The desert swept long, hard, and wide into what had once been Ethiopia, but had long since become but one of many Administrative Regions, or ARs, all subject to a single Earth government. Not that the local inhabitants cared, or paid much attention to such abstractions. They lived as they always had, subject to God and the rule of nature.
There was no sign of movement save from distant clouds of dust raised by the seasonal Khamsin and the high, hopeful circles made by a solitary white backed vulture. A hungry vulture that hoped to feed off the weak or the dead. The river bed, dry until the October rains sent water flooding along its course, ran roughly north to south and offered the only cover for twenty miles in any direction. It certainly beat the hell out of no cover, but was far from perfect. Salom and her people had destroyed most if not all of Luton's spy satellites, and more than a week had passed since one of his high altitude spy planes had attempThe fact that the target continued to appear then disappear was somewhat annoying, but wondrous nonetheless. Numbers scrolled down the right side of the screen. They provided air speed, air temp, and grid coordinates.Gradually, as part of each loop, Margaret caught sight of the dry rivet bed and the long line of sandy colored cyborgs, and felt the excitement start to build. Here it was! The one thing any self respecting officer would give her right tit to get - first class, grade A, no doubt about it intelligence.The major reached for her wallet, pulled it out, and selected a fifty. "Here you go, Sergeant. You said the blasted thing would work, and you were right. This should cover the bet".Oko made a show of holding the bill up to the light before tucking it away. "Let's kick some ass, Major. I've got some drinking to do!" * * * Their was an artificial roar as the multiple rocket launchers fired their 122mm rockets in salvos of fo
Not satisfied to ride one of the heavy armored tanks, or one of the weapons platforms, Margaret opted for a scout car armed with a rack of four antitank missiles and two light machine guns. Mobility was everything, especially for this sort of brawl; the heavy stuff was claustrophobic. A minor detail she had neglected to mention to psych officers over the years. The seat was hot and burned the back of her thighs.Her driver, a mad woman named Booly, hit the gas, launched the car off a small rise, and hit the hard pan at forty mph. The gunners, anonymous behind their visors, grinned.Margaret would have been thrown out of her seat if it hadn't been for the harness. She kept a firm grip on the frame mounted grab bar and tried to peer through the oncoming dust and smoke. What was it that Clousy said? "On no account should we overlook the moral effect of a rapid, running assault"? The old bastard would have loved Booly.The top gunner opened up, a hot shell cas
It was Walker who first realized that they had won - if such a term could properly be used in connection with a force that had suffered more than fifty percent casualties.The first indication was a slackening of fire, followed by less contact, and more activity from Salom's fighters.While the aircraft had made short work of the planes sent to support the rebel advance, and destroyed the majority of their support vehicles, they were of limited value where ground support was concerned.Worried lest hit pilots bag some friendlies, the wing commander ordered them to wait. What he needed was a break. It came when the smoke started to clear and the rebels tried to run. * * * A weapons platform took a direct hit from a five hundred pound bomb. It ceased to exist and pieces of sharp edge metal fell like rain. They rattled across the hood, killed the top gunner, and buried themselves in the sand."Red Dog Three to Red Dog One. Where
The bad news was that they were down to only thirty five borgs and, unlike the rebels, had very little conventional armor to take up the slack.That news was depressing, damned depressing, and it dragged at Marco's spirits. They might survive one more battle, if they were lucky; then it would be over.If Lucy was depressed, there was no visible sign of it as she led him onto a lift and touched a button. The elevator lurched and fell. Marco eyed the indicator. It stopped on sub-level six - the very depths of the war Era catacombs.The doors slid open, and Captain Ny stepped forward to greet them. The six foot tall utility body had the appearance of a titanium skeleton. It whirred to attention. The salute was perfect. "Welcome to the center of the Earth, Colonel. Visitors are always welcome".Marco lifted an eyebrow. "Thanks, Captain. I'm in a bad mood today... so your dirt had better be clean".The other officer chuckled and led the way.&n
Every now and then, every other cycle or so, the Hoon liked to tour the fleet. The easiest way to accomplish that was to choose two or three hundred of the more than twenty thousand surveillance devices at his disposal and spend a tenth of a second on each.Though once routine, the excursions had been more rewarding of late, ever since the soft body had gone forth to "peach the gospel" - the essence of which seemed to consist of blocking thoroughfares, praising the supreme intelligence known as "God", and seeking "converts", which is to say semi autonomous units willing to listen to the human's rantings.The entire process seemed like a waste of time and resources except for one thing: interspersed with the nonsense regarding God was a good deal of anti Thraki rhetorics. And, like it or not, the Artificial Intelligence had no choice but to support sentients that shared the same mission it had which was to find Thraki and kill them.Still, the Hoon had encountered a consider
"Don't tell me, let me guess", Herbert said disgustedly. "You signed on".Jyro looked away. "No, not exactly"."But close".The human turned back. The tone was petulant. "So, what if I did? There was no other choice".The navigational computer would have sighed, had such a thing been possible. "I think the message is pretty clear: They found some Thraki, and the Hoon wants you to kill them"."Why me?" Jyro asked desperately. "The Hoon could kill them by himself"."It's a test", the Artificial Intelligence replied patiently, "to see what you will do".The better part of a minute passed while the human considered the matter. When he spoke, the words fell one at a time."So it's kill or be killed"."Essentially", Herbert replied."Unless..." Jyro said."Unless what?""Unless I could convert the Thraki, and convince the Hoon to accept them"."Dream on", the Artificial Intelligence said simply. "The Hoon is a computer, and computers don't change. I
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 hon
The 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
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