The Highborn are bigger than our myrmidons and display greater reasoning abilities, but their days are numbered because they’re too emotive. Perhaps you are not aware that emotions are irrational.”
“What about the cyborgs?” Marten asked. “You must have watched the files from Mars.”
“They are strange,” Su-Shan said, “a decided mistake in forced evolution. But that has no bearing on our present situation.”
“You’re wrong,” Marten said. “The cyborgs are here in your system. They’ve already taken control of many of your warships. I killed three as they tried to board my ship, and I helped destroy a dreadnaught filled with them.”
“You have joined the rebels? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Your hatred is blinding you to the facts,” Marten said.
Su-Shan stiffened. “How dare you accuse me of emotionalism? Reason guides me. Logic governs my actions. That you fail to understand this and insist on showering me with insults proves your brutishness. We are done dialoguing.”
“You must alert your orbital defenses,” Yakov said.
“They are alerted,” Su-Shan said, “never fear.”
“You’re likely going to need every warship you possess,” said Yakov. “I suggest you recall what you can from Ganymede.”
Su-Shan laughed softly. “Your ploy is obvious and fruitless, Force-Leader. The warships approach a low- Ganymede orbit. You must tell me quickly, what is your decision?”
“The cyborgs have arrived,” Yakov said. “On my oath, it is the truth.”
Su-Shan waved a small hand. Golden wires were wrapped around her delicate fingers. “Do you truly expect us to believe that you timed your rebellion with a cyborg assault upon Jupiter? The odds—”
Yakov leaned forward in his chair as he struck an armrest. “Can’t you understand?” he asked.
“You have spirit and possess a willingness to fight. None can doubt that. Now, however, you must make a momentous decision. Will you surrender your vessel and save Ganymede from precision strikes?”
Yakov glanced at Marten. It was the nearest to helplessness that Marten had seen from the Force-Leader.
Then it hit Marten, a possible key to turning the Chief Controller. He asked, “What if I show you an actual cyborg?”
“How could you achieve this feat?” she asked.
Marten unclipped a two-way, using his thumb to press a button and open a channel with Osadar. The device crackled more than before, and Marten wondered if the enemy gamma rays had caused that.
“Is there trouble?” Osadar asked.
“Hurry to the command room,” Marten said.
“Will you present me with an actor in a suit?” asked Su-Shan.
“You can decide that for yourself,” Marten said, as he clipped the two-way back onto his belt.
A minute passed. Then Osadar entered the room, causing command personnel to recoil. Osadar floated to Marten and stood before the main screen. Her melded torso, the branded
“It appears compelling,” Su-Shan admitted.
“What if Strategist Tan confirmed the cyborg’s reality?” Marten asked.
Su-Shan blinked rapidly. “Tan lives?” she whispered.
The strain in Su-Shan’s voice startled Marten. He nodded, and said, “Of course.”
Su-Shan turned away, and she brushed something out of her left eye. Soon, her small shoulders squared under her sheer robe and her chin lifted. When she regarded them again, she seemed colder than before.
Yakov looked up from his armrest. A small screen was embedded there. He’d been scrolling through something, reading data. “I’d forgotten,” he whispered to Marten out of the side of his mouth. “Our Strategist is the Chief Controller’s cousin.”
“Will that make a difference?” Marten whispered.
Yakov glanced at the main screen, and he rubbed his jaw so his hand partly covered his mouth. “Callisto law is firm, and there are few children among the governors. I doubt Su-Shan has any other relatives in the same generation. Yes. It is important.”
“Bring the Strategist into view,” Su-Shan was saying. “I would speak with her.”
Marten cleared his throat. “I’d gladly do it, but she’s presently under Suspend.” Suspend slowed all biological functions, putting its recipient into a hibernating state.
Su-Shan’s beautiful features turned pasty. “Barbarians,” she whispered. “You shall….” With a small finger, she rubbed the inner corner of her left eye as if removing a speck. Then she glared at them, and her eyes glistened. “Revive her at once. Let me speak to her face to face.”
“First,” said Yakov in his normally calm manner, “you must postpone the bombardment.”
“A Chief Controller cannot be blackmailed,” Su-Shan said slowly.
Yakov shook his head. “No blackmail is intended. We simply wish to prove our point, to prove the validity of our argument.”
“Yes,” Su-Shan whispered. “I will grant you an extension. Now hurry, bring me my cousin—I mean, revive Strategist Tan this instant.”
-5-
Small Strategist Tan lay nude on a medical slab with a med-officer hovering over her. He removed a tube from her side and sprayed the wound with quickheal. He had drained much of Tan’s blood, heating it and pumping it back into her. Then he had shocked her several times. Each shock had caused her to jerk and her thighs to quiver.
Finished spraying, the med-officer draped a thin blanket over Tan’s nakedness.
Tan shuddered suddenly and inhaled sharply. The monitor-board clicked, beeped and flashed lights and various numbers. The med-officer observed them as he studied Tan. She eased into a relaxed position and breathed normally. Then her fingers twitched and her eyelids snapped open.
“Lie still,” said the med-officer. He wore a yellow smock, with a yellow cap over his round head. He had soft hands and stroked her nearest arm, which lay on the blanket.
Tan blinked at him, and she frowned.
“You can’t talk yet,” he said. “Your mind is thawing. You’ll be fine in several minutes.”
It seemed as if she wanted to answer. She stared up at him. Her blinks were earnest and her eyes straining.
Marten watched the proceeding. The entire situation was a mess. The Confederation’s philosophical rulers were odd and strangely blind for people who prided themselves on using reason to solve each problem. Instead, it seemed as if they’d cut themselves off from their humanity, or as if they’d failed to consider their emotions. Thinking to become wise, they’d become foolish in bizarre ways. People weren’t creatures of cold reason, although people could reason. For instance, why did a man fall in love with a woman? Did that have anything to do with reason? No. It was passion, desire—it was a basic need that erupted with volcanic power.
Marten shook his head. The odds this time were piling against him. Callisto had more warships. The cyborgs had even more. The Secessionists side was the weakest of all. Maybe Osadar had it right. They should flee to Saturn and start over.
“Where am I?” whispered Tan.
“You’re aboard the
“I can’t remember what happened,” she whispered.
“It will come back to you.”
“Was I sick?”
“No.” The med-officer glanced at Marten.
