“I can lose this fight,” Cassius said.
He scowled, as he hated losing. But it would be a weakness if he couldn’t see the real possibility. To that end, he’d ordered every Highborn off-planet and into space. That could mean a possible loss of control of Earth. That would depend in the end on the FEC formations and their loyalty. But if the asteroids made it through everything he could throw at them, he wasn’t going to let precious Highborn die. Let the premen cattle do that in their teeming billions.
Scowling more deeply, Cassius shook his head. He did not intend to lose to these aliens freaks from Saturn. How was it possible the cyborgs had conquered Saturn without at least some premen sending out a message of the awful conquest? It showed once again how pathetic premen soldiers really were. Premen were good for rutting and menial labor, nothing else. In the New Order of the coming Solar System, they might not even be good enough for that. Cassius had toyed with the idea of mass geldings. There were too many premen in the Solar System, far too many.
“Grand Admiral.”
Cassius looked up, and opened channels with the bridge. “Yes?”
“Venus is near, Your Excellency.”
First rubbing his hands, Cassius swung his legs off the acceleration couch. It was time to head to the bridge. “I’m coming,” he said. “Carry on.”
With a grunt, Cassius stood under the heavy-Gs. Then he slowly headed for the hatch. The battle of his life was fast approaching.
-54-
Marten sat in his badly shaking command chair. Around him, metal screeched in complaint and loud groans occurred that sounded like wounded whales. The vibration of the fusion core became so horrible that his head felt like it was coming part. He sank into the cushions of his chair, forced there by the heavy Gs.
Mars filled the main screen. It had begun as a dot and grown with incredible speed.
No one tried talking, or if he or she did, no one else could hear. Marten endured. Likely, so did everyone else. He didn’t even try to turn his head to see how Nadia fared.
The Red Planet filled and then vanished from the screen. He thought about Diaz. He thought about floaters and fighting in the deep valleys of Mars. Most of all, he thought about the nearly hopeless fight inside Mons Olympia. Cyborgs were terrible foes. Diaz had died while fighting them. Omi and he would have become cyborgs except that Osadar had broken her programming.
What chance did they really have on the asteroids? Little to none was the real answer. In the Jovian System, they’d had numbers on their side. How many cyborgs were on the asteroids?
At that moment, the shaking ceased. So did the terrible groaning of the metal of the ship’s struts. The vibrations from the fusion core lessened. His head hurt, but he could hear voices again.
“…Marten?”
“I’m here,” he said, swiveling his chair.
Nadia stared at him from her cubicle. Pasty-colored, she looked frightened. Everyone in the command center did. He needed to calm them.
“We passed the ordeal,” Marten said. “Now let’s recheck our equipment. I don’t want anything to malfunction so we fail to kick these cyborgs’ butts.”
One man managed a sickly grin. The others grew more frightened.
Marten swiveled back toward the main screen. He was the Force-Leader, and he was taking them to their deaths. Too bad Yakov wasn’t here. He’d know what to say.
Marten tapped an armrest with his fist. Then he surged to his feet. “This is why we came,” he said. He turned toward them. “We have allies, the Highborn in case any of you have forgotten. The Praetor helped us defeat the cyborgs on Carme. Now other Highborn will help us kill these cyborgs.”
“Do we have a chance?” asked an officer.
“The living always have a chance,” Marten said. He wanted to believe that, he really did. But ever since he’d gone over the data from the Mars Battlefleet….
He looked back up at the screen. They’d made it past Mars. Now it was simply a matter of catching up with the cyborg asteroids, landing and fighting for their lives.
-55-
The Spartacus was under hard deceleration and had been ever since rounding the Red Planet. It was also under greater deceleration than the Highborn’s battle-plan called for.
The decision had come easily to Marten. In these types of battles, one didn’t want to be the first ship to attack the enemy. He’d been through more than his share of combat to value foolish heroics. There was a time for courage and a time for caution. If he could help it—and he could—he’d slip his space marines onto the asteroids after the first several waves of Highborn and Social Unity soldiers had already tried.
He was speaking quietly to Omi, discussing landing techniques, when Nadia spoke up from her cubicle.
“You have an incoming message from Grand Admiral Cassius,” Nadia said.
Marten looked up shocked. Then he swiveled his chair toward the main screen. “Put him on,” he said.
Omi stood beside him, with one hand resting on the butt of his gun.
The image of Cassius came online. The big Highborn had bristly iron-colored hair and fierce intensity in his eyes. He wore a military cap and a blue uniform. There was something magnetic about Cassius and something dementedly dangerous. Behind him, other Highborn sat at their stations.
“Who is this?” demanded Cassius.
Marten stiffened at the tone.
“Careful,” whispered Omi.
Marten glanced at his friend.
“He’s in a Doom Star, with the power to destroy us if we anger him,” Omi whispered.
“I know that,” Marten whispered out of the side of his mouth.
“Just thought you might need a reminder,” Omi said.
“Preman, do I have your attention?” Cassius asked coldly.
“I am Force-Leader Marten Kluge of the Meteor-ship Spartacus.”
“Those are Jovian terms?” asked Cassius.
“We are a Jovian warship.”
Cassius leaned toward him. “I know perfectly well what you are. Why are you decelerating so hard?”
A sharp retort came to Marten’s lips, but he hesitated. The Grand Admiral seemed many times deadlier than the Praetor or Training Master Lycon.
“Your action smacks of cowardice,” said Cassius.
Marten’s eyes narrowed. He’d been taking crap from Highborn for far too long. Their arrogance grated just as much now as it ever had.
“Have you fought cyborgs before?” Marten asked.
It was like watching a wild beast. The reaction was swift, the curl of the lip and a minute widening of his eyes. If they’d been in the same room, Marten had no doubt the Grand Admiral would have attacked him.
“You will answer my questions, not bombard me with yours,” said Cassius. “Any deviation from that and you risk annihilation once my ship is in range of yours.”
“I understand you think of yourself as my genetic superior,” Marten said. “But that holds no value with me.”
Omi made small, urgent motions, no doubt nonverbally suggesting that Marten watch what he say.
“We have journeyed all the way from Jupiter to aid in your assault against the cyborgs,” Marten said. “The least you could do is show some gratitude.”
“You are Marten Kluge?” said Cassius.
Marten didn’t like the way the Highborn asked that. “I’ve decelerated harder than you suggested because—”
“I beamed you orders,” said Cassius, “not suggestions.”
“I am in command of a sovereign vessel from the Jovian Confederation,” Marten said. “That makes us allies. It doesn’t make me your subordinate.”
Cassius had turned his head. He now stared at Marten with greater malevolence than before. “You are a shock trooper and formerly belonged to the Free Earth Corps. You fought in the original Japan Campaign. How did you manage to flee to the Jupiter System?”