It made the hairs on the back of Marten’s neck bristle. These three meant to kill him or to pulverize his flesh with their fists.
“Marten Kluge,” Director Juba-Ryder said. “I am here to inform you—”
Marten drew his .38. The three bodyguards had holstered guns, with flaps over the weapons. Despite their size and the bulk of their muscles, they moved with bionic speed. As Marten aimed at Juba-Ryder, the three guards aimed .55 caliber hand-cannons at him.
“They can blow me away,” Marten said tightly, “but I’ll still riddle your body with bullets.”
“I am a director,” Juba-Ryder said, outraged. “I have immunity against violence.”
“Yeah? Then you shouldn’t have made this tactical error. You should have just sent them, not come yourself.”
Juba-Ryder stiffened. “Lay down your weapon and submit to my authority.”
“Not a chance,” Marten said.
“You will die.”
“Yeah, but so will you.”
“I can fire at his gun-hand,” one of the bodyguards said. “I will destroy it before he can shoot.”
Before Juba-Ryder could answer, Nadia gasped.
“What is it?” Marten asked, refusing to take his eyes off the director.
“A fighting robot,” Nadia said, “a floating one.”
“Those are illegal here,” Juba-Ryder said. “Is this your doing?”
“Right,” Marten said, feeling a sense of helplessness. Three bionic bodyguards and now a fighting robot—he debated killing Juba-Ryder while he still had a chance. He could get off one shot, maybe two, but no more than that. The .55 caliber bullets would knock him flying.
Juba-Ryder moistened her lips.
“We can destroy the robot,” one of the bodyguards said.
“I wouldn’t try,” the robot said.
Marten saw it now out of the corner of his right eye. The robot floated, probably propelling itself through magnetic lifters, using the city grid. The robot looked like an elongated metal egg the size of a man. If he looked closer, Marten was sure he would make out sealed ports. Those could open for a laser nozzle or the tip of a machine gun barrel. The fighting robots belonged to the Cybernetic Corps, presently under Manteuffel’s control.
A large upper port opened then, revealing a screen. The face of Security Specialist Cone appeared on the screen. She had a sharp beauty and wore dark sunglasses.
“What is the meaning of this?” Juba-Ryder demanded.
“Before I answer,” Cone said onscreen, “I prefer to learn your intentions.”
“They are simple,” Juba-Ryder said with an imperious gesture. “I am here to arrest Marten Kluge. As you can see, he is resisting arrest. I demand that you assist me with that machine of yours.”
“I would be glad to assist,” Cone said. “However, he is the Jovian Representative and has diplomatic immunity.”
“He was born under Social Unity and thus remains subject to our laws and customs,” Juba-Ryder said. “Just as important, he is a traitor to the People.”
“Possibly true,” Cone said.
“Possibly?” asked Juba-Ryder. “How can you doubt it?”
“I don’t so much doubt it as I don’t think it warrants any action at this time. Despite his SU birthplace, he has become a Jovian and he is their representative to us. This is the critical factor.”
“I cannot agree,” Juba-Ryder said. “As my first order of business, I plan to make a clean sweep of traitors.”
“Could you elaborate please on what you mean by: my first order of business?”
Juba-Ryder eyed Marten and then the robot. “The Supreme Commander is gone.”
“Gone,” Cone said, “but we both know he is alive.”
The director shook her turbaned head. “That is inconsequential. You have read his resignation.”
“He is tired and weary,” Cone said. “Give him several weeks rest and then he will—”
“You think to honor him by this…
loyalty
?” Juba-Ryder asked. “No. You are disobeying his last command. James Hawthorne has stepped down from power and—”
“Hawthorne will lead the Human Fleet to the Neptune System,” Cone said.
“You are incorrect on several counts,” Juba-Ryder said. “Firstly, it is Social Unity’s Fleet, not the
Human
Fleet. Secondly, he cannot lead. If the Highborn learn he is alive, they will annul our alliance or demand his death. Therefore, he must remain incognito. Frankly, in the interest of cementing our alliance, James Hawthorne should surrender himself to the Highborn.”
“You are a political animal,” Cone said. “To cement your power, you would willingly give up a human to the genetic freaks. And not just any human, but the military genius who had kept us free from the Highborn. ”
“Those ‘freaks’ you refer to will help us defeat the cyborgs and thus save humanity,” Juba-Ryder said. “This is a harsh world, Security Specialist. Or didn’t the planet-wrecker teach you anything?”
Through the robot’s screen, Cone stared at the director. Then the floating machine rotated slightly so the screen aimed at Marten. “Why were you attempting to gain admittance to the Supreme Commander’s Mansion?”
“I want to free Osadar,” Marten said.
“He means the cyborg,” Juba-Ryder said.
“I can arrange that,” Cone told Marten.
“Didn’t you hear me earlier?” Juba-Ryder asked loudly. “This traitor will speak with no one, certainly not with a cyborg. He is coming with me.”
“In case you’ve forgotten,” Marten said. “I have a gun pointed at you.”
Juba-Ryder spread her hands in the robot’s direction. “His words betray him. He is a traitor, eager to shed our blood.”
“You plan to shed
his
blood,” Cone said.
“I am the new legal representative for Social Unity,” Juba-Ryder said. “In me resides the authority of billions of socially responsible people.” She faced Marten. “By what authority do you dare to threaten my life?”
“The right of self-preservation,” Marten said.
“In the face of billions of people?”
A grin tightened Marten’s lips. “Your time is running out. If you believe in any deities, I suggest you make your peace with them now.”
“If you kill me,” Juba-Ryder said, “my guards will kill you and your wife.”
“The minute I drop my gun, I’m dead anyway,” Marten said.
Juba-Ryder grew thoughtful. “I will bargain with you. Spare my life and she can walk away.”
Marten stared into the director’s eyes. He couldn’t trust her. He knew that, and yet…
“One moment,” Cone said. “I have a solution to our dilemma.”
“Marten Kluge must surrender to me,” Juba-Ryder said.
“We are not in Egyptian Sector,” Cone said. “By what authority do you make your arrest in New Baghdad?”
“Were you not listening?” Juba-Ryder asked. “The directors took a vote. I am the new Chief Director for Social Unity, for all Inner Planets.”
“Ah,” Cone said, nodding onscreen. “I see. I hadn’t fully understood the situation. A vote by the directors, you say? That was quick work, smoothly done.” The robot floated a fraction closer to Marten. “Force-Leader, you will come with me into protected custody.”
“Security Specialist,” Juba-Ryder said. “I must—”
“Please, Chief Director,” Cone said, smiling onscreen. “If you would allow me to convince Marten Kluge, I will save Social Unity your needed and legal supervision.” With startling speed, ports opened on the fighting robot. Two stubby barrels poked out, aimed at Marten.
“Your bodyguards can lower their weapons,” Cone said. “If Marten Kluge shoots you, I will destroy him and his wife.”
Juba-Ryder’s eyes flashed with anger, but she nodded curtly. “Holster your weapons,” she told the guards.
The three large men opened.
“Force-Leader Kluge,” Cone said.
There was no way to hurt Cone, so Marten shoved his gun into its holster. He backed away from Juba-Ryder, grabbing one of Nadia’s hands.
The robot rotated slightly. A nanosecond later, the two stubby barrels blazed with gunfire. Spent shells poured out of the robot, raining onto and rattling against the cement. In a stream of gunfire, rounds hissed past Marten and Nadia. The bullets shredded armor, uniforms and flesh, and caused a bloody mist to spray. In seconds, it was over. Juba-Ryder and her three bionic bodyguards were smoking piles of meat. The smell of gore and disintegrated bone was strong.
“I don’t have much time,” Cone said onscreen to an openmouthed Marten. “I have to consolidate my position fast. I want to keep the Human Alliance alive. I know you don’t have many troops here at present, but you are the best link we have with the Jovians. No, make that the only link.”
Marten turned a stunned Nadia away from the grisly pile of dead. “You play a hard game,” he told Cone.
“With the cyborgs raining asteroids on us, we don’t have time for fools,” Cone said. “The present directors…after Hawthorne’s changes, they’re too tame. I have changed the directives of the cybertank guarding the Supreme Commander’s Mansion. You’re free to take Osadar with you. After that, it might be better if you went to a military base.”
“I’d like to go to Athens where my space marines are,” Marten said.
“Your face has been in the news lately. I advise you to keep a low profile.”
“I understand. Do you have any vehicles I could use?”
“You used to live on Earth and should know your way around. I’ll give you a pass.” Cone turned to somewhere off screen. She re-appeared soon. “I’ve given you, your wife and Osadar Priority Clearance. It will allow you to go just about anywhere. Do you have any questions, Force-Leader Kluge?”
“No,” Marten said. “Good luck to you and thanks. I won’t forget this.”
“I’m counting on that.”
“Eh?” he asked.
“I’ve read your file. You get things done. Good luck to you. You’re going to need it.”
Marten wanted to get out of here before Cone changed her mind. He took Nadia’s hand, and they ran toward the former Supreme Commander’s Mansion. They needed to collect Osadar as quickly as possible, get the space marines and Omi, and leave Earth as fast as they could.
Far from Earth in the Jupiter System, on a defensive satellite orbiting Callisto, a purple-robed philosopher bowed before Chief Strategist Tan.
On the walls of the chamber were computer-screens cycling through various videos. At the moment, one showed the rocky moon of Callisto, centering on the ruins of a shattered dome. Another showed a gigantic helium-3 tanker in orbit around Jupiter, waiting for atmospheric haulers to bring their precious cargos. On a third screen was a distant blue-green object amid a bright star-field.
The philosopher was an older man with a bald dome of a head and a heavy beard like Socrates. Despite his flabby arms, he moved with serenity. He completed the bow and straightened, with a computer-scroll held against his chest.
The Chief Strategist regarded him. She was a tiny woman with bio-sculpted features. She was beautiful in an elfin way, with dark hair stylishly draped around her head. She wore a red robe that brushed her red slippers, and she had small red rings around her fingers. She knelt on a cushion before a low table. Soft “philosophic” chimes played in the background.
“The findings are serious enough to warrant careful thought,” the man said. His name was Euthyphro, but most people referred to him by his title: the Advocate. He was Tan’s primary link with the scientists and technicians searching the void for evidence of the cyborgs.
Venus, Jupiter and Uranus were currently in orbit on the same side of the Sun. Probes had been launched some time ago, journeying into space so they could look around the Sun and study Neptune. Past communication traffic with the Uranus System showed some anomalies and there was debate whether a cyborg stealth-attack had taken place there. Currently, communications seemed normal with Uranus, but a stubborn core of technicians believed otherwise and searched for proof.
Tan sipped from a chalice as a particular melody chimed. After the notes faded, she said, “Show me these findings.”
Euthyphro the Advocate turned to the screen with the distant blue-green object amid the star-field. He opened his computer-scroll and tapped upon it.
“I’m magnifying the image,” Euthyphro said. “Due to the optical effects, the surrounding stars may appear to become distorted.”
True to his word, the bright objects blurred as the blue-green object took on a distinct form. It was disc-shaped and possessed a Great Dark Spot, much like Jupiter’s Great Red Spot. A few white high-altitude clouds appeared at the edges of the spot. The distant ice giant gave off three times the heat it received from the Sun.
“Neptune,” whispered Tan.
Uranus and Neptune were sometimes referred to as “ice giants” as compared to the more regular term “gas giants” for Jupiter and Saturn. The reason was the high percentage of icy water, methane and ammonia that composed the majority of the two distant planets.
Euthyphro nodded as he continued to tap his scroll. The blue-green ice giant kept expanding until it filled the screen.
“This is extreme magnification,” Euthyphro said. “Military Intelligence attempts to count the anomalies, supposing that will give them the number of cyborgs ships. I’m afraid, however, that it isn’t going to be that simple.”