There was no longer any doubt. Something terrible had happened. There were plenty of reasons to think so, not the least of which was a lack of meaningful radio contact with the fort.
Oh, there were conversations all right, plenty of them, but none that mattered. The com technicians sounded legit but couldn't come up with any officers. Why? Because they were busy? Like the techs claimed? Or because of something a good deal more sinister? A full scale mutiny? Was that the answer? Had the scouts known that something would happen before they left the fort? That would explain how certain they were. But what about the men and women under his command? They seemed unaffected. Why? None of it made much sense.One thing was for sure: it was impossible for general Saul to keep his mouth shut for more than ten seconds. That being the case, Kairo would have heard from the asshole by now. Yes, something was very, very wrong when Saul remained silent, but what?The general had no moKairo could imagine the scene. Officers and noncoms to the front, backed by rank after rank of legionnaires. And there, behind the crisp white kepis, the Trooper IIIs, the Trooper IIs, and the tank-sized quads.Kairo looked for the other man's eyes and saw nothing but scar tissue. "So, what happened then?"Dooley grimaced. "Nothing good. Saul have a speech, started to inspect the troops, and they took him prisoner. A scuffle ensued, loyal troops came to the general's assistance, and Davide opened fire."That was pretty much it, except for the plan to capture you and secure the rest of the planet"."And it would have worked", Kairo said softly, "if it weren't for my scouts"."And you willingness to listen", Mayweather added firmly.Kairo was about to demur when Gunbuilder appeared at his side. "Yes, Sergeant?""Com call for you, sir. A technician named Coaster".Kairo allowed his eyebrows to rise.
One of Elgiron's super short nights passed into day as a line of artillery shells marched down off a low-lying hill, exploded with the same ruthless efficiency as the computer that controlled them, and hurled fountains of dirt high into the air.Kairo waited for the barrage to end, strolled out of the CP, and nodded to a sentry. "How's it going', Hayes? Better keep your head down. Those idiots might get lucky".Hayes laughed, just as she was supposed to, and told Corporal Ataph. He told Sergeant Muntu, and the entire battalion had the story within the hour."Yup", everyone agreed, "there is nothing that bothers the old man, except cold tea, and stupid orders".None of which would have surprised Kairo, who knew that the troops took a considerable amount of comfort from such stories, and tried to keep them happy.Major Kitty Kitty frowned as her boss riggled up next to her, produced his binoculars, and scanned the distant fort. She considered Kairo's predilect
Kairo, his elbows resting on the quickly melting snow, watched the quad appear. Not just any quad, but one with monster features, and a cross welded to its bow. Kairo felt a sudden emptiness in the pit of his stomach.The officer increased the magnification, and the unrecognizable blob leapt into focus. There was no mistaking the staring eyes, the contorted face, or the horribly bared teeth. It was Saul.Kairo felt an irritating surge of anger. Damn the miserable sonofabitch to hell! Damn him for allowing such a thing to happen, damn him for staying alive, and damn him for putting me in this position!Kitty nudged his arm. "The man on the cross, did you see who it is?"Kairo answered without lowering his binoculars. "Yes, he's hard to miss"."So what should we do?"The word seemed to hang there as Kairo considered his options. One solution was to ignore Saul, attack, and let the chips fall where they may.But what if their positions were reversed?
Colonel Luton Arthur was tired, very tired, but unable to sleep. That was why he rolled off the rumpled cot, ran water into the store room's deep sink, and took a sponge bath. Then, wearing a fresh new uniform, he emerged to prowl the floor.More than two weeks had passed since the revolt. The Global Operation Center hummed to the never-ending flow of reports, requests, and orders. People nodded or in some cases saluted, but kept their distance. They knew his moods.Luton pushed to consider the gigantic globe. The holo seemed to shimmer as it turned. A less conservative man might have been satisfied with the territory under his control - most of North America, Europe, and Asia were red.But all Luton saw were Islands of blue, chunks of territory still identified by ancient names like Mongolia, Ethiopia, and a large part of Brazil. These were the places where resistance had grown and taken root. Partly because of the terrain, and partly because of the people, many of w
Luton hadn't met Beason, but Lo was one of the best. He didn't envy her assignment, however. Marco would have plenty of warnings, and his troops would be ready.The visor came to life; Luton found himself flying a transport and listening to a dirty joke. It was dark beyond the glow of the instrument panel. His chair shuddered slightly as the aircraft hit some chop. The combat team was thirty minutes out and closing fast.The punch line arrived. Luton laughed, and his worries melted away. This was his, this made sense, this was pure. * * * The sun had yet to rise over the Gulf of Eden, but a long, pink line marked the horizon, and the direction from which the attack would come. Straight out of the sun, an old trick that wouldn't provide much of an advantage but was still worth a try.The view is the north looked across the avenue Jalingo Cue to more blue water. The Balge de la Fiesta curved to the south.Marco, who usually beg
Ex-corporal and now Sergeant Sparrow had assigned himself to his commanding officer's staff, where he had assumed responsibility for Marco's personal security. He stood in an open hatch.Marco took one last look around, slid past the foot-thick door, and heard it thud into place.The officer's security detail consisted of Sparrow plus two of Goodear's scouts. The Naa were heavily armed and extremely alert. Fearing another mutiny, the noncom had requested a full squad. Marco had refused on the grounds that six guards plus a noncom was not only a waste of precious manpower but more than a little unseemly.Sparrow knew that the assault force was close and took issue with the way that Marco continued to risk himself. "About time, sir. No sense getting your ass blown off this early in the battle".The Naa fought to conceal their grins. Marco was about to take Sparrow down a notch when a satellite guided missile hit the center of the parade ground. The explos
A tone warbled, James gave a war whoop, and the plane flipped onto its back. There was no way to tell whether the officer had a reason for flying that way or simply wanted to.Luton, still strapped into his chair, felt his feet flip over his head. A stylus feel out of his pocket and clattered to the floor.The infantry officer felt the chair jerk, knew air to surface missiles had been launched, and heard James' casual drawl."Blue Six to Blue Leader. Feet dry, enemy engage. Over"."That's a roger, Blue Six. You are green for target one-niner-four. Do your shit. Over".The Lance flipped right side up, shuddered in response to a near miss, and jerked as two additional flights of ASMs raced toward a preselected target. The sticks continued to pound out their rhythm.Luton forced himself to think, to switch himself away, to "ride" someone else.He was a platoon leader this time. The hard metal seat slammed into
The flight of six Daggers entered the stratosphere, shed heat from their specially designed skins, and bumped through the quickly warming air.Salom checked her heads up display, saw more red deltas than she cared to look at, but was grateful for the fact that they were still below. That was an advantage she was happy to have. The naval officer had targets, plenty of them, which meant they had her as well. Why no response, then? Were they blind?A voice sounded in her helmet. It was confident, verging on smug. "Victor One to incoming Daggers. Welcome to the party. Over".Salom marveled at her luck. The idiot assumed she was friendly! Not surprising, given the circle jerk up in orbit... but not very smart either. Her pilots followed as the naval officer rolled to starboard and dived towards the aircraft below. "Blue One to Victor One. Thanks for the hospitality".Victor One watched the delta-shaped icons roll in behind his formation, heard
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