Vaughn Heppner - Star Soldier

To Paenus:

The Japanese furnace all but devoured our FEC Divisions. Despite overwhelming losses, however, they held. You are to be congratulated on your training procedures, my dear Paenus. The panzer crews proved disciplined, although yet lacking in true exploitation zeal. Still, under the circumstances of narrow, built up fronts and mountainous terrain, I am not displeased with their performance.

Paenus, our glorious victory of 10 May moves the Campaign for the Solar System into its next phase. I must ask that you scour the FEC Divisions recently thrown into the Japanese cauldron and designate several “hero” units. At once, contact Commander Brutus of Ninth FEC Army so he may award honors to the deserving premen. The numbers need not be large, but only “heroic” formations must be chosen. Said troops will be transferred to Training Commandos, Space. I regret your loss of these trained soldiers, but we are stretched everywhere. Your quick compliance is appreciated.

May 15

To Cassius :

Long live the Grand Admiral! To hear is to obey. My inspection officers fly to the Japanese Islands even as I write this missive. They will scour the FEC formations and present you with heroes or with premen with enough savagery, skill and battle luck so they will not sully the reputation of the Commandos.

May 16

To Paenus :

Your choices, I know, will be excellent. And ensure, too, proper pomp and circumstances during the honor ceremonies in order to heighten FEC morale. As you know, the premen are a touchy species, given to dramatic emotional displays. But then you know this better than I, my dear Paenus. Are you not the architect of our valorous FEC formations?

Salutations and Congratulations on a duty well preformed.

The 93rd Slumlord Battalion, all seventeen survivors, wore dress uniforms as they waited on parade to be pinned with medals by the Inspector General of Training FEC Army, Earth. Highborn Superiors were here along with some of the older Lot Six specimens. Mostly FEC soldiers stood at attention, panzers roaring past and orbital fighters zooming in a thunderclap across the sky.

“They honor us,” said Kang.

“Are you so easily impressed?” Marten asked.

The big Mongol scowled. “Look at the orbital fighters, the panzers, the battle-suited drop troops.”

“So what. A little razzle to dazzle us into obedience. I’m unimpressed.”

“Then you’re a fool,” said Kang. “Paenus himself honors us. And we’re to be transferred to Training Commandos, Space.”

Marten glanced at Omi, who stood on the other side of him. The ex-gunman kept his face impassive. Marten turned back to Kang. “We’re leaving Earth, that’s all I care about.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” growled Kang.

Marten merely grinned. He stood at attention, waiting for Paenus to come and pin him with a bit of tin. The decoration was meaningless. Turbo and Stick were dead. Almost everyone he’d trained with in Australia was dead. He wondered how Molly and how Ah Chen fared. He’d probably never know. But one thing he did know: He would be free, somehow, whatever it took. And now the Highborn were sending him off-planet. Well, he’d only come to Earth in order to escape the Sun-Works Factory. From orbit around Earth it would surely be easier to escape to the Outer Planets and be free than from deep within this gravity well.

“Here he comes,” growled Kang.

Marten stiffened to ramrod attention. He hoped Social Unity and the Highborn killed each other off. Then maybe men would be able to live as they’d been meant to live. He knew that once he escaped from the Commandos that he’d make his dream into reality. But first, he must survive this bit of frippery. He pasted a look of awe on his face, trying to think how a dog would feel being petted by its master. Let them think what they wanted, for now. Soon enough they’d find out the truth, and then let both sides beware.

Meanwhile, in deep space between the orbital paths of Neptune and Uranus, the first, ultra-stealth cyborg pods continued their journey to Earth.