Planet Wrecker

-37-

“Shall I order a halt to the primary laser burning out cybertanks?” asked Scipio.

“Negative,” said Cassius. “Our attacks in North America have no bearing on Social Unity. North America is our territory now. We are merely destroying rebels.”

Cassius settled himself into his large shell. As he’d moved across the bridge, he’d been assessing the Saturn-sent asteroid strike. He breathed deeply, calming himself. Under ordinary conditions, he wouldn’t speak with an enemy commander now. Hawthorne had him at a psychological disadvantage. Yes, the Supreme Commander of Premen must have already taken time to ingest the news. This preman was also clever. Cassius mustn’t allow himself to forget that. But Hawthorne was still just a preman while Cassius knew himself to be the greatest Highborn of them all. So even though the preman had the psychological advantage, he would engage in direct communication. He accounted it as further evidence of his own genius.

“Ready,” said Cassius. He pressed a button on the armrest of his shell.

Before him appeared a holoimage of James Hawthorne’s head. The preman had a longer cranium than average, with a high forehead indicating intelligence. There was thinning, sandy-colored hair on top of his head and discolored bags under the man’s eyes.

He’s tired. The war relentlessly grinds him down. Cassius nodded. How could any preman hope to pit himself against the greatest Highborn without a heavy mental and physical price to pay? To be outmatched in every way—it must be a galling thing. To know that doom and abject defeat was all that awaited him…. Cassius could almost pity Hawthorne. Such a weak emotion was not part of his genetic inheritance, however. Instead, Cassius grinned inwardly. This preman had surely reached the end of his strength. Yes, this last news of the asteroid strike must have crushed his remaining spirit.

“I am Supreme Commander James Hawthorne,” the holoimage head said.

He has a firm voice, one filled with authority. Yes, whatever is happening to him, this preman is still used to being obeyed.

Cassius knew it would be so.

“I hope you have read the information we sent you,” Hawthorne said.

“I have,” said Cassius.

“I trust you understand its significance,” said Hawthorne.

Was the Supreme Commander trying to be insulting? Surely, Hawthorne must be aware that Highborn ingested information at five times the rate that a preman could. Why then did Hawthorne speak this way to him? What was the hidden agenda here?

Cassius waited, letting the full force of his powerful personality effect the preman.

“…We have been at war a long time,” Hawthorne said. “We have inflicted heavy damage on each other.”

Trust a preman to exaggerate. The Highborn had inflicted the heavy damage. The premen had done more in the way of gashing a man’s ribs in a knife-fight where the loser drags himself away with his guts in his hands.

“Now, however, our struggle against each other becomes moot,” said Hawthorne. “The cyborgs have launched asteroids against both of us, hoping no doubt for our unified extinction.”

It was time to let this preman know the true situation. “We Highborn are in no danger,” said Cassius. “We can easily ferry our ground troops into space and avoid destruction.”

“You would lose the Earth then.”

“Only temporarily,” said Cassius.

“The factories would be destroyed,” said Hawthorne, becoming visibly agitated, “as well as the billions of workers needed to run them. Of what use would the hulk of the planet be to you then?”

“Most of the important factories are automated,” said Cassius. “We could land afterward, begin the long-term cleansing of the air and rebuild the least-damaged factories.”

Hawthorne blinked several times. “Are you saying the asteroid-strike doesn’t matter to you?”

“He needs obedience training,” a Highborn in the background said.

Cassius motioned the Highborn to silence. He felt likewise, but it was foolish to utter such words in their presence. That was one of the reasons why he was First. He could control his irritation, a point of personal strength. The preman had questioned him as if they were equals. That was terribly insulting. If a preman had spoken to him like this in his presence, Cassius would have killed him. Since, however, this preman represented the billions of unconquered under-men, he could contain his rage.

“Naturally,” Cassius said, “I wish the Earth to remain intact.”

“Intact?” asked Hawthorne. “What about the billions of human lives at risk?”

“Do you cherish these lives?” asked Cassius.

“Yes,” Hawthorne said in a clipped manner.

“Then surrender immediately and I shall save you and the billions of pre…of Earthlings.”

Hawthorne shook his head. “You’re not in a position to demand our surrender.”

Cassius stiffened at the tone.

“You’ve conquered the islands of Earth and North and South America.” Hawthorne stopped abruptly and took a deep breath. Then he took a second one and began to speak more slowly. “Billons of humans depend upon you. There are also millions of men in your FEC armies. Are you willing to flee Earth to save yourselves but let your slaves perish?”

“Save your insults, Supreme Commander, and speak to the issue of your call. Remember, you asked to speak with me, not me to you.”

“…You’re a brilliant strategist,” Hawthorne said shortly. “Your conquests prove that. It is therefore self-evident that you see the strategic ramifications of this attack. No. I cannot believe that you would willingly abandon Earth and let the cyborgs obliterate it. Your greatest industrial base would vanish in a moment. Over time, with the Outer Planets in their grip, the cyborgs would out-produce you and finally hunt you down like vermin.”

“I have yet to hear any proposals,” Cassius said coldly. If the preman continued with this tone, he would track down the radio signal and send a Hellburner to it. Let them feel the raw power of the Highborn fist.

Hawthorne stared at him. “My proposal is simple. We must pool our resources and deflect the asteroids from Earth.”

“What resources can you possibly possess in the arena of space combat?” asked Cassius.

“Our Fifth Fleet is intact, as well as the Mars Battlefleet. Those battleships are already accelerating,” said Hawthorne. “I am hours away from ordering a missile launch. So you are incorrect in implying Social Unity lacks space armaments.”

Cassius closed his eyes and made some mental recalculations. “Hmm,” he said, opening his eyes. “It is possible the battleships can have a trifling effect on the asteroids.”

“Jupiter has also sent reinforcements,” Hawthorne said.

“We’ve tracked this single Jovian vessel,” said Cassius, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It is a Thales meteor-class warship. It can affect nothing.”

“Grand Admiral, I understand Highborn arrogance. But the gravity of the situation means that you cannot indulge in your usual vice. We must work together to save the Earth. Anything else is obstinate lunacy.”

Cassius felt the blood surge to his face. His thick fingers twitched. He wanted to rip this insulting preman limb from limb. With iron control, he sat motionless, willing the preman to continue speaking.

“Social Unity will fight for humanity’s existence,” Hawthorne said. “What will the Highborn do? Are you merely killers and conquerors, or can you merge your seething emotions—”

“Silence,” Cassius whispered, as he leaned toward the holoimage.

Hawthorne smiled bleakly. “Together, we can possibly save the Earth. Divided, we shall both lose.”

“Surrender to us,” said Cassius, “and we shall save your simple lives. Then you can survive under Highborn security.”

“We will never surrender,” Hawthorne said with heat.

“That is a proud boast for a commander who has lost in every front where we attacked.”

“Have you forgotten the Mars Campaign?”

“The cyborgs achieved the victory there, not you premen.”

Hawthorne dipped his head. The holoimaging was good. Cassius witnessed the sheen of perspiration on the preman’s forehead. Was the preman cracking up before him? They were so weak. It was pitiful.

“It is difficult for us to speak together,” Hawthorne said slowly. “On my side, I’ve seen you murder billions. On your side, well, my generalship has foiled you repeatedly. My psychologists tell me this will have caused you to hate me.”

Cassius realized abruptly that Hawthorne wasn’t cracking up. The preman-genius had iron in him. Maybe it was time to maneuver the preman in a new manner. Yes, he would use the cyborg attack to lure the last SU spaceships into killing range. Hadn’t Hawthorne already told him the Mars-based fleet was accelerating toward a near-intercept course? That would open Mars to attack. It might be time to send a Doom Star there and conquer it. Yes, yes, he would destroy the asteroids and the SU warships at one blow.

“For a…Homo sapien,” said Cassius, “you are strangely gifted in the strategic art.”

Several Highborn on the bridge glanced at him sharply. Tall Scipio nodded, however, with his eyes half-lidded. In that instant, Cassius mentally marked Scipio for highest command.

“I am amazed you would admit such a thing,” Hawthorne said.

Cassius shook his head. “We Highborn view reality as it is. It is one of our powers, one of our genetic gifts. Another is the ability to make swift decisions.”

“You have changed your mind and have now decided to work together?”

“You are premature,” said Cassius. “I have listened to your proposal. I have seen the evidence of this asteroid strike. Now I will ponder the implications.”

“Time has become our enemy,” said Hawthorne.

Cassius smiled indulgently. “Time is an element, malleable to a strong will. I will asses the information, factoring in time.”

“I’ll be waiting for your reply,” said Hawthorne. “Because I already know that you will be forced to work with me.”

“Have a care,” said Cassius.

“Your brilliant strategies these past years prove to me that logic governs your actions. Logically, you have no recourse other than to work together with us to save the planet.”

“We shall see,” said Cassius, impressed by the preman’s calm assurance. “For now, Grand Admiral Cassius out.”

The holoimage of Hawthorne nodded.

Cassius pressed a switch, and the image faded. Around him, the other Highborn waited in tense expectation.

Cassius took a calming breath. The preman—so that was Supreme Commander Hawthorne. He would have to replay the interview, discovering weakness that Hawthorne would have been unable to hide from a trained eye.

“Hail the Genghis Khan,” said Cassius. “I wish to hold a conference with Admiral Gaius.”

Scipio moved quickly, following Cassius’s orders.