Tan looked up. “No. You will continue to study the data. I want conclusive proof. Until you can give me more evidence, I must weigh the options and make a carefully reasoned choice.”
Euthyphro plucked at his beard, with a troubled look on his thick features.
“I do not want to hear about a Jovian leak,” Tan said.
“I assure you, Chief Strategist—”
“Such a leak would mean your death, and in an extremely unpleasant manner,” Tan added.
Euthyphro paled. “I am a philosopher of Callisto. Threats are meaningless to me. My given word is more certain than sunlight. I shall tell no one about this and allow no outside communications until further notice.”
“See that you do,” said Tan. “Now go. I have much to consider.”
Euthyphro bowed his head and departed. He left the Chief Strategist staring at the screen. It replayed the flash in slow motion, cycling through the colors.
-8-
Far away from Jupiter on Earth, Marten, Nadia and Osadar rode a magnetic-rail train to Athens. The train sped over two hundred and fifty km/h through Lebanon Sector, with the Mediterranean Sea only a few kilometers away. Outside, the wind howled, at times rocking the reinforced cars as snowy particles swirled in the air. Above, dark clouds raced across the sky.
Marten and Nadia sat together, staring out a window. She kept pointing at trees, bleak snowscapes and old houses.
“I used to watch videos of Earth,” Nadia said. “I never thought it would be anything like this. It’s beautiful.”
“And cold,” Marten said. He sat closest to the window and felt the blasts seeping through.
The train-car rocked gently as snow batted against the window.
“I do not like this,” Osadar said. She was taller than Marten and wore heavy garments. They had nothing to do with the cold, but concealed her skeletal cyborg body. It was thin, with particles of flesh and too much graphite bones, titanium and plasti-flesh. She wore a senso-mask, giving her the simulation and look of real flesh, eyes and hair. To finish the disguise, she wore a hat.
A reading device rested in her lap. The latest title was
Many of the directors pledged Backus service in the interest of Social Unity. The Army, Navy and Space Arm followed Cone, with Manteuffel of the Cybernetic Corps as her second-in-command. Even now, the former Security Specialist was on the car’s holo-screen, broadcasting a message to the many billions of citizens. She urged calm and spoke about the need for a military alliance. They must band with the Highborn against the dreaded cyborgs. Humanity’s existence was at stake. This was a time for stern measures. It was not the time for the ordinary political maneuverings that had brought about the war in the first place.
“Social Unity is unraveling,” Osadar said.
“It’s been a difficult war,” Marten said.
“The planet-wrecker’s destruction of South American Sector a year ago preys upon people,” Osadar said. “The arctic-like weather outside is proof that the cyborgs are fated to win. Now this civil war—”
Marten shook his head. “It isn’t civil war. This is what happens in a dictatorship when the dictator steps aside. Now his lieutenants scramble to fill his shoes. If I were a betting man, I’d place my money on Cone. She has the guns and is willing to use them.”
“Are the soldiers willing to use the guns on the people?” Osadar asked.
“If not, Cone can call out her cybertanks.”
“More cyborgs,” Osadar said. “I think that could backfire against Cone.”
“That’s another reason why I want to get off Earth,” Marten said. “This war will be decided in space, and we need to get back up there before we’re stranded here forever.”
“Look!” Nadia cried, pointing.
Marten looked outside. Nadia pointed at a reddish-yellow flash in the distance. The rail-line curved gently and went to the point of the flash—an explosion. At that moment, the train lurched violently, throwing them against the seats ahead. There were only a few other passengers in the car, and those people sat at the front. One of the men up there screamed.
Speakers crackled into life as one of the train authorities spoke. “We have an emergency stop. Please, do not be alarmed. This should only take us a few moments to sort out.”
Marten helped Nadia off the floor.
“Why would anyone want to stop this train?” Osadar asked. With her amazing reflexes, she had caught herself and already sat normally in her chair.
“Could they be terrorists?” asked Marten, as he dusted the knees of his pants.
“I would think PHC rather,” Osadar said. “The remnants of them went underground after the nuclear destruction of the Syrian Sector Soviets last year. Now that the Party attempts to regain control of Social Unity, PHC is throwing its resurrected people into the fray.”
Marten had been listening to this kind of talk for hours. Osadar had been busy in the Supreme Commander’s Quarters, reading endlessly. She found Social Unity political theory to be vastly interesting and had been boring Marten to distraction concerning it. One of the critical pieces, she said, was how Social Unity had formerly kept a “Napoleon” from appearing.
A “Napoleon” was a military man who took over the government in a time of crises. Such had occurred in France during the French Revolution when Napoleon Bonaparte rose to supreme power. Social Unity theorists viewed the military as a hungry beast, eager and able to devour anyone it chose. The Social Unity Party in the past had kept a tight leash on the Military. Political Harmony Corps had firmly gripped a second leash. As long as the two forces stood far apart and kept the leashes taut, they kept the Military from devouring either of them. In the past few years, however, Hawthorne had gained maneuvering room. He destroyed PHC and then he made the Party—the Directors—his servants. The Military had gained control.
Osadar had explained to Marten how she believed the Directors would now logically ally themselves with a revitalized political police and try to re-leash the Military represented by Cone and Manteuffel.
“My guess is these so-called terrorists want you,” Osadar now said.
“They can’t know I’m aboard this train,” Marten said.
“Why else have they blown the track?”
“It might be a coincidence,” Marten said.
“How many coincidences have you been involved with lately?” Osadar asked.
Marten’s eyes narrowed. “Right,” he said, drawing his long-barrel semiautomatic. “Do you think this is retaliation for Director Juba-Ryder?”
“I think we do not want to meet the originators of the explosion,” Osadar said. “You and Nadia need warmer garments so we can survive outside.”
As they spoke, the train continued to slow down. Marten stared outside. They neared the exploded track, a twist of metal and erupted ground. Dirt and gravel lay on nearby snow-banks. A tree’s leaves fluttered wildly in the wind.
“Do you see anything?” Marten asked, as he scanned outside.
At that moment, another explosion occurred. It lifted the engine off the tracks, pitching it aside. That started a domino effect as the linked cars toppled off the magnetically charged tracks.
There were screams and the screech of metal in their car. Glass shattered. Marten slid across the sharply tilting floor. He covered his head and struck the bottom of one of the seats as the train-car crashed onto its
