On Earth, in Athens, in the detention center, a man shook Marten Kluge awake.
Marten sat up in his cell. He’d been here for three days already. They’d separated him from his wife, Osadar and from the Jovian marines.
Commissar Cleon stood before him. The cell door was open, and outside stood a guard of red-suited peacekeepers.
A cold feeling filled Marten. He debated lunging at the commissar, trying for his gun. The peacekeepers would shoot him, but at least he’d go down fighting.
“You’re about to escape captivity, Force-Leader,” Cleon said gravely.
Marten blinked several times, unsure of what he’d just heard. He felt groggy, as if it was still night. “What did you say?”
Commissar Cleon removed a computer scroll from under his left arm. Kneeling on the floor, rolling it open, he touched the screen. A political map of Europe appeared, filled with red and green colors of various shades.
“It’s chaos,” Cleon declared. “More European sectors are declaring for Backus every day. Italia Sector has strongly sided with the director, together with Macedonia, Bulgaria, Serbia, Bosnia, Hungary and Slovakia Sectors. Romania and Moldova Sectors therefore are isolated.”
Except for the last two, the named sectors were red-colored. The last two were green.
“Romania and Moldova Sectors have sided with Cone?” Marten asked.
“They have little choice,” Cleon said. “The Sixth Army is stationed throughout them. As you can see, Ukraine and Belarus Sectors are for Backus. They block you from reaching the Moscow launch-sites.”
“Director Delos is letting me go?” Marten asked.
“You fail to grasp the situation,” Cleon said. “You are about to overpower me and my men and free your marines. Then you will run outside and overpower the guards holding several magnetic lifters. In a daring attempt, you will escape from Athens and likely head for Albania Sector.”
Marten saw that Albania Sector was lightly green-colored. Ah, the lighter colors were only nominally for Backus and Cone, while the deep red and deep green represented strongly for that person.
“Why is Delos doing this?” Marten asked.
“Spain, France and Bavaria Sector are all strongly with Cone,” Cleon said. “They also hold the major European military units.”
Marten knew that had been to stop a possible amphibious invasion from Highborn-held England Sector.
“The nearest launch-site is in Geneva,” Cleon continued. “They are still boosting from there and supplying the fleet. Director Delos suggests you attempt to escape Earth from there.”
“What about Italia Sector?” Marten asked. He knew there were launch-sites there, too.
“That is the complication. The military units stationed there have gone over to Backus. They’ve also gone on the offensive to take Austria and Slovenia Sectors, presumably, which presently side with Cone.”
Those last two sectors were lightly green, Cone’s color.
Cleon looked up from where he knelt on one knee. “Backus has called on all the police and peacekeepers everywhere to do their duty to Social Unity. He asks that they help suppress the renegade military forces that refuse to acknowledge the duly elected government. He means himself, of course. It looks like this is war, real civil war.”
“Who does Delos side with?” Marten asked.
Cleon became thoughtful. “At one hundred and twenty-seven years of age, Delos is among the oldest directors. She prefers to play a waiting game and to let the two sides court her. Therefore, she is unable to release you. But she has grown tired of the pressure Backus keeps putting on her to hand you and your marines over to him. Luckily for you, she doesn’t wish to anger Cone, who has the stronger military, at present.”
“I see. That’s why we’re
Cleon rolled the computer scroll and climbed to his feet. “
“It’s better than being converted.”
The police commissar with the single eyebrow studied him. “
“If we band together,” Marten said.
“Do you really believe that?”
“I’ve beaten them before.”
Cleon nodded. “I’ve watched the video of you in the glass tube. The director, she’s watched it many times, I’ve heard. She made us watch it. She says you’re mad. That only a lunatic would keep pumping while he’s exhausted when all he has to do to escape further punishment is talk. She said that only a lunatic who doesn’t know when to quit might have a chance of stopping the cyborgs.” Cleon grinned. “I think your madness has won you a reprieve, Force-Leader.”
“You said magnetic lifters. Why shouldn’t we use the same automated cargo vessel and return to Lebanon Sector. There is a launch-site—”
“The Black Sea Flotilla has declared for Backus. Submarines have already entered the Aegean and Mediterranean Seas. You could try that route, but you’d risk capture and a possible trial. That’s what Backus keeps demanding.”
The com-unit on Cleon’s belt beeped. “It’s time,” he said. “Follow me.”
The magnetic lifters were big, although not as large as a cybertank. Each vehicle had three warfare pods, with heavy cannons and anti-air missile launchers. The lifters had an inertialess drive but were slower than helicopters. They were still faster and more maneuverable than tracked vehicles. They would need to refuel several times if they were to reach Geneva. Cleon had downloaded the information, showing them possible supply depots open to them.
The Jovians with Osadar, Nadia and Marten were evenly spread among the nine magnetic lifters.
Thus, at two in the morning, in the darkness, Marten’s magnetic lifter rose several feet into the air. Around him were other lifters painted in camouflage white. Jovians manned the guns and weapons ports. Armed and armored Jovians waited inside on berms.
Marten slid into the commander’s chair. He clicked on the restraints and gave the nod. The engine revved, and the lifter sped for Albania Sector.
Marten glanced at Group-Leader Xenophon, who manned a turret. Like the other Jovians, he was a tough space marine, although he didn’t look the part. Xenophon was a small man with a round face and blond fuzz for hair, but he was fast and deadly, especially with a gyroc rifle. He glanced down at Marten. “Glad you came for us, sir.”
“Glad you’re back,” Marten said.
By mid-morning, they reached the Adriatic Sea along the coast in Albania Sector. The lifters were parked alongside a road overlooking the slate-gray water. Marten stuck his head out of the hatch. The water was rough, with higher whitecaps than the previous Mediterranean voyage.
Despite the blistering cold, it was good to climb outside and walk around the lifters, listening to the crunch of snow. He was sick of sitting.
Osadar hurried to him, looking intent.
“What do you have for me?” Marten asked.
Director Delos had provided a new and improved senso-mask in Athens. It could emulate any face, provided one had a photograph to scan through the mask’s computer. After searching the databanks, Osadar had found a picture of herself from her days in the Jovian Guardian Fleet. That had been many years ago, however. Now the senso-mask showed her former features as a young pilot. She had possessed a small nose and open face, with a
