The starlight Ballroom was an enormous place, capable of accommodating up to one thousand guests in microhab controlled comfort, and protected by a transparent dome. It was like dining among the stars, and while most beings enjoyed the sensation, some found it uncomfortable. They say within the embrace of specially designed screens.
The Unioncity's captain had positioned his vessel so that Byron filled half the view, and, thanks to the slowly rotating deck, everyone could see.Guests had started to arrive. Some relied on elaborate life support systems, while others came under their own power.The ceremonial meals were well attended in spite of the fact that they were a mostly human concept. Partly because of the status conferred on those who were invited, but largely due to the fact that the get-togethers represented a wonderful opportunity to consummate political deals, especially those that require some nose to beak contact.This particular dinner was being held to honThe President's words were translated into a dozen languages, scanned for double entendres, racial slurs, or religious taboos, and edited accordingly.While something less than poetic, the results were nonoffensive."Good evening, honored guests. We gather to officially welcome the Abru-Mo to the Confederacy - and Ambassador Urulux Gray to our large and mostly functional family".Many, though not all, of those assembled in the room were equipped with a sense of humor and made a cacophony of noise ranging from laughter to clicks, pops, whistles, and in one case, a sort of honking sound.Sophie thought the laughter was funny, and struggled to wipe the smile off her face.The President's remarks were followed by a speech from the evening's official host, the senator from Byron, who, though too large to attend in person, was visible via the centrally projected holo.The speech was a long, rambling affair, which lasted through the first two courses and well into t
The Camouflage's commanding officer, Spear Commander Kolosi, met War Commander Xian Karrh at the main lock. He wore the same uniform that his superior did, except that his gem was red. Though mutually respectful, both officers were wary as well, since no Dodvalian truly trusts anyone else. "Greetings, War Commander... We welcome your presence".This at least was true, since Kolosi had been waiting for two complete ship cycles, two dangerous ship cycles, and looked forward to leaving the sector as soon as he could. The cloaking technology was good, but so were Confederate sensors, and there were plenty of patrols.Kolosi assumed subordinates would welcome his presence and ignore the greeting. "Did the torpedo arrive on schedule? Were you able to capture it?"The questions were logical enough, especially in light of the ship's mission, but that didn't prevent Kolosi from resenting the manner in which they were framed.What? The War Commander thought nothing of the skill re
They shared a number of interests, one of which was marine biology. Sophie paid close attention as Six described the manner in which the Founder, Dr. Hosakawa, had sterilized Alpha 001's oceans and seeded them with what she called genetic "maxotypes".It seemed that the indigenous species, few of which had survived, were a source of fascination for Six. He had established an extensive collection of native fossils and dreamed of bringing some back to life via the same science used to kill them. Genetic engineering.Then it was Sophie's turn, and the politician listened in rapt fascination as the executive described the Cynthia Harmon Center for Undersea Research, the Say'lnt named Shola, and the plan to seed the southern oceans with iron particles. A plan that, like so many things, was on hold due to civil unrest.It was at that point that Six looked as if he wanted to say something, seemed to think better of it, and shook his head. "I'm sorry so many were hurt... but glad y
The Thraki Armani was more than five thousand ships strong. They formed an enormous three dimensional diamond, which, when threatened, would morph into a globe with the arks at its core and warships all around.Consistent with the fact that the Thraki had no home world beyond the one mentioned in ancient legends, and needed to do everything they could to simplify the manufacture, repair, and maintenance of their ships, they allowed themselves only five types of vessels.There were moon sized arks, on which most of the civilian population lived, worked, and eventually died; supply ships, which carried the raw material required to sustain the Armani; and three types of warships, including battle ships, destroyers, and fighters.The fleet had been traveling through space for more than a millennium and would continue forever. Or would it?The Facers, so named because of their desire to put an end to the journey and "face" the Shem, had become even more powerful of la
It made no difference. Activity equaled threat. Alarms sounded, messages flew, and fighters arrowed away.The cloaking technology that protected the interceptors had been stolen from a race called the Guffu, and, barring the possibility that the target had something even better, would allow the attack craft to approach undetected. Skene wished the pilots well.* * *The moon called Two Ball was not all that different from Earth's moon, to which humans compared all other moons, since it had been their first step to the stars.Small when compared to the planet below, it not only lacked an atmosphere but was covered with overlapping impact craters. Angelina steered the utility vehicle toward a large depression. The surface dropped away and rose on the other side.The prefab equipment blister had been erected with help from Gethro's legionnaires. It was nearly invisible against the dark gray background. A tone plus a single red beacon guided the cyborg in.
Some rather sophisticated communication equipment had been incorporated into Angelina's body, and she switched it on. The most commonly used military frequency rattled with static. The Bund Oron was under aattack! The system had been right from the beginning. Shit!Angelina tried to make contact, realized it was useless, and entered the lock. Oxygen was removed, time seemed to slow, and the technician started to swear. It was a long series of linked profanities that even Sergeant Jona would have been proud of.But then, somewhere in the middle of it all, the words turned to prayer - "please God, please God, please God", over and over again. It was all she could do.* * *The Bund Oron lurched as still another enemy missile hit the shields, pushed them to the edge of failure, and dissipated the release energy. Lieutenant Commander Cux had responsibility for the station but not the legionnaires. He grabbed a console and yelled to make himself
The ship dropped hyper, a new set of constellations appeared on the screens, and the standard drives cut in. The destroyer's control room was small and cramped, but the commanding officer had slotted Sophie into an empty seat and narrated each stage of the jump. Something she didn't require, but didn't have the heart to refuse.The executive listened as orders were passed, marveled at the extent to which the military could turn even the most mundane activity into a ritual, and considered the task ahead.Some progress had been made during her stay on the Unioncity, especially where new alliances were concerned, but there was a long way to go. That was why she had begged her uncle to let her stay and help.He had refused by pointing to the fact that if their efforts were successful, there would need to be some sort of dictatorship. The first fifty years of the industrialist's life had been spent under imperial rule, and he had no desire to repeat the experience.To counter
One of the toadies offered Usmos a wireless microphone whispered something in his ear, and stepped out of the way. Conscious of the video cameras, the entourage looked suitably respectful.An announcer read from a carefully prepared script. Usmos stepped out where he could be seen and took a moment to admire the size of his audience. His image blossomed on three enormous screens. Halfhearted applause ripped through the crowd.The odds were that the Radio Free Earth's fly cameras were covering the event as well, which was all to the good, since that would extend the breadth of Usmos' coverage. Dozens of black-clad troops appeared at the exits as he brought the microphone to his lips. The crowd stirred uneasily. "Greetings. Thank you for taking time out of your busy lives to attend this gathering."Most of you are law abiding citizens. Thanks for your support. Others, and you know who you are, belong to the so-called resistance or, if not active yourselves,
Doug Douglas, already stunned by the magnitude of what was almost certainly coming their way, felt a terrible sense of hopelessness as the Thraki politician described how her race planned to sacrifice the Confederacy forces to the Shem and then, if convenient, turn and destroy them.But only if they fell for it. It was the Sector's hope that once the Confederacy knew about the Shem, they would force the Armada to resume its nomadic ways - something that would make Sector 14 and the rest of her party very happy.Doug Douglas listened, nodded, and asked the obvious question. "It's my understanding that you have approximately five thousand ships, all under Facer control. In addition to that, your race fortified one of our planets. How would we force the Armada to leave?"The Thraki hoped there would be a way, but wasn't sure what it would be.The human looked at the Dodvalian. Understanding jumped the gap. Nothing was safe. Everything was at risk. Death roamed the stars, an
Marcus Doug Douglas stepped out of his cabin, paused to ensure that the hatch was locked, and stepped into traffic. It was brisk and carried him along.Earth, and the restoration of a legal government, were yesterday's news aboard the Unioncity, where most sentients were focused on both the problem and opportunities posed by the newly arrived Thraki.Many of the passersby recognized Doug Douglas and said hello. His elevation from historical curiosity cum lobbyist to planetary governor had raised his status from the C list to the B list, which he shared with other notable but nonvoting politicos.There was a stir ahead, and traffic parted to allow someone through. Doug Douglas spotted a Midvalian war drone and knew who would follow.Senator Vaano, along with Ambassador Ishimoto-Seven and Sensor Ishimoto-Six, had spent less than an hour in custody prior to being released on their own recognizance.Then, in the wake of vaguely worded apologies from their respec
Usmos bit his lip. Luton had no reason to help, but who could tell? The asshole was an idealist and capable of damned near anything. A positive approach seemed best. "Luton! Thank God. Where are we headed?""To Los Angeles", Luton replied calmly, gazing out the window. "To turn ourselves in"."Turn ourselves in?" Usmos asked incredulously. "Why would we do that? I own a ship. She's small but fast. We can break out, make a run for the galaxy, and live like kings. I have friends out there, lots of them, and we can start over. What do you say?""I say no", Luton answered laconically. "There are rules. We broke them. We have to pay. It's as simple as that"."No!" Usmos shouted. "I won't go!""Really?" Luton inquired. "I think you will. Now shut up. I'm tired".The following minutes seemed to last an eternity, from Usmos' perspective anyway, as the fly form flew toward the sun. Plans stuttered through his brain, dozens of
That was the moment when Shola managed to reestablish contact, ceased partial control of Quinn's mind, and squeezed with all her might.The executive screamed, grabbed his head, and staggered backward. Shola felt the connection snap, sent a warning to Sophie, and tried to recover.Sophie "heard" Shola's voice, rammed her hand into the briefcase, and felt for the hand gun.Quinn threw himself onto her back, felt Sophie collapse, and experienced a sense of triumph. She was his! The bitch was his!The 9mm spilled out onto the floor. Sophie grabbed it and tried to turn. Quinn straddled her, tried for the weapon, and felt the alien counter his efforts.It was then, as Quinn fought for control, that Sophie rolled onto her back. She remembered how he had leered from the bottom of the tanklike cell, the way the water had risen around her shoulders, and squeezed the trigger.The gunshot was loud, louder than Sophie had expecte
Goya gritted teeth he no longer had, demanded full military power from the remaining engine, and chose the only possible crash site - smack dab in the center of the enemy complex. A tower whipped by, tracers up past his nose camera, and the ground rushed to meet him. Goya barely had time to yell "Five to dirt!" before his skids hit, absorbed some of the impact, and failed.The quad took the punishment after that, skidding fifty yards on her armored belly before the fly form hit the side of a building and finally came to a rest.The quad, a cyborg named Oluchi, knew things were bad. Rather than land where they were supposed to, a mile short of the complex, Goya had dumped them right in the middle of the damned thing! It was time to move, and move fast.Oluchi triggered the two way clamps, or tried to, but found they were stuck. No problem - explosive charges had been provided to deal with that very possibility. She "felt" the fly form shudder as 20mm cannon shells pounded th
Never mind the fact that Marco planned to drop in on Luton unannounced - and probably get himself killed. She was supposed to wait till the danger had passed. Why? Because business was a secondary concern - a perception that showed how little he knew. It was money that made the world go round, and, assuming the counter revolution was successful, the economy would be critical. Without commerce there would be no jobs, and without jobs there would be no taxes, and without taxes there would be no government services. Serious issues that couldn't be handled while sitting on her can.A tone sounded, the elevator doors slid open, and a pair of security guards appeared. They wore burgundy jackets, gray slacks, and thick soled shoes. The Zuon logo was embroidered on their pockets. The larger of the two stopped in front of the receptionist, listened to what it said, and turned to stare.Damn! Why couldn't they have been just a little bit slower? The executive opened her briefcase, p
Staff Sergeant Vista shouted, "Ten-hut!" Thousands of legionnaires crashed to attention, and Marco did likewise.Luton's voice boomed through the cavern's PA system. "At ease. We are gathered here to welcome a new commanding officer. Colonel Dooley Marco".An audible gasp was heard, servos whined, and Staff Sergeant Ward bellowed into the mike. "You are at ease! No talking. Corporal, take that soldier's name!"Nobody could tell who the sergeant had yelled at, and it didn't matter. What mattered was discipline, and it was intact.Luton continued, and as he spoke, Marco realized the comments were prerecorded. "Some of you are angry. You were betrayed by society, by the Independent Government, and now by me."Not because I doubt our ability to win, or the quality of our cause, but because we were wrong. If the a Legion is to be our country, it must be a just country, based on the rule of law and dedicated to more than its own survival".Luton paused, his v
Kenny sent a swarm of fly cameras to cover the event and ran it live. Citizens not only saw the video, but made their way to the express way, and lined both sides. Frantic parents responded as well. Many walked beside the road, or tried to, since abutments, on-ramps, and other obstacles made it difficult to do so.Others climbed the fences and ran out onto the express way itself. The militia had been waiting for that. An aircar swept in from the east, braked, and hovered above. Machine guns rattled, the civilians fell like wheat before a scythe, and blood stained the road.Children screamed, batons crackled, and the march continued.* * *Leshi Quinn stood at the center of the pit. The spotlights pinned him in place. The meeting had been called by old man Zuon. "... And so", the industrialist continued, "not only have we failed to see much return from this arrangement, our expenses continue to soar. Please explain".Quinn was standing there, wondering wh
Something, Huvy wasn't sure what, was definitely wrong. But before he could turn the car around, a heavily visored military police man waved the educator over and motioned him out of the car. That was when the nightmare began.The militiaman, a human in this case, examined Huvy's ID, checked his name off a list, and led him onto the school's grounds. A group of smooth faced robots stepped out of the way, and that's when the principal saw the fifty foot lengths of chain, the small ankle bracelets, and realized who they had been made for. The military policeman gestured to the shackles. The tone was casual, as if a matter of routine curiosity. "How many children can we actually expect? About five hundred or so?"Huvy started to answer, thought better of it, and closed his mouth.That's when the military policeman stepped in close, grabbed the front of the educator's shirt, and jerked the smaller man up onto his toes. "Listen, you little shit... which would you prefer? To answ