Vaughn Heppner - Bio-Weapon

“Citizens of the Four Planets, not all my news is gloomy or about the hardships to come. The Highborn are mighty but they are not invincible. As Supreme Commander, I ordered a space attack on the Sun Works Factory around Mercury. The Ring-factory has become Highborn Central, their processing plant and manufacturing yard. We hit it savagely with our latest beamship, the Bangladesh , a breakthrough design that has challenged all the old ways of space war.

“Many of you have been heard to ask: ‘Where are our space fleets?’ I shall tell you where: Hitting the enemy! Striking him ruthlessly and making him quake with fear! We will go on hitting him until he is defeated. We shall never surrender. Not as long as your hearts are true and as you realize that together, in our united unity, that we shall overcome.

“Thank you, my dear citizens, my fellow cardholders, good night, and may the creative force of our wills continue to shine.”

General Hawthorne peered straight at the camera until the holo-director said, “Cut. That was excellent, General. A fine speech.”

Hawthorne nodded as he rose and strode to the door. Yezhov congratulated him, shaking hands. “Wonderful, General. A splendid speech. The masses will be hardened in their resolve and flood into the recruiting stations.”

Hawthorne nodded, and he shook more hands as he heard more effusive praise. The Chief of PHC worked for him now, although Hawthorne would never trust Yezhov until the man was incinerated and his ashes thrown down a deep-core mine. Bionic Captain Mune stood behind the secret police chief, ready to kill him at the first hint of betrayal.

“I was hoping you could check my latest list,” said Yezhov, edging forward.

“Assassination teams that are to be slipped onto the orbital farm habs?” asked Hawthorne.

Yezhov winced and glanced around. “Please, General, this is a sensitive project. Its success hinges on the fact that it remains secret.”

Only those screened by Hawthorne’s MI teams were allowed in his presence, and his bionic men watched those closely. A glance around showed him seven bulky bionic men. They held gyroc rifles and continually scanned the crowd, making them nervous. Good! Let them all quiver at the thought of treachery.

He and Yezhov had made a deal Slippery Yezhov, the sly and cunning chief of Political Harmony Corps. During his coup attempt, Hawthorne hadn’t the strength to take PHC in a straight shooting match. So he’d made the deal and now worked to chip at their power, just as they tried to chip at his. All the directors had been replaced except for Blanche-Aster for him and Gannel for Yezhov. The others were non-entities. So in a sense the tripod of power in Social Unity had become two: the Military and the Secret Police.

Wait until the Cyborgs arrive was Hawthorne’s policy. He wasn’t sure what Yezhov’s plan was. These assassination teams were part of it, maybe the core. Yet the secret police chief’s plan was ingenious and bold. The assassination teams would infiltrate Highborn areas and kill them. Just like PHC had infiltrated the Joho Command Center and almost kidnapped him. He needed to keep reminding himself how close PHC had come to victory.

A door opened and Madam Blanche-Aster wheeled in on her bulky medical unit. Behind her followed the guard-clone, unarmed these days. Neither the clone nor the director looked happy. Hawthorne excused himself and greeted the Madam Director. He inclined his head, even as he heard Captain Mune clump behind him.

“A fine speech, General,” said Blanche-Aster, only a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

“Thank you, Madam Director.”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

“Can’t it wait?” asked Hawthorne. “I need to meet with the new directors and—”

“It’s about the Bangladesh ,” she said.

His eyes narrowed. “Yes?”

“It’s been captured.”

“What?”

People turned and stared.

Hawthorne noticed. He lowered his voice and said, “Come with me.”

Hawthorne clicked off Admiral Sioux’s recorded message and with his bony fingers, he massaged the side of his head.

“It doesn’t appear as if the Highborn themselves stormed aboard,” said Blanche-Aster. She scanned a readout-slate hooked to her chair. “Normal men did this. Which is amazing. According to the Admiral’s report, seventy to eighty space marines captured the Bangladesh . Actually, amazing is probably the wrong word. Treachery is more like it. How can seventy to eighty space marines capture a beamship the size of the Bangladesh ?”

Hawthorne sat behind his desk, shaking his head and with his shoulders hunched. Captain Mune stood at attention behind him. The Director’s guard-clone kept her gloved hands on the handles of Blanche-Aster’s medical unit.

“The Admiral called these space marines shock troopers,” said Hawthorne.

“Does that mean anything?”

“It must signify something. Perhaps shock troopers are like our good Captain Mune.”

Blanche-Aster wouldn’t look at the hulking bionic soldier. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think seventy Captain Mune’s could capture the Bangladesh .”

“I strongly disagree,” said Hawthorne.

“I imply no disdain upon these mechanically enhanced warriors of yours, General. But to me treachery seems like the more probable answer.”

“Seventy bionic soldiers could capture the Bangladesh —quite handily in fact,” said Hawthorne. “But I’m not saying that the Highborn have modified people in such a fashion. Their psychology dictates against it.” Hawthorne pursed his lips. “Shock trooper is an interesting term. The same philosopher, Nietzsche, influenced both the ancient Nazis and the Highborn. He espoused the doctrines of the superman and the will to power. Perhaps the Highborn have combed the FEC ranks for superior soldiers and trained them in space marine tactics.”

“That’s all very interesting,” said Blanche-Aster. “But normal men can’t accelerate at twenty-five Gs.”

“You’re missing the point, Director. Why are the Highborn training regular men to fight in space? Have they run low of Highborn personnel?”

“I would think so,” said Blanche-Aster. “And if so, then Yezhov’s plan becomes even more essential.”

Hawthorne regarded the Madam Director. “A momentous decision rests on us.”

Blanche-Aster looked away, troubled.

“I think Admiral Sioux knew that when she sent the message.”

“I don’t understand why she didn’t self-destruct the ship,” said Blanche-Aster. “That she didn’t validates my theory that treachery, not some new combat species, lost the beamship.”

“Circumstances may have warranted against self-destruction.”

“You saw the Admiral as she dictated the message. She wore armor and held a las-rifle. Her officers surrounded her and they stood in the command capsule. Unless… do you think these shock troopers had broken the destruction-link?”

“Who can know,” said Hawthorne. “Perhaps not all the officers had agreed to self-destruct.”

“I realize that too much emphasis on training the intellect and not enough on social responsibility has left much of our military weakened. But these officers were our best, the elite. When the moment came that the Bangladesh fell into enemy hands they should have pleaded with the Admiral to destroy it. At the very best, the Highborn will break them in reeducation camps. They gutted sections of the Sun Works Factory. The Highborn will savage them. No. It makes no sense to wish to live through that. Treachery, General, if you had all the facts you would see that treachery overcame the Bangladesh .”