Cyborg Assault

wears one now in lieu of his lost palm-pistol. That was a propitious moment, a rare occurrence, when the Strategist disarmed him. I should have acted then.”

“Osadar could defeat the myrmidons for you.”

Yakov shook his head. “I distrust all cyborgs.”

Marten hesitated. Then he blurted, “Let Omi and me do it.”

Yakov studied him, before shaking his head again. “The myrmidons would slaughter you two.”

“I don’t think you understand. Omi and I survived the Japan Campaign and took advanced Highborn-training on the Sun-Works Factory. Give us vibroknives and you’ll see what two ex-shock troopers can do.”

“I’m afraid we have no vibroknives.”

“Force blades?” asked Marten.

“I can give you knives, which mean nothing at all against myrmidons. Ordinary men cannot defeat them.”

Marten frowned. He’d seen them, had felt their grip. The myrmidons were tough, but they hadn’t seemed like supermen. Just how good were they? He said, “Lend us your most trustworthy ship-guardians as backup.”

Yakov looked away. It was a subtle thing, but he seemed worried. After a time, he said, “In cadet school, I was captain of our hussade team. We won the Ganymede Star. Even after our victory, the stylists insisted that ours was the inferior team. And they were right.”

Marten watched the Force-Leader. “How did you win?”

“By risking everything and rushing the pedestal. It was a mad gamble, but it gave us victory. And it gave me this command slot.” Yakov swept his fingers through his silver hair. “I’ll risk everything again, this time on a mad rush to kill the myrmidons and gain control of my ship. Otherwise, philosophic fools will kill us all.”

Yakov picked up the stylus. “I’ll show you the ship’s layout. Then you must help me pick the ambush site.”

Marten nodded, realizing he was in it now.

-10-

Gharlane of Neptune, the prime cyborg of the stealth-assault, stood in his favorite chamber on Athena Station. The station was on a medium-sized, asteroid-like moon. In orbital proximity, its closest companion was Callisto.

Gharlane dressed in Jovian styles, with a governor’s red uniform. He was large and robotic: polished metal merged with plasti-flesh parts and a face capable of only minimal expression. His eyes were golden-metal orbs that moved smoothly in black plastic sockets.

Gharlane didn’t smile, although a strange serenity filled him. His favorite chamber contained the newest in holographic imagery. It showed Jupiter in the center, with the important moons in their orbits and bright pinpoints representing the major warships in the system. Red pinpoints were dreadnaughts, yellow were meteor-ships and blue were clusters of patrol boats. There were fifteen capital ships in the system, fifteen dreadnaughts and meteor-ships.

Gharlane moved through the various holo-images, feeling majestic, akin to a god. His left shoulder passed through holographic Jupiter and he eyed Io, turned and passed a hand through icy Europa.

Gharlane understood that the Jupiter Web-Mind—his master—did not approve of these emotions or his present actions. The Web-Mind only allowed them for a precise reason. To eradicate the emotions that compelled these actions might well eradicate Gharlane’s higher genius functions.

Gharlane was all too aware that after the successful conclusion of the stealth-assault he would have to go under the psycho-scanner. It was unavoidable, and he accepted the inevitably. However, that was a time far in the future. For now, he focused on a holographic image of Athena Station.

“Zoom in,” he said.

Athena expanded before him. The surface was brightly lit, with hundreds of low domes, towers, antenna- clusters, sensor stations and interferometers. There were repair docks, supply depots, laser bunkers, and missile sites. It also had girders dug into rock, stretching into space and attached to various spacecraft.

Athena Station had been the heart of the Guardian Fleet and the second most heavily defended location in the Jovian System. The defense satellites around Callisto and the laser bunkers on the surface were considered three times as powerful as the weaponry on Athena.

In the last few months, a non-Jovian installation had been added. It was buried half a kilometer under the surface and it churned throughout the cycles. Horrified, naked, freshly-scrubbed humans entered the complex on a conveyer. After a thorough tearing down and intricate rebuilding, shiny new cyborgs exited the machine. These cyborgs then joined the ongoing campaign.

Unfortunately, the conversion process was too slow, and they had failed to achieve the timetable set for them by the Prime Web-Mind in the Neptune System. The problems had begun several months ago, as the stealth- capsules entered the system. A zealous Force-Leader had burnt two of the seven capsules and damaged three others. The Jovian Force-Leader had almost ended the Jupiter Assault before it had commenced. The same Force- Leader presently captained the Rousseau, but as a converted cyborg known as CR37.

“Resume normal imaging,” Gharlane said.

The holographic of Athena Station became a small dot again in the greater Jupiter System.

Before Gharlane could give another command, a panel in the wall opened. He turned and regarded two basic- type cyborgs.

They were taller than he was, with elongated torsos. Each was a composite of flesh, steel, plastic and graphite bones. Each had been a Jovian less than four months ago. They had dead eyes now, incurious eyes, with immobile features.

“Yes?” Gharlane asked.

“The Web-Mind wishes an immediate link,” the foremost cyborg said in a mechanical voice.

Gharlane was aghast. He had suppressed an impulse from the Web-Mind. Now he noticed a blinking red pinpoint. It represented the Rousseau. Obviously, the Web-Mind had sent these two to check on him.

Gharlane opened his internal link. Immediately, the two cyborgs departed and the panel closed.

“I will run a self-evaluation,” Gharlane told the Web-Mind. They spoke via a tight-link radio-signal.

You must not spend any more time in the holographic command room, the Web-Mind told him.

“Noted,” said Gharlane.

The Descartes deviates from its heading. It moves toward the disabled dreadnaught.

“I have already ordered the Hobbes to the disabled ship,” Gharlane said.

Our vessel will not arrive until much later. And one-to-one combat ratios are poor odds. Send… the two nearest patrol boats in conjunction with the Hobbes.

“I wish to point out,” said Gharlane, “that there is a high probability that members of the Mayflower’s crew reached the Descartes.”

The bearing on combat ratios—

“The files show that the Mayflower is from Mars, containing survivors from the latest conflict there. They have shown high survival capabilities.”

The combat ratios—

“Battle is not all ratios and mathematical computations. There is a chaos factor involved.”

Metaphysical ramblings are further indication of anomalies, Cyborg Gharlane. That bodes ill for your continued use.

“I use logic to deduce factors beyond my perception,” Gharlane explained. “Metaphysics has no bearing on that. Continual success against the odds indicates high-level chaos factors. I will order the Hobbes to rendezvous with the Kepler. Together, they will engage and overcome the enemy meteor-ship.”