“Where is Marten Kluge?” asked Cassius.
“Gone,” said Felix.
“You disobeyed a direct order?” Cassius asked.
“Someday, I’m going to kill you,” Felix said.
Instead of arguing, instead of using verbal trickery to discover more, Cassius cut the connection. Why his chest felt so hollow, he had no idea. In a mental fog, a haze, he unbuckled, exited the shell and left the bridge as he strode down the corridors.
It was some time later that Cassius found himself in his quarters, strapped into an acceleration couch. He had no idea how he’d gotten here. A com-link was open and Sulla was telling him…that it was time.
Time for what?
At that moment, the ship engaged its huge engines. A thrumming tremble caused his couch to shake as the noise levels rose. Then a ten-G-burst deceleration slammed Cassius against his couch. That cleared his mind, and he turned on an outer video.
The Julius Caesar and the Genghis Khan sharply pulled away from the asteroids headed for Earth. The blue-green ball was huge now, less than a quarter-of-a-day away at these speeds.
The three zooming asteroids and the mass of debris surrounding them kept on a straight collision course for the planet. Much of the debris could theoretically cause billions to die if they hit.
Aboard the Julius Caesar, Cassius began to plot. He wanted to tame Kluge, and he would someday in a brutal fashion, but he had bigger problems to tackle now. Felix—Cassius shook his head. He’d worry about Felix later. Now he had to hold onto his supreme station. His position was gravely weakened if his own bridge crew maneuvered behind his back.
He judged his odds for survival as Grand Admiral. They were bad. His only chance was if the Earth survived the asteroids. Then he had to strike first and strike hard. He had to outmaneuver his hidden enemies. If the cyborg-objects annihilated premen-existence on the homeworld, his challengers would likely pull him down like dogs ravaging a de-fanged lion.
He had a moment to wonder if Kluge was responsible for Felix’s rebellion. Cassius snarled, vowing to capture Kluge someday and turn him into a docile and obedient beast.
Then another high-G burst slammed him against the couch, slowing the warship so it could soon enter near-Earth orbit.
-98-
Deep in the Joho Command Bunker, Hawthorne watched the Doom Stars decelerate. He, along with everyone else monitoring near-orbital space on the screens, knew the moment had come.
“Open channels with Vice-Admiral Mandela,” Hawthorne said.
Soon, a black-skinned man with curly-white hair appeared before Hawthorne’s sight. The man had large eyes, a stern expression and a badly rumpled uniform.
“Use the approaching asteroids as shields,” Hawthorne said, forgoing pleasantries. “Flee from the Highborn while you have the opportunity. Whether the rocks hit the Earth or not, use the planet as an even bigger shield. Keep yourself from those ultra-lasers. You must keep your fleet intact.”
Mandela blinked in seeming bewilderment. “W-we’re practically weaponless,” he finally stammered.
“Do as ordered,” Hawthorne told him. “Social Unity is going to need that fleet.”
Mandela hesitated before saying: “The Highborn will disapprove of such actions.”
What had happened to the man? Once, Mandela had been tough. Maybe the years drifting between Venus and Earth had taken a psychological toll on him. Maybe working under the Highborn had sapped whatever had remained of his will. It was time to shove some steel into the man.
“Vice-Admiral Mandela,” said Hawthorne, “will you obey my lawfully given order?”
Mandela tried to stare Hawthorne down, at least the Supreme Commander felt like the Vice-Admiral did. Then Mandela glanced right and left. Likely, he studied his bridge crew. The old man seemed to wilt in his chair.
“Your plan is risky,” Mandela whispered.
“I need that fleet intact and away from the Highborn,” Hawthorne said. “I need spaceships so I have something to threaten them with later.”
“Supreme Commander—”
“If you cannot obey me, Vice-Admiral, I will relieve you of command and order you shot.”
Mandela scowled. Hawthorne took that as a good sign. The old man still had some will left. Then the Vice-Admiral nodded. “I have my orders, sir. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
“Yes,” Hawthorne said. “Good luck.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll need it.”
-99-
The SU Fifth Fleet—two battleships and a missile-ship—accelerated. Cassius watched it on his images. The Julius Caesar and the Genghis Khan continued to slow down. Between them, the asteroids and debris zooming at Earth acted as a screen.
Cassius hailed Vice-Admiral Mandela and soon spoke to him screen-to-screen.
“Where do you go in such a hurry?” asked Cassius.
“I have my orders, Grand Admiral,” Mandela said, as he stood before his chair. The preman seemed nervous. “It has been a pleasure fighting under your inspired leadership. I hope we can fight together again and destroy the cyborg menace.”
“Help us stop these objects,” Cassius said.
“I’m afraid we need more military stores to do that.”
“Ah,” said Cassius, “I see. If you decelerate, we shall re-supply you.”
“That’s a generous offer, Grand Admiral. But I cannot. I’ve been given my orders straight from Supreme Commander Hawthorne of Social Unity. I dare not disobey him.”
Cassius adjusted the transmission. Everything was turning against him at once. Did the universe mean to test his greatness to the limit? Somewhere, he needed events to move in his favor. Cassius scowled. A superior man forced events to move in his favor. The preman Vice-Admiral seemed badly frightened about something. It was time to play on his worst fears.
“What if I said that I shall fire on your ships unless you decelerate?” said Cassius.
Mandela glanced about as if for moral support. There was whispering around him, maybe directed at him. Mandela nodded and took a tentative step forward. “Speaking theoretically, sir, it would mean our alliance was at an end.”
“Ah,” said Cassius, “speaking theoretically. Go then, preman. I grant you leave.” The ultra-lasers were still under repairs. He would never forget this preman’s treachery, however. After he had fought so hard for them, they acted like ingrates and ran away.
Hours passed. In time, the three SU warships accelerated far away from the asteroids.
From Earth, the first salvo of merculite missiles ignited off the blast-pans and headed for the stratosphere, rising to do battle with the mass of potential kinetic death to every living organism on the planet.
Cassius watched the lone planet, and he wished in that moment he possessed the ancient premen superstition of a belief in God. He would have liked to ask someone to help him for a change. But if God was real, He kept silent. God had never spoken to the Grand Admiral of the Highborn. Therefore, because he was alone, Cassius desperately hoped the dice of fate rolled in his favor. He needed the Earth intact, and then he needed to outmaneuver his Highborn enemies.
-100-
Supreme Commander James Hawthorne stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Deep underground in the Joho Mountain Bunker, he watched the screens. Around him, officers and operators murmured among themselves. It had been calculated that the planet wreckers would likely smash into South America. They had to stop that. The many screens showed many different things.