
“Go to,” said Ninurta.
David terminated his connection with Ninurta and flipped the switch nearest the flashing light. The screen lit up with the words: Incoming. Request identification?
“Yes,” said David, “request identification.” He’d learned from the manuals that he could operate many aspects of the craft with voice commands.
The words that appeared on the screen raised his ire: It’s your new commander, David.
David stiffened his posture and reluctantly said, “Admit contact.”
Anzû’s patched-up face filled the main screen, rendered a bit more horrible by its mocking smile.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this call, Anzû?” said David, concealing his disgust.
“I’d prefer your calling me commander,” said Anzû. “If that’s too much, you can call me sir.”
“Either will be fine,” said David, “but only after I’ve agreed to join your cohort.”
“Oh?” said Anzû, feigning surprise. “I thought that was a done deal.”
“You were mistaken … commander.” In that context, the deferential word sounded patronizing, which was just what David wanted. “First, I need to speak with you face to face.”
“You’re dissatisfied with the view from your console?” said Anzû, filled with self-disgust. “You wish to see me live and in-person?”
David nodded. “Yes.”
“And how do you plan to arrange the meeting, David? I assume you’re not fitted out for a spacewalk. Incidentally, how near are you to Earth?”
“We just passed the moon.”
“We?” said Anzû suspiciously.
“The lieutenant commander and I,” David specified.
“Oh? She’s still with you?”
“Of course. There was no place convenient to drop her off.”
Anzû shrugged and winked. “I suppose you could have dropped her off … anywhere. Let me see her, please.”
“Later,” said David.
“Now!” said Anzû with frightening intensity.
David looked out through the cockpit door. “She’s a bit tied up right now,” he said with a conspiratorial smile.
“All the better,” said Anzû. “Please put on that headset lying on the pilot’s table. There’s a camera in the visor.”
David put on the headset and floated to the dormitory area, where a furious Catharine was bound to a chair with tape and yellow vinyl rope, much as the android had been, but more securely.
“Ah,” said Anzû, “the familiar damsel in distress. David, press the Speaker button on your headset. I want to speak with her.”
David pressed the button.
Anzû said, “Why are you so angry, my dear?”
Catharine stiffened to hear his voice. “You mean, besides your attempts to have me assassinated?” she asked, glaring at Anzû through the camera. She glanced darkly at David before replying to Anzû. “Because all men are trash,” she spat out. “And, by your voice, you’re a man.”
“I suppose I’d pass for one in the catalog,” said Anzû, “though not a lovely one such as you admire.”
“Were you not born of a woman, Mister Trash?”
David felt a brief surge of anger emanating from Anzû; not through the electronics, but through their psychic link.
“I was,” said Anzû.
“Then why have you no respect for one?”
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
“You’ve created a whole army of soldiers—” said Catharine “—or should I say a forest of blockheaded trees?—and not one is a woman.”
“You’re wrong, Ketura,” said Anzû gravely. “I respect a woman.” He smiled. “I just don’t trust her. She has her own agenda, such as continuation of the species, but she has no real respect for a man’s agenda—unless, of course, his agenda happens to coincide with hers. David, press the Mute button.” David did so.
Anzû’s voice was full of exasperation. “Kill her. Kill her now.”
David smiled for Catharine’s benefit. “Why?”
“I need you to demonstrate your unquestioning loyalty,” said Anzû.
David said in an almost jocular way, “I don’t think so.” He began walking back toward the cockpit.
