“Trouble?” asked the Korean.
Marten glared at the main screen. “The self-centered hypocrite, he planned for this.”
“Who did?” asked Omi. “What are you talking about?”
“The order of attack,” Marten said. “This is Grand Admiral Cassius’s plan. Do you remember he berated me for slowing down?”
“Sure I remember.”
“He engineered it this way,” Marten said.
Omi gave him a blank look.
“He sent the Orion-ships in first to take the hits,” Marten said. “He used them to absorb damage so his precious Highborn wouldn’t take any scratches.”
Omi’s features hardened. “He was trying to use us.”
“It’s time we changed that,” Marten said.
“How?”
“Yeah, that’s going to be the trick,” said Marten.
-62-
As Hawthorne looked up, small Colonel Manteuffel entered the underground Joho office. The officer wore a gun and a grim expression.
“Cone wishes to speak with you, sir,” Manteuffel said.
“Have you enlisted the other officers yet?” asked Hawthorne.
“I have. But Cone, sir, she’s angry, and I think more than a little worried.” Manteuffel hesitated.
Hawthorne had been watching the space battle through the monitor on his desk. This was a cramped room, lacking windows because it was underground. The recycled air was too cold and felt too much like a morgue.
“In your estimation,” Hawthorne said, “is Cone worried enough to do something rash?”
“I’m not a security expert, sir.”
“You’d better become one, Colonel, and quickly.”
“Why me, sir?” asked Manteuffel. “I still don’t understand. I’m a cybertank expert.”
These past days, Hawthorne had made some swift and critical security changes. Cone remained underground here in the Joho Command Bunker. But her people no longer guarded anything. In fact, they were no longer her people, as Hawthorne had stripped her of authority. Colonel Manteuffel was now the Chief of Hawthorne’s Personal Security. Manteuffel’s people were all higher-grade officers, and daily practiced at a firing range to gain needed proficiency.
“The easy answer is that I trust you,” Hawthorne said.
“Because of what happened with the cybertank several years ago?”
“That’s right,” Hawthorne said. “You were with me in the bleak days. You risked everything then because you believed in me and in my plan. I want true believers around me, people I can implicitly trust, and who make wise decisions.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“What does Cone have to say to me?” asked Hawthorne.
“It’s concerning the Free Earth Corps.”
Hawthorne sat back, picking up a smooth metallic ball. Rolling it in his palm, he wondered what was the correct course of action. After watching the space battle and the destruction of the Orion-ships, he realized that Cassius was too clever for him. It wasn’t only the order of the landings, but the use of the Doom Stars. It was obvious now that Cassius meant to stand back and beam the asteroids with the ultra-heavy lasers. The Grand Admiral wasn’t going to risk his super-ships. The Fifth Fleet remained with the
“I have to strike before Cassius does,” Hawthorne said.
“Sir?” asked Manteuffel.
“But if I strike too soon, Cassius might decide to let the asteroids hit Earth.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Manteuffel said.
“No? Well, let Cone in. Then you stand in the corner over there and listen to our conversation. Afterward, I’m sure you’ll understand. Oh, by the way, make sure she’d unarmed.”
“Yes sir,” Manteuffel said, saluting, striding for the door.
-63-
Ex-Security Specialist Cone entered the office with Manteuffel. She reminded Hawthorne of Blanche-Aster’s bodyguard clone. Today, Cone had taken off her dark sunglasses. Her pale eyes seemed eerie, and her sharp features added to the affect. There was something frighteningly effective about Cone. It was the chief reason Hawthorne had originally selected her.
She sat in the chair across from the desk, her synthi-leather jacket crinkling.
Opening a lower drawer enough so he could see the shiny pistol there, Hawthorne wondered how good Manteuffel’s pat-down had been. Cone was dangerous. Once more, Hawthorne missed Captain Mune. It had been a mistake letting him go on the mission. It had been a mistake sending all the bionic soldiers. Too many of them had died in the space-battle, never getting the chance to prove themselves as ground fighters.
“Earth-to-space traffic has increased again in the Highborn-controlled territories,” Hawthorne said.
Cone nodded carefully.
“These liftoffs had little to do with the former farming habitats,” Hawthorne said.
“The Highborn are fleeing Earth?” asked Cone.
First glancing at Manteuffel, Hawthorne asked, “How did you learn this?”
“I didn’t. It’s a guess.”
“It’s a good guess,” Hawthorne said. “To the best of our knowledge, yes, this is the case. The Highborn are fleeing Earth.”
“It makes sense,” said Cone.
“Perhaps,” said Hawthorne. “It might also be a mistake on their part.”
“Not if the asteroids hit Earth.”
“No, obviously not then,” Hawthorne said. “But let us suppose for the moment the asteroids don’t hit Earth.”
“In that case,” said Cone, “with all the Highborn in space it’s time to appeal to the Free Earth Corps left on Earth.”
“Are you suggesting I give them all free pardons?” asked Hawthorne.
Cone shook her head.
“…Well?” asked Hawthorne. “What do you suggest?”
“Sir,” said Cone, “I’m not sure it’s in my best interest anymore to give you advice.”
“And why would that be?” asked Hawthorne.
“You already know why.”
Manteuffel took a step toward Cone.
Hawthorne ignored the colonel, watching Cone instead. “Suppose you tell me just the same.”
“I’ve lost your trust,” said Cone. “Now, if I give you advice that sounds too devious, your distrust of me will grow accordingly. It might lead me to the firing squad.”
“This is nothing personal between us,” Hawthorne said. “I just don’t like jailors.”
