The Spartan Chronicles

[Kuruk]

Tim Kelly, probe commander, stared through his night vision goggles at the double blast doors of the energy bank. His longetivity treatments kept him perpetually in his mid thirties, with a fit body and just a hint of gray in his hair. Despite his looks, he had been doing this for longer than he cared to count.

Next to him, Mike Sanchez looked through a set of goggles as well. Natalie Rovero, connected to a beefed up datapad via visual and neural implants, worked on the security system.

The bunkerlike structure bore little resemblance to the commercial institutions of the same name. The big, airy, customer friendly buildings called themselves banks, but the only thing that changed hands there was data, not energy. The fortified structure in front of him held the real thing. Economists had analyzed to death the significance of the change to Planet’s energy-based economy. One again, money was backed by a real commodity, not just a promise from the government. One thing was for sure, Tim thought, real energy was a whole lot harder to steal than data.

“Hard to believe they’d send us all the way out here to drain some energy,” Mike said.

“They didn’t,” Tim replied, “And the bank isn’t our main objective. We’ve got to be able to fund this operation ourselves. Someone’s trying to keep things quiet.”

“No surprise,” said Mike. Both men knew how unusual an operation in “friendly” territory was, and knew the ramifications for the Peacekeeper government if such an operation were exposed. Both knew also that their orders did not necessarily come from the Peacekeeper government. Spec Ops, though under the control of the Peacekeeper military, had close ties to the Peacekeeper National Party. Most of all, Spec Ops worked for it’s own interests.

“Almost there, sir,” Natalie said. The youngest member of the team, Natalie was nineteen and had never been to a longetivity center. She had been arrested three years ago for datajacking the Peacekeeper central datalinks. Impressed with her skills, Spec Ops had arranged for her release from prison, trained her, and offered her a job. She had a small, trim figure and neck length brown hair. She looked like a typical teenage girl from anywhere on Planet.

“I thought Spartan security was supposed to be good,” said Mike.

“Their military stuff is,” replied Natalie, “Quantum encryption, semi-sentient firewalls, chaos diffused nodes. It’s killer stuff, really, almost as good as Morgan’s Hunter-Seeker Algorithm. But this is a civilian facility, not a military one. It has standard Morgansoft security. It’s full of bugs and backdoors. They keep it that way just so people have to buy the upgrades. Piece of cake to crack. There. We’re in.”

Tim tapped his commlink. “Team, this is Lead. Security system is down. Report.”

“Rifle-One, on target.”

“Rifle-Two, on target.”

“Entry team, ready,” came the replies.

All that remained now were the two guards. Tim wondered what it was in human nature that dictated that guards must come in twos. It didn’t matter, really. Just as long as snipers came in twos as well.

“Team, this is Lead. Execute!”

The Spartan designed and manufactured Long Range General Purpose sniper rounds were fin-stabilized. The fins made them accurate at phenomenal distances, but also spread out the impact. To compensate, the LRGP rounds were designed to be fast and heavy. As a result, they really did a number on human flesh.

Nearly simultaneously, the guard’s heads disappeared in red clouds. Natalie triggered the doors and seven black clad figures entered. The entry team, six shooters and Woody the techie, was in.

Tim, Mike and Natalie watched the operation unfold through their visual implants, the feed coming from a small helmet cam that the lead shooter wore.

Immediately past the doors, on the right, was the security chief’s station, just where intelligence said it would be. The chief had just enough time to look surprised before the lead shooter raised his slimmed down Spec Ops shredder rifle and fired a three round burst into the man’s head. The team progressed forward.

Reaching the corridor, two shooters went right, to cover the guards quarters. The reserve guards had probably heard nothing, and would sleep through the operation. The rest of the team went left, toward the huge fusion batteries.

Reaching the batteries, Woody pulled the solid-state superconductor cable from his bag. In a few seconds, he had it connected to the ports. The team retreated back toward the entrance, trailing the cable behind them.

Tim tapped his commlink again. “Andrea, they’re ready for you.”

A personal transport rounded the corner and rolled toward the bank. Stolen earlier that day, Woody had spent several hours stripping the interior and constructing and installing miniaturized fusion batteries. It parked at the entrance to the bank. Woody plugged the cable into the upload port.

“Alright, Natalie,” Tim said, “Turn it on.”

Remotely controlling the computer system, Natalie started the upload. The energy transfer was the longest part of the operation, taking two minutes.

With the batteries full, Andrea drove off. Woody gathered his cable, and he and the entry team left, to disperse through the base. Five minutes had passes since Natalie brought down the security system.

“I’ll wipe the logs, and we’re out of here,” Natalie said. She cleared the past five minutes of data from the security logs and reset the system. When the reserve guards awoke, all they would find would be three dead comrades and clocks that were five minutes slow.

Natalie, Mike, and Tim turned and, sticking to the shadows, walked back down the street.

“So what now?” Mike asked. Mike had had a long career with the Peacekeeper military, but had only recently been assigned to Spec Ops. This was his first bank job.

“I bring the batteries to my contacts, who send the energy to the Energy Masters, the Morgan loan sharks. They break it into about a thousand smaller transactions and launder it. It comes back together at the Hive Central Energy Bank, just for the benefit of anyone who’s watching. Then it breaks into another thousand transactions, before it winds up in a numbered account at MorganBank.”

“And then we’re filthy rich,” added Natalie.

“And then?” asked Mike.

“Then, fully funded, we do what we came here to do,” said Tim.

[Kuruk]

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[Slats]

ABOARD FUSION INTERCEPTOR INDIGO 3

Luigi ran his critical eye over his instruments and noted with a grim nod the situation surrounding plex Anthill. So much for being sent as relief he thought.

From what he could see both Hive surface ships still lurked off the coast while some distant contacts were hovering in the clouds a fair distance away. More Hive flyboys mused Luigi. Faint, weak scattered ground contacts marked the graves of those Hive aircraft who had been less lucky. He activated the intercom to tell his pilot, Rudi Gertz, the latest data.

Up front in the c0ckpit, Rudi was a worried man. While their aircraft still had an hour's worth of fuel remaining, the airfield at Plex was in a very poor state. The plascrete runway was virtually non-existent being badly cracked and cratered by heavy enemy fire. Both of the base hangars were, according to reports from the grounded crews below, in a bad state and there might be a problem opening the bay doors at any great speed. So, instead of chancing an uncertain landing, Bert Evans, the senior officer, had ordered Indigo 3 to hold while a ' solution ' was thought of. Rudi just hoped they hurried up. The food supplies they had brought with them had just run out as Luigi scoffed the last pack of snack bars. It had been a long flight, Rudi needed some lunch.

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

PLEX ANTHILL DELTA SECTOR AUXILIARY HANGAR

The Spartan Airforce Plex Anthill detachment were clustered around Interceptor Indigo 4, deep in debate about possible methods of landing and/or getting off the ground. Various planning maps were spread around over the Interceptor's wings. Replacing the runway seemed out the question, there was simply not enough equipment and material readily avaliable for now.

" I know, " said Micheal Porter, ops officer of Pinwheel 2," We can take some of the mess hall food paste and fill in the gaps in the runway surface with it. Why I bet we could convert a rover to spread...... "

Bert looked at Porter, who promptly shut up.

Then Bernard Gauthier spoke up, " We're too busy thinking of repairing the runway ", he commented, " We should be trying to REPLACE it maybe...... "

The next 5 minutes were spent looking at maps looking for an alternate runway. The break came when Ranjit jumped up with a shout.

" Look here ", he exclaimed, " This service road here, to the north, it's used for heavy construction machinery. It runs straight for about 700 metres so it should just be long enough. "

Bert swung into action. " Right, can we get someone up top to see if this roads is intact?? Get hold of the lookouts or something, everyone else suit up and get ready, if this thing looks ok then we go hunting. Tell Indigo 3 to cover us as we roll ".

Sure enough, a runner came back to say that the road looked firm and whole.

Bert hopped over to the squadron frequency. " Right everyone, let's make this a fast taxi, follow my lead, single file ".

Finishing Pinwheel 2's startup he signaled a mechanic in the control room build into the cavern wall. Immediatly yellow warning lights flooded the bay and wailing sirens could be heard faintly over the howl of needlejet engines. Ahead, the thick bay doors retracted to reveal the main hangar bay. This area lay partly filled with rock from a cave in although a path had been cleared much earlier. This bay was also exposed to the outside ' air ' and as such the guard detail here was suited up, they waved as Bert's aircraft raced up the surface ramp.

Upon reaching the outside Pinwheel 2 turned left and using the taxiway joined the perimeter track and headed for the water pumping station which indicated the start of the service road some 150 metres away. A pair of wrecked and burned out rovers lay near the runway, a sad testiment to the losses suffered by the Spartan military so far. The threat panel lit up as out at sea the Hive surface ships detected motion and radar reflections, various active sensors swept out on the electronic spectrum like searchlights hunting for escaped prisoners from their subterranean jail. Bert nudged the throttle up higher. In the lookout positions hidden atop Plex Anthill Spartan soldiers scratched their heads as three, probably mad, military jets raced across the surrounding countryside. Out at sea, missiles began rising from the vertical launch canisters installed in the ship decks. It was already a tad late. Explosions began to tear the earth apart as Bert stabbed his toe brakes and wheeled the jet through 90 degrees so it faced up the road. Checking the rear of the jet was clear he mashed the afterburner ignition and raced up the road. Pinwheel 2 lofted into the air and stowed it's undercarriage before beginning to gain height. Behind, Pinwheel 3 was already rolling with Indigo 4 lining up. It had worked!

Joining formation on Pinwheel 2's wing came the new arrival, Indigo 3, who had been covering the operation from the air. The aircraft commlink crackled to life. Bert needn't worry about the Hive ships being able to listen in, the link was frequency agile, scrambled and coded. Virtually uncrackable. Or so he was told.

" Pinwheel 2, this is Indigo 3, Sir, you do know that the aircraft you're driving there isn't licensced and there is a speed limit on Plex Anthill transit routes ". Rudi's voice was edged with authority.

" Indigo 3, Pinwheel 2, just thought I'd take it for a spin over ", grinned Bert.

Pinwheel 3 and Indigo 4 now joned them from below. Bert already had a game plan figured out. After a brief discussion the two Fusion Interceptors banked about and with a waggle of their wings dashed off to chase the Hive aircraft hiding in the distance. The crews of both Penetrators began to prepare their weapons systems for action against the Hive vessels. For some reason both warships had now started to move and were heading west at a steadily growing speed. They were leaving!!!!

Nearly similtaneously both operations officers spotted many new contacts, quite small, nearing the shoreline. Below small rectangular looking craft were moving quickly towards the beach. Bert already knew what they were. Landing craft. The Hive ground counterattack on Plex Anthill had begun.

[Hydro]

Worker's Nest

*****

Paul Andreas examined the pineapple in front of him. He noted the variegated greens and faint yellow of the skin, and dark green of the remaining spiky-margined recurved leaves. The hues were right. He then ran his fingers over the peeling, feeling the firmness of the fruit’s flesh and the slight rasp of the husk. Finally, he picked up the fruit, brought it to his nose, and inhaled deeply: it had a rich, sweet citric smell.

Perfect!

Deliberately, he picked up a knife and chopped away the top and base and then the husk. Sticky yellow juice sheeted away from each slice, dripping and then cascading down to the table, forming an almost fluorescent pool of yellow. Finally, Paul cut large chunks away from the pineapple’s core and handed a piece to his assistants Miona, Steve, Li Chen, and Swana. He took the last piece for himself. Almost as if choreographed, each took a tentative bite. A series of ‘hmmmmmss’ flowed across the conference table, and each availed themselves to finish their succulent morsel. Soon all that remained was the pool of yellow amid the greens of the hull, with a knife in the center.

“Excellent, Excellent!” Paul stated approvingly. A Hive worker appeared and gave each of in the Morgan Trade Delegation a moistened cotton napkin, which each used to dab away the sticky mess from their hands and mouth. Steve, who had been a little too exuberant in his consumption of the pineapple, had to wipe some juices from the lapel of his suit.

Paul turned toward the expectant Mont Ferris, who stood almost at attention while the Morgan delegates consumed the pineapple. “Mr. Ferris, that was, perhaps, the best pineapple I have ever had. Magnificent! You have proven the worth of your produce, amply, I might add! If our quality control inspectors return with a favorable report, I am authorized to increase our orders and can arrange for regular shipments on MorganCargo for air transport. Our Master Service Agreement specifies the MorganBank credits that will be made available to your government, so all we will have to arrange is the transport schedule the volumes that can be provided.”

“This is only one of our fine products, Representative Andreas. We also could offer mangos, breadfruit, chironstrawberries, azure fruit, when in season,” Mont offered.

“Are any of these ready for inspection?” Paul asked hopefully.

“Only the most early varieties, and they are not quite ripe. I could order a squad of Agricultural Workers to search the fields and orchards to locate some, if you so desire,” Mont replied.

Paul thought for a while about the poor former Gaians of Worker’s Nest toiling in the fields, and then being asked to undertake additional labor to satisfy his whim. And for unripe fruit.

“No, I will decline your generous offer. I will task our permanent liaison to complete these inspections…” he started.

“Excuse me, Representative Andreas. Permanent liaison?” Mont interrupted.

“Why yes!” Paul boomed. “We cannot increase our orders by this magnitude without having a permanent Morgan representative here at Worker’s Nest, now can we! Of course, the contingent will be junior and will report directly to me! I trust that is acceptable?”

Mont was silent. The thought of a permanent delegation of decadent Morgites in his city was … unsettling. The Worker’s Guidance Committee would not be pleased. The degeneracy and contention they might spread among these partially assimilated Gaians is alarming. In fact, it was unacceptable.

Before Mont could reply Paul added, “It is allowed by our contract, you know.” Paul took out his datapad, keyed up the sections and gave it to Mont.

Mont looked the section over. Damn Morganite contracts, Mont fumed to himself. I’ve studied them for weeks and I still haven’t caught all the nuances.

“Very well,” Mont conceded, giving the datapad back to Paul. “But I will see to their housing and will assign a guide to ensure their safety.”

“Of course, of courses! Now, you wouldn’t happen to have any more of those fine pineapples, would you?” Paul asked hopefully.

Mont smiled thinly. “Certainly,” he said, gesturing to the Hive attendant to retrieve several from the stock that he had prepared for just such a request.

The attendant returned with five pineapples, and gave one and a knife to each delegate. Each promptly began the task of slicing off the hull, with varying success. Li Chen had her pineapple pared in minutes, and Paul a few moments later. Miona made a bloody mess of hers, but was soon digging in with delight and abandon. Steve and Shawna hacked at theirs inexpertly, shrieking with every squirt of juice or unintended fall of the knife. They eventually got some bite-sized pieces freed from the prickly hull and started to eat happily.

Mont stood back in concealed disgust and amazement as he watched the happy slurping and chewing.

No wonder these people are subservient to the Hive and Chairman Yang, he thought. One day they, too, will be Hive citizens. I will relish ‘teaching’ them proper discipline.

Mont smiled warmly for the first time in days.

*****

Mont sat in his bare office, which he shared with three others from the Morale and Inspection Committee. The obscene fools from the Morgan Trade Delegation would soon be gone. At least, all but 4 of them would be gone. Where to put these ‘permanent liaisons’? They must be placed somewhere away from the rest of the Hive citizens, and definitely away from any vital or sensitive installation. The least used, least comfortable, and most poorly maintained section of Worker’s Nest were the old Gaian towers. They had chronic atmospheric integrity problems and their plumbing was starting to fail. In fact, they were due for demolition in a decade or so. Mont pulled out his datapad and made the assignment, noting in his work justification that it entailed the minimal allocation of resources and would not jeopardize security, and would bring extra fees from the corrupt Morganites.

Would the Morganites object? Perhaps. There was a litany of reasons why this posting was essential. The Morganites he had seen had seemed none too intelligent, except for that naively wily Representative Andreas. How could one so bereft of guile seem to get his way every time? Very strange.

Before he could finish his report Paul Milton Andreas’ voice came through on his comm link, “Negotiator Ferris, come in. This is urgent! Negotiator Ferris!”

“Yes Representative Andreas?” Mont stated in a purely neutral voice, specifically editing out the intense annoyance he felt at being interrupted.

“Negoriator Ferris, two of our agricultural quality inspectors have been taken into custody and nerve clipped. NERVE CLIPPED! I DEMAND that they be immediately released! Do your hear me! NEGOTIATOR FERRIS!” Paul almost yelled.

An incident, Mont thought calmly.

“Have your escort take you to Tao East Entrance. I will meet you there in ten minutes,” Mont replied. He then cut the channel.

Mont got up and left his office. As he did so he placed a call to the Agricultural Division Security Director.

*****

Paul and his team of assistant were milling agitatedly around the airlock at the Tao East Entrance. As soon as they saw Mont approaching they walked menacingly, en mass, toward him. Mont stopped half way and let them come to him. Their Hive escort followed in their wake.

“This is an outrage!” Paul started, the veins on his temple throbbing. “My field team saw your security personnel approach two members of my agricultural field team and, without warning or provocation, wrestle them to the ground and NERVE CLIP THEM! Then they were dragged off with the rest of the workers toward the field bus. The rest of my team called in, and it looks like they are going toward your ‘Morale Enforcement Center’! Your PUNISHMENT SPHERE!?? Let me assure you that if any of my team are harmed or, god help you, put in the punishment sphere, then there will be hell to pay!”

Mont let him finish. “I recently called and there is no record of your personnel being detained. I would suggest your field team is in error.”

“Oh, really?” Paul said incredulously as he activated his datapad. “This was shot while your security detail was brutalizing my people!”

A holo formed about the datapad. Excited chatter filled the audio, with exclamations and cries to stop. The wobbly scene showed several hundred workers filing past four people, two of whom were being dragged. The two figures being dragged wore a bright yellow and a grey and navy suit. The suits stood out visibly from the rest of the Hive workers and guards, who wore muddy grey jumpers. As they neared the bus, the Gaian workers bowed and made way for the detail, which roughly dragged the unresisting Morganites onto the bus. Obediently, the workers followed as soon as they were clear. The vid then showed the buses starting to drive down the former fused road, and the jerky vid of the now abandoned Morganite field team trying to catch up. After five minutes, the busses receded toward the low-slung mound that was Workers’ Nest.

Mont looked at Paul and his group. “How long ago did this happen?”

“About 45 minutes ago,” Paul responded.

“Put on your breathmasks. This bears further investigation,” Mont ordered as he walked toward the airlock.

Mont thought calmly as he cycled the airlock. The first is that his security details were not so sloppy. Gaians were nerve clipped all the time, but not visitors. And his security guards had explicit orders not to nerve clip any citizen in view of the Morganites, who were know for being squeamish about necessary measures.

The second and more alarming thought is that the Morganites had holo recorders with them. This was a security breach, and potentially more injurious that this incident. Mont reflected that several days in the Punishment Sphere would be good for him, anyway. As Chairman Yang was quoted as saying, pain served to focus the mind.

*****

Mont summoned a speeder bus for the group, and the bus arrived from the cargo bay in five minutes. The group filed in, seated themselves, sealed the hatch, and drove over to the Punishment Sphere. It was a rather cloudy day, and near dusk. Several other surface vehicles were traveling back and forth. Mont thought this was a little unusual, since surface vehicles were rarely used except for instances such as this. Even in the fading light he could see half a dozen doubles to small busses roaming around.

It was almost dark by the time they reached the Morale Enforcement Building. A couple of lights were shining weakly from the entrance of the punishment sphere, and a few more from the hulking and decrepit Gaian-built towers. As they got near the punishment sphere was clear something was wrong. People were streaming out, and were running in all directions. They looked like fleeting shadows in the grim dark night. Mont straightened when he abruptly noticed that there were no guards present.

“Stop the bus!” he ordered abruptly. “Hold your position!”

With the road noise from the creaky bus stopped a myriad of yells and voices could be heard from all around, but most were near the Morale Enforcement Center.

“Ferris to Morale Enforcement Center security, respond immediately!” he stated to his lapel mike.

As he waited for a reply one busses near the entrance of the Center started on fire. The fire spread rapidly. The flickering light showed silhouettes on the ground, some in vague piles and others by themselves. Their uniforms clearly showed them to be the Agricultural Worker Security Personnel. None of these figures apparently had their weapons.

Getting no response, “Ferris to Worker’s Nest Security, there is a riot at the Morale Enforcement Center, send reinforcements immediately!”

“Driver, return us immediately to the Tao East Entrance!” Mont ordered.

“Now wait a minute! What about our people! They may be in there!” Paul protested.

“Then colony security will rescue them. We, however, are unarmed and in the middle of a riot. Do you seriously suggest we stay?” Mont said severely.

“No,” Paul said weakly in reply. The small and old transport quickly wheeled around and made its way back to the Tao East Entrance. As they left there was a muffled series of explosions from the center of the Morale Enforcement Center. Everyone but the driver watched in fascination as parts of the low dome tumbled inward, and bright yellow and red flame shot through the opening, only occasionally obscured by black and acrid smoke.

Li Chen said softly, “Poor Charles and Minnie. No one could survive that.”

The transport cut a corner, briefly jumping off the former road and jarring all the passengers, as they proceeded quickly toward the Tao East Entrance. As they entered their last view was of flames increasing and shooting 10 meters into the air from the expanding crevice in the dome of what was the Morale Enforcement Center.

*****

Morgan Senior waited impatiently. Finally a small holo of Sheng-Ji Yang winked into existence on his desk. Yang started to speak, but Morgan cut him off.

“Before you say one word, Yang, let me say that I am sorely disappointed in your vaunted security. Your lapses have cost the lives of two of my representatives. Moreover, you have abrogated our trade agreement through this lapse. Even more hideous, I was just informed that you have an active punishment sphere in operation at Worker’s Nest. Does your People’s Utopia need the threat of pain to enforce it? And your guards wantonly NERVE CLIPPED MORGANITES! This is unacceptable!” Morgan was out of breath, and thoroughly enraged.

“I see you have no concern for the loss of valuable Hive property and lives. How do your two lives weigh against the hundreds that have died? Have you no empathy for others?” Yang said softly, dripping with muted sarcasm.

Morgan closed is eyes, and his knuckles went white as they clutched his desk. Yet another insult, he thought, when will it end? Soon, oh, so soon!

He took a deep breath before responding. “Yang, I have no wish to continue this conversation. If you call again I will be unavailable. You may talk to my underlings, if you wish. I will call you when I wish this valuable discourse to continue.” Morgan cut the transmission.

A dark figure stepped from Morgan’s library. “Well done, Newbie! Well done! For a minute there I thought you were going to explode!” Paul Milton Andreas walked into the room. Gone were his expensive tailored navy suit and finery. He now wore the utilitarian grey of Morgan Security.

Morgan’s demeanor changed instantly and he smiled. “It felt SO good to hang up on Yang for a change. I take it the mission went well?”

“Oh, yes!” Paul boomed. “We got thing nice and stirred up! Our empaths did a fantastic job. Their guards are such dullards! Those chemical lobotomies they give them make them so nicely focused! Overly so! So we can scratch one punishment sphere! Nasty things. Very inefficient. It should be a couple of months before he gets things back in order. That officious bureaucrat Ferris should find a couple of clues implicating the Spartans, too. Hehe.”

“Are our operatives in place?” Morgan asked.

“Our ‘trade delegation’? Oh, yes. Four of our best. As ordered, they will fund a Gaian resistance cell: lavishly, too, I might add. They will be fine unless Yang brings in a level 12 empath, then it could get a little dicey. I expect the Gaians, young and old, will have no love for Yang, his punishment sphere, nerve clips, and the like. Poor Mr. Mont Ferris may have his hands full soon!”

“Well done, old friend. Just like old times? Back on Earth?” Morgan asked.

“Close, close! More to do back on good ‘ol Earth, but it is more fun here! The stakes are higher! We always were gamblers, you and I!” Paul replied with a chuckle.

“That we were. This is the biggest gamble of all, too,” Morgan commented.

“Oh, no. The biggest gamble was getting on that damned death trap Unity. That is what was a gamble. Frankly, I thought you were nuts. But you asked so nicely!” Paul said slyly.

“Well, I am glad you came. I needed all the friends I can get then and in these troubled times. By the way, I would like you to check the out a rumor I have heard. Is there a Spartan Lander getting rejuvenation treatment here at Morgan Industries?” Morgan asked.

“A Spartan Lander? Here? That would be unusual. I’ll certainly find out! I probably know him, or her! I’ll find out immediately. Anything else?” Paul said. He made his way toward the door.

“No,” Morgan replied.

“Sure thing, Newbie,” Paul said as he closed the door behind him. Silence descended on Morgan Senior’s office, and he got right back to work.



[This message has been edited by Hydro (edited September 08, 1999).]

[Slats]

ABOARD FUSION PENETRATOR PINWHEEL 2

Bert Evans was struck immediatly by the command decision facing him. He clenched the flight stick before him with anxious gloved hands. Bert could feel the eyes of his flight crew drilling into his back, awaiting an order...... Whether to dive upon the fat, juicy targets of the two Hive capital ships now pushing up the coast at about 20 knots, away from Plex Anthill, who would surely claim more Spartan lives at whatever location they were heading for. Or the strong Hive ground attack force attempting to reach the shore aboard the 10 landing craft battling their way through the rough chop of the water......
Bert shut his eys for a second and made a silent prayer that this was the correct judgement. The nearer threat must be dealt with first, Sparta must not lose a base that so many lives had fallen for already.

He jabbed the com button on his flight stick and after a pause spoke up : " Pinwheel 3, disengauge your current target locks, switch to Chaos cannon and follow me in. Those Hive troops must not reach the beach, copy? "

The reply was swift, " Pinwheel 3 copies, balls to the wall boss....... "

Bert gave a sly smile and then banked the aircraft swiftly away down towards the coast. Behind him Ken reported that the main cannon was good to go while Porter reported the landing craft dead ahead, below the scattered cloud cover. The radar tracks which marked them already burned brightly on one of the Bert's repeater screens. Bert lined up his HUD target pipper on one of the rearmost craft........ and was surprised when it exploded before he'd depressed the trigger.

" What the...... ", he exclaimed.

Porter cut him off with a cry, " Torpedoes!! From further out at sea, I can just make them out beneath the surface! ".

Bert's smile turned to a grin as a second transport erupted in flames. The submerged tin cans of the Spartan navy were truely on the ball today. He bypassed the now sinking transport and released his chaos fire at another of the flat bottomed boats making it's way through the waves. The blue beam raked the vessel's side, stripping away the hull to reveal the now exposed bulkheads beneath. Water gushed into the wound and the craft began to loll onto it's side, sinking. Bert pulled up and to the left and began to steeply climb away for another run. He craned his neck around to see Pinwheel 3 making it's run also. A fourth transport died in a stream of unleashed energy. As the pair came about the commlink burst into life.

" Pinwheel 2, this is Indigo 4, we need help, we're a small bit of trouble over here ".

Pedro Martinez's voice betrayed the true strain he was under. A quick glance at the radar in airborne mode showed NINE enemy aircraft wheeling in a dogfight with the two Interceptors. Whereas lesser aircraft would be long dead by now, the Fusion Interceptors, build for just such encounters, seemed to sear a perfect dance around the Hive jets. Bert knew that both Spartan aircraft were rapidly in danger of being cornered. Bert made his second command decision of the day. The Rolling Thunder units would have to deal with the remaining invaders. He ordered Pinwheel 3 to follow him in again, this time against far deadlier foes......

[Hydro]

Plex Anthill

*****

The Delta Sector Nutrient Center was alive with motion, and the only area where Spartans were not scurrying around furiously was the impromptu medical center that was taking care of the wounded from the anti-aircraft brigade Blue Death. There was one obvious pattern to the movement: everyone was heading generally toward the East Cargo Bay.

“Look alive, people! We just got word from 4th Wing Pinwheel 2: there are 6 transports chock full of Hive nasties on the way!” Rao stated. The few that hadn’t figured out what was going on bolted into action, and the level of chaos increased one more notch. All the Hive workers getting their morning fungigruel watch passively from their two-thirds of the commons. They kept to their orderly lines, as they had been trained to do, and not one said a word.

From this silent contingent 15 workers, looking even more decrepit than the rest, broke free and walked into the bedlam of the improvised Rolling Thunder C&C. Mary Belfontaine was at their head, with Markus at her side. All Hive eyes turned toward the crowd and a quite murmuring started. Evidently, some sort of rule or other was being broken.

The group got within 20 meters of Rao before he noticed the unusual procession. He gave them a harried glance, then his eyebrows rose when he say Mary and Mark in the lead. He turned back to his gunner Kat, who he had been talking to before he noticed the delegation. “Kat, if you really want to be released and the med says it’s OK, then go. Your rover is a wreck, but I’m sure one of the other crews would LOVE to have you. Now go.”

Kat, her left arm in a isolation jacket and a nasty fist-sized synthskin patch that covered the back of her recently shaved head, smiled happily and saluted with her good arm, “Yes, Sir! Thank you!”

Rao turned toward Mary’s group. “Mary, I don’t have time for another Official Complaint. This is not the time. You and Markus should report immediately to Lightning. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Yes, sir. This isn’t a Complaint detail, though. These men and women want to volunteer to be a Spartan garrison for Plex Anthill, and they represent at least 150 or 160 others who also want to volunteer. It seems that since we didn’t immediately start raping and eating the flesh of babies, as they were told would happen, that some of the Ants, er, former Hive citizens have had a change of heart. These,” Mary turned to acknowledge the nervous group, “citizens have a particular interest in making sure that Yang doesn’t get Plex back. They are all politicals, which is Yangspeak is tantamount to a death sentence.”

Rao quickly assessed the situation. He looked saw a fairly gaunt group. He didn’t like to think what they looked like before the 469th had liberated Plex. They didn’t look like the Dauntless Warrior that the Hive was famous for. In fact, they looked a little pathetic. But, looking more closely, he noticed that these Hive citizens carried themselves differently from the standard worker drone. Most looked him directly in the eye, and each stood up as straight as possible. This was not a dispirited bunch – they were almost defiant. Some of them showed obvious signs of torture or maltreatment. Particularly hideous was one man or woman, it was hard to tell, whose left side of its face seemed almost melted.

The risks of giving Hive citizens weapons and trusting them to defend Plex were significant. HQ would never approve under these pressed circumstances. He turned and directly faced his group.

“Who among you is the leader?” he asked.

The man with the melted face stepped forward. “I am, Sir,” he said in a slightly slurred voice.

“Have you fully thought through this decision? In doing this, should we fail, you will be marked for certain death by Yang,” Rao asked.

“Sir, we are already dead as far as Yang is concerned. All we ask is for a chance. If you would like, you may hold our families, what remains of them,” he said bitterly, “as hostages for our performance.” He squared his shoulders and stood at attention. The rest of the group did likewise.

Rao was silent for a second. Few Spartans would make such an offer. Rao made his decision.

“Very well, I accept your offer. Mary and Markus will take your family’s names,” Rao said. Mary and Markus looked at each other in abject alarm.

“Detail, stand at attention,” Rao ordered. The group became perfectly still. In the background a silence fell on the rest of the Hive workers who were watching the drama unfold.

“I am going to administer to you the Spartan Military Oath. In taking this oath you will become members of the Spartan Army and Spartan Citizens . You will be answerable to me as your commander until headquarters clears another. You will obey me and my subordinates,” Rao stated in a clipped voice. “Any not wishing to take this oath leave now, for once taken it is binding to the death.”

Rao paused for a moment to let those who were faint of heart to leave. Not one moved.

“Repeat after me: I solemnly swear to uphold the Spartan Constitution and the principles of the Spartan Honor. And that I shall defend the Spartan Federation from all aggressors, from without and within, even at the cost of my own life. I will follow the Spartan Code of Conduct, and follow the orders of my superior officers without question. If you agree, then respond by saying ‘I so solemnly swear’.”

“I so solemnly swear,” the group repeated seriously and without hesitation

“Then I accept you as sworn members of the Spartan Federation Army and citizens of the Spartan Federation. You will report to Lieutenant Mary Belfontaine as your commander. Mary, you and Markus take these men and women to the liberated Hive weapons locker and outfit them with plasma armor and defensive weapons.”

Mary had a stunned look on her face, and Mark was looking directly at Mary with a grin that held barely suppressed laughter.

Rao wasn’t entirely sure, but it looked like a wave of relief and hope washed across the faces of the new Plex Brigade. Or maybe it was fear.

Rao turned from the group. He had a defense to run.

[This message has been edited by Hydro (edited September 16, 1999).]

[Hydro]

Plex Anthill

*****

"So, Lieutenant, what do we do now?' Markus asked in as innocent voice as he could muster.

"I'm not a Lieutenant," Mary said defiantly. She was walking beside Markus, with a bevy of seven Spartan privates and support personnel following in her wake. Behind them followed the Plex Anthill Brigade, now over 200 strong.

"Oh? I heard the field promotion as well as you did. You are a lieutenant," Markus stated.

"Rao doesn't have the power…" Mary started lamely.

"Right now, Rao can do just about anything he wants to, including making you a Lieutenant," Markus interrupted. "You know, I seem to remember a long, philosophical discussion we had on how being an officer really wasn't cut out for us. How neither of us really liked the idea, and how we really were not officer material."

"Markus, I really don't want to be an officer," Mary responded.

"And how we were only serving our required honorable duty in the Spartan Military before continuing on with what we really liked to do…" Markus opined.

"I am an engineer! I want to build things! Fix things!" Mary said helplessly.

Markus continued as if he hadn't heard her. "I guess you are career now. The best career officers are those who really don't want to be officers, you know, but do so in the service of Sparta. You did take command right away. It only took you, what, 15 minutes to round up some staff? I'd say you are a natural leader. Command material."

"Markus," Mary said severely, "you are NOT helping!"

"And you won't be able to associate with the likes of me, being a mere private and all. But maybe it is for the best." Markus gave a rather dramatic heavy sigh and put on his best forlorn and forgotten look.

Mary walked closer to Markus and leaned toward him. "Markus!" she hissed softly, "I order you to stop!"

Markus responded by winking at her and stating, "Yes, Sir!" His smile clearly showed he loved every minute of this.

Mary just glowered in response and they continued to walk at a brisk pace to the armory.

*****

"Luong, notify the 469th that we are expecting at least 12 Hive brigades of unknown type and strength in less than 20 minutes," Rao said as he helped set up the hologrid for the battle map in Rolling Thunder's temporary C&C center.

Luong had insisted that she return to duty, even if she was still pretty banged up. Almost all the other able bodied members were long since on their way to their posts and stations.

"Sir, they reported that they were in position 10 minutes ago. Their two infantry and single rover brigades are just inside the perimeter defense and are ready to go as soon as the Hive lands," Luong said absently as she connected some power couplings. As she did three more status lights turned from red to green. Only 4 more connections to go and they were in business.

"How could they know? I only just found out. I guess that is why they are elites and we are only armor. Just as well. We aren't quite ready anyway," Rao said as he finished another coupling. More lights went green and the east quadrant of Plex Anthill winked into existence.

Rao stood up and stretched his back, which was getting severely kinked from the contortionist stunts he was pulling. "What about communication? Is our link with Slats up? And with the 469th? We should share our data and strategy real time."

"They relayed their comm frequency and squirted their coded access authorization when they reported they were in position," Luong responded as she finished the last connections. She stood as gracefully as her thickly applied sythskin would allow. "Should I start download?"

"Yes, do it," Rao said as he watched the holo representation. Scanning the image he saw the 5 Hive foil and cruiser transports pulling into the position outside of Plex. In the skies above them, providing air cover against additional Spartan air attack on the transports, was the almost suicidal Hive airforce. Looked like Slat's boys and girls were busy, too.

Turning toward the quickly approaching transports. "Do we have any intel on what is in the transports?" Rao asked.

"The 469th reports that there are at least 3 amphib and rovers. The rest looks like infantry by the loading and equipment," Luong stated.

"Well, that's some good news," Rao commented. "Ok, looks like the 469th is going to take the first hit from the amphib and rovers. We need to be in position to relieve them before they get too pressed, and counter attack their infantry while they are vulnerable on the rocky beach just as they are coming ashore. Hold Aardvark 1 and 2 in reserve. They are to take out cripples but, if they can, any brigades we can't deal with. They are not to assist the Pinwheels or Indigos - they would get eaten alive. Clear?"

"As a bell, sir," Luong replied as she put on the hologoggles and gloves. After a moment the optical connection enabled and her fingers were quickly dancing in mid air as she made the connections to the various holo elements and spyeyes and linked them to the holotable. She squirted the orders to the three operational Rolling Thunder rover brigades and 2 Aardvark needlejets.

After a minute, icons indicating the location of the Rolling Thunder rovers and needlejets winked into existence, as did those of the 469th and 4th Wing interceptors and needlejets. Next a new symbol appeared ghosted; it was the new Plex Anthill brigade. Its status was still unknown. Lastly the Hive units appeared as general symbols. Then they resolved themselves as the feed from the 469th activated.

"Rao, here they come!" Luong said excitedly.

The line of Hive men and equipment emerging from the transports toward Plex Anthill appeared endless.

Still, we have a good chance, Rao reflected. We are only outnumbered 2:1.

[Hydro]

Morgan Industries

*****

A shadow crossed the recumbent form, which was lying naked in a Morgan med chamber. The figure in the chamber was a man of indeterminate age, who had the air of timelessness and faint decrepitude of those who have had longevity treatments in the past and need it again. Although generally fit, the muscles sagged a little in his upper arms and a small, stubborn paunch was just beginning to form in his midsection. His legs were trim but a little thin. His face had a vaguely weather-beaten look, being well bronzed by the Chiron sun and now faintly but noticeably wrinkled.

The gentleman examining the sleeping man wore an expensively cut blue silk suit. He eyed the man appreciatively, as if appraising a trophy, a valued possession, or an object that was much sought after. A sallow smile appeared on his ebony face.

“Technician, administer the hypo,” he stated to the waiting doctor. If the doctor was annoyed at being addressed as ‘technician’, she didn’t show it. She quickly and efficiently walked over to the figure, pressed a pen-sized metallic instrument to his upper right arm, and stepped away to the background again.

In a moment or two the sleeping figure’s eyes fluttered open and he took a deep breath. Then he let out a groan. He squinted and blinked twice and blearily looked around. Finally, his eyes focused on the dark figure nearest to him.

“Ah, I am glad you are awake. You are Salvador St. James, are you not? Also known as ‘The Gecko’?” Morgan Junior asked.

“I may be. Who are you,” Gecko asked belligerently.

“I am Nwubudike Morgan, Junior, at your service. You are a hard man to get a hold of, as I have been trying to contact you for weeks. Imagine my surprise when the agents of my father informed me you were here at Morgan Industries. A Spartan getting rejuvenation treatment at a Morgan facility? Imagine!”

Gecko could see more clearly now, and propped himself up on two elbows. He looked down and noticed, in irritation, that he was buck-naked and he had obviously not completed the treatment.

“My treatment is not done. I suppose you interrupted it,” Gecko commented.

“Yes, I am afraid so. Now, before you become even more indignant, it was in the fine print of your contract,” Junior said as he stood and got a robe from a nearby closet. He returned and gave it to Gecko.

Gecko took the robe and draped it over his form as best he could. It was a little undignified to be lying naked in front of a future head of state and CEO. “Yes, I got your messages but I was pretty busy.”

“I trust you could make a little time now? This will not take very long,” Morgan said indulgently.

“Seeing as I have no choice.”

“Affairs of state and company responsibilities have been pressing me, also. I would not have interrupted your rejuvenation if it were not important. Also, per your contract, you are entitled to compensation. I have authorized a 3-day visit to the Morgan Pleasure Dome, at a time of your liking. Hopefully this will make up for the inconvenience.”

Gecko brightened. His last experience there had been glorious. “Make it a trip for two and you’ve got a deal.”

Morgan Junior smiled. He liked this ‘Gecko’ already – a natural wheeler-dealer. “Done! Now, to business. Sparta and we Morganites have been at odds for some time. On the opposite sides of the fence, you might say. Sparta is the leader of one group, and Yang the leader of the other. My father and his council have lately realized that it is not in our best interests to remain so isolated from the other factions. Such isolation limits our options. We wish to expand our options. To such an end, I would like to propose normalizing relations between our two peoples. Eventually we may be able to enhance our mutual trade, to both of our enrichment. If agreeable, our contacts would have to be cautious at first. Such change, in my opinion, is best approached in an incremental manner. Does this sound agreeable to you?”

Gecko pondered this obviously well practiced and crafted statement. From Junior’s previous calls, Gecko had suspected such a proposal. It was clear in looking between these words that the Morganites had finally realized that they were likely to be consumed by a quickly growing and paranoid Yang. He personally thought it would be just deserts, since the Morganites had been largely responsible for Yang’s rise through orchestrating the destruction of the Gaians and giving him so much technology and energy. Still, orders were orders: drive a wedge between Morgan and Yang, at all costs.

Gecko smiled and extended his hand. “Well said! I agree with you, and will make myself available for further discussions. We have much to talk about. Normalized relations would benefit us both! Now, is it possible to continue this talk when I am done? I will be much more energetic when these last couple of decades have been washed away!”

Morgan looked pleased. “Very well. I will return when you are once again young and hale. And then we can have a proper discussion, say, over a fine dinner and wine? I am aware of some of the best amenities that Morgan society has to offer.”

Gecko recognized a friendly bribe when he saw it, and accepted immediately.

“Then have a good rest. I will see you soon,” Morgan said, and then turned and left.

The doctor approached and asked if everything was OK. Salvador nodded, and the doctor administered another hypo.

Salvador St. James then drifted off into the dreamless sleep of rejuvenation.

[Slats]

ABOARD FUSION INTERCEPTOR INDIGO 4

Pedro twisted his Interceptor onto it's left wingtip as it missed a Hive needlejet, coming in head on, with only a finger's breadth to spare. The collision alarm ceased it's incessant wailing but the threat warning panel didn't. The damn thing was about to rupture something soon if it continued analysing the numerous incoming dangers. Pedro rolled the aircraft over and chased another Hive plane downwards in a steep dive. Eyes glued to the HUD he triggered the forward chaos cannon twice but missed both times. The standard of Hive pilots was getting better, he thought.
A verbal warning from his ops officer, Paul, came just in time to jink away from a stream of explosive cannon rounds from yet another Hive jet which was now following them from behind. Pedro was just about to pull out and evade when an aircraft which looked like Pinwheel 3 also appeared on the scene from the rear, cannon blazing energy streams at Indigo 4's new pursuer. One of the shots clipped the enemy aircraft's rudder assembly encouraging it to give up it's chase and corkscrew away, swiftly followed by a vengeful Pinwheel 3.
With an audible sigh of relief Pedro turned his attention to his quarry once more. The enemy jet was just finishing it's dive having run out of height and had begun to pull up. Pedro eased the enemy aircraft into his sights, also reducing Indigo 4's rate of descent and fired....... A single burst penetrated the Hive plane's canopy and tore the two pilots and cockpit apart amid whirling energy. After a moment the headless jet exploded almost as an after thought. The third kill of the day had been made.
Pedro keyed his commlink :

" Indigo 4, splash one ".

Despite the joy of the victory Paul, in the back seat, was all business, directing Pedro onto a new course back towards the action.

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

ABOARD FUSION PENETRATOR PINWHEEL 2

Bert was regretting his career as a bomber pilot. Despite it's obvious swiftness over the Hive aircraft due to it's fusion powerplant and the striking power of it's chaos weaponry his aircraft, Pinwheel 2, was slow and clumsy compared to the super agile Interceptors. Really it shouldn't be as bad as this but Bert was loath to jettison the valuable payload stored on the wing pylons and in the belly storage bay. Two surface skimmer anti ship missiles, two electric pulse propelled active sonar torpedoes and four 75mm rocket pods. A makeshift anti ship load. And here Pinwheel 2 was in a dogfight. Bert attempted to steer after a swerving Hive jet and watched as the aiming reticle came to rest where the bandit had been 3 seconds earlier. Too slow.
Exasperated, Bert informed his crew that they were going downstairs to dump their payload in " a useful place ". Ordering the rest of the Spartan flight to cover him Bert shifted his systems out of air to air mode and nosed over hard. A brief power dive took them down and out of the furball and nearer Plex Anthill. Porter rang out from the engineering pit and informed Bert that a holo tacplan was avaliable from the 2nd Armour HQ. Bert nodded and Porter fed the data to the cockpit holo emitters installed in the control panel and a small tactical representation of the local situation floated in mid air before the heads up display. Bert noted the lead enemy spearhead approaching what was marked as the 469th's positions.

" Those leading rovers, here.... " Bert gestured with a gloved finger at the icon he meant.

Ken, who was also watching this in his weapons console nodded. An impish grin spread across Ken's face as he picked out the weapons for the job and punched up the laser designator window. He zeroed in the beams on the advancing rovers, still a couple of thousand feet below. Bert also grinned at the selection as he toggled the bay doors which open with an distant whine of motors while lowering the plane even further toward the ground and slowing using the overwing speedbrake flaps. Over to the right Bert could pick out a pair of Aardvark's wheeling above the battlefield like shiny vultures. Steering on target with his rudder pedals Bert pickled away Ken's new ' anti rover ' weapons.
Two Neptune Mk V anitship missiles dropped four hundred feet vertically before igniting their thrusters and accelerating towards their somewhat unorthodox targets leaving white smoky trails. Warheads designed to evade close in defense weapons and then cut through thick layers of armour and hull before cleaving into internal areas of capital ships had no problem utterly evaporating the rover armour sheaths. Shimmering new plating tore like paper under such kinetic energy and heat. Two Hive rovers had simply ceased to exist.
The crew had no time to admire this victory as they screamed over the Rolling Thunder rover brigades at treetop height. 75mm rockets burst like big firecrackers among the lead ranks of the Hive infantry clambering up from the beach opening gaping gaps in the formation. Lightened by a considerable amount Pinwheel 2 roared upwards, to return to battle.........

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

PLEX ANTHILL FIELD HOSPITAL

Amanda woke with the worst headache she'd ever had. She groaned loudly at the feel of her stiff bodyand lifted a hand to her sore head. A large medical patch covered her left forehead entirely. Amanda remembered her eventful flight and her sickening connection with the canopy rim. This deserved another groan.
Her groans apparantly attracted some attention as a young male medical orderly appeared at the side of her bed.

" Feeling better?? " he asked in a disgustingly cheerful voice.

Amanda pointed at her head and grimaced.

" Ah, right, I'll give you some painkillers and stimulents, ok? "

Amanda tryed her voice, which felt like a worn gearbox, " That'd be great, thanks ".

The orderly nodded and jabbed an injector against her skin. After he had drained perhaps half the contents into her arm with a grin, he left. Amanda felt the ache and pain lift from her body and head, soothed by the cocktail of drugs. Feeling ready to face the world once more Amanda heaved herself into a sitting position.
She sat in on a medical bed which was positioned against the rear wall of a stone room containing about a dozen other beds. All the beds were in use although all the other patients looked asleep. On a chair beside her bed where a set of loose pilot fatigues, her sidearm and her wrist commlink as well as her bathroom kit someone had removed from her little room near the hanger. Amanda pushed her legs over the side of the bed and dropped to the floor, almost falling over her flight boots which someone had half pushed under the bed.
The cold of the rock floor seeped up through her bare feet and into her legs. The green surgical gown she was wearing smelt very sweaty and unclean. Amanda decided to look for a shower first.

[Hydro]

Plex Anthill

*****

Markus stood amid the throng of turbulent new Spartan citizens of the Plex Anthill Brigade. To his right a young woman walked forward from the orderly line that snaked around Mark and presented her arm. Markus took his ID Reader he had appropriated from a Hive Enforcer, held it to a spot just above her wrist, looked briefly at the results, and pressed the reader to his datapad. His datapad automatically queried the Plex Anthill Citizen Registry he had downloaded from the Plex Anthill datalinks and displayed the woman's file.

Markus looked up from the display at the woman, who had vaguely oriental features and dark brown hair. "Thank you Virta Collins. Congratulations on becoming a Spartan Citizen and a member of the Brigade. Report to Ensign Rollins at the armory for your armor and equipment," Markus said tiredly.

The woman nodded briefly and made for the queue in front of the armory locker across the room. Next in line was the man who was known to the Spartans as The Man Without a Face. He walked forward and stood still, his arms at his side. Markus waited for a moment, and then looked up as the routine was disrupted. He glanced at the man quizzically.

"Present your arm please for identification," Markus said.

"There is no need," he said simply.

Not understanding, Mark commented, "I need your identification to register you."

"I have no identification."

"Just present your arm," Mark said, becoming increasingly annoyed.

The Man Without a Face dutifully presented his arm. Mark took his reader and scanned his wrist. The reader emitted a flat tone. He scanned his arm again and the reader emitted the same tone.

"Why isn't the reader working? Don't you have an ID chip?" Markus asked.

"No."

"Are you a Hive citizen?" Markus asked. Every Hive citizen had an ID chip subcutaneously embedded in their wrist.

"No."

"Then what are you," Markus asked.

"I am a NP," he responded as if that said everything.

Mark looked directly into the man's soulful brown eyes. He was perfectly calm, even if Markus was starting to lose his composure. Stress and lack of sleep will do that. "OK. Enough of this: what is a 'NP'?"

The man paused. "I take it you are not familiar with Hive society," he responded in an articulate, if slightly slurred, voice. "A 'NP' is a Non Person. There are three levels of punishment for a Political. The lowest is mind wipe and reeducation. The second is public execution. The third and most severe is Non Person. My punishment as a Non Person included being given a choice of personally executing my family or watching them be slowly tortured to death. Then my identity, the memory of my crime, the memories of all my loved ones and all I cared about was removed. I remember executing my wife and two children, but not their faces. I remember my father kneeling down before me and weeping for me just before I slit his throat, but I do not remember his name. I have lived for 18 years by taking what I need, but being acknowledged by no one for fear of also being branded a Non Person. We are recognized by our disfigurement," he raised his hand and touched is melted face, "which means no one will recognize me. No one will talk to me. No one touches me. That is a Non Person."

Markus' irritation had fled, and he swallowed hard.

"I do not remember my name, I do not have and ID chip, and you will not find any record of me in the Hive datalinks. But, you need a name for your records. I choose the name Spartacus, in honor of Sparta. May I fare better than my namesake," he said somberly.

Markus didn't know what to say, so he fell back to his standard line. "Congratulations on becoming a Spartan Citizen and a member of the Brigade. Report to Ensign Rollins at the armory for your armor and equipment."

Spartacus nodded his head reverently toward Markus and walked into the churning crowd. Markus followed him with his eyes. The former Hive citizens seemed to part as he approached and averted their eyes, perhaps out of habit. He walked in a deliberate fashion toward the armory.

In the meantime a young man with a terrific grin on his face walked forward and extended his arm without any prompting. He seemed jubilant. Markus mechanically processed the eager recruit. But he kept glancing back toward where Spartacus had disappeared into the crowd.

*****

Luong took another feed from the 469th and the spyeyes and updated the tactical map.

"Pinwheels took out a rover brigade! Ten toasty rovers!" Luong said happily through her hologoggles. Her hands were still pecking away at the air as she processed the incoming data.

Rao watched as the nearest Hive armor brigade icon exploded theatrically.

A little flourish on Luong's part, Rao thought in appreciation.

Still, there were more Hive brigades than initially anticipated: 14. Three amphibious infantry groups were jetting across the ocean and readying their siege guns. Also, a transport that was obviously carrying at least 3 more rover brigades was nearing the rocky beach. The 469th was quite ready for them, being nicely dug in within the remnants of the Alpha and Beta Sectors cargo bays. On his holomap he could also see the infantry of the 469th shadowed by the RT rovers, to provide cover in case it got a little too hot and they needed to pull out. Circling above the siege were Aardvarks 1 and 2, who were staying well away from the lethal airfight of Indigos and Hive needlejets, and were poised to swoop in when called.

The fireworks should begin any second, Rao thought.

*****

"Ready Fire! Here They Come!" Captain Nathan Gatesly warned the men and women of 469th Sacrifice Battalion.

The Hive amphibious unit almost skittered across the choppy sea on their miniature foils. As they approached the beach they literally plowed through the breakers, creating an enormous spray of ocean water that raked 10 meters into the air. Hitting the beach they didn't stop, as their personal foils instantly turned into small hovercraft. The group formed a wedge around their siege gun, which was also mounted on a slightly larger foil. En masse the wedge bounded up the low black and grey granite cliff at over 30 kmph.

Sacrifice battalion couldn't see the amphibs, but knew they were coming from the info from the spyeyes. All they could do is hold tight until they peaked over the top of the rounded cliff.

Ten seconds later their wait was rewarded: the Hive poured over the ridge, firing at their entrenched position as they came. The concussion of the missiles was deafening, and granite boulders were blasted free from the walls of the roofless Alpha Sector cargo bay. None of the missile fire hit Sacrifice Battalion, but the collateral damage and falling boulders the size of houses took their toll.

"FIRE" Nat screamed.

Blue lanced of chaos death leapt from the Sacrifice's own siege guns and small arms, lancing toward the advancing Hive, who were completely in the open and framed by the sky and blue ocean behind them. Nanoseconds later the air above and below them erupted into white energy. The discharge of the chaos gun rippled through the Hive men and the siege gun. By the time the shock wave hit Sacrifice Battalion all that remained of the Hive was ruin.

"Status?" Nat demanded.

Captain Alsobrook of Ozone Company responded, "Light sir, only 25% casualties, mostly non-terminal."

"Right. Button up! Here come the rovers!" Nat said.

On the beach a transport disgorged two rover brigades of 10 rovers each. These poured up the 30-meter ridge toward Sacrifice's position.

"Nat, Victory Battalion over in Beta reports they took out two amphibs, but are pulling back with heavy losses. They're down to 40%. RT is filling," Alsobrook said.

"Right. We'll be there soon. Tell our RT backup Lightning to be ready. We'll take one more hit, then pull back. Got it?"

"Stat."

*****

Rao looked over the battle. The Hive's mobile attackers were committed. Sacrifice and Victory Battalions of the 469th had taken a pounding, but had destroyed 3 Hive amphibious and a rover battalion with largely defensive fire. For the second time in as many seconds, Rao thanked their durable fusion armor, the Hive perimeter defense, and the superb morale and training of the Spartan troops. With them they had a 2:1 to 3:1 advantage over the Hive's best missile attack. Still, the Hive was chewing up the Spartan defenders fast. And the Hive had strength of numbers

Looking at the latest spyeye report, two more Hive rover battalions were engaging the Rolling Thunder brigades that had taken up point to give cover to the retreating 469th infantry.

They can take that hit, Rao thought confidently.

Then Rao noticed that 7 Hive infantry brigades were slowly wading ashore from their mired transports. He clenched his jaws in anticipation. Spartan reserves included a one 469th rover battalion, one Rolling Thunder brigade, a desperately crippled AAA brigade, 2 obsolete needlejets, and the untested fission plasma garrison.

I hope we have enough firepower to take them out before they get off the beach, Rao through. If not, they will slaughter us.

Beads of sweat appeared on Rao's normally calm brow.

[Velociryx]

Gavin’s arms and wrists were badly chaffed when he finally freed himself of the ropes, and he could feel the blood seeping down his arms, but it didn’t matter. Nor did the pain in his chest and the fire which ran along his ribs where Angel had caressed him with her vile gloves.

None of that mattered now. Not when he was living on borrowed time.

He smiled a thin, weary smile as he fought off the effects of the drugs. True, it would make the pain harder to deal with, but he needed that. If nothing else, it would serve as a focus.

Borrowed time.

“Get moving, old man.” He said grimly as he took a quick survey of the chamber they’d kept him in. Looking for something. Anything.

Improvise.

His life-long ace in the hole had been exactly that. His ability to think on his feet.

Not much to work with here though.

Four chairs and a flimsy table. Some crude pottery with fruit in it. A Morgan MusicMaster 3000 keyboard in the corner, and an antique roll-top desk. And the slab-bed they had him on.

Without hesitation, Gavin made for the desk and scanned the contents of the desktop. The old fashioned letter opener was the only thing even remotely useful, and he grabbed it up, tying a short length of rope snugly around his wrist as a bracelet, and slipping the letter opener between it and his arm, tucking the length of it up the sleeve of his shirt.

“Great.” He mumbled. Now I’ll take on the whole damned base garrison with my trusty letter opener.”

He continued his search.

Found all the desk drawers locked.

He sighed, and answered Sand’s question from earlier.

Old or not, his hands truly **did** seem to be made of stone. There was no time for subtlety, so he attacked the drawers savagely, ripping them completely from the desk, and mangling the flimsy locks.

Jackpot.

He had no idea what level of security the badge in the top drawer might grant him, but if it was down here (wherever **here** was….he reminded himself that he had no idea even what base he might be in), chances were good it would get him all the way to the surface. Now, if he could just find a disguise…..

No time for that though.

Time to get moving. Make the most of that “borrowed time.”

On the way past the table, he snagged an apple and bit into it deeply, savoring the taste of the fruit.

Delicious and it made him smile.

It also put a curious tingle at the back of his neck, and he could have sworn for half a second that he heard some far off voice saying: “Don’t eat the fruit!”

He cocked his head to one side and listened for a moment.

Nothing.

He shrugged as he slid the ID badge over the sensor. Probably just the drugs they had him on. Making him hear things.

The door opened, and he moved out of the room that had once held him, becoming in that moment, Predator, rather than Prey.

&&&&

Ashaandi surveyed the field reports from Plex Anthill and sighed. They were good, stout warriors, but the latest reports had Yang’s forces outnumbering them to such a degree that surely the Spartans could not hold out.

He tapped his Comm-Link, waited for the secured line, and then entered a carefully memorized thirty-six-digit code.

Less than ten seconds after he’d typed in the last digit, the response code came back.

Draekin.

He had always been a master of efficiency.

The viewscreen remained dark, but he could hear his most trusted Lieutenant’s breathing, strong and steady as always.

“You called, Master Ashaandi?”

“Yang’s forces against Plex Anthill are strong.”

“Overwhelmingly so, it would seem.”

“Are your ghosts still active?”

“Of course, Master.”

“Use them….I want you to focus on industry. Bomb the production centers and shut them down, even if only temporarily. Rile up the dissidents and drones in all the bases immediately surrounding Plex Anthill. I want them paralyzed for the short term. The attack will falter, and no reinforcements will be forthcoming, as they will all be too busy. It will be give the Spartans time to consolidate in Zanzibar and Plex, which will seal Yang’s fate.”

“Consider it done, Master.”

Next stop was Honshu.

God how he hated that man, but…. Hatred or no, he had resources.

Honshu answered right away, and seemed anxious to talk. “How goes the defense?”

“As well as can be expected, but not well enough.” He said gruffly.

Honshu nodded.

“You know I wouldn’t ask this if there were any other way….”

“You want my Fire-Eaters.”

Honshu’s Fire-Eaters. One of the most colorful units in the entire Spartan military, and the only privately maintained unit in the entire army. It was a small unit, but outfitted for multi-role functionality.

“What is their current configuration?”

“They’ve got polymorphic armor…..stuff we found Zakarov experimenting with when we captured the last of their bases. It’s been slow going, but we’ve been making some strides with it. Amazing….the University was tinkering with this stuff ages ago, and we’re only just now figuring out how it works.”

“What does it do, exactly?”

Honshu smiled. “I’ll send you the specs on it, but suffice it to say that I can turn my AAA Fire-Eaters into ECM Fire-Eaters in just over thirty-minutes, and I don’t have to bring them into the command center to do it.”

“They can do it that quickly? In the field?”

Honshu nodded, and as much as Ashaandi hated to admit it, he really was impressed. A force like that could be just the thing to….

“How many do you have?”

“Two hundred and seventy three, including officers. A small unit, but they pack a punch. Just outfitted them with the latest in Chaos Weaponry.”

Silence lingered.

“You need but ask.” Honshu said in a moment, a slightly smug smile on his face.

Ashaandi forced a return smile onto Gavin’s face, but inside he was seething. Pompus Ass of a man! One day…..

But he put that thought out of his mind for the moment. There was a desperate battle being fought in Plex, and they needed any help he could give them.

“Can you slip your forces in?”

I can have them parachute into the base under cover of darkness day after tomorrow….can the Plex defenders give my boys a little air cover”

“If they know what to look for, yes.”

“It will be a Hivean Mk-9000 Mini-Transport jet.” Again, that faintly smug, satisfied smile.

Ashaandi/Burge nodded. “I’ll inform the base defenders.”

“Tell them something for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Tell Rao I’m proud of him….and that I could learn a thing or two about building a base defense from his performance.”

Honshu ended the transmission before Ashanndi could respond, and it made his blood boil.

“The **nerve** of the man. Such behavior towards a superior officer was…..well. Suffice it to say that Angel would enjoy her time with him….someday.”

Next call, to Field Command in Plex Anthill.

Rao came on the line after several minutes, and was sweating profusely.

“Hot day, Commander?” He asked gruffly, in Gavin’s voice and laughed a short, barking, cynical laugh.

“It is that, sir, but we’ve won the first round.”

The commander of the Spartan Military nodded sagely. “Excellent.” And, I wanted to congratulate you on that…..I know the next few days will be hard ones, but I’ve also got complete faith in you and your men.”

Rao forced a smile, saying nothing, and he could read the man’s thoughts clearly enough. He wanted reinforcements, not pretty sentiments.

“I’ve also got a present for you.”

That got his attention.

“Reinforcements?” He asked hopefully.

“Yes. Not many, mind you, but they’ll be paradropping in day after tomorrow.”

“Who? Who are they?”

“Honshu’s Fire-Eaters.”

Rao smiled. A small unit, true, but their presense alone would help keep morale high. They were a tremendously talented lot.

“Honshu sends them with this message: That he could learn a thing or two from you about running a defense.”

Battle weary or no, Rao beamed briefly at that. High praise indeed.

“Be on the watch for a Hivean Mk-9000 making a low overfly day after tomorrow, sometime after dark. Can’t give you more specifics than that, but keep your planes limping along at least til then, to give them a bit of cover….they’re all yours after that.”

Before Rao could respond, he ended the transmission and smiled with satisfaction.

It was coming together.

One last call, again on a secured channel to the sub-transports. He expected, nor got any reply at all.

“Defense of Plex is proceeding as expected. Continue silent running until my signal. Last transmission until show time.”


&&&&

[Velociryx]

The maze of corridors made up the Hive complex seemed to go on forever, and Gavin, feeling every one of his years, tired beyond words, still bleeding slightly and woozy from the drugs did his best to be stealthy, but he felt about as stealthy as Moby Dick in the Sahara. Still, so far, no one had seen him, and that was a good sign.

Speaking of signs, he found himself wondering how the Hell the people who lived here found their way around….he couldn’t tell which direction he was going, and what few signs there were only served to mystify him.

And it wasn’t as if he could walk up to some friendly neighborhood guard, tap him on the shoulder and inquire…..

With a frustrated sigh, he wandered, hoping to find…..something. Anything.

And he’d better do it quickly, too, because the moment Sand or Angel returned to his former prison and found him gone, the whole place would be crawling with people actively looking for his sorry hide.

Twenty minutes later, sweating from a combination of nervous edginess and fatigue, he hit paydirt.

A nondiscript door which led down a perfectly straight corridor, lined with small, equally nondescript offices.

And apparently, no one was home.

He checked the first four, found them to be empty, and slipped into the next one down the line, closing the door quietly behind him.

Sat down in the straight-backed chair (no padding, of course), and turned on the ancient Hive computer, drumming up the datalinks.

First goal, to find out where he was.

Second goal, figure out how to escape.

Third goal….well, that was probably thinking too far ahead. Better to focus on the moment, so that’s exactly what he did.

And the **where** turned out to be quite surprising. The Great Clustering.

He smiled a genuine smile at the irony of that.

A little more digging clued him in to the fact that he was in Level Sixteen, Sub-Section Theta-Four, Governance District.

He would have been content to sit there and plot a way out, but just about the time he found out where he was, the Internal Security Klaxon began to wail loudly, and he grimaced.

Busted.

Quickly, he scanned the schematic of the Great Clustering, looking for a good hiding place.

“Come on, think damn you!” He berated himself. “Improvise…..improvise…..improvise….”

He smiled, and traced a curious path of corridors along the screen with his fingers.

It was just bizarre enough to work.

He cleared the Datalinks history log so no one could backtrack and see what he was looking at, then called up a listing for every recipe on file which included egg plant as an ingredient (the first thing that came to his mind), and left the office, turning right, and heading further down the long hall of offices, mentally picturing the map he had seen moments ago on the computer screen.

&&&

Ashaandi settled back in Gavin’s chair with a satisfied smile on his face. A very good day indeed, and it would not be long before…..

The annoying chirping of his Wrist-Communicator interrupted his thought. He glanced at it to see who was calling in.

Coded message. Urgent priority.

He frowned curiously.

“Yes.”

“We have a problem.” Sand’s raspy voice came.

Ashaandi’s eyes darkened and his jaw set into a hard line. “I thought I told you never to contact me here.”

“But Master, I….”

“Do **not** tell me he escaped you.”

The silence that followed told him all he needed to know, and Ashaandi sighed heavily.

“Deal with it and deal decisively, Sand, or I shall deal with you.”

Disgusted, he ended the communication, leaving Sand to think that over, then ran his hands through Gavin’s thinning, silvering hair.

He hated complications, and Gavin roaming about represented something of a fly in the ointment. If that somehow went public…..but no, Burge was a sly one, there was no doubt, but he could not one-up both Sand and Angel. There was no way.

They’d get him.

&&&

It was insufferably hot, but Gavin welcomed that. The steam from the venting system helped to sweat the drugs out of his system all the more quickly and made the throbbing in his arms and chest seem less severe.

Absently, he wiped the sweat from his brow and ducked low under some aging pipes. It shouldn’t be far now.

Through two more tunnel intersections, and then right….perhaps four hundred meters, and so far he’d been lucky. Not the first sign of…..

Guards.

Two of them, at the intersection ahead, and they weren’t exactly slouching.

Gavin groaned inwardly. They were on alert. Edgy, because of the incessant wailing of the security klaxon.

He crept closer to get a better look, using the steam and shadows to his advantage.

Plain synthsteel armor and Impact rifles. Not exactly the most state-of-the-art equipment, but they were just garrison forces, and it certainly beat the Hell out of his letter opener.

He felt for it and drew it out.

Because of the heat, neither man was wearing his helmet, and Gavin couldn’t help but notice that their necks were exposed. That was something, anyway. A small target, but better than no exposed flesh at all.

He watched them for a moment, uncertain. Not wanting to throw himself against two significantly younger men, but also not wanting to remain where he was.

He **had** to get to the central power station. If he did, he’d be a free man inside of two hours, if not, sooner or later, they’d track him down.

“Move damn you.” He whispered to himself.

And he did.

Suddenly, he was no longer a tired old man, but a much younger, more vibrant and alive man. A solder, but more even than that. A Spartan soldier.

He crouched low and hugged the shadows, his body drawing upon a lifetime spent training and fighting. Remembering.

Ten feet away from them, and still undetected.

Closer.

Closer still.

With an dangerous hissing sound, Gavin threw himself at the closest guard, slamming the business-end of the letter opener into the man’s exposed neck, and then pulling it back out in a single, fluid motion and turning toward the second guard. He did not even give his first victim a backward glance, but his brain registered the sound of the man’s quiet gurgles and the solid thump as he collapsed to the ground.

The remaining guard was surprised, of course, but seemed already to be recovering.

He fumbled with his rifle, trying to bring it up.

Gavin lowered his head like a bull and charged, hurling himself at the bewildered guard.

He caught the man in the midsection with one of his sturdy shoulders, and though the impact couldn’t have hurt him, it was more than sufficient to knock him off balance, and then send him tumbling over.

It was all Gavin needed.

Coolly, professionally, he moved with the practiced grace of the hundred plus years experience bottled up in him, and it was not long before the second guard was motionless as well.

His shoulder hurt him terribly (one of the drawbacks of tackling someone who was wearing a full body suit of synthmetal armor), and was likely dislocated, but he felt great.

He rolled his shoulder a time or two, wincing at the pain as he stood.

There was no time to strip the guards of their armor and use it as a disguise, but the Impact rifles were a different story.

Nothing quite like trading up as far as weapons went, and the pair of Impact rifles were certainly a good deal better than his letter opener.

He took them both, slinging one over each shoulder, and continued on his way toward the central power station.

&&&

[Velociryx]

The sound was deafening. A monstrous roar which he felt deep down into his bones.

He felt it most in his shoulder though, where the Impact round grazed him, and a very good thing it had only been a grazing hit. Impact Rifles did nasty things to unarmored humans.

As it was, the shock of it spun him around like a top and then pitched him roughly to the ground.

He closed his eyes and blocked out the worst of the pain, and then listened intently, trying to hear where the attacker might be.

Nothing.

Well, nothing save for the hissing of steam and the relentless clanging of machinery which pervaded everything.

He was close now. So close that he could hear the throbbing, humming sound the massive fission generator gave off as it supplied power to the entire base.

And now….shot.

Winged by some unseen assailant.

Weakly, he shook his head, and lurched back to his feet, scanning the maze of corridors.

Still nothing, but he was still alive, so whoever had him marked was toying with him.

Cat and mouse, which narrowed the field to exactly two people.

He nodded to himself. So be it, but he’d get as close to his objective as he could.

Wearily, and weaker now, thanks to the freely bleeding shoulder wound, he continued forward.

&&&

At the next intersection and to the left, he saw it.

His goal.

The reactor core.

The central nervous system of the entire base.

The heart.

And it was beautiful.

The room itself was massive, and a study in bland Hivean functionality, but the pure white light which glowed nearly as brightly as Chiron’s twin suns…..a thing of beauty by any definition.

It seemed to Gavin (in his cloudy and pain-numbed state) that Yang had captured a fiercely glowing angel and chained her to this place….slowly leeching the life and power from her.

He was so enraptured that he almost stumbled into the chamber without looking, which would have been a mistake.

He came to his senses not quite three steps from entering the chamber and saw that there were four technicians present.

Monitoring staff.

He hefted up the Impact rifles and stepped into the room.

Two shots from each rifle, and the room was his.

Too easy.

He smiled wearily at that, wondering how long it would be before Sand and/or Angel came to end their cat and mouse game.

Not long, he decided, and he wanted to be ready.

Body aching more and more with every step, he stumbled over to the main control panel and began deciphering it.

The first thing he did was to seal himself in, then jam the opening mechanisms. That would buy him some time, no matter how crafty Sand and Angel might be.

Having done that, he called up a schematic of the chamber, found and enumerated all possible entrances to the room (air ducts, water pipes at least half a meter in diameter, doors, hatchways, and service panels, one hundred and twenty six in all), and began the arduous process of totally isolating himself.

Blast doors were slid into position, the internal air handlers were activated, and the external airducts were sealed with synthsteel plates, and further sealed with static force fields.

The pipes were flooded with steam, making it impossible that they could be used to gain entrance to the room, and finally, he was ready for the next phase.

One of the chief advantages of Yang’s paranoia was the fact that there were cameras everywhere. Gavin wasn’t all that interested in high tech gadgetry, but he was an ace when it came to fixing things or making them work the way he wanted them to, rather than the way they were originally designed, and it wasn’t long before he’d hacked his way past the archaic HiveComp Security system and run a patch to the camera system in the power chamber.

A few minutes later and he’d patched into his field console in Sparta Command (didn’t want to risk using his main console, which was probably being monitored and actively used by Ashaandi), grabbed the security routines from it, to make it difficult for the Hivers to undo what he had done, and then ran a patch from there to his old friend Allardyce’s system via a secured, poly-encrypted link.

He loved the power of the Planetary Networks.

Of course, it was likely that Googlie was still out of pocket, but when he finally saw the vid he was being sent…..well, he’d know what to do with it.

He took control of a specific camera and panned it down toward him, zooming in for a closeup, then bent slightly (even though he really didn’t need to) to speak into the mic.

“Googlie, old friend….I don’t know what our situation will be when you see these images, but I want you to know that it is my estimation that you not move against Ashaandi, who is my body double in Sparta Command until after the assault on the Great Clustering. Of course, you are your own man, and must act according to your conscience, and the possibility exists that when you see these images, you will write them off as fakes, but I had to try, so here goes.”

He looked around the room, panning the camera with him.

“I have currently sealed myself in the main power station, far beneath the Hivean base known as the Great Clustering….I was brought here by Angel, a member of the Circle of Ashaandi, tortured by both her and our longtime friend Sand, and impersonated by Ashaandi, who left me here to die while he went back to take my place at the head of the Spartan Invasion.”

He sighed heavily and shook his head.

“I have reason to believe that Ashaandi and his ilk are in grave danger if they remain here in Hive Lands….victims of their own successes, you might say, and are plotting a way to escape…..I also believe that their escape will be timed to coincide with our upcoming “surprise” military victory, and that leads me to the belief that Ashaandi will operate with our best interests at heart…..nonetheless, the plans are already in motion, and if you feel the need to move against him, it still should not change the outcome, but I’d recommend doing it quietly…..our command structure has been rattled enough here lately, if you know what I mean…..”

There was a clattering noise from somewhere behind him, and he turned to see. One of the motion sensitive cameras picked up on it too, and the image was transmitted halfway across the globe to Allardyce’s console.

Sparks from a cutter-tool.

Someone was in one of the airducts, cutting through to the room.

Gavin turned back to the camera. “It won’t be long now, old friend, and I’ve got stuff to do, so I’ll leave this running a while, and let the scene unfold…..if I don’t make it back, well, consider this my big goodbye….and tell Elizabeth I love her…..never had the guts to tell her that in person, but maybe it will make her smile.”

He saluted curtly, and then set about to work, muttering quietly to himself to explain what he was trying to do. Of course he had no way of knowing it but, because some of the controls were a good distance from the mic, not every word was perfectly audible, but it was more than enough.

“….figure if I can set the main generator on a continuous feedback loop and override the automatic shutdown procedures that……kick in when the tolerances are exceeded……should be able to blow this place to hell and back……ight not be as impressive as one of those Planet Busters, but it should make a hell of a hole…..” He smiled. “Oh, but I forgot….this place is **already** a hole…..well then….it’ll make it a good bit deeper.”

A few minutes later, he was finished, and already the Fission reactor could be heard whining and humming at a slightly higher pitch.

That would continue until a critical mass was reached, and then…..bang.

Satisfied, Gavin scouted around for a suitable hiding place with a good clean line up to the ventilation shaft, cradling one of his Impact Rifles almost casually as he waited.

He did not have to wait long.

In mere minutes, the last of the synthsteel plates fell away, clattering loudly to the floor, and Gavin wasted no time. He aimed at the entrance to the shaft and fired a steady, withering barrage.

No weapons fire was returened, and after sending perhaps thirty rounds into the shaft, Gavin stopped and cocked his head to one side, listening.

Silence reigned for a long moment.

And then it was broken.

The old soldier’s eyes narrowed, and then widened in concern and he scanned the room looking for….something.

The concussion grenade clattered out of the shaft and exploded before it even hit the floor, some twenty feet below.

It was close enough to Gavin’s position to completely bowl him over, and he felt several of his ribs crack.

He his his head solidly on the sharp edge of something as he fell, and the world got swimmy and black.

He fought against it and tried to stand, but found that he could not.

Tried to get his arms to move at least, so he could aim his rifle.

Couldn’t do that either.

Watched in quiet, impotent rage as a pair of stealthy figured dropped gracefully into the room.

Angel and Sand.

Together.

The end game.

&&&

Angel hung well back, covering Gavin with a dainty, miniturized shredder pistol (still wearing her gloves though, he noticed, and his foggy mind wondered vaguely what the pistol grip was made of).

Sand was not at all shy about approaching though, and he seemed to have a cocky swagger in his stride that made Gavin **really** wish he could find it in himself to stand up and throttle the little wiry bastard.

No luck on that count though.

Sand kicked the Impact Rifles away and sneered down at him. “So….I see you’ve been busy…..too bad it won’t do you any good. After we kill you, we’ll unlock this place and get our best technicians in here to undo whatever damage you’ve done.”

Gavin worked his jaw for a moment before he could actually speak. “Let’s….get on with it then…..”

And he glared defiantly up at the assassin.

Sand kicked him in response, and it was the thing that Gavin needed.

Something about the sharpness of the pain woke up all his pain centers again after the concussive blast seemed to numb his entire body and put him more than half asleep.

He came to though, with that one kick, and found at least a bit more fight in himself, but he hid it.

He didn’t have much left, and timing would have to be everything.

It didn’t even matter that Angel would kill him anyway, even if he got the better of Sand. That was no longer the point. It wasn’t about survival any more. He knew he woulnd’t. It was about…..being better.

Sand drew back his booted foot to kick him again, and Gavin curled up, pretending to cower.

Actually, he was tensing every muscle in his body, and when Sand lashed out with his foot, Gavin caught it and twisted savagely, throwing his longtime nemesis off balance.

He struggled to his feet as Sand tumbled over backward, and shoved the smaller man in the chest. Any hope Sand had of recovering his balance went by the board when Gavin shoved him, and he tumbled roughly to the ground.

In an instant, Gavin was atop him, straddling Sand’s chest and bringing those horrible, rock-solid fists to bear.

Right.

Left.

Another right.

Another left.

Again and again, beating Sand’s face into a bloody pulp, and strangely, Angel watched it all impassively.

Sand struggled briefly, but gave up very quickly, and soon stopped moving at all.

Gavin sagged forward and then rolled off of him, staring up at the ceiling.

It had been a sucker punch, of sorts, but he’d still beaten him. Sand, the great assassin, bested by a tired old man.

If he’d had any energy at all left, he would have laughed at that.

He blinked twice, not quite believing he was still alive.

Why didn’t Angel just…..

He struggled to sit up, looking around with his fuzzy vision to find her.

She stood exactly as she had before, covering him with that dainty shredder pistol, but not moving.”

He found the strength to stand.

Glanced down at Sand’s unconscioius form and shook his head sadly. “…..could have…..killed you…..but I didn’t…..you live…..live and know that…..I beat you.” He told the unmoving form, and then looked back at Angel and began shuffling forward.

“Wha….what’s wrong with you?….Why don’t you just get it….over with? I’m dead….anyway.”

He looked into her normally cold eyes and was amazed to find a measure of compassion there. “I….I must kill you….you know that…..we both know that….”

He nodded.

“But I had to tell you….up close…..face to face….that I…..I….” She blinked back a tear, and Gavin was nearly stunned off his feet. Angel….crying?

“I admire you….your force of will….your courage….your….NOOOOO!”

He heard the word, but the warning came too late. His foggy brain and tortured body couldn’t have reacted quickly enough anyway, and the round from the Impact Rifle tore through his back at about kidney level, and the exit wound was correspondingly worse.

He reached down to his stomach, felt the warmth and wetness, but did not have the courage to actually look. Instead, he tried to turn around, sinking to his knees as he did so.

Sand was limping toward him, face battered and swollen, Impact Rifle in hand.

Gavin slumped to the floor and the world began to go dark.

“Coward….” He whispered softly.

Somewhere far beneath the Hive base, Great Clustering, Gavin Burge, acting head of the Junta, died.

&&&

Less than thirty mintutes after his death an explosion was reported on that same sight. Spartan intelligence units later confirmed that the blast destroyed the base’s Command Center, their Perimeter Defense Structure, and blew out their Recycling Tanks entirely. As the blast was directly beneath the Garrison Headquarters, some 2000 garrison troops were also reported either killed or missing.

“King Arthur had it right all along…..In serving each other, we become free…..”
-Gavin Burge, spoken over a glass of wine with Googlie Allardyce, long, long ago…..


[This message has been edited by Velociryx (edited September 17, 1999).]

[Googlie]

“But we must wake him – it is a matter of the greatest urgency.”

Basil Hargreaves was quietly insistent.

Chief Surgeon Kendra Ossenton was equally insistent.

“If you interrupt the rejuvenation process I cannot be held accountable for what might happen to him. The treatment is at a delicate phase. The heart has been replaced, and the bio implants inserted, and the limbs are reforming. Awakening Governor Allardyce now could stunt the growth of these limbs and other vital organs.”

“What do you need to be convinced?” asked Hargreaves helplessly.

“Governor Allardyce left no emergency interruption instructions, and only Supreme Commander Burge can overrule in these situations – absent colonel Santiago herself, of course.”

“There is one other way,” said the voice from the doorway.

Basil and Kendra looked round.

Marlo Hollis was standing at the door.

“As Governor of Sparta Command I can declare a State of Emergency under our Suspension of Civil Liberties Act. You, as citizens of Sparta Command, come under my direct control, as would Governor Allardyce. My word would be law at this base. Now I don’t have to do this, do I?”

Kendra shrugged, and pulled out her commlink, flipping it to record:

“Be it noted that I am activating premature awakening of Governor Scott Allardyce at the instigation of his aide, Basil Hargreaves, and the Governor of Sparta Command, Marlo Hollis. I do this involuntarily and under duress.”

“Oh, get on with it,” said Marlo, impatiently.

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

Shapes.

Voices.

More indistinct shapes.

The Unity was breaking up around me, and I was emerging from a cryogenic sleep.

I coughed and spluttered.

The esophageal tubing kinked and I wheezed.

The pump activated and my lungs emptied, and the liquid level subsided around me until my face was above the level of the gel.

I gulped in fresh air and blearily opened my eyes.

No, I was not in the Unity, but in the rejuvenation tanks, but something was wrong.

I felt an intense pain in my chest, and could hardly move my fingers and toes.

I brought a hand up to my eyes, and gasped. It was tiny, like that of a baby’s.

I swiveled my eyes around to take in more of my surroundings. The indistinct shapes took form – two women and a man.

“Governor Allardyce” one was saying. “Don’t thrash around so. We’ve brought you up prematurely for some information, then you must go back. Now pay attention.”

“Hargreaves, you’ve got one minute, then he’s going under again” I heard the voice say.

Basil’s face loomed in front of mine.

“Googlie. It’s Baz. We need your secure encryption code to read a vid squirt.”

I looked at the face. It was Hargreaves, Miller’s XO. What did he need my code for?

“Vidsquirt?” I said weakly.

“From Burge. Scrambled. Need your code, quickly.”

“Code?” I mumbled.

“That’s enough. He’s going under” I heard the voice say.

“Baz,” I said. He leaned closer.

“Jinty. Deirdre’s arms. You need vocal override on holo – Skyeblazer.”

Phththt.

The nozzle pressed against my neck discharged.

I fell into a deep sleep.

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

“Jinty. Deirdre’s arms. You need vocal override on holo – Skyeblazer. What the hell does that mean?”

Basil was irritated. He and Marlo had discussed the code for several minutes and finally replayed the rasping words of Allardyce.

“Did he know what we were asking?” she asked. “He seemed pretty far out of it.”

“Oh, I think he understood,” Basil said. “He was telling us the code, I’m sure. I just don’t understand it. Deirdre’s arms. What the heck is that reference. What holo? The Skyblazer holo? What’s that, and why didn’t he say that?”

“Maybe the answer’s somewhere in his office” suggested Marlo. “Let’s go look.”

They trudged over to the SAC headquarters to go to Googlie’s office.

[Hydro]

Plex Anthill

*****

Rao stared for a moment at his datapad, digesting his conversation with Gavin. There were a number of things to consider.

First, Rao thought, Honshu has given me a personal compliment. In all my years in the Spartan Army I have never heard the reclusive Honshu make a direct public statement and have certainly never heard of anyone rating a congratulations from him. Moreover, now that I think about it I have never even seen him at any military function. I have met Gavin, certainly Burge and Slats, even the legendary Googlie, and have had the singular honor of meeting Santiago three times. But never Honshu - I wouldn't really know what he looked like if he came up and shook my hand. Now there was an interesting thought. What if he was at Plex now? Unlikely, but it was a thought-provoking idea. Even so, the delivery was in keeping with what little I know of Honshu: indirect. Honshu was nothing if not subtle.

Second, the people in HQ are paying attention. I guess stuck here in the sticks at Plex I think my problems and I am at the center of the world. Of course there are other things going on, and some of those probably make this little ruckus at Plex seem like small potatoes. Honshu was even generous enough to send his Fire Eaters, who themselves are legendary. That speaks volumes. If the Hive knows what's good for them they will save themselves the time by peeing their pants now and running back into the Middle Chiron Sea, Rao thought with a chuckle. The thought of the Dauntless Hive Soldier wetting themselves in pure terror was very amusing.

Lastly, why did this information come from Gavin? I don't know Gavin that well, but I do know he won't needlessly break the chain of command. He isn't a military bureaucrat that views COC as sacrosanct and will do what needs to be done. In this case his communication with me really wasn't necessary, and he does know better. Why didn't he go through my CO, General Wang? Wang isn't likely to be too deeply offended at the breach, but this is out of the ordinary. I'll squirt the info to Wang to make sure he is informed. If there is some fence mending that needs to be done, better have those two do it now then let it fester.

Rao picked up his datapad, excerpted the holofile of his and Gavin's conversation, encrypted it, and squirted it to 2nd Armor's General Wang. He also gave Gavin the benefit of the doubt in his very brief comment. Wang will understand my terseness, considering the circumstances.

Now, back to the battle, Rao thought.

The Hive assault on Plex Anthill had started at daybreak, 6 Chiron hours ago. It would be dark in another 4 hours, which, given the 18 hour Chiron day, would mean 8 hours of darkness and uncertainty. Who knows what could and would happen under the cover of darkness.

Rao examined the holomap of Plex Anthill for the umpteenth time: it showed the six Hive transports still in the small cove that protected Plex Anthill, a furious sortie that still raged between the now depleted Hive bombers and interceptors and the damaged Spartan Indigo interceptors. The seven Hive infantry brigades, which were in total well over a thousand men strong, were making unusually slow progress but were almost on the beach and would be in position before morning. Now safely licking their wounds, the 469 infantry was inside Plex and was receiving a well-deserved rest. Defensive and counterattack reserves now included the new Plex Brigade, since Mary just reported in for duty, in record time, too. They are added to our elite 469th rover squad, our veteran RT rover squad, and our two vigilant Aardvarks that still circle the skies. Honshu's Fire Eaters may or may not arrive in time - if they do they will surely tip the tides of battle in our favor. Our reserves, fortunately, have not been called on. Yet.

Most immediate, however, were the last two Hive rover squads that were attacking two Rolling Thunder brigades. Those engagements have not been nearly as spectacular and brief as the Hive amphib assaults. These Hive crews were much more experienced, and were using their maneuver to their advantage against the entrenched crews of Lightning and Knife Strike. The firefight had been going on for hours already, and was typified by 'duck, strike, and feign' tactics. It was all very frustrating to the rover crews who were used to using those same tactics against their opponents. Well, now they know what if feels like to be a groundpounder against a mobile attacker.

The sad thing is, Rao thought, that the whole battle may come down to whether these two RT brigades are so damaged that they can't counter attack. They will not be destroyed; not with the advantages of fusion plasma armor, their experience, and the fastness of Plex itself. No, it is the extent of the damage they take, pure and simple. If they are too damaged then the brigades will slip below critical mass and lose combat punch, maneuver, or both. Then the Hive infantry will be able to get into position.

It all hinged on the 20 rovers in 2 Rolling Thunder brigades.

Luong, who was still patched into the comm channel with her holosuite, interrupted Rao's reverie. She was still furiously coding and routing information with a virtual control system that existed only for her. To Rao it looked like she was tapping at the air.

"Rao, urgent patch coming through from Rogers in Lighting. Situation report," she said urgently in a clipped voice.

Rao watched as the holo of Rogers winked into existence above the Plex Anthill simulation. Brent Rogers had a pained expression on his face, and the rover's cabin was filled with drifting smoke. As he watched, a explosion that followed by a hail of boulders could be heard bouncing off the hull of the rover. It must sound like being in a kettle drum, Rao observed.

Based on the look on his face, it must be bad news, Rao thought gloomily.

[Hydro]

Plex Anthill

*****

"We're pinned in a bloody crater!" Kit yelled above the din of explosions and rumble of falling stone. She swiveled the Chaos turret of Lightning Brigade Rover 3 around to survey her now hated abode. The walls of the Alpha Sector West Cargo Bay now did look like a crater. The roof had long since collapsed under the relentless salvos from the now departed Hive missile cruisers. Each missile strike from the unending Hive assault by amphib and now rovers had slowly blasted the vertical walls so they now sloped, with the talus rounding out the base. The floor of the cargo bay had long since disappeared under 3 to 10 meters of rock and debris. Only the ceaseless vigilance of Spartan and Hive workers kept the corridor to Plex Anthill open, as it was constantly being choked with rock falls. If that were to become blocked they would be trapped in a hole.

The Hive assault had fallen into a predictable pattern of unpredictability. There was be a random period of proximity fire, the purpose of which was to keep the Rolling Thunder forces on edge and dodging boulders. There would be incidental damage the rovers, but most of the harm occurred to the psyches of the rover crews. There was only so much helpless tension and stress a crew can stand. Occasionally some of the Hive rovers would scoot out of cover and lob an imprecisely aimed volley directly into the bay. Of course, each time they did so they lost a rover or two. The quarter kilometer fanning out from the bay was littered with wreckage of amphib siege guns and at least 15 rover hulks from 2 rover brigades. Thankfully, at this distance the hundreds of bodies were not visible, nor could the plaintive pleas for help by the injured be heard.

"Kit, we need to get an update to Rao. What is the latest kill tally?" Flavio asked of the comm.

"We have 4 confirmed kills and 2 probables from this Hive rover brigade. They have to be down to 50% by now," Kit replied. As the turret swiveled again her arm, now our of it's sling against the medic's orders, spasmed in pain. Kit inhaled sharply as the needles of agony coursed through her left side, but she kept a tight focus. A moment of inattention could be fatal, or she could lose her chance to paste one of the remorseless Hive rovers. Gradually, the pain increased and the world seemed to spin, and black and grey spots swam before her eyes. She felt a warm trickle down her tortured left arm.

Her breathing came in short gasps. As she battled for consciousness, she uttered, "Flav, help me…"

Just then, the five remaining rovers in the Hive brigade darted into view and fired their missiles, which streaked toward the defenders. Lightning brigade rovers 2, 7, and 9 were able to return fire, and their coursing waves of fusion chaos enveloped two of the unarmored Hive rovers and imploded. The white light of the chaos energy was joined by the red and yellow of exploding rovers.

Some of the Hive missiles found their mark in the now fractured granite directly above Rover 3, and the explosion was followed by the deep and penetrating rumble of hundreds of metric tons of falling rock as an enormous landslide cascaded into the cargo bay.

When the dust cleared Rover 3 of Lightning Brigade was gone.

*****

"Rao, this is Rogers of Lighting Rover 7. We just lost Rover 3 and Rover 1 was crippled a while ago. The rest are either fully functional, or partially damaged like we are. All told, we are down to 70%. You told me to report when we were reaching the critical point, so here it is. Our attacker is down to 20 to 30% and only have a couple of operational rovers left in their brigade, so we may make it and still be functional for a," Brent Rogers involuntarily coughed loudly as the acrid smoke from the rover cabin finally got to him, "counter attack."

Rao nodded. "Kit was in Rover 3, wasn't she."

"Yes, sir. They're buried," Brent replied somberly. "Rover 1 took a direct hit. Most of the damage was absorbed by the plasma armor or deflected by the fusion structural fields, but their hull in ruptured, their chaos gun is scrap, and their drive train is non-operational. There were a couple of survivors in the crew."

"We'll need you to be ready for a counter attack before dark, if you are able. We HAVE to take out the infantry. Make sure to aim for those who are grouped to increase collateral damage," Rao told him. He knew that after they attacked they would be almost defenseless, unable to retreat if all the infantry weren't eliminated. If they were lucky they might take out two infantry brigades - but only if they were lucky.

Rogers knew this order was coming, and knew it might be a death sentence. "Yes, sir. Rogers out."

*****

Meanwhile in the Beta Sector cargo bay, the rover brigade Knife Strike was having much better luck. The Hive rover brigade had tried for a frontal assault. In doing so they had grouped up, wheeled around and charged the entrenched brigade head on. Just before they could fully engage the embattled defending chaos guns were firing. One, than another, of the unarmored rovers exploded, creating a chain reaction. A few late firings by the chaos guns finished the job. The Hive rovers got off a few missiles before the Spartans had fired, but these were poorly aimed. More damage was done to the Spartan rovers from the energy front backwash, and from falling Hive chassis debris. When it was all over Lightning strike was 85% operational, and the field was cleared of the last mobile Hive attackers in their field of operation.

The Knife Strike crews called it a turkey shoot.

With premeditated glee Lieutenant Frederic Mrozinski ordered his rovers to leave the safety of their cargo bay to the crest of the hill overlooking the beaches, where the Hive infantry was busy wading ashore. He didn't bother reporting to Rao, and would gladly take the flack if brought to task. After all, it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission, in some cases at least. And the Hive infantry were oh, so exposed on the rocky beach.

All the pent up rage, frustration, and blood lust was released and the rovers burst from their confines in the ruins of Beta Sector cargo bay.

The turkey shoot was just beginning.

[This message has been edited by Hydro (edited September 19, 1999).]

[Slats]

PLEX ANTHILL, DELTA SECTOR

Amanda trudged down a rocky corridor, feeling battered and bruised but much cleaner. She hobbled along down one of the access tunnels towards the Delta Sector hangars. Amanda had noted that the base looked unusally empty of Spartan military personnel. This implied that something was happening above, the fact reinforced by the quiet rumble of gunfire from outside beyond the rock walls. Amanda was anxious to find the rest of her flight. The hangar seemed her best bet.

As she neared her goal she ambled past the airlock for the primary hangar, now useless due to a collasped roof. Two Hive drones marched past going the opposite way, giving her a bemused look. Amanda had walked about eight metres along from the hatch when she heard the warning bell that signified the airlock chamber was cycling. Intrigued at the use of a hatch from a disused area she turned to look at the new arrivals. The figure's that emerged from the hatch were wearing blue pressure battle armour, emblazoned with the Hive logo on the upper chest. Amanda pivoted around to face the new intruders. Had Amanda been the Hiver's first target she would have already been dead but the enemy troops had other priorties. Two of the soldiers fired their rifles from the waist and cut down the two drones who stood frozen in shock. Gore splashed the sides of the tunnels. Amanda made a grab for her sidearm and ripped the standard issue shredder pistol from it's holster. The third Hive soldier raised his rifle to fire at Amanda, who gave up the hope of returning fire and threw herself sideways behind a tunnel support beam. A half dozen loud thumps rang out as the soldier squeezed off an semi-automatic burst. Giving a loud, wordless cry of alarm Amanda flinched but then emptied the magazine of her shredder pistol blindly round the corner. Unknown to Amanda the razor sharp plastic needle swarms didn't penetrate the suit armour of the Hive troopers but it did scare them into diving behind cover.

More rounds thudded into the beam protecting Amanda. With shaking hands she slid a new plastic ammo block into her pistol and poured another barrage around the corner. Through sheer luck several of the needles struck the palm of the gloved hand of the nearest trooper, tearing and blending into the flesh. A shout of pain lifted Amanda's falling spirits. More shouts. But this time from down the corridor!! Amanda craned her neck about to see a pair of Spartan soldiers accompanied by a couple of Plex Anthill citizens, all wearing light body armor and carrying plasma rifles. The four sprinted up the tunnel and took refuge in a doorway about 10 metres down from Amanda. The two opposing squads began to exchange rifle rounds and white hot globules of plasma.
Looking back again Amanda saw one of the Spartan security team unclip something from his belt, crouch and then hurl the object up the tunnel, past Amanda. She instinctivly curled up behind the vertical beam just in time to shield herself from the blast wave from the lobbed high explosive grenade. Amanda looked up the corridor to see the shattered body of one of the Hive soldiers. The remaining two Hivers were staggering towards the airlock, attempting to escape. One seemed wounded and lagged behind the other. The lead trooper escaped through the hatch but the wounded man fell short as a plasma glob removed the top of his head.

The four man security team dashed from their cover, up and past Amanda in pursuit of the escapee. Amanda just closed her eyes wearily and slipped down into the darkness.......

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

ABOARD INDIGO 4 ON FINAL APPROACH

Pedro looked worriedly at his fuel level indicator, which was flashing EMPTY in all tanks. The engines must be running on fumes. His aircraft had already been slightly low on fuel when he arrived above Plex Anthill earlier and now all the dogfighting meant the aircraft was in danger of dropping out of the sky.

However Indigo 4 was no longer needed as the three remaining Hive aircraft were running for home out at sea, max thrust, most likely also low on fuel. Hive ground forces were concentrated on the beach, now being cornered by Spartan rover units. Pinwheel's 2 and 3 were swooping downward to the shore to lend a helping hand, while Indigo 3 covered them from above. Pedro's aircraft was currently lined up for landing, and a quick touchdown systems check was followed by a rough jolt as the landing gear suspension absorbed the shock of the rough surfacing on the service road / runway. Pedro taxied back towards the hangar hurriedly while Paul kept a beady eye out for Hive stragglers from the operations seat.
As they neared the hangar entrance they could tell something was wrong. The three Spartan soldiers who usually guarded the broken doors lay sprawled about their sandbagged pit. Dead. Four blue armored bodies also lay near the pit at various distances. Seriously worried now, Pedro stopped the jet just inside the wrecked main hangar. The doors to the auxiliary hangar lay closed, inaccessable from the outside. Still wearing their c0ckpit breathing gear, the two airmen unhooked themselves from various systems and opened their canopies. They were about to climb down when the hanger's airlock opened. A Hive soldier ran madly from the entrance. Two shredder pistols spoke, needles finding the seam between helmet and breastplate. Blood spurted and the man crumbled to the ground. Pedro holstered his pistol and climbed down the crew ladder.

[This message has been edited by Slats (edited September 19, 1999).]
[This message has been edited by Slats (edited September 19, 1999).]
[This message has been edited by Slats (edited September 20, 1999).]
[This message has been edited by Slats (edited September 20, 1999).]

[Hydro]

Plex Anthill

*****

The rovers of Knife Strike were bounding over the cratered terrain, and sometimes frantically steering to avoid a Hive wreck or an unexpected crevice that wasn't there before.

"Call up the file now," Frederick said with a grin to his engineer at comm. Fully outfitted with hologoggles and gloves, he readily complied, and in a moment the cabin of the rover was filled with the stirring refrain of some truly ancient music the Frederick was addicted to. This piece was by an old Earth composer, and went by the name The Valkyries by Richard Wagner. None of them had a clue what a 'Valkyries' was, but they didn't care. The music was exciting and seemed so 'right'.

"Patch me in to all rovers," Frederick said as they neared the promontory overlooking the beach. They would be there in less than five minutes. Marlin nodded and initiated the patch.

"Mrozinski to all rovers. Initiate a delta movement pattern at the discression of the pilots. Guns, target the nearest infantry group and lay down a methodical grid. Wipe 'em out - we do not want any lose elements. Target their siege gun when in range, since the collateral damage from it going should partially take out nearby groups. We are going to stay on the ridge and act as a fireline. Be sure to duck and run when guns are recharging - no use letting the Hivers get a free shot. LET'S DO IT."

As he finished the rover squad pulled up the granitic knob that sloped down 30 meters to the beach at about 45 degrees. The beach was fully 100 to 300 meters away, and stretched for a kilometer to each side. Arrayed below them was a surging mass of Hive men and material working their way up the beach with their heavy equipment in toe. They seemed to be organized into companies of 10 or so men, with maybe a dozen companies per brigade. A few forward elements, perhaps 50 to 100 men, had already made the beach and were establishing a perimeter above the surf. Luckily the heavy surf and rocks were giving the unassisted infantry a very hard time, and reducing their ability to make it to the beach easily.

The high-pitched whine of the chaos guns warming up filled the cabin. Within seconds of each other the rovers were firing at the infantry on the beach.

THUWOCK THUWOCK, THUWOCK

White globes of chaos energy radiated around the men on the beach, blowing some down into the ground, others tens of meters in to the air, and ripping others apart by forcing them both up and down. Their small arms and missile launchers exploded sympathetically with small balls of reddish yellow flame, which stood out from the white of the chaos spheres.

The Hive soldiers reacted immediately by scattering and forming defensive positions, which was all they could do. They couldn't dig into the black rocky beach, but some did find shelter behind house-size boulders. Most simply scattered along the beach in each direction away from chaos death.

Frederick looked down from his commanding position on the cliff, watching the rather futile actions of the Hive infantry. An evil smile graced his lips: a smile of anticipation, and enjoyment of just revenge so long denied.

This is going to take a long time since they are so spread out, he thought as he surveyed the Hive men spread out along the beach and hundreds of meters into the surf..

The chaos turret abruptly stopped firing, and the pilot jerked the rover toward the north while it recharged. Frederick was caught at unawares and slammed into the right side of the command and pilot center as a result of the turn.

"You OK, boss?" his pilot Rosa asked as she kept a close eye on the other rovers who were moving away to recharge. She hadn't moved a centimeter during the violent maneuver.

"Yah, fine. I'll strap in next time," he said as he grabbed is co-pilot chair. No more sight seeing for me he thought accusingly to himself.

"Marlin, patch me through to Rao. Need to let him know what we are doing," he said as he finished touch-seaming the five-point inertial harness.

"You got it," Marlin replied in a somewhat distracted tone. He was integrating the flyeye data and relaying important items to C&C and to the other rovers. He was also receiving vids and data from Lightning, which was having a hard time, and the Aardvarks and Indigos. It seems they were enjoying the show immensely and relaying helpful information at the same time.

Rao's miniature image appeared above his co-pilot console.

"We've engaged the Hive infantry. They are not bunched up as much as I'd hoped, but we are proceeding systematically," Frederick reported. "It should take us a couple of hours to eliminate a brigade since they are so spread out. We're doing a shoot-n-scoot, like you ordered."

"Very well. Lighting will be joining you soon. They just finished off the last of the Hive rovers," Rao grimaced in distaste. Frederick knew that Lightning was pretty beat up and that Rao didn't like it one bit. "Will you be able to make it back to Plex?"

"Negative. We go out, shoot, and then we are pretty much out of energy reserves."

"Acknowledged. Rao out."

In the distance Frederick could hear the concussive retort from chaos guns going off to the west. Lightning must be getting into action.

Fred thought with malicious glee of the nasty Hive running from one source of death to another. He was getting to enjoy this.

*****

Rao finished his status report with Frederick and looked up at the holomap of Plex Anthill. He did a little mental math about the relative strength of his forces and what he had to destroy, and came to a decision.

"Luong, patch me through to Aardvark 1 and 2."

Luong didn't respond, but Chen and RJ appeared above the holotable, framed in a portion of their cockpits.

"Chen, RJ, you are to take out an infantry group at all costs and return to base for refueling and rearming. You already know the Lightning and Knife Strike have engaged, and the tactical situation. Questions?"

An uncoordinated pair of "No, sirs," came over the channel. Rao cut the channel.

*****

Frederick's rover had just completed another run when he saw the two Aardvarks diving for an attack run. They came down at a 45-degree angle and were firing a long strafing line as they went. Their old fashioned missiles impacted in a regular pattern along the beach and about 20 meters into the shallow surf. As the dive bottomed out the remaining infantry took up their missile launchers and blasted back at the Aardvarks, which were pulling up quickly. The Aardvarks suffered minimal damage, mainly from nearby air detonations. Obviously there were no anti aircraft guns in that group. After the first pass the blasted remains of the infantry were decimated. It wouldn't take many more passes to eliminate those groups.

Fred almost glowed he was so happy. Who knew killing could be so much fun?

He pivoted around to Rose, "Take us about. Let's get another shot!"

In the background The Valkyries had reached a crescendo. It had been looping for the last 30 minutes.

*****

On the beaches there was pandemonium. Death came from the hills and from the sky. Chaos explosions were followed by missile impacts. There was no shelter, no escape.

Hive platoon leader Jon Shin looked around as he plowed ashore in the heavy surf. He was waterlogged. There was no going back. Yang's orders were clear: retake Plex Anthill or die gloriously for the People. Jon had no intention of dying just yet. In the near distance he saw something that looked promising: the partially collapsed and ruined underground harbor of Plex Anthill, full of sunken transports. There was his desperately needed cover, but his brigade was the only one with a hope of making their way to it.

"Troop, follow me. To the harbor!" he yelled above the explosions. His men eagerly and almost impatiently complied. Soon the hundreds of men were streaming toward their new sanctuary.

Jon thought through the schematics of Plex Anthill he had memorized. If he recalled correctly, there was a way into the third level of Alpha sector from the Harbor. If it was lightly or unguarded he could take Plex Anthill back from the corrupt and treacherous Spartans from the inside!

Glory To The People!

[Rynn]

Shauna loved what she and Kurt called "mind meld sex".

They were in her small cot together, and her mind was tuned to his so that she was anticipating his every movement as he thought of it, and vice versa. Her head was in the crook of his left arm, and with his left hand he was idly tracing a circular pattern around her left nipple, while the fingers of his right hand were paralleling the motion around her right nipple. She shivered in anticipation, knowing from being in tune with his thoughts the exact moment when he would touch her nipples. They were erect with expectation and suppressed excitement.

She knew that within moments his mouth would seek her right breast, and she arched her back to receive it.

beeep…beeep…beeep

"Shoot," she said. "The emergency signal."

Kurt sighed and rolled on to his back.

"Impeccable timing," he said.

Shauna flicked on the commlink.

"Twentyone" she said.

The screen was blank, but the disembodied voice came through clear.

"GC4 here. The egg is fried. Tell mother."

"What the hell is that all about?" Kurt asked.

"It's a resistance cell from Great Clustering" Shauna replied. "They're telling us that the Planetbuster is now operational and that I've got to get word to our Spartan contacts. We need to reach Miles - he'll know what to do."

They huddled together and focussed their thoughts into a search beam.

Suddenly Kurt grabbed Shauna's arm.

"Get out" he said. "Think of anything - a crowded scene or something."

She tried to penetrate his mind. It was closed like a vice.

"What's happening?" she said aloud.

"We were being scanned," he said. "Hive empaths. I think they're on to us. They wouldn't get a fix in that short a time, but we need to be very careful"

They pondered how to get word to Miles.

They needn't have bothered.

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

"This is Russell Theakston standing in for Paula Forbes who is on assignment.

"Our news headlines this evening are…"

rrriiiing

"Excuse me.

"Yes. Certainly, Mr. Chairman.

"We interrupt our evening news to bring you this message from Chairman Sheng-Ji Yang of The Human Hive. You are live, Mr. Chairman."

"Good evening. My message is for the ears of the leaders of The Spartan Federation, whomever and wherever they may be.

"I demand that you cease hostilities within the hour on all fronts and that within three hours you evacuate the Hive base of Plex Anthill which you illegally occupy.

"Be warned that I have developed an ultimate weapon of last resort--the PLANET BUSTER! It is now fully operational.

"If your forces have not vacated Plex Anthill by 9.00 local time tonight I shall remove Sparta Command from the face of Chiron at 10.00 o'clock precisely.

"Good night."

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

"Phew. This is Russell Theakston. That was pretty plain. I hope that the Spartan leaders were tuned to this broadcast.

"Stay tuned to this station.

"Now for the rest of the news…………."

[Rynn]

Shimoda chaired the meeting of the Hive Empath Guild. Although the Chief Scientific Officer, he was intensely interested in the paranormal, into which he classified all psi activity. His key lieutenant was Ota Kyi, whom he had just entrusted with the embryonic Hive MindWorm Corps. They were meeting in person, rather than psionically, as neither Shimoda nor Kyi were full rated empaths.

"Report," he said tersely.

Pang Chow-Lai stood up. As the senior Empath he knew that it was his duty to tell the bad with the good, and the news was bad.

"Officer Shimoda," he began, "it was an imperfect exercise. We deduced that an empath had been at work with the Laborer's Throng incident, or at least that thought control had been used. Given the nationalities involved, we suspected that a Hive empath had been turned, so we began the roll call.

"Apart from Ashaandi and his group, only two are uncounted for, and we briefly were in contact earlier this evening."

"Names?" rasped Shimoda.

"Shauna McCullough is one, and Kurt Weiss the other" he replied.

Shimoda punched them into his console, then pursed his lips. The code red was flashing, indicating ex Believer stock. He punched in the access code.

"Bingo" he said.

"McCullough is the granddaughter of the old Believer mindworm trainer, Jessica, a close friend of Godwinson's. Weiss is one of yours," he said accusingly, looking at Ota Kyi.

She flinched.

"He was seconded a few weeks ago to work with an empath squad on the kamikazi unit," she said, in defense. Then he went missing after he nerve stapled the units's controller. There's an APB out for him, but he's good."

Shimoda read the coded description.

"Get him," he said to the assembled empaths. It's your first priority. He's the key to any Believer resistance movement. He's Miriam Godwinson's grandson."

The group of seven empaths winced. Chow-Lai spoke up for them.

"They're good. I remember McCullough. She was an outstanding latent that for some reason was never accepted into the Empath Squad. Weiss has neural amplification. As a team they will be difficulat to detect let alone best."

Shimoda let his eyes go steely.

"You know the penalty for failure. It will not be tolerated. You have your orders. Dismissed."

They stood up and left the room.

[Paula Forbes]

I was furious at the interruption, but the noise of the commlink beeping was captured by the tape so would need to be edited out or the interview reshot anyway.

"Cut," I said to Peter and his camera crew. Lady Deirdre relaxed at her desk.

I snapped the commlink open.

"This had better be good," I rasped into it, then felt a flush course through me at seeing Marlo's image appear. "Sorry," I said, "you caught me at a bad time - interviewing."

"Sorry love," she said. "It's urgent or I wouldn't have called.

"You were pretty close to Googlie. He's in the rejuvenation tanks right now, but gained consciousness just long enough to give us a decryptioning code. But we don't understand it. Thought maybe you could help. He mentioned something about Deirdre's arms. Was he infatuated with that woman, or what?"

I chuckled.

"Maybe. But he was into old earth heraldry. Deirdre's arms would be her coat of arms if I'm not mistaken. She's here, let me ask."

"Lindsay," said Deirdre, partly following the conversation. "I took the name Skye as that's where I was born, and partly to dissociate myself from the clan when they supported the United Britain movement when we won our independence."

"Did you get that?" I asked Marlo. Lindsay coat-of-arms. Googlie had a holo collection."

"Jackpot" said Marlo. "When are you coming back? I miss you."

I had the grace to blush.

"Not long now," I replied. "We're almost finished the documentary. You'll be my first call. I promise."

I clicked the commlink shut.

"Now back to business. Where were we?"

[Googlie]

"Good work," said Hargreaves. "Now what?"

"We call up his holo collection, that's what," said Marlo.

Her fingers flew over the keyboard to Googlie's console, then suddenly she said "Got them."

A few moments later a plaid and shield materialized on the table in front of them with the unmistakable purples and greens of the Lindsay tartan and the famous white swan with the Latin Endure Fort on the swordbelt looped round the swan.

"Skyeblazer" said Marlo.

Confirm password for decryption

"Jinty" said Marlo.

Repeat password

"Jinty."

Immendiately the holo disappeared and in its place the encrypted burst played out.

Hargreaves and Marlo sat in stunned silence as the message from Gavin appeared. They saw the indomitable courage of the man in the face of death as the camera played on until it went blank when the Command Center blew.

Marlo had tears coursing down her cheeks. "I loved him" she whispered softly.

Hargreaves was more business like.

"Bloody hell, what do we do now? The key Junta members are out of commission - Allardyce in the tanks and St Salvador God knows where. And our Supreme Commander is a Hive operative that Burge asks us to trust? And where the hell is the Colonel?"

"Who needs to know? said Marlo.

"Miller? Honshu? Wang? Atreus?"

"Who can we trust?" asked Hargreaves.

Just then there was a discrete tap on the door.

"Come in," said Marlo.

Her assistant entered.

"You should see this," she said, inserting a tape in the player.

It was the rerun of the Morgan News item with Yang's ultimatum.

Hargreaves and Marlo watched with growing horror.

"Damn…damn…damn" was all they could say.

[This message has been edited by Googlie (edited September 19, 1999).]

[Rynn]

Chairman Sheng-Ji Yang sat at the head of his table and forced himself to relax.

He cast his gaze around the assembled group. One by one, they quailed under his gaze.

Shimoda and Ota Kyi of the Empath Guild. Generals Seng and Ng of the army and Air Marshall Lew. Admiral Hy. Captain Chang of the Interior Defense Force. Linked holographically was the heavily bandaged form of Sand, sitting with the newly appointed military governor of Great Clustering, Madame Hsui.

He spoke softly.

"I will not tolerate incompetence. We have lost the base of Plex Anthill, and thousands of our men trying to recapture it. We have suffered a severe setback with the borehole destruction at Laborers' Throng, to say nothing of the loss of the life of Air Marshall Lew's son, a fine young officer with much potential. The damage to Great Clustering is immense. Only by a miracle was the Aerospace Center saved, with our ultimate weapon, which, by the way, I have ordered moved to another location.

"Captain Chang. Why are you still with us?"

At the end of the table, the young captain blanched. He looked beseechingly into the eyes of Chairman Yang.

"I was not in control of myself" he stammered.

The eyes were implacable.

"Why are you still with us while Lieutenant Chow, Corporal Lew and Manager Shen are deceased?"

Chang shuddered. His hand reached to his holster for his personal shredder pistol. He pulled it out and placed the barrel to his temple, looking imploringly into the eyes of Chairman Yang. The eyes were unwavering, the countenance grim.

He pulled the trigger.

There was a gasp from the group, and just a tinge of sadness in Air Marshall Lew's voice as he said "He didn't know what he was doing."

"Incompetence is incompetence under any guise, and I will not tolerate it," said Yang.

He turned his attention to the holoscreen.

"Enjoy your last brief moments, old friend," he said to Sand. "You might have escaped the conflagration at Great Clustering, but if you are alive at dawn tomorrow you will face the firing squad. See to it," he said to the figure of Madame Hsui. She nodded.

Yang turned to Shimoda. "Ensure that the two renegades are captured within 18 hours."

He nodded his assent. "It will be done."

"To business," said Yang. "Are any of you in doubt that we should carry out our threat against Sparta command?"

"All will turn against us," said General Seng.

"And who is this all?" sneered Yang. "Morgan? I think not. He is too afraid of us and enjoys his luxuries too much. Lal? That's no threat. Deirdre? She is too afraid that we will remember what we did in the past and might be tempted to repeat it.

"Only Lal will sound off, and he will soon recant when he sees how alone he is.

"So should we proceed?"

All nodded their agreement.

Yang dismissed them, asking only Shimoda to remain.

"Yes, Chairman?" he asked, when they were alone.

"With the removal of my old friend, Sand, I need someone to foment the unrest among the old University bases. Preferably an empath. When you capture Weiss and McCullough I want to meet with them. I think a deal can be struck that will be to our mutual advantage - remove the Believer threat internally and drive a stake into the heart of the Spartans."

"It shall be done as you command," replied Shimoda.

[Googlie]

"We have to reawaken him"

Kendra was adamant. "You can't. It might kill him."

"Oh, that's rich. It's almost impossible to die these days," said Marlo.

Realizing the hopelessness of her argument, Kendra asked "How long do you need him for, and in what state?"

"No more than ten minutes, able to speak, and write."

"That'll be tough, but doable."

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

The level of the gel subsided until I was breathing again, and was able to sit up, although my arms and legs were grotesque caricatures of adult limbs. I listened to what Marlo was saying. Inwardly I grieved for Gavin, denied the retirement he craved, but at peace now, and going out literally with a bang. I fervently hoped he'd taken Sand and Angel with him.

"Marlo, give me the commlink recorder," I said. She handed it to me.

"CEO Morgan. By the authority invested in me by Colonel Santiago and by the Military Junta of the Spartan Federation I insist that you effect an exchange of bases with us. As you know, an ultimatum has been issued by Chairman Yang demanding the return to the control of The Human Hive of Plex Anthill. If you had been able to see the conditions in which their citizens lived you would have been as appalled as I. We cannot return them to Yang's control.

"But neither can we sit idly by and let him reduce Sparta Command to nuclear dust - yet we are powerless to stop his missiles. The only remedy is for us to transfer control of Plex Anthill immediately to you in exchange for one of your bases - Morgan Processing, which is your second smallest and least productive. Of course this exchange will be short lived, until the war with the Hive has been brought to a conclusion.

"We value your friendship and trade, and are confident that this solution will work for the mutual benefit of both our peoples."

I looked at Marlo.

"And it will give our Supreme Commander, Gavin Burge, a base within easy range of Great Clustering. Only you, Basil and I need to know that Gavin is Ashaandi. Let him know we know, but be diplomatic. Let him know we acquiesce as long as our plans converge."

I took the commlink recorder again.

"Chairman Yang. This is Federation Governor Allardyce. Today we transferred control of Plex Anthill to your pact brother, CEO Morgan. In all conscience we could not allow the newly liberated citizens to be subject to the conditions of abject slavery you had subjected them to. I trust that this negates your threat to commit an atrocity against the citizens of Sparta Command.

"As to a cessation of hostilities. As I recall it was Hive troops that opened fire originally. We are always open to your suggestions if you wish to sue for peace."

I snapped the commlink recorder shut.

"Get Morgan onside first, as soon as possible, then transmit to Yang. You've only got a couple of hours at most. Now let me grow my new body in peace."
Marlo leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead. "I'm on my way," she said, as she and Basil departed.

Kendra came back into the room.

"No more interruptions," she said. "You only need one more week."

The phhtt of the injection was a welcome relief.

[Hydro]

Plex Anthill

*****

The granite-strewn beach at the base of Plex Anthill was awash in blood, but very little movement. The Middle Chiron Sea was quickly washing away the liquid gore, but the thousands of bodies and a multitude of missile launchers and siege guns remained. Silence, except for the crashing surf, filled the Plex Anthill cove.

Victorious but hardly unscathed, the elite rover squadron of the 469th rumbled up the steep incline. The Hive infantry, after losing 2 brigades to the Rolling Thunder rovers and another two to the Aardvarks, had grouped themselves in a defensive cluster in the middle where the strafing and white spheres of chaos death were the least common. It was a last stand.

At this point the Elites burst from the Alpha Sector cargo bay, where they had been waiting for the word. They used up some of their movement and energy reserves crashing down the rocky incline at terrific speed, heedless of the sporadic but increasingly desperate defensive fire from the infantry. Ignoring the fire the group of 10 armored rovers charged on, firing as they went. The concussive fire was merciless on the pathetically grouped troops. First one, then a second, of the great siege guns ruptured and ignited, sending a wide swath of shrapnel in all directions.

As the rovers bounded off of the rocky incline onto the beach the return fire became more accurate. In fact, the rovers were hard to miss. However, the fusion plasma armor rebuffed most of the defensive fire with relative ease. Quickly, the defensive fire waned, and then stopped altogether.

By the time the Elites approached the 500 meters of beach where the infantry had stood all that was left was pulverized rock, and gastly remains. There were very few survivors.

Night was falling, and it would soon be 1400 military time.

A total of 6 Hive missile infantry brigades had been destroyed.

One Hive brigade, however, was missing.

*****

Intruder claxons sounded in Alpha Sector. During a siege that only meant one thing.

Mary didn’t waste a second. She dashed back to the appropriated Delta Sector Fabrication Complex 5 Level 3 where ‘her’ brigade was training on the sometimes-unfamiliar weapons. As she approached she noticed pandemonium. It was not bad pandemonium, however, but good pandemonium.

She looked around in amazement as the hundreds of men and women formed orderly ranks, with their missile rifles and launchers. A few stragglers were struggling to catch up and find their places, but the hole they were moving with efficiency and determination.

At their head was Spartacus. He saw her frenzied approach and raised his right hand. His brigade stopped in relatively good order. He then approached Mary.

“Sir, we are ready for the defense of the liberated Plex Anthill. We all recognized the intruder alarm, and its origin. We wish to fight,” Spartacus said simply.

No civilian, no matter how well trained, could do this in a half a day. This man is Command, and definitely military Mary thought to herself. A shiver passed up her spine. It was uncanny.

“Permission granted.”

Spartacus returned to his position at point and led his troops forward. Mary then went to get her rifle. In what was to come a shredder just wouldn’t do. She noticed Markus in the back by the impromptu armory, which was not much depleted.

“Phenomenal, isn’t it?” he asked.

Mary just nodded in agreement. “Get your weapons. Let’s go.”

*****

Firefights in close quarters are always confusing and messy. But, the advantage usually goes for those who know the terrain. The Plex Brigade knew their terrain well, since it was their home: the choke points, the blast shields, spy cameras (which there were a lot of), and crowd suppression equipment. All was used against the Hive invaders, who knew what to expect, just not when and where.

Within a half hour the invading force of 150 men had been reduced by half, and those were trapped either in the ruined underground Plex Anthill harbor or exposed in the corridors of Alpha Sector Level 3. However, they exacted a fierce price for their eviction. By the time they were finally vanquished over 75% of the Plex Brigade was dead or wounded.

Among the wounded were Markus and Mary. Among the severely wounded was Spartacus.

[Googlie]

“Why my dear Ms. Hollis, why would I want to take possession of a pile of rubble and unexploded munitions in exchange for one of the jewels in our crown of bases? Your Federation Governor Allardyce must consider me a naïve fool to effect an exchange one for one.”

“Then what else would you feel would persuade you of the merits of the deal?” asked Marlo.

CEO Morgan was silent for a moment.

“Throw in the secrets to Fusion Power and Chaos Weaponry and you have a deal.”

Marlo paused. Did she have that authority? Allardyce’s signed proclamation of a State of Emergency in Sparta Command was in her possession, naming her Supreme Commander of the base. Was this type of deal covered by it?

Assuming it was, Marlo said:

“CEO Morgan, we have a deal.”

“Splendid,” he said. My garrison forces will arrive within the hour. I will entrust the governorship and handover negotiations to my son. We may need to call on some of your administrative people to stay for a while to assist in the changeover. I trust that will be satisfactory?”

“Of course,” Marlo replied. “Basil Hargreaves, aide to Federation Governor Allardyce, will fly immediately to Morgan Processing to assume the temporary governorship there on behalf of the Spartan Federation. Within the hour our scientists will transmit the research data you need for us to complete our side of the bargain.”

“Splendid,” said CEO Morgan. “Will you advise Chairman Yang of the new status of Plex Anthill, which by the way we shall rename, or shall I?”

“I would be obliged if you could inform him,” said Marlo. “I have a transmission from Scott Allardyce to send to him, but it would be better if he heard it from you first. I will delay ours for 30 minutes.”

“It shall be done,” said Morgan. “Goodnight and sleep well.”