Vaughn Heppner: Battle Pod

The new factor made his decision obvious. That factor was the cyborgs. They were a new element in the war for Solar System Supremacy. The tactic of swarming a Doom Star with stealth cyborgs—

Grand Admiral Cassius slowly eased out of near-Mars orbit. The Napoleon Bonaparte was a crippled warship. Even worse were the Highborn dead. Cassius refused to accept he had lost the battle. He had done better than a draw. Yes, the premen had killed one third of his fleet. But he had destroyed close to ninety percent of their force. The galling truth, however, was that he was retreating.

Could Social Unity hang onto Mars with what it had? What about the cyborgs? Where had they come from?

Grand Admiral Cassius felt something strange then. In a lesser being, it would have been fear. He refused to accept that this feeling was fear. Maybe it was trepidation about the future.

“This is a setback,” he whispered. He would not lie to himself. The premen had hurt the Highborn. Yet the essence of the Highborn was to fight through to victory.

What about the cyborgs? The machine men troubled him. They were an unknown factor. He consoled himself with one thought. Working hard to keep their presence hidden, the cyborgs had played their bid to destroy three Doom Stars. Instead, one Doom Star was dead and another badly hurt. Yet now the Highborn realized they had another enemy to contend with. Next time he would be ready for the cyborgs.

The war with them had just begun.

Commodore Blackstone and his four battleships hid behind Mars as probes watched the two Doom Stars leave near-Mars orbit.

“Did we win?” Commissar Kursk asked.

Blackstone stared stonily at his vidscreen. They were in his wardroom. On another computer-box in his screen, he was reading the report of what the medical officers had found implanted in General Fromm’s neck.

“The cyborgs did this to Fromm,” Blackstone said.

“What did you say?” Kursk asked.

“Here,” Blackstone said, shifting aside. “You’d better read this.”

In the hidden command-pod from the Neptune System, in its close-Mars orbit, Toll Seven and Web-Mind debated their next move. Almost all the Neptune cyborgs were gone. Everything on Olympus Mons was lost. General Fromm had failed to report in. What had happened aboard the Vladimir Lenin ? Their allied bio-forms had been strangely silent. The bio-forms should have tried to communicate with him by now.

It was then Web-Mind alerted Toll Seven.

Toll Seven turned on a screen. There was a bright image on it that showed an engine was burning. Before Toll Seven could ask, Web-Mind had computed the shuttle’s flight-path. It seemed to be headed for Jupiter. Cyborg Osadar Di had been from the Jupiter System. Web-Mind therefore gave it a thirty-three percent probability that Osadar Di was aboard that shuttle. They could not allow her to escape. She knew too much.

Toll Seven acknowledged Web-Mind’s probabilities and he recognized the danger. He opened a com-link and hailed the Vladimir Lenin . Then he sent them the shuttle’s coordinates and asked that they destroy the vessel.

Seconds later, at Blackstone’s urgent command, lasers burned into space. They used Toll Seven’s radio-message, triangulating from the four battleships. Those lasers pierced the camouflaged hull of Toll Seven’s command-pod, killing the Neptune cyborg and Web-Mind.

“What will you tell Supreme Commander Hawthorne?” Kursk asked on the Vladimir Lenin’s bridge.

Blackstone gave her a wintry grin, and said, “Mission completed.”

Aboard the Mayflower , Marten and Osadar noticed the lasers. Omi was in the medical unit, receiving treatment for his burned hand.

“I wonder who they’re firing at?” asked Marten.

Osadar remained silent. Perhaps she was waiting for fate to screw her further.

“Get ready,” Marten said. “We’re going to increase thrust and pretend we’re a missile.” After alerting Omi, Marten applied greater power. And the former Highborn shuttle left Mars orbit.

Marten Kluge grinned at Osadar. “We did it,” he said. “We finally escaped Inner Planets.”

“For how long?” she asked.

“For now,” he said.

“And tomorrow?”

Marten shrugged. “Tomorrow will take care of itself. Today, we’ve done the impossible and won.” He felt the diplomatic credentials in his hidden pocket. He thought about the Martian commandos who had died to make his dream possible. He owed them a blood-debt. He would try to repay. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew that he was going to help the Planetary Union gain its freedom and keep it.

Please email me at Leevon45@hotmail.com if you find any errors, missing words, etc, in this