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 alliance 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.
