Cassius understood perfectly. If Social Unity couldn’t have them, no one would. Hawthorne and his SU directors cared nothing about the conquered territories or feeding the billions of Highborn-dominated premen.
For a variety of reasons, there were endless food riots in the conquered territories, the worst in South America. Cassius had ordered many Free Earth Corps formations there to reestablish discipline. That had soon caused dissension in the FEC units. The dissension had surprised some Highborn commanders.
“You forget,” Cassius remembered telling them. “The premen are weak willed and often tender-hearted. Too many are squeamish at the sight of blood and become conscience-stricken. Cold-blooded killing—such as firing into chanting mobs—heightens this process in them. This produces alcoholism, heavier drug-usage and in some cases sedition among our troops. Therefore, we will comb the FEC units, searching for psychotic and sadistic individuals. These we’ll train into riot-control battalions, helping to restore order in the worst territories.”
The riot-control battalions had been trained and deployed. Now they were stretched thin. It had surprised Cassius how few sadistic or psychotic individuals there were. Therefore, he had reluctantly begun using hypnotically-drugged police units. The percentage of mental breakdowns had meant a high level of wastage among the personnel. Sometimes, he wondered if simply letting mass starvation do its work to thin out the billions of useless mouths would be the wisest course. His psychological profilers had told him that would give added impetus to the SU propagandists. So for now, he tried to keep the billions alive on their starvation diets, gunning down the most unruly.
“The fighter squadron has launched,” said Scipio.
The Grand Admiral adjusted his controls. Tiny yellow lights sped toward the various holographic cylinders.
“Launch a squadron of heavy orbitals,” Cassius said. He made a quick calculation. “Launch Squadron Seven.”
“Squadron Five is in rotation, sir,” Scipio said.
Cassius’s features tightened, the only indication that he’d heard the officer.
“Squadron Seven, sir,” the tall Highborn said after a moment.
Cassius watched his holoimages. A few minutes later, red lights began to zoom among the wrecked habitats. He had transferred Felix from Ground Command and into orbital duty. The cockerel would be acting as a weapons officer aboard one of the heavy orbitals. They were two-seaters. There was a growing belief among High Command that two-seater orbitals were wasteful of Highborn. Some suggested a phase-out of the heavy orbitals. A few wanted to train premen as weapons operators.
A warning horn blared on the bridge.
Cassius swiveled around.
“Powerful SU sensor sweeps are coming out of stations in Ukraine Sector,” Scipio said.
Cassius showed his teeth in a grin. “They’re awake down there. Good.”
Several Highborn chuckled.
“Let’s give them something to target,” Cassius said. He checked his holoimages, noted the location of Felix’s heavy orbital. With a click of a button, numbers appeared under the various cylinders. “Destroy Targets A-13 and R-11.”
“Both satellites are deep in the gravity-well, sir,” said Scipio.
“Exactly.”
“Their decaying orbit means that some debris will head straight down, sir. The SU operators might think we’ve launched missiles.”
“I don’t think they’re that stupid,” Cassius said. “But let’s find out.”
“Shall I order the beginning of a prismatic-shield, sir, or begin spraying aerosol gels?”
“We are the Highborn,” said Cassius, who watched his command crew sidelong.
Tall Scipio frowned as his white-gloved hand hovered over his control-board. The Highborn glanced at him, meeting his eyes.
“Highborn take unnecessary risks?” Scipio asked.
Cassius mentally marked the Highborn down for promotion as a field commander. A Doom Star was a precious military commodity. There were only four of them in the Solar System, and one of those four was still at the Sun-Works Factory under repair. It would be many more months, maybe even another year, before it was operational again. That left them three Doom Stars, two here in Earth orbit and one around Venus.
“We do not take foolish risks,” Cassius said. “But it is good for the premen to think that we do.”
“Sir?” asked Scipio.
“They will not launch merculite missiles today,” said Cassius.
“We found out at Mars how dangerous their proton beams are,” Scipio said. “In Eurasia, they have dozens of them. Respectfully, sir, we are much too near Earth’s stratosphere.”
“Of course we are,” Cassius said.
Several Highborn glanced at him sharply.
“I request permission to speak freely, Grand Admiral,” Scipio said.
“Permission granted.”
That caused eyebrows to loft. Two Highborn traded glances. Cassius mentally marked them down for profile studies. He wondered if their allegiance to him was wavering.
“Why are we much too near the stratosphere, risking serious damage to our Doom Star?” asked Scipio.
“To gauge Social Unity,” Cassius said.
“We hold the strategic advantage, sir. We should push that instead of risking our most valuable asset.”
“The Doom Stars are not our most valuable asset,” Cassius said.
Scipio blinked at him. “Sir?”
Cassius nodded to himself. Scipio wanted to ask what was, but he was too cautious to do that. He would help Scipio.
“We as Highborn are our most valuable asset,” Cassius said. “Our fighting spirit, our aggressiveness and sheer ability gives us the military edge.”
“The Doom Stars help, sir.”
“Why won’t the premen open fire with proton beams?” asked a different Highborn.
“An excellent question,” said Cassius. “It is something I’m endeavoring to answer. Now!” he said, signaling Engine Control. “Take us from low-orbit and head fast toward the Atlantic Ocean.”
“Should I recall the orbitals?” asked Scipio.
“Tell them to head toward the Pacific Ocean. We will pick them up over North America.”
“I’m picking up increased deep-core readings, sir.” Scipio looked up. “They’re bringing the proton beams online.”
“Interesting,” said Cassius. His gut began to churn. It made him feel alive. “Strap in, gentlemen. Engine Control, give us emergency speed. Scipio…order an increase in satellite targeting. I want them to rain debris on Eurasia. Since they’ve brought the protons online, let’s give them something to shoot at.”
“Enemy sensors are locking onto us, sir,” Scipio said.
Cassius’s heart-rate increased. The Julius Caesar was a huge ship, the biggest in the Solar System. So the premen wanted to frighten him off, did they? Or maybe they thought they could take potshots at his ship. There were personal enemies among the Highborn who would snap at the opportunity to bring him down. If the Julius Caesar should take serious damage because of a slip in a routine pass….
“Launch a spread of nuclear missiles,” Cassius said in a clam voice. “Use Green Pattern-E. Then begin spraying the upgraded aerosol-gel.”