Tan interrupted. “I am not curious about her. You left her aboard the liner, and I have read the report. She pleads now to be allowed to join you. She fiercely wishes to help.” The Chief Strategist slowly shook her head. “You are an enigma, Marten Kluge.”
“I don’t think so.”
“For all your barbarism, you are strangely logical at times. You will adhere to my commands?”
“In the common good, yes,” Marten said.
“That is an equivocal answer. But I accept it. After all, you killed the cyborg in my quarters. You also successfully…well, never mind now. Go to Mars, and let us see if you can forge an alliance with Social Unity and the Planetary Union.”
“I will send you weekly reports,” Marten said. “I would also like to know the next reported sighting of cyborgs.”
“Never fear,” said Tan. “We are searching the void for them. But so far, their agenda has remained hidden to us.”
-28-
As the meteor-ship
He became leaner, and his shoulders took on a stooped bent. Bags developed under his eyes. A week after he declared North America conquered by the Highborn, a stubborn discoloration entered and remained under his hollowed-out eyes.
There were pockets of resistance in North America, but all reports indicated a major redeployment of the best FEC formations.
Then the Starvation Riots changed in nature and intensity. Underground PHC people joined in several, and nine cities erupted in outright rebellion. The worst offenders were in the Greater Syrian Sector. Aleppo, Beirut and Damascus declared themselves independent soviets.
“It’s only a matter of time before they call in the Highborn,” Hawthorne told his war council. They met in an underground bunker outside of New Baghdad, with harsh lights overhead.
The hard-eyed field marshals and generals around the conference table waited for his next words. These were his best commanders, culled from every failed front. Two had been snatched out of North America in near-suicide flights. They had shown themselves bitter defenders. Each had personally drawn his or her sidearm on more than one occasion and summarily shot defeatists and disloyalists. There was no surrender with officers like these.
“The three rebelling soviets are an infestation of defeat,” said Hawthorne. “They are a cancer in the body politic. If they are allowed to mature, their poison could quickly spread to others and then I foresee chaos of the worst kind. No. I will not allow that to occur. We must quash these so-called independent soviets, and do it quickly and decisively.”
“I recommend a thermonuclear solution, sir.” The speaker was Field Marshal Baines, formerly in charge of the North American Front. “It’s what I’d wish I’d done to Montreal. Three fusion weapons will decapitate the rebellion.”
“How will you reestablish control of the cities after that?” Hawthorne asked.
The squat field marshal shook his bald head. “Respectfully sir, there will be no reestablishment of control. You kill rebels. Hit with surface thermonuclear strikes and then use city-busters. The special missile burrows deep before exploding, ensuring massive destruction. We’ve been developing the idea for use against strategic Highborn cities.”
“You mean captured Earth cities?” asked Hawthorne.
“Yes sir, the Free Earth Corps traitors.”
“But these aren’t FEC-controlled cities,” said Hawthorne. “They’re in the Greater Syrian Sector, in the heart of Social Unity.”
Field Marshal Baines pointed a blunt index finger with his thumb cocked at a ninety-degree angle, as if he was a boy with a make-believe gun. “When I found a defeatist or a coward among my soldiers—” The Field Marshal’s gun-hand moved upward as if from recoil. “I killed the offender. It cost me a soldier, but it instilled resolve in the others. It let them know what was in store for anyone who failed in his or her duty. As you pointed out, we can’t let this rebellion infest others. Burn them out fast. Drop fusion weapons, and use city-busters on each.”
Hawthorne rubbed his eyes. It was a brutal proposal, but it would solve the problem. For a second, he considered it. They had no time for niceties. Their backs were to the wall and this could dissolve the iron in the planet-wide resistance. Then he shook his head. Would he turn on the people? He needed horror. That was true, something to shock and dismay. What kind of—ah, maybe there was another way to dismay these rebels.
“We will strike with speed,” Hawthorne said, “but with cybertanks instead of thermonuclear weapons. I’ve read reports that people run away in terror when they hear the approaching treads of cybertanks.”
There was a rustle of uniforms as the field marshals and generals shifted in their seats.
“Yes,” Hawthorne said. “I understand your unease. Bringing the cybertanks up out of the cities and onto the surface is a risk. The Highborn might have secretly ringed new laser satellites around us. Those lasers could burn out the tanks. General Manteuffel, you have a comment?”
“Cybertanks are a strategic asset instead of just another tactical battlefield weapon, sir,” said Manteuffel, a small, athletic man. He had once helped Hawthorne defeat a cybertank in New Baghdad, allowing the Supreme Commander access to the then ruling Director.
“I’m aware of that,” said Hawthorne. “I helped change their designation several years back. I’m willing to gamble, however. I don’t believe the Highborn will risk revealing hidden laser emplacements—given they even exist—for the destruction of several squadrons of cybertanks.”
“Several squadrons, sir?” asked General Manteuffel.
“I fully appreciate your concern,” Hawthorne said. “The cybertanks are potent battlefield weapons of massive capability. In the end, they may be too massive, too potent and too concentrated in destructive ability. They’ll draw the enemy’s strategic elements onto them. Yet of what use are these strategic weapons if we never use them? No. This is a strategic moment of critical necessity. We must engage the cybertanks.”
Hawthorne scanned the frowning field marshals and generals. “I am reminded of Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte at Borodino,” he said. “The Emperor of France had invaded Russia. For weeks on end, Napoleon had attempted to catch the main Russian field army and destroy it. Each time he lured them into a trap, they slipped away. Finally, deep in Russia on the road to Moscow, the Russians made a stand at Borodino. There the Russians and French fought a terrible battle. And in the battle came a critical moment. Napoleon’s generals begged him to send in the Old Guard. They were his elite soldiers, the bravest veterans in one large formation. Yet they had become a strategic asset to Napoleon, his one trustworthy formation. In the depths of Russia, he feared sending them into battle. He feared that they might take staggering losses and thus he would find himself in the heart of the enemy homeland without a reliable formation left. His very person might become exposed then. So at the Battlefield of Borodino at the critical moment, he held onto the Old Guard. Despite his begging generals who saw the opportunity, Napoleon kept the Old Guard in reserve. He won the battle, but at great cost in French blood. And the surviving Russians escaped in good order. If he had used the strategic asset, he likely would have swept the Russians and won the Campaign of 1812. And he would have likely remained emperor until his death.”
Silence filled the war-room. Many of the field marshals and generals looked down at their hands. In the back, a woman stirred, a slim woman in a black jacket and who wore dark sunglasses.
“May I interject a thought, sir?” asked the woman, Security Specialist Cone.
“I require honesty,” said Hawthorne.
“The cybertanks are your best security units,” said Cone. “The people dread them. I’ve also worked with General Manteuffel and know he’s spent many sleepless nights maneuvering the various cybertanks to the needed locations.”
“We situate the tanks with care,” Manteuffel said, nodding deferentially to Hawthorne.
