Planet Wrecker

held such fascination for him was that Cassius believed he was the Highborn Alexander. He was the greatest military genius among the greatest military soldiers the Solar System had ever seen. The truth of that was obvious.

With his big hands, Cassius shifted the fighter’s controls. The squat craft plunged toward the stratosphere. Almost immediately, the heat-shield began to glow as the fighter began to rattle and shake.

The ploy with the Doom Stars was just like Alexander’s maneuvers before the Hydaspes River. It had tactically been Alexander’s most brilliant large-scale battle. Alexander had marched, for him, to the ends of the Earth—in reality, India. There King Porous had waited with an army of chariots, archers and elephants. Porous had spread out his army, covering the various fords over the Hydaspes River. Alexander had marched back and forth on his side, accustoming Porous’ soldiers to his presence. Finally, the day came where Alexander’s phalanxes did as they always had. Elsewhere, however, a picked company of cavalry crossed the river, making it because the enemy had grown lax.

Cassius was accustoming the soldiers of Social Unity to the near presence of the Doom Stars. It was risky, because at any time, Hawthorne might order a vast barrage of proton beams, merculite missiles and whatever orbital fighters they had been secretly constructing to attack the Julius Caesar and its sister ship.

Despite the heat-shield, the fighter’s solid construction and the battleoid-suit, Cassius heard the howling wind outside his craft. He dropped at combat speed toward Mexico City.

The radio crackled, and a FEC lieutenant came online, asking for identification.

Cassius was surprised. Have we stretched ourselves so thinly that premen run sectors of air- defense?

The FEC soldier could easily activate the air-defense over the city and region. With a single finger, the preman could achieve what many SU soldiers had been unable to do—kill the commander of the Highborn.

There were loyalty tests, to be certain. The lieutenant manning the air-defense-net had a stake in the Highborn victory. Still….

Cassius punched in the fighter’s code.

“Acknowledged, SA-12,” the FEC lieutenant said over the radio. “You are cleared for a scanning pass.”

Cassius grimaced. He’d do more than that. Before he was through, high-ranking Highborn would be on the air- defense-net. Maybe it would be a lesson to them all. But he was more concerned that the young cockerel bearing his chromosomes would realize the foolishness of his action. Yes, Felix was about to discover that with such a grand genetic heritage as he possessed came responsibilities.

Gripping the controls, Cassius kicked in the afterburners. Time was critical. He might already be too late. With a lurch, he slammed deeper into the cushions, his fighter screaming down toward the surface level of Mexico City.

-18-

The orbital fighter gushed licking flames as it landed on a Mexico City street. Around him, GEVs ground to a halt. In the distance, a siren wailed. The few premen on the streets had uniformly stopped, staring at his orbital in shock.

His hatch popped open as a ladder extended down from the canopy to the pavement fifteen feet below. Grand Admiral Cassius stood up. He gleamed in his silvery battleoid-suit. The camouflage unit was turned off. He looked like a giant robot of the action vids, with a mirrored visor. On his right arm was a rotating hand-cannon.

Climbing out of the cockpit and onto the stubby nosecone, Cassius leaped to the ground. The battleoid-suit had a powered exoskeleton. Twin Titan-5000s motors energized it. They purred, allowing him to make one hundred meter jumps.

Cassius landed heavily, the pavement under his shock-absorbers cracking and splintering. It had been some time since he’d worn a battleoid-suit. But it was just like being a jet-jockey, something you never forgot how to do.

Premen scrambled to get out of his way. A woman screamed. A young one, a child, staggered against the side of a building and began to cry.

Cassius snorted in disbelief. How could such weaklings as these stand against the Highborn? It was inconceivable. Only their mind-numbing numbers gave them long-term resistance.

Checking his HUD, locating the brothel—three streets over to the north—Cassius jumped two more times and then began to run. He moved like a magnetic train, picking up speed as he ran. He’d forgotten the joy of a battleoid-suit. Maybe he should do this more often.

“Is he present?” asked Cassius, using the suit’s radio.

“Yes, Grand Admiral,” a Highborn replied.

“Did you delay him as ordered?”

“Sir—”

“Answer my question!” Cassius thundered.

“Yes, sir,” the Highborn said. The soldier sounded truculent, but that didn’t concern Cassius. If the Highborn had whined, he’d have been surprised and concerned. It wasn’t in the nature of a Highborn to show fear. Even one caught in a flagrantly prohibited act would show courage to the end.

“Release the girl,” Cassius said.

“Sir, are you sure this is—”

“Release the girl!” Cassius roared. “And if he dies, you will die under SU agonizers.”

“Understood, sir,” the Highborn said. “Tech Sergeant Gaius out.”

Tech Sergeant, that meant he was from one of the newer batches. Yes, this was beginning to make better sense now. This demonstration was more needed than ever.

A four-story building rose up before him. It was red-colored on his HUD. Cassius grinned like a feral wolf, and he charged, activating the buffers.

He crashed through the main door of synthi-oak. Scantily-clad women screamed. Several FEC soldiers raised guns, most quickly lowering them. The inner area possessed red couches and thick shag rugs. A shot rang out. A bullet hit the battleoid-suit, and bounced off.

Cassius grunted. Then he fired a single round from his rotating hand-cannon. That took trained fire-control. The offender flew off his feet and against a wall, his chest a gory ruin. His gun tumbled over a shag rug until it struck a woman’s leg. She crumpled and began to wail in agony.

Ignoring them all, Cassius leapt, landing on an upper level. Wood groaned and a lamp shattered into pieces. The display on his HUD changed, showing him the building’s layout. He wondered if Felix had heard any of this.

Growling, the Grand Admiral of the Highborn crashed down the hall. He chin-clicked a sensor. The girl had entered Felix’s room. Yes, this was nearly perfect timing. That would add to the retelling of the tale.

Four seconds later, Cassius smashed through the door to Felix’s room. Unaccountably, the fool had heard nothing or even worse, he’d ignored it.

Felix was a big Highborn fresh from the Training Academy. He had blond hair, a wide face and a god-like physique. He lay on a huge bed and he was naked, with his arms behind his head. A woman with a towel around her waist stood ten feet from his bed. She might have been dancing for him, as dance music played in the room.

Felix scowled as he sat up. He looked like a clone of Cassius, just many years younger. There was a reason for that. The same chromosomes had been used in the birth tubes.

“Who are you?” Felix demanded.

Cassius raised his battleoid arm, aiming the hand-cannon at the woman. She was pretty, extremely so. Her eyes became wide.

“There is a proscription against prostitution,” Cassius said over his suit’s speakers.

“She’s clean,” Felix said. “I’ve used her before.”

“The premen have operatives among us. They might have kidnapped her between sessions and inserted a