Bio-Weapon (Doom Star 2), page 26
“What are you gonna do to him?” Vip said, an edge to his voice.
“I’m going to let the HBs deal with him,” Kang said, hopping forward, the override unit almost touching Marten.
Marten got an armored foot on Kang’s chest-plate, and he kicked, hurling Kang’s half-ton battlesuit against the nearest wall. Then, Marten righted himself as Lance, Conway and Higgens also rose to their feet.
“Are you siding with Kang?” shouted Marten.
“I don’t want the HBs killing me,” said Lance. “So, you gotta forget this Jupiter nonsense.”
Marten glanced at the others. They peered at Kang, who roared curses as he aimed his heavy laser.
Marten ducked, turned and leaped deeper into the huge engine room.
“Traitorous scum!” roared Kang, a red laser beam lashing out after Marten.
Then Vip said, “If you fire again, I’ll kill you.” He aimed his laser at Kang.
Marten glided behind another lift, shifted around and then entered it. Over the still-open comlink, he heard Kang and Vip argue.
“You’re helping the traitor!”
“That’s what you call him.”
“That’s what I’ll tell the HBs.”
“So I’d better burn you where you stand, that’s what you’re telling me.”
“Why are you aiming a laser at me if you’re not helping him?”
“Who’s aiming anything at you?”
“Now he’s gone, you idiot.”
“Where’s he gonna run to, Kang? Think about it.”
“To the enemy, you dolt.”
“I don’t think so,” Vip said “Besides, Marten got us here. I sure don’t wanna see you burn him down. Because he helped you survive, too. You want to hunt for him later, that’s your problem. Right now, we gotta secure the Bangladesh.”
Kang grunted angrily.
Marten’s lift opened two levels down, and he moved down a different corridor. He’d made his move and lost. Now, he had only one option left. Get aboard an escape pod and leave before the HBs arrived. But he left his comlink on receive, turning off the transmitter. Maybe they would forget he could listen.
21.
Admiral Sioux slipped a tight wrap around her bad knee. She’d already had the medic shoot it with painkiller. Meanwhile, the Tracking Officer brought body armor and a las-rifle and laid it beside the command chair.
“Admiral!” said the First Gunner. “This is madness. We must all make a run for the escape pods.”
Admiral Sioux ignored him. At her age, she had learned when not to argue. He spoke for the rank and file, nothing more. Around her, the command team watched the VR-screens in dismay. The HB-trained soldiers were uncanny. The larger group was smashing straight toward the bridge. The smaller group had six active members left, hitting and running wherever they weren’t expected.
An armrest button flashed.
“Security Chief, here. It’s no good, Admiral. Now they’re slaughtering my Security teams one by one. If only I could have used everybody together, I could have beaten them. It was a mistake to chase the smaller group.”
“I’ll be down to join you for the final assault,” said Admiral Sioux.
“Admiral, I must protest.”
“Noted. Now, no more arguments, please. My mind is made up.”
“Aye-aye, Admiral. But you’d better hurry if you want to fight with us.”
Admiral Sioux motioned the Tracking Officer to help her put on the armor. As she did, the Admiral said, “You and the others will head to the escape pods, just like the First Gunner suggests.”
“We want to fight with you,” the Tracking Officer said.
“Senseless. Live to fight another day.”
“Then, you’re not blowing the Bangladesh?” whispered the Tracking Officer.
Admiral Sioux knew that several officers watched her closely as they fingered their weapons. She had no doubt they would kill her if they suspected she would use the destruction code. The enemy’s swift success had broken their last scruples—or so Admiral Sioux suspected. The destruct procedure was complicated, so she couldn’t hide it from them.
The last buckles of the body-armor snapped closed. She put on her helmet and slid open the visor. Settling back into the command chair, she put a call through to General Hawthorne on Earth. Those in the command capsule continued to watch.
“General Hawthorne,” she said, “enemy soldiers called shock troops have boarded the Bangladesh. We’re fighting desperately. I am about to go down and join the Security Chief. Here are the specs of the enemy battle tactics.” She pressed transmit, sending a data dump of everything they knew. At least he would have the information to formulate new tactics. Then, she rose from her chair, and her eyes swept her command team.
“I am proud to have served with you. I wish you luck getting through to the escape pods.”
“Join us, Admiral,” said the First Gunner.
“I am too old to run.” Admiral Sioux hefted her las-rifle. “But not too old to aim and fire.”
She limped to the sealed door, voice-keyed the lock and watched it slide open. From deep inside the Bangladesh came the screech of combat. “Is anyone joining me?”
None of her officers dared look her in the eye.
She nodded and limped into the dark corridor of her beamship.
22.
Earth—New Baghdad
General Hawthorne cleared his throat, nodded to the holo-director that signaled him and peered into the camera. He sat at a desk, with small SU flags on either side of him. Behind him was a representation of the four Inner Planets, with the Social Unity Logo of four hands one atop the other interposed as background. His military hat was cocked at the angle he felt portrayed confidence and a dash of genius. His bony fingers were folded atop the desk.
A recorded voice spoke: “Citizens of the Four Planets, of Mars, Earth, Venus and Mercury, I give you Social Unity’s Supreme Commander, General James Hawthorne.” Martial music played.
As the music wound down, Hawthorne nodded at the camera as he saw the red recording light blink. “Good evening, fellow citizens. It is with a heavy heart that I come to you tonight. Yet, it is not heavy with defeat or despair. Rather, I wish to… clarify some of the words spoken to you earlier this year. This has been a year of great tragedy, as I know that you are all aware. The Highborn have brutally invaded the Four Planets and slain many that otherwise would have lived long and useful lives. What must be explained are those words in the past year spoken in haste and fear. Namely, that this will be is a short war.
“In their love for the people of the Four Planets the former Directors believed the ugliest assessments should remain hidden. They felt it was better to forge the tools to defeat the enemy and let you go on with your lives in peace. But the Highborn are not easily beaten. They are vicious, merciless and savage, and let me add, brilliant soldiers who make well-laid plans. The Directors of many years gone designed the Highborn to be such soldiers. Alas, treachery infected the Highborn, and they turned on us all.”
“As Supreme Commander I have led the fight against the traitorous Highborn. I have witnessed both defeat and victory against our wily foe. I know what many of you don’t. That despite our various defeats, victory is inevitable. But victory will not come cheaply or quickly. Knowing this, my heart was still troubled because I saw that many of the Directors lacked faith in you, the people of Social Unity. So, I came to New Baghdad to speak with Madam Director Blanche-Aster. Her nobility encouraged me to speak plainly with her, even as I saw that the many burdens had worn her down to a shell of her former greatness. She agreed with me and suggested that in this dark hour I take the reins of authority and guide the Four Planets.”
“I refused. I am a fighting man, not a politician. But she argued that now is the not the time for politics but for rolling up our sleeves, picking up our guns and fighting. ‘Guide us,’ she pleaded. ‘Help me show the other Directors that we must go to the people and tell them the bitter truth.’ I finally agreed, with the proviso that she would remain by my side to help me. She reluctantly agreed, as age has stolen so much of her vigor. Yet, I am grateful for as much help as she can give.”
“This is why I have come to you tonight, my brave and loyal citizens. As Supreme Commander, I beg for your help and your understanding. In the coming days, we will continue to take heavy losses. The Highborn are too powerful for it to be otherwise, and their treachery has infected too many who should have known better. Yet Social Unity is stronger than mere fighting prowess and without a doubt stronger than base treachery. Our great hearts beat too purely for it to be otherwise. Millions of you will enlist in the armies that push the invaders from Earth. Others will join Space Defense to find and destroy the Doom Stars in our new and improved battleships and beamships, while many millions will work overtime in order to build the weapons we need to defeat the so-called Supremacists.”
“Citizens of the Four Planets, not all my news is gloomy, or about the hardships to come. The Highborn are dangerous but they are not invincible. As Supreme Commander, I ordered a space attack on the Sun Works Factory around Mercury. The Ring-factory has become Highborn’s home base, their processing plant and manufacturing yard. We hit it savagely with our latest beamship, the Bangladesh, a breakthrough design that has challenged all the old methods of space war.”
“Many of you have been heard to ask: ‘Where are our space fleets?’ I shall tell you where: Hitting the enemy even now! Striking him ruthlessly and making him quake with fear! We will go on hitting him until he is defeated. We shall never surrender. Not as long as your hearts are true and you realize that together, in our complete unity, we shall overcome.”
“Thank you, my dear citizens, my fellow cardholders, good night, and may the creative force of our wills continue to shine.”
General Hawthorne peered straight at the camera until the holo-director said, “Cut. That was excellent, General. A fine speech.”
Hawthorne nodded as he rose and strode to the door. Yezhov congratulated him, shaking hands. “Wonderful, General. A splendid speech. The masses will be hardened in their resolve and flood into the recruiting stations.”
Hawthorne nodded, and he shook more hands as he listened to more effusive praise. The Chief of PHC worked for him now, although Hawthorne would never trust Yezhov until the man was incinerated and his ashes thrown down a deep-core mine. The Bionic, Captain Mune stood behind the secret police chief, ready to kill him at the first hint of betrayal.
“I was hoping you could check my latest list,” said Yezhov, edging forward.
“Assassination teams that are to be slipped onto the orbital farm habs?” asked Hawthorne.
Yezhov winced and glanced around, lowering his voice. “Please, General, this is a sensitive project. Its success hinges on the fact that it remains secret.”
Only those screened by Hawthorne’s MI teams were allowed in his presence, and his bionic men watched those closely. A glance around showed him seven bulky bionics. They held gyroc rifles and continually scanned the crowd, making everyone nervous. Good! Let them all quake at the thought of treachery.
He and Yezhov had made a deal. Slippery Yezhov, the sly and cunning chief of Political Harmony Corps. During his coup attempt, Hawthorne hadn’t the strength to beat PHC in a straight shooting match. So, he’d made the deal and now worked to chip away at their power, just as they tried to chip away at his. All the directors had been replaced except for Blanche-Aster on his side, and Gannel on Yezhov’s. The others were nonentities. So, in a sense, the tripod of power in Social Unity had been reduced to a bipod, a balance: the Military and the Secret Police.
Hawthorne’s policy was to wait until the cyborgs arrived. He wasn’t sure what Yezhov’s plan was. These assassination teams were part of it, maybe the core. Yet the secret police chief’s plan was ingenious and bold. The assassination teams would infiltrate Highborn areas and kill them. Just like PHC had infiltrated the Joho Command Center and almost kidnapped him. He needed to keep reminding himself how close PHC had come to victory.
A door opened, and Madam Blanche-Aster rolled in on her bulky medical unit. Behind her followed her guard-clone, unarmed these days. Neither the clone nor the director looked happy. Hawthorne excused himself and greeted the Madam Director. He inclined his head, even as he heard Captain Mune walk up behind him.
“A fine speech, General,” said Blanche-Aster, only a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
“Thank you, Madam Director.”
“I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
“Can’t it wait?” asked Hawthorne. “I need to meet with the new directors and—”
“It’s about the Bangladesh,” she said.
His eyes narrowed. “Yes?”
“It’s been captured.”
“What?”
People turned and stared.
Hawthorne noticed. He lowered his voice and said, “Come with me.”
23.
Hawthorne clicked off Admiral Sioux’s recorded message and massaged the side of his head with his bony fingers.
“It doesn’t appear as if the Highborn themselves stormed aboard,” said Blanche-Aster. She scanned a readout-slate hooked to her chair. “Normal men did this. Which is amazing. According to the Admiral’s report, seventy to eighty space marines captured the Bangladesh. Actually, treachery is probably more like it. How can seventy to eighty space marines capture a beamship the size of the Bangladesh?”
Hawthorne sat behind his desk, shaking his head with his shoulders hunched. Captain Mune stood at attention behind him. The Director’s guard-clone kept her gloved hands on the handles of Blanche-Aster’s medical unit.
“The Admiral called these space marines shock troopers,” said Hawthorne.
“Does that mean anything?”
“It must signify something. Perhaps these shock troopers are like our good Captain Mune.”
Blanche-Aster wouldn’t look at the hulking bionic soldier. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think even seventy Captain Munes could capture the Bangladesh.”
“I strongly disagree,” said Hawthorne.
“I imply no disrespect to these mechanically enhanced warriors of yours, General. But to me, treachery seems like the more probable answer.”
“Seventy bionic soldiers could capture the Bangladesh—quite handily in fact,” said Hawthorne. “But I don’t believe that the Highborn have modified people in such a fashion. Their psychology dictates against it.” Hawthorne pursed his lips. “Shock trooper is an interesting term. The same philosopher, Nietzsche, influenced both the ancient Nazis and the Highborn. He espoused the doctrines of the superman and the will to power. Perhaps the Highborn have combed the FEC ranks for superior soldiers and trained them in space marine tactics. And they had powered armor.”
“That’s all very interesting,” said Blanche-Aster. “But normal men can’t accelerate at twenty-five Gs.”
“You’re missing the point, Director. Why are the Highborn training regular men to fight in space? Have they run low of Highborn personnel?”
“I would think so,” said Blanche-Aster. “And if so, then Yezhov’s plan becomes even more essential.”
Hawthorne regarded the Madam Director. “A momentous decision rests on us.”
Blanche-Aster looked away, troubled.
“I think Admiral Sioux knew that when she sent the message.”
“I don’t understand why she didn’t self-destruct the ship,” said Blanche-Aster. “That she didn’t validates my theory that treachery, not some new combat species, lost the beamship.”
“Circumstances may have warranted against self-destruction.”
“You saw the Admiral as she dictated the message. She wore armor and held a las-rifle. Her officers surrounded her in the command capsule. Unless… do you think these shock troopers had broken the destruct-link?”
“Who can know,” said Hawthorne. “Perhaps not enough of the officers had agreed to self-destruct.”
“I realize that too much emphasis on training the intellect and not enough on social responsibility has left much of our military weakened. But these officers were our best, the elite. When the moment came that the Bangladesh fell into enemy hands they should have pleaded with the Admiral to destroy it. At the very best, the Highborn will break them in reeducation camps. They gutted sections of the Sun Works Factory. The Highborn will savage them. No. It makes no sense to wish to live through that. Treason, General. If you had all the facts, you would see that treachery overcame the Bangladesh.”
Hawthorne appeared thoughtful. “Maybe the enemy offered them generous terms. They have, after all, become adept at turning captured soldiers into their own creatures.”
“That’s what I’m saying. How could an officer steeped in social responsibility possibly consider surviving the capture of his ship?”
“The will to live is strong,” Hawthorne said philosophically. “It may be that not all the officers were up to the task.”
“Treachery piled upon treason. This is a terrible blow, unfathomable, mysterious and sinister. We can’t allow the Highborn to tow the Bangladesh to the Sun Works Factory.”
Hawthorne began to pace. “If you’ll excuse me, Madam Director, I must see the new Space Commander and get his recommendations on how to achieve our goal.”
Blanche-Aster motioned to her guard-clone. “I’m sorry to have brought this news, General. My recommendation is to look into each of the officer’s records. Somewhere is the clue as to who sold his comrades to the Highborn.” The guard-clone wheeled the Madam Director away.
Hawthorne turned to Captain Mune.
For the first time during the conversation, the hulking bionic soldier seemed like something more than a statue. His steely eyes flickered over the hunch-shouldered General. “It has to be done, sir.”
