Santana overrode the transmission to give orders at that point. By repositioning his remaining quad, and surrounding it with Trooper IIs, the cavalry offi?cer was able to create an island of steel in the middle of the horrifi?c battlefi?eld. And that was important, because as the badly mauled allied troops streamed back along both fl?anks, the company could keep the pursuing aliens from overrunning them. As other units fell in next to the legionnaires, what had been an island was transformed into a defensive wall—a barrier that fell back every ten minutes or so, giving more survivors an opportunity to escape, and denying the bugs the slaughter they had been looking forward to. But many of the cyborgs had run out of ammunition by then, as had the foot soldiers, which meant that orderly though the retreat was, it couldn’t hold. That reality became horribly clear as the allies were pushed back through what had been their rear lines, where unit cohesion began to break down, and everything came apart.
Offi?cial records would eventually show that General Kobbi attempted to call in an orbital bombardment on his own position, hoping to kill everyone in the area, but couldn’t fi?nd a navy ship that wasn’t already fi?ghting for its life. Total chaos ensued as more than three thousand allied troops and civilian volunteers began the long, cold march up over Tow-Tok Pass, toward the bases beyond. The battle of YalAm had been lost.
15
Allies are enemies who intend to attack you later.
—Triad Hiween Doma-Sa
In a speech to the Sa clan
Standard year 2841
PLANET ALPHA-001, THE CLONE HEGEMONY
The last three days had been hellish. And as Alpha Clone Antonio-Seven entered the Emergency Operations Center normally reserved for natural disasters, he felt sick to his stomach. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a general uprising was taking place. Not just on Alpha-001, but if reports could be believed, on all of the Hegemony’s most important planets. Millions of formerly law-abiding citizens had gone on strike, and with no work to keep them occupied, had fl?ooded out onto the streets, where the treacherous Trotskis and Fisks were waiting to exhort them. That was when the mass demonstrations began, some of which had evolved into riots, as the Romos and Nerovs tried to disperse the crowds. The riots produced casualties on both sides. But when a worker was injured, or killed, rebel leaders referred to that individual as a “victim.” Whereas dead Nerovs were hung from lampposts and their dead bodies pelted with rocks.
Of course, Antonio knew some of that treatment was due to the fact that so many Nerovs had participated in the death squads his “brother” Pietro had conceived of as a way to “keep the lid on.” The strategy had been successful to some extent. Except that now, in the wake of all that had taken place, Antonio had come to realize that it had been a mistake to push the discontent deeper underground, where it could fester and spread. It was a key lesson but one that had come too late. The mood within the heavily secured Emergency Operations Center was somber, which made sense given the nature of the data that continued to stream in, and what Antonio could see with his own eyes as he sat down between his brothers. Even though Marcus had recently been the recipient of new lab-grown lungs, he was having trouble with them for psychological reasons, and couldn’t stop coughing. And, in spite of all that was at risk, Pietro came across as bored. “Okay,” Antonio began. “What have we got?”
The briefer was a social engineer named Santo-212. “The situation remains critical,” the Santo said, “as you can see from the incoming video.”
The curvilinear walls were covered with a mosaic of video screens, hundreds of them, most of which bore bad news. Everywhere Antonio looked, he could see demonstrators on the move, bodies lying in the streets, and every kind of chaos. “That much is obvious,” the Alpha Clone said impatiently. “The question is what, if anything, can be done about it? Should we bring the Seebos in to restore order?”
Santo-212 was a handsome man with black hair, large, expressive eyes, and an unwrinkled countenance. Up until then his entire life had been dedicated to keeping everything the way it was, even though instability had been introduced into the system by the founder herself, as a way to prevent the perfect society from becoming overly complacent. “No, sir,”
the social engineer replied confi?dently. “Though excellent warriors, the Seebos feel an ingrained loyalty to Hegemony as a whole, rather than to its leadership as individuals. Which means any attempt to use them against the general population could have unpredictable results. In fact, depending on circumstances, they could turn against the government.”
“All right, then what would you suggest?” Pietro wanted to know.
“I have a plan, sir,” Santo answered eagerly. “And it starts here!”
The social engineer pushed a button on a remote, and the picture on the largest screen dissolved from a demonstration on the far side of Alpha-001 to a shot of Bio-Storage Building 516. Like his brothers, Antonio was well acquainted with both the structure, and its importance. The low onestory building had been attacked more than once over the last few days, and as an airborne surveillance camera circled 516, the Alpha Clones could see that hundreds of unrecovered bodies lay in the streets around the repository. Some wore uniforms, but most were dressed in civilian attire. The corpses had begun to decay and were covered with brown rot birds. Most of the scavengers had already eaten their fi?ll, and could barely lift off as the fl?ying camera interrupted their feast.
And there, at the very center of the grisly tableau, was the building itself. Because of its symbolic importance, occupied an open area, far enough away from other buildings so that the police had been unable to fi?re down onto it, or advance using surrounding structures for cover. The southwestern corner of the repository had been blackened by fi?re. Every exposed surface was riddled with bullet holes and a wrecked assault boat could be seen on top of the much-disputed roof. “The revolution started in Building 516, Santo added grimly. “And, based on what we’ve been able to learn, rebel leader Trotski-Four is still there, along with a force of two dozen other criminals. I propose that we launch a fi?nal attack on the building and either take this Trotski prisoner or kill him. The assault will be televised, and once the disaffected workers see their leader go down, the uprising will end.”
Marcus started to speak, paused to cough, and held up a hand. Finally, when the coughing fi?t was over, the Alpha Clone managed to get the words out. “And what about other leaders? Need I remind you that all of the Trotskis look alike?”
“There were only 1,112 at the beginning of the uprising,” Santo replied confi?dently, “and according to the statistics maintained by my department, 998 of them have been killed over the past few days. That leaves only 114 individuals to deal with. And, because 56 of them are in prison, that takes us down to a pool of only 58 people, 52 of whom are living on planets other than this one.”
“But what about further damage to the facility?” Pietro wanted to know. “As well as the DNA stored there?”
“That’s a possibility,” Santo admitted soberly. “Especially if the rebels carry out their threats to deactivate the freezers. But the backup facility on Alpha-002 is being guarded by Romos—so the lines are secure.”
There was a long moment of silence after that, as everyone looked toward Antonio and waited to see what he would say. The Alpha Clone stared at the image up on the screen as he wrestled with the variables. Would the proposal work? And even if it did, would the additional deaths be worth it? Because even though the original Antonio and he were different people, both had the same DNA and common tendencies. One of which was a genuine affection for the people they were supposed to lead.
But in the fi?nal analysis, order was superior to chaos, or so it seemed to Antonio. “I say, ‘yes,’ ” the Alpha Clone announced. “But I sense we’re at a tipping point, a moment when either side could win. So this had better work.”
“It will,” Santo said confi?dently. “Just leave everything to me.”
Having successfully negotiated the military all
iance on Alpha-001, and been caught there when the Ramanthians invaded Earth, Nankool and his staff were preparing to depart for Algeron when the revolution began. A development that was none of their business in one way, but all-important in another, because the Hegemony wasn’t going to be much of an ally unless the government was stable. So, over the objections of his security people, Nankool insisted on staying a few more days in hopes that the situation would stabilize. But now, as the president and his staff sat among dozens of half-packed cargo modules, even more bad news was in the offi?ng.
And, like it or not, Military Chief of Staff Bill Booly was the person who was forced to deliver it. The legionnaire had returned from Gamma-014 only the day before, and looked the way he felt, which was exhausted. Those present included the undersecretary of defense, Zimmer, the assistant secretary of state, Tumbo, and the Confederacy’s ambassador to the Hegemony, Marcy Cowles. All of them listened intently as Booly spoke.
“A report from General Kobbi just arrived from Gamma014,” the military offi?cer said glumly. “General-453 successfully led allied forces up over a strategic mountain pass. But, while attacking a city called Yal-Am, they ran into a trap. Unbeknownst to General-453, General Akoto had a reserve of some ten thousand troops hidden in caverns under YalAm, and as our forces started to enter the city, the chits boiled up out of the ground. General-453 is missing in action, and assumed to be dead, while what remains of our army is retreating to the west with the Ramanthians in hot pursuit.”
“But how can that be?” Nankool demanded incredulously,
“We own the sky! Surely our ships can pound the bugs to paste!”
“I’m afraid things have changed,” Booly reported grimly.
“You’ll recall that once Gamma-014 had been secured, we withdrew most of our ships to protect the inner planets, and left only a handful in orbit around 014. So, when a Ramanthian battle group dropped hyper about twenty hours ago, our ships were outnumbered two to one. Although they were able to infl?ict signifi?cant casualties on the bugs, there was never any doubt as to the eventual outcome, and the surviving vessels were forced to withdraw into hyperspace or face certain annihilation.”
The news elicited a chorus of dismayed comments and some heartfelt sobs as the reality of the situation began to sink in. “So it was timed?” Zimmer inquired, her eyes bright with anger.
“Yes,” Booly confi?rmed. “As General Akoto’s troops came up out of the ground in Yal-Am, the Ramanthian ships were dropping hyper.”
“That kind of coordination would have been impossible prior to the advent of hypercom technology,” Nankool observed darkly. “It seems as if the bastards are always one step ahead of us.”
“So what’s going to happen to our troops?” Tumbo wanted to know. He was a burly man, with close-cropped gray hair, and a broad moonlike face. Everyone present knew that one of his sons was a major in the Marine Corps. Presently on Gamma-014—and right in the thick of it.
“They’re cut off,” Booly answered grimly. “And we lack the means to reinforce them quickly enough to prevent what will almost certainly be a slaughter if they are forced to surrender.”
Nankool nodded. He had fi?rsthand knowledge of what could happen to those who surrendered. “We can’t abandon them,” the politician said steadfastly. “I won’t allow it.”
“So, what’s the solution?” Cowles inquired hopefully.
“The Ramanthians made effective use of hypercom technology, and so can we,” Booly replied. “All of you are acquainted with my wife, Maylo Chien-Chu, and her company. If you approve, I’m going to ask Maylo to coordinate an effort in which civilian boats and ships will land on Gamma and evacuate our forces. Anything that has both a hyperdrive and a willing owner will be pressed into service.”
“But they’ll be slaughtered!” Cowles objected.
“Some will be,” Booly admitted sadly. “But, if there’s enough ships, and they drop hyper about the same time, the bugs won’t have enough resources to chase all of them.”
There was a long silence as the group contemplated the general’s words. It was Nankool who spoke fi?rst. “It’s a desperate strategy, but unless one of you has a better alternative, then we’ll have to go for it.” There was no response, which caused Nankool to nod. “That’s what I thought. . . . General, if you would be so kind as to contact your wife, the government would be most grateful.”
“I will,” Booly promised. “And we’ll work out the details as quickly possible.”
There might have been more discussion, except that the door to the conference room slammed open at that point, and Christine Vanderveen attempted to enter. Two members of the president’s security detail grabbed the diplomat, and were about to hustle the young woman back outside, when Nankool spotted the familiar face. “Christine? Is that you?”
“Yes, it is,” Vanderveen replied fi?rmly, as the security operatives were forced to let go of her arms. “I’m sorry to interrupt your meeting, sir, but it’s very important.”
“It had better be,” Nankool said grimly. “It turns out that you were correct about the possibility of a revolt, but that doesn’t make up for the fact you went AWOL, and entered into unauthorized negotiations with a group of people who are trying to overthrow a legally constituted government.”
Most of the offi?cials agreed and said as much. “That’s right,” one of them commented. “Who does she think she is?” another wanted to know. “The president should bring charges against her,” a third put in, as the wayward diplomat made her way to the front of the room. Vanderveen’s appearance was anything but professional. Her hair was matted, her face was covered with grime, and her clothes were caked with dried blood. Other people’s blood for the most part—acquired while working in the makeshift aid station inside Building-516. But some of the crusty matter belonged to her as evidenced by the battle dressing wrapped around the young woman’s right biceps as she turned to face the president and his staff. “I don’t blame you for being angry,” the FSO-2 said contritely. “But desperate times call for desperate measures. And, with all due respect, Mr. President, what many considered to be a legally constituted government was overthrown in order to make way for the Confederacy!”
“She has you there!” Zimmer put in lightly, and that elicited some appreciative chuckles.
“And I didn’t negotiate with the rebels,” Vanderveen put in carefully. “All I did was offer myself as a point of contact, a person who could carry a message to the Confederacy when and if the time was right. And that’s why I’m here.”
“All right,” Nankool said wearily. “Say your piece.”
Vanderveen glanced at her wrist term. “The rebels will announce a new government in one hour and forty-six minutes. The offer I brought earlier still stands. If you recognize the new government as legitimate, the provisional leadership will agree to full membership in the Confederacy, and place the Hegemony’s military under centralized command. Your command.”
“That could make a big difference,” Undersecretary of Defense Zimmer put in. “Our generals counseled against fi?ghting a winter campaign on Gamma-014, General-453 ignored them, and now look where we are! We need the Seebos. And the shipbuilding capacity that the Hegemony has.”
“That’s all very nice,” Ambassador Cowles put in cynically. “But what if the rebel leaders get killed in the next hour or so? Or, they make their announcement, and the population fails to respond? Some sort of alliance is better than none, and if you come out for the rebels only to see them go down, we’ll wind up with nothing. Or, worse yet, a new enemy! Because at that point the Alpha Clones could become so angry they would be tempted to cut a deal with the bugs.”
It was a danger, a very real danger, and everyone in the room knew it. Even FSO-2 Vanderveen. Nankool looked from face to face, made a fateful decision, and opened his mouth to speak.
The sky was clear, the air was still, and it was hot. Sirens could be heard in the distance, as the badly overtaxed Romos rushed to cope with s
till another demonstration. But the Bio-Security Building was surrounded by a cocoon of silence until a long string of airborne surveillance cams snaked out of the city beyond and began to circle 516 like a necklace of black pearls. Taken together, they generated a loud humming noise that caused a tremendous fl?utter of wings as hundreds of rot birds left the bodies they had been perched on and took to the air. Don’t go far, Alan thought to himself, as the scavengers lifted off. There will be more to eat soon.
“Okay,” Fisk-Five said, as he aimed a small handheld camera at the rebel’s face. “Say what you’ve got to say—and hurry up! We don’t have much time.”
The government had done everything possible to keep the rebels off the main com channels, but that was hard to do, so long as all the technicians continued to side with the rebels. “My fellow citizens,” the rebel began. “My clone name is Trotski-Four. But my new name is Alan Free-man. As I speak to you, the forces of oppression are preparing to attack Bio-Storage Building 516. If the Alpha Clones are successful in their efforts to kill, and thereby silence us, they will insist that they did so in an effort to protect you. But what they are really trying to protect is the status quo, which is to say their power, so they can pass it along to replicas of themselves. Not power conferred on them by the people, but power they are born to by virtue of a plan, handed down to them from a dead scientist, which no one is allowed to change.
“Well,” Alan said, as he stared into the camera. “If you’re happy with things as they are—then this is nothing more than a day off from work. But if you, like so many others, would like the freedom to choose another line of work, or to have a sexual relationship, or to produce natural children, then take to the streets and support the new Clone Republic! A provisional government, led by me, will prepare the way for a constitutional democracy, which will take over one year from today.
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