Vaughn Heppner: Star Fortress

“We did not take North American Sector from you,” Hawthorne said. “You abandoned Earth during the cyborg attack from Saturn, leaving the Free Earth Corps behind as garrison. Some of them claimed independence from you and later asked for admittance into Social Unity.”

“You should have refused them.”

“On what grounds?”

“To keep the continued alliance with us,” Cassius said.

“But if you willingly abandon territory—”

Onscreen, Cassius leaned near. “Enough! I am simply relating to you Admiral Sulla’s argument. I understand your logic. Because I do, there is a different way for you to redeem yourself with me.”

“Grand Admiral?”

“The Ultraists represent a grave threat to premen—excuse me, to humanity’s continued existence. In your thinking, why trade one threat for a similar threat several years down the corridors of time?”

“It is true I dislike Ultraist creed,” Hawthorne said. “But the cyborg menace represents an immediate—”

“I dislike Admiral Sulla as he is a thorn in my side.” Cassius showed his teeth in what he might have thought was a smile. “You and I have certain similarities, Supreme Commander. Our fellow soldiers waste time and effort attempting to pull us from power. Tell me, haven’t you faced coup attempts against your authority?”

“I have,” Hawthorne admitted, wondering where Cassius was taking this.

“Be assured there are similar attempts among the Highborn against me. In that regard, Admiral Sulla represents a problem to our alliance. By protocol and custom, however, there are only several avenues I am allowed to react concerning his objections. In other words, I could use your help.”

Hawthorne raised his eyebrows. This was unprecedented: the Grand Admiral asking for human help. Despite the Highborn’s arrogant way of talking, this gave Hawthorne hope. He had an ongoing debate with Security Specialist Cone. He believed Highborn could feel gratitude. Cone said the super-soldiers thought of humans as dogs. One could not feel gratitude toward a dog. Hawthorne disagreed. As food continued to disappear from the stores, many people had found it difficult butchering their dogs for the table, having a deep sense of loyalty toward the animals. If he helped Cassius now, the Grand Admiral would likely feel honor-bound to him later.

“We have several common enemies,” the Grand Admiral was saying. “The first are the cyborgs. We are banding together with you to destroy them before they can convert us into abominations. The second is Admiral Sulla and his Ultraists. I do not fear him or them, although I know humans view their competitors in that light. The admiral’s sin is that he weakens our united attempt to destroy the cyborgs. That is why I am asking you to help me send a message to the Ultraists.”

“How can I do this?”

“The first way would be by ceding North American Sector to us.” Onscreen, Cassius held up a hand. “You have already admitted your reluctance and probably your inability to making such a gesture. I understand. It is good for you to realize that my understanding is unique among Highborn. The reason is that I am unique in my ability to think along premen lines. It is one of my strengths.”

Hawthorne nodded, impressed once again with a Highborn’s innate arrogance. Sometimes he wondered how two million hyper-ambitious super-soldiers could agree to do anything together. They would never be able to survive their victory—if they could achieve it. A Solar System filled with Highborn was inconceivable. They would war against each other long before that happened. It would be constant civil war.

“There is a second way?” Hawthorne asked.

“There are two other ways. I choose the easier option because I am considering your limited capabilities. Simply stated, I ask you to meet with me as we discuss strategy together.”

“We are meeting together,” Hawthorne said.

“I am talking about a face-to-face meeting, a physical greeting between you and me. This will surprise you, but I have long wanted to speak with you, Supreme Commander. You have waged war relentlessly against a superior foe—us—and shown great tenacity in—”

“How would such a meeting help you against Admiral Sulla?”

Cassius scowled. No Highborn liked being interrupted. Hawthorne had done it on purpose to test the Grand Admiral’s resolve.

With his right hand, Cassius wiped away the scowl. “Our meeting will show the Ultraists that I consider premen—excuse me. That I consider humans as worthy allies.”

“Before I could agree,” Hawthorne said, “I would need to speak with my people about this.”

“Time is our enemy.”

“I’m afraid your proposal will create a stir of distrust among my councilors. I will need to mollify the distrust.”

Cassius sat back, showing surprise. “I offer this gesture in order to heighten trust among us. We are soon to begin the fateful journey, heading for the Neptune System. Our two fleets must learn to act as one. How can we achieve this unless the two supreme leaders act in concert?”

“We lack unity of command, I agree with you there,” Hawthorne said.

Cassius’s eyes narrowed. Then he showed his teeth in another predatory smile. “You have rare genius, Supreme Commander.”

Hawthorne nodded, deciding he didn’t like such praise from a Highborn.

“Hmm,” Cassius said, “this distrust you mentioned, how could I help you dampen it?”

“I can think of several ways,” Hawthorne said. “Firstly, I would have to bring a security detail.”

“Security against Highborn?” Cassius asked, attempting a rare jest.

“We would ask you to bring a correspondingly smaller team.”

“Done.”

Hawthorne became thoughtful. The Grand Admiral was trying to be appealing. What lay behind it?

“I would like to meet soon,” Cassius said.

“I understand. You still have not said where.”

“In Low Earth Orbit, on a station in sight of your Eurasian beams and my Doom Star.”

Hawthorne drummed his fingers on the desk. The idea of meeting Cassius face-to-face… “Let me talk with my councilors.”

“I would appreciate an answer in three hours.”

“I’m sure it will not take us long to decide. I am curious about one thing, however. How will a meeting between us help you versus Admiral Sulla and the Ultraists?”

“Ah,” Cassius said. “That is one of the subjects you and I must speak of alone.”

Hawthorne’s heart rate quickened. “I understand. I will call the meeting at once.”

“Excellent. I await your reply.”

At 4:11 PM, a meeting began on Level Three of New Baghdad. It was held in the Supreme Commander’s quarters. Director Juba-Ryder of Egyptian Sector joined Security Specialist Cone and Force-Leader Marten Kluge, the Jovian Representative.

From the Supreme Commander’s biocomp transcriptions, File #13:

HAWTHORNE: That’s the situation. Now Cassius wants to meet me face-to-face in Low Earth Orbit. I would like your thoughts or observations concerning his proposal.

CONE: I don’t like it, sir. Why does Cassius need to speak to you alone? He has an ulterior motive.

JUBA-RYDER: His motive is clear. He wishes the Supreme Commander’s help in removing Sulla from command.

CONE: I don’t believe that.

JUBA-RYDER: Motives are not always complex or devious, Security Specialist. The Highborn are soldiers—

CONE: They are genetic racists first and foremost.

JUBA-RYDER: What bearing does their racism have on the situation? Sulla impedes the Grand Admiral. For that reason, Cassius wishes the commander’s removal. We can help him. Therefore, Cassius attempts to use us. That sounds like perfect Highborn reasoning to me.