Planet Wrecker

-7-

Marten sat across from Chief Strategist Tan.

It was a day after the cyborg had died in the corridor. After-battle analysis had proven it was a unique cyborg, unlike the skeletal kind. Further analysis had been impossible. The team examining the cyborg had died in the blast that had obliterated it.

Tan knelt on a cushion. The pill dispensary was gone, although the silver chalice was still there. She pushed a twin chalice toward Marten before lifting a decanter and pouring him white wine.

Marten accepted by lifting the chalice and sipping. It was a dry wine, with a hint of peach flavoring. He wore a black Force-Leader uniform. Today, there had been no argument about his having a sidearm.

“Your dialogue yesterday was persuasive,” said Tan.

Marten nodded, but kept silent. Yesterday, the two of them had watched on her embedded table-screen as the cyborg advanced through the corridors. Marten had urged her to flee while there was time. She’d sat frozen, fixated on the death machine. Finally, Marten had decided to use the spy-sticks, to time his entry into the battle at the perfect moment. Even so, it had been a near thing.

“I had thought earlier….” Tan bit her lower lip. She frowned, and she glanced to her right. It was where the dispensary had been. Her right hand seemed to twitch involuntarily, as if wanting to press a switch to gain a blue pill.

“My thoughts yesterday were selfish,” Tan said. “I believed it was possible to rebuild our system as the cyborgs invaded Social Unity planets or other Outer Planets.”

“We can rebuild,” Marten said.

“I thought it would be possible to arm ourselves with enough satellites and warships to defeat any cyborg armada.” Tan shook her head. “The way the cyborg moved yesterday—it slew the myrmidons with ease.”

“Cyborgs are deadly,” Marten agreed.

Tan’s brow furrowed. “I ordered space marines to go down onto Athena Station and face them. Seeing that thing yesterday—I ordered those space marines to their deaths.”

Marten nodded as he tried to gauge the Chief Strategist. Did she feel real sorrow, or was this an act? Could someone as certain and arrogant as she’d been yesterday change her opinion so quickly? He didn’t know. Maybe she didn’t know.

“Tomorrow,” Tan said, “I plan to open negotiations with Mars, with the Planetary Union leaders. Then I will speak with the leaders of Social Unity.”

“What do the controllers of Europa and Ganymede have to say about that?” Marten asked.

She looked up at him. “I showed the controllers a video of the cyborg’s assault. I told them it detonated itself during examination. How it managed to get onboard…. Why did scientists develop such things?”

“Why did eugenicists create the Highborn?” Marten asked.

“We must unite,” Tan said. “The Solar System must band together to destroy these things. You were right in telling me that.”

Marten wondered about that. He and Omi had talked last evening. Usually Omi didn’t say much. He did point out that he remembered a vicious gang leader in Sydney that the other members had hated more than feared. The leader had kept power by involving them in a deadly and ongoing turf-war. Everyone had recognized the leader’s gift at street fighting, and had been content to follow him as long as they were engaged against a tougher gang. Was Tan like that leader?

“Yesterday cleared my mind,” Tan said.

“Yeah,” Marten said. It had cleared his too.

“The cyborgs devastated our system,” Tan said. “Now we must rebuild before the next fleet arrives. The cyborg yesterday showed me that they will never stop attacking until they’re dead or we’re dead.”

“That seems obvious,” Marten said.

Tan frowned. “This is difficult for me. You—” By a seeming effort of will, she smoothed her features. “You must not taunt me. Instead, you must allow me grace.”

“Granted,” said Marten.

Tan gave him a level stare. It was calculating and hard, and belied her elfin beauty.

“You are more than you seem, Marten Kluge. You walked out to face the death machine. Then you proceeded to shoot it apart.”

“It wasn’t a machine, but a cyborg, which made it partly human.”

“Do not lecture me,” Tan said.

Marten waited.

She flicked her hand. “No. I shouldn’t have said that. Just now, I spoke with hyperbole and you stated fact.” Sighing, Tan leaned her elbows on the table and massaged her forehead. “Do you know the kind of pressures that have battered me this past year? One wrong misstep and I could have lost us everything. Yet everyday, the controllers and the industrial barons complained or demanded I meet another of their imaginary needs.”

“The war grinds us down,” Marten said.

She lowered her hands and straightened her back. “We’ve lost too many warships. Our fleet—it could not withstand a full-blown cyborg invasion now. You do recognize that, don’t you?”

Marten waited for her point.

“Yet it’s madness to simply sit and rebuild,” Tan said. “We must strike back and destroy their industrial capacity. But how can we do that with any hope of success?”

“Are you asking me?”

“How polite you’ve become,” said Tan, with an edge to her voice. “Please, grace me with your thoughts. It’s one of the reasons you’re here.”

“I’m a ground fighter,” Marten said, “not a grand strategist.”

It was Tan’s turn to wait, to say nothing.

“Okay,” Marten said. “You asked. So I’ll tell you what I think. This is a war to the death. It’s either them or us. So we should gather the biggest fleet we can, go to Neptune and burn them out with nukes.”

“And this can be achieved how?”

“Talk to Social Unity. Talk to the Highborn. Convince them to unite their ships into one invincible fleet.”

“The Highborn are too arrogant to listen,” said Tan.

“They’re arrogant,” Marten agreed. “But I don’t know if they’re too arrogant not to fight with us. The Praetor gave his life to kill cyborgs. That ought to prove something.”

“They will want tactical control,” Tan said.

“If it gives us victory, give them that control.”

Tan’s eyes narrowed. “You are like most people, I’m afraid. You see what’s in front of you, but you cannot conceive of what’s behind that. Of what use is it to defeat the cyborgs, only to fall victim to the Highborn?”

“The cyborgs are aliens and attempt to convert all of us into their likeness. The Highborn are still human after a fashion. But you have a point. I don’t want to live under the Highborn. Therefore, I suggest you keep doing what you’ve been doing.”

“Which is?”

Marten laughed sourly. “I didn’t understand it yesterday when I came to see you. But I understand it now. You’ve been maneuvering this past year to beat the cyborgs but also to keep control. Do the same thing with the Highborn and with Social Unity.”

“You presume much, Marten Kluge.”

“Look, Chief Strategist. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since yesterday. One thing that struck me was that the lone cyborg had a goal. He fought to reach this room. He didn’t fight to reach the fusion core. That tells me the cyborgs think you’re critical.”

“Go on,” said Tan.

“If they think you’re critical, well, then I guess I do too. I don’t like the Dictates. In fact, I loathe them. But I’ll back you until the cyborgs are dead. If my choice is the cyborgs, the Highborn, Social Unity or the Dictates—” Marten blew out his cheeks. “Social Unity or the Dictates, I don’t know which is worse.”

“You insult us. The Dictates are the greatest form of human—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Marten said, waving his hands at her. “You told me yesterday that it’s greater than sludge waste. Now let me tell you how I see it. Social Unity let a psychopath put me in a glass tube to pump for my life. The Dictates allowed a sadist to put a collar on me and shock me to his delight. You’ll excuse me if I don’t see the benefit of either system.”

“No system is perfect.”

Marten snorted. “Look. What I’m trying to say is that I won’t interfere with your political maneuvering. At least, I won’t interfere if you’re working to destroy the cyborgs.”

“You are not in a position to thwart me.”

“I killed the cyborg for you, remember.”

“Yes. I am grateful.”

“I’ve trained Jovians to kill cyborgs. I may be more use to you than you realize.”

“…Yes,” Tan said softly. “I’m beginning to see that. And that surprises me.”

“That’s the trick,” Marten said. “To always have one more surprise up your sleeve.”

Tan toyed with her chalice. She frowned, and she took a deep breath. Then she let it out slowly and looked up at Marten.

“You have confirmed my decision,” she said.

“Oh.”

“The controllers and helium barons believe the emergency has ended. They are quite wrong.”

“Yeah?” asked Marten.

“We have scoured our system and destroyed the cyborg infestation. Now we must toil even harder, rebuilding our infrastructure. But we cannot rebuild civilian comforts. No. That would be a strategic mistake. We must launch more floaters into Jupiter’s upper atmosphere. We must construct moon-based lasers and point-defense satellites. Most importantly, we must launch three to four times the number of meteor-ships and dreadnaughts and train new crews.”

“Keep the Jovians scared, eh?” asked Marten.

“I am frightened of the future, aren’t you?”

“Yakov showed me the way,” Marten said.

“You are chaotic,” Tan said. “Your thinking—well, we discussed that yesterday. Are you saying now that you plan to sacrifice yourself for the greater good?”

“I remember some Social Unity battle-slogans,” Marten said. “The exact sayings escape me, but it was something along the line of dying for your society in order to save Earth from the Highborn, that was the highest calling.” Marten scratched at the metal tabletop. “The Highborn had a counter-saying for those of us in the Free Earth Corps: Make the enemy die for his society.”

“Yakov followed Social Unity’s dictum,” said Tan.

“Yakov had learned to stand his ground,” Marten said. “He helped me see that sometimes if you’re a man and want to live free that you have to take a stand. Before that, I’d been doing a lot of running away. I’m through running, though.”

“I fail to grasp how Yakov’s sacrifice—”

Marten made a fist and set it on the table. “That’s the first part of it,” he said. “Standing. We did that here. So did Yakov. Now we have to do the second part. Attacking. We have to enter the enemy’s territory to burn him out and make sure he can never hurt us again.”

“Your vision and zeal has confirmed my decision,” said Tan. “And you are familiar not only with Mars, but also with Earth and the Highborn. I cannot conceive of a better spokesman than you.”

“Eh?” said Marten.

“There is a derelict meteor-ship floating in orbit around Callisto. I have already sent repair boats full of technicians and mechanics to it. I cannot afford at this time to diminish our defenses. The cyborgs could even now be in the void with another invasion force. Yet you are right in saying that to win, we must attack. And we must attack in conjunction with everyone else. You, Marten Kluge, will head to Inner Planets as the Jovian spokesman. You will go with a major warship and a full complement of space marines.”

“I’ll be in charge of the space marines?”

“Are you not listening?” asked Tan. “You will be the Force-Leader of the meteor-ship. Put whoever you desire in charge of the soldiers.”

Marten blinked at Tan. His own warship, not just a shuttle? Then it hit him. He’d be returning to Social Unity, returning to the Highborn. He sat back and wished he were sitting in a chair, not on this lousy cushion.

“Naturally,” said Tan, “I shall begin negotiations through laser-communications, and I shall retain full authority over anything concerning Jupiter.”

That brought Marten up short. “Who will crew the ship?”

“I shall amalgamate the decimated units who stormed Athena Station,” said Tan. “You will therefore possess veteran soldiers.”

“Who will crew the warship?”

“There are some highly decorated veterans—”

“Their moon of origin?” asked Marten.

“Why does that matter?”

“From Ganymede?” asked Marten.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” said Tan. “Does that concern you?”

Marten could have told her that he clearly saw what she was doing: getting rid of the non-Callisto space marines and warship crews. At least, she would be getting rid of the most independent-minded ones. In her terms, she would likely think she was getting rid of the worst ones. Yet he’d already told her that he wouldn’t interfere with her political maneuverings.

Shaking his head, Marten wondered if that would be mankind’s failing, the inability to unite totally, that someone would always try to achieve his own selfish aim. He made a face. Maybe that made man, man. Cyborgs united perfectly, but they were no longer completely human.

“I’ll do it,” Marten said.

“Excellent,” said Tan, lifting her chalice.

Marten lifted his and they clinked cups, sipping wine afterward.

“You have given me a vision of the future,” Tan said. “You have given me hope. If we can unite humanity….”

“It’s going to be a big ‘if’,” said Marten.

“Things worth doing are seldom easy.”

“Yeah,” Marten said, sipping his wine again, wishing it was beer. He was going to be a warship captain. And he was returning to the Inner Planets. Life was strange, and he wondered what the future held for him, and what it held for the Solar System.