A voice spoke in Morgan's ear. She recognized it as belonging to Kendall Riob, a sixteen-year-old who actually liked the stuff they served in the mess hall and couldn't get enough of it. "Alpha Three to Alpha One... I have smoke on my forward positions. Over".
Morgan knew what that meant. The smoke was intended to blind her troops. Infantry would follow, and not just any infantry, but infantry supported by cyborgs. They would hit the front lines together, attempt to flank her, and attack Page's rear. Morgan commanded what amounted to a light battalion, including three rifle companies of approximately one hundred thirty cadets each, plus a headquarters company that consisted of herself, some com techs, the medium armor weapons (MAWs) and two 60mm mortars. The same ones firing from her rear. Her mission, as laid down by General Page, was to delay the enemy forces long enough for the regulars to secure the inner city and turn toward the south. That was a taskMonitors, receivers, transmitters, routers, switchers, amplifiers, junction boxes, and more, hung from ceiling-mounted racks, filled his homemade shelves, and covered eight worktables. Hundreds of cables squirmed this way and that, tying his Kingdom together and connecting Kenny with the world.The teenager sat in his favorite chair, an executive model he had rescued from a dumpster and equipped with wheels. Large wheels that enabled him to roll over cables, empty meal paks, and cast-off clothing.A spot threw light down across Kenny's shoulder-length hair, badly scared face, and filthy T-shirt. The youngster felt jubilant, frightened, and defiant all at the same time. He and his fellow netheads had created Radio Free Earth, what? Twenty four hours ago? Thirty six? He couldn't remember.The whole thing had happened so quickly. Most of the infrastructure already existed, resident not only in his garage, but in hundreds of similar facilities all over the wor
Light twinkled through the murk as a minisub nudged a neon numbered lock and a school of French grunts wheeled and darted away.Sophie Doug Douglas saw those things, but didn't see them, as she hung face down in the water. She was naked except for a gill mask, a weight belt, and a pair of flippers. Billions of Phytoplankton, all linked by miles of translucent fiber, embraced both her body and her mind.The Say'lynt, one of four in existence, came from ocean world IH-4762-ASX41. Like her "parents", Shola was highly telepathic. Even more amazing was the fact that the alien could control other sentiments from a distance. Her voice echoed through Sophie's mind. "So, the work goes well?""Work?" Sophie asked dreamily. "What work?""Oh, nothing much", the alien teased, "just the interstellar corporation for which you have ultimate responsibility and the Center for Undersea Research"."Oh, those", Sophie responded easily. "Doug Douglas Enterprises had another profitable quar
"Sorry I wasn't here to meet you. There was an Abyssal out along the trench. Lots of mud, terrible visibility. A cyborg rolled off a cliff and took some damage. She's safe, she's safe but it took twenty hours to recover the crawler".Sophie took a seat. "I'm sorry to hear it... Is that what you came to see me about?"The scientist shook his head. "Heck, no, I wouldn't bother you with something like that. This is, well, big. Here. Watch this".Bato walked over, dropped a holo cube into her player, and touched a button. "This stuff was recorded during the past couple of days. The com center condensed more than thirty hours of programming into thirty minutes".Sophie started to speak, but Bato raised a hand. "You're busy, I know, but trust me. Once you see this, you'll want more information, not less".A thousand points of Light swirled like multicolored snow and coalesced. Governor Sandral Usmos started to speak. The executive lis
The security officer stood at a close approximation to parade rest. "Nothing good, ma'am. Combat-equipped troops invaded the company's office in Los Angeles, New York, Mexico City, Rio, London, Moscow, Calcutta, Sydney and Limau. Our records were seized, our funds were frozen, and at least ten members of our executive team are under arrest. Your picture was aired on the government controlled news. They put our a reward of one hundred thousand credits... dead or alive".The words came as a shock. Sophie felt something cold trickle into the pit of her stomach. Dead or alive? What was happening? Had Usmos lost her mind? But there was more. Sophie could tell from the other woman's expression. "Casualties?"Juliana have a short, jerky nod. "Yes, ma'am. A hundred and six so far, security people mostly, including the chief".Major Malite Jones had been one of those pushed out of the Legion and onto the streets - the perfect man to lead her security team. Sophie c
The business woman had absolutely no intention of staying at the Imperial, but knew better than to lay electronic tracks to her real destination. Whatever that would be.The bay area had escaped the sort of destruction visited on Los Angeles and looked reasonably normal except for the military presence on the streets. Major intersections were guarded by tanks, cyborgs, and armored personnel carriers. It didn't take a genius to figure out who was in control.Sophie considered her options. There weren't any. She could approach the government and allow them to throw her in prison, or go get some help. The law firm of Baracko, Allison, and Griin had served Doug Douglas Enterprises for a long time and would know what to do.With her decision made, the business woman decided to settle back and let the ride take care of itself. Traffic was lighter than usual, which shaved ten minutes off the trip. There was a whir as the autocab pulled into the drive, took the correct number
The Shem scout ship dropped out of hyper, scanned the three-planet system, and found what it was searching for. The Shem possessed two fleets, and this one, controlled by the Supreme intelligence known as the Hoon, consisted of no less than one thousand three hundred and forty seven heavily armed spacecraft.Some cruised the margins of the solar system, watching for signs of hostile activity, while the rest swarmed around the second planet from the sun. Those capable of landing did so, feeding on the remains of a once-thriving Steam Age society, while shuttles fetched "food" into orbit for consumption by the larger vessels.The ships, each protected by the same silvery sheen, flashed like fish through the ocean of blackness. They felt nothing for the millions who had died, or would die during the days ahead.Recognition codes flashed back and forth as the newcomer identified itself and was readmitted to the fold.The scout had no emotions as such, but did possess
Jyro felt his heart thump against his chest. Were aliens waiting? How would they react? What should he say to them? Something moved. The dart thrower came up; his finger tightened on the trigger, and then came off again.Nano! A long silvery stream of the silvery stuff had entered the ship and oozed in his direction.The human watched the pseudopod split into three separate rivulets. Two turned and slithered down side passageways, while the third probed the main corridor.The nano were assessing how much damage the ship had suffered. That's the way it appeared, anyway, which suggested that they were external to the ship. Afterall, if the ship had the ability to repair itself, why wait until now?Thus encouraged, the prospector followed the pulsating stream back toward its source. He passed through one of the more damaged sections, saw light through a ragged hole, and was struck by how strange they were, like luminescent dandelion seeds floating on the wind.
The corridors were like a maze. Jyro walked for like fifteen minutes. He turned right, turned left, and turned right again. The lock was just as he had left it. Such wanderings were frustrating,but more than that, extremely dangerous. The adrenaline had dissipated. He was tired, very tired, and a little bit dizzy. What he needed was food. All his dwindling strength should be focused on finding it.But how? Where to look? What to do? Robots didn't need food, so he couldn't get it from them. From where, then? Despair threatened to pull him down. Jyro forced himself to think. The combined weight of the space suit and duffel bag was too much. He would leave them behind.The maze of passageways was consuming time and precious energy. He would mark them. The prospector fumbled around in his duffel bag, found a can of blue spray paint, and eyed the indicator. Half full. Good. That should suffice.The lock hissed open, allowed two of the humanoids to exit, and close again. Th
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