Gazing up at the sky, Hawthorne wondered how they fared. He wondered if Mune was even alive.
“We’re near our destination, sir,” the pilot said.
“Yes, thank you,” Hawthorne said. Two FEC colonels, two traitors, two ambitious climbers wanted to speak with him face-to-face. For the sake of Earth, for the sake of humanity’s future, he would deal with them. But if he ever trusted them, he hoped he’d die a crushing death beneath the steel treads of a cybertank.
-79-
Waves lapped onto the sandy beach, throwing up swirling foam and a tangled cluster of rubber-like plants.
Hawthorne stood on a grassy dune ninety meters back from the beach. Beside him, Manteuffel spoke into a com-unit. Snipers with scopes lay everywhere and out of sight. Jump-jets waited ten kilometers inland, ready to come screaming into action, firing cannons and missiles.
“There, sir,” Manteuffel said, pointing.
Hawthorne nodded. He’d been watching the speck out at sea. It had steadily grown larger. The speck represented a hovercraft, which had left Japan and sped up the southern side of the Korean Peninsula.
“You’re too exposed here, sir,” Manteuffel said.
“I sent Cone, not suicide troops,” Hawthorne said.
“The Highborn have used hypnotically-motivated soldiers before. This may be a trap.”
Hawthorne glanced at the worried Manteuffel. The wind tugged at the small officer’s tunic and he kept brushing his watering, narrowed eyes. For a fact, it was chilly on the beach. The salty tang, however, was a joy compared to the recycled air of the Joho Complex. It was even better-smelling as he considered that this might be the last time he’d ever see the ocean.
“Caution is wise,” Hawthorne told Manteuffel. “But sometimes too much fear becomes paralyzing. The end of the world is near. Taking a chance or two….” Hawthorne shrugged.
“I’ve never known you as a fatalist, sir.”
“The war has worn me down,” Hawthorne said. He considered that, and he turned to Manteuffel. “Do you know that Napoleon said a general only has a few years for fighting? Then his time is over. Napoleon went on to prove his adage, showing in his later years that his fine grasp of the art of war had slipped. I wonder sometimes if my time has past.”
“If not you, who sir?” asked Manteuffel.
Hawthorne smiled sadly. “It would be a nice fantasy to think myself irreplaceable. Many leaders have thought of themselves like that. They were each wrong. If I pass, another will rise up to take my place.”
Manteuffel frowned thoughtfully.
Soon, the hovercraft roared toward the beach. It was a loud vehicle, protected by composite armor and outfitted with a cannon, two torpedo-launchers and three heavy machine-gun mounts. A battalion flag snapped from the top of a long antenna, while slanted glass windows showed where the hovercraft’s operator stayed. The machine roared toward them as it blew spray and foam across the water.
“It’s heading straight at us, sir,” Manteuffel shouted in warning.
Hawthorne’s legs tightened. He wanted to hurl himself to the grass. But that would be too undignified. Then he wondered if he’d become too proud. Wouldn’t it be wiser to throw himself prone and survive, then keep his pride, stand and die? But if this were a test of his mettle and the outcome would determine if the colonels betrayed their masters—
Before Hawthorne could convince himself to hit the ground, the hovercraft rose up on a cushion of air and then whined less as it settled onto the sand. A few moments later, a hatch opened and three people jumped onto the sand.
They trudged toward him. Hawthorne recognized Cone in her black jacket and sunglasses. The big man beside her must be McLeod. He had wild red hair, a mass of freckles and likely possessed a Viking heritage. Even in combat fatigues, the man looked as if he should be captaining a dragon-boat of old. The other one must be Colonel Naga. He was slim, with black hair that almost seemed purple. Dangling from his neck was a pair of goggles.
Soon, Cone raised her hand and shouted a greeting.
Hawthorne waited, watching as McLeod and Naga glanced at each other. Cone spoke to them. McLeod laughed loudly and nodded. Naga glanced back at the hovercraft.
“Stay here,” Hawthorne said.
“Sir, I don’t recommend this,” Manteuffel said.
As he strode down the grassy dune, Hawthorne smiled to himself. Those had been Captain Mune’s favorite words. It brought a pang of nostalgia. Now there had been a bodyguard.
The sand crunched under the soles of his shoes. In moments, he met the trio in the middle of the sandy beach.
Cone introduced him, and then introduced the colonels to Hawthorne. Holding out his hand, Hawthorne shook each of theirs. McLeod had a crushing grip, and seemed compelled to try to break bones by squeezing. The blue eyes showed exactly what McLeod was doing: sizing up the Supreme Commander of Social Unity. Naga bowed slightly at the waist. He had dark hooded eyes like a snake, revealing nothing of his thoughts.
They spoke a few pleasantries. Then McLeod glanced around. “I don’t see any soldiers. Do you think you can take Colonel Naga and me?”
“More importantly,” Hawthorne said, “do you think we can take Earth back from the Highborn?”
McLeod put his ham-like hands on his hips and laughed. “What happened in North and South America, there’s your answer, man.”
“If you don’t think we can defeat the Highborn, why are you here?” Hawthorne asked.
“The Highborn left me to die,” McLeod said. “Me! There isn’t a better soldier on the planet. I left pieces of my flesh on three different continents for them. You’d think they’d be grateful.”
“Are you grateful when a dog injures itself protecting your house?”
“You watch your mouth, Hawthorne.” Colonel McLeod glanced around, and he smirked openly at Hawthorne. “Two steps and I can snap your neck before any of your hidden security teams can do squat.”
“What would that gain you?” asked Hawthorne.
“It would be as good a way to die as any,” McLeod said.
“What would be a good way to live?” asked Hawthorne.
“If the asteroids strike Earth,” Colonel Naga said in a quiet but authoritative voice, “what does any of this matter?”
“That we die free,” Hawthorne said.
“I am free,” said Naga.
Hawthorne shook his head. “You two are just a pair of subhumans to the most bigoted individuals the Earth has ever seen. To the Highborn, you are dogs. That they’ve spent your blood recklessly ought to prove it to you.”
“Your soldiers have died in greater numbers than ours,” McLeod said.
“Our soldiers have died to keep their freedom and their planet. What have your men died for?”
“Glory,” said McLeod.
“How does glory feed your family?” asked Hawthorne. “How does glory keep humanity free?”
“The Highborn have deserted us,” Colonel Naga told McLeod.
“They’re highhanded blokes, no doubt about that,” McLeod said, scowling. “I’d like to stick it in their arses before I’m burned to a crisp. What do you have in mind, Supreme Commander?”
“That you stand with us against them,” Hawthorne said. “They’re highhanded, as you said. They’re arrogant and spit on all of us. I’m tired of it, and I suspect you’re tired of it, too.”
“You are said to possess the entire FEC roster,” Naga said. “Political Harmony Corps desires to march each of us before a brick wall and shoot us.”
“I’ve de-fanged Political Harmony Corps,” Hawthorne said. “If you join us, I’ll delete the lists.”
“…And?” asked Naga.
“And the Free Earth Corps can keep the territories it has conquered,” Hawthorne said. “I’m also willing to recognize you as the highest authority in North America.”