light sprinkling of freckles. During their ride in the lifter, Marten had watched Osadar continually examining her new face in a mirror.
As interesting as the simulation of her former features, the senso-mask could track moods. Unfortunately, Osadar no longer had moods like a normal person, nor could the senso-mask “read” them from her skin. By tapping a sensory interface-pad on her arm, however, Osadar could change settings to happy, angry and surprised, and she could meld a variation of the different moods.
“I have several items of note,” Osadar said.
The wind howled and snow flurries swirled around the fighting machines. Dead trees stood on the nearby slope.
“First,” Osadar said, “There is heavy fighting in the Po Valley. Cone sent armored units from Switzerland Sector and they have crossed the Italian passes. I suspect Cone wishes to secure the proton beam in Milan.”
“Omi visited Milan,” Marten said.
“If Omi were wise, he will have already escaped to a more peaceful region. If he didn’t escape, there is little likelihood of our ever seeing Omi again.”
“There has to be something we can do,” Marten said.
“Cone is attempting to capture Milan, but I believe it is costing her politically. She is using cybertanks, as the police units have little that can face them. Backus’s propagandists are calling the cybertanks ‘cyborg troops.’ Because of that, some military colonels have switched sides, complicating our situation.”
“I don’t know why Cone doesn’t request help from the battleships in orbit,” Marten said.
“Didn’t you hear?” Osadar asked. “The SU battleships have left orbit for Luna. They are joining the Doom Stars and will begin acceleration for Neptune in a week.”
“What?” Marten shouted. “Next week? That doesn’t give us much time to get to our patrol boats and join them.”
“Should we join the fleet?” Osadar asked.
“What else should we be doing?”
Osadar shook her head. “I do not think we will make the Luna rendezvous in time.”
Marten scowled as he gazed at the whitecaps. Too many good space marines had died killing cyborgs in the Jupiter System and en-route to Earth on the planet-wreckers. He wanted to finish it. He wanted to root out the Prime Web-Mind on Neptune as the Praetor had destroyed one on Carme. Now the fleet was planning to leave without him?
“Come on,” Marten said. “Let’s gather the others. I want to move while there’s still time to join the expedition.
The next twenty-four hours was a blur of travel and fighting as they sped through sectors that had declared for Backus. Fortunately, as elsewhere, the countryside was almost devoid of people. They lived in the underground cities. The only ones allowed outside were farm workers, military personnel and those who paid for the privilege of vacationing on the surface or those with the political pull to do as they pleased. Police units patrolled the roads.
It meant for some ugly sights. Several times, they passed a single, half-charred body. The corpse dangled by wire from a tree. One could only presume the man had been judged a saboteur or a traitor. The police must have sentenced him to torture and death.
Once they spotted an old woman gathering sticks. On sight of them, she shrieked, dropped her sticks and hobbled away. At least three times, they saw a red-uniformed peacekeeper. One had been hacked to death. Another had three sharpened sticks in his body. More people must have slipped out of the cities than Marten had realized.
In Bosnia Sector, an attack-jet screamed down at them, launching rockets. The Jovians were ready and sent up a hail of anti-rocket fire, bringing down all but one missile. That missile took out a warfare pod and injured a marine. Xenophon launched a SAM at the jet. There was an explosion in the air, and a burning jet plummeted earthward.
Several hours later, under Marten’s command, they scattered a battalion of police trying to block their path. It was a lopsided fight. With the greater numbers, the police should have easily destroyed the lifters. But they were unused to combat, to having people fire back. The Jovians sent the police running, although it cost them two marines and several wounded.
“The attrition will wear us down long before we reach Geneva,” Osadar said.
“I think the police units are still getting used to maneuvering outdoors,” Marten said. “And I don’t think they’re in any hurry to reach Italia Sector and face cybertanks. If we keep moving fast, we should be able to reach Cone territory before the police learn what to do.”
The next few hours were uneventful as the lifters zoomed across the terrain. Then Nadia swiveled in her seat and mutely handed Marten a hand-computer.
He took it, and goosebumps jumped onto his arms. Omi stared out of the screen. The muscled Korean had his patented blank look, with a .38 in his hand. He was obviously on the run when this picture had been taken.
“Look at the next one,” Nadia said, with an odd note in her voice.
Marten touched the screen, and his eyes widened. “Ah Chen,” he said.
“So you
“What?”
“The caption says it’s your girlfriend.”
Marten looked up, seeing Nadia glaring at him. He began to read the report. The police had picked up Ah Chen in Russia Sector. She had made it halfway across the Eurasian continent. At first, the police believed her to be a Highborn spy, as she had come from Sydney, which was in occupied territory. Under interrogation, she admitted that she searched for Marten Kluge, the Jovian Representative.
“Why is she looking for you?” Nadia asked.
“I have no idea,” Marten said, puzzled and bemused.
Nadia folded her arms, her features hardening.
Marten knew the trouble signs, but he kept reading. Ah Chen had been transported to Italia Sector, joining Omi in detainment. Their execution had been set for tomorrow. During the fighting in the Po Valley, however, Omi had made his escape, taking Ah Chen with him. Now the two fugitives were on the run. Any person with information was to report it to the authorities. The last known whereabouts of the two was near the outskirts of Venice.
Marten checked. Venice was one of the few places in Italia Sector that had declared for Cone. That’s probably why Omi had been running for it. The Security Specialist had sent several vessels there, unloading troops to help in the attack in the Po Valley.
“We have to change course,” Marten said.
“So we can pick up your girlfriend?” Nadia asked.
“I helped her once,” Marten said. “She doesn’t mean anything to me now.”
“Then why did she cross half of Eurasia looking for you?”
“That’s a good question.”
“She’s beautiful,” Nadia said.
“Omi is on the run,” Marten said. “We have to go back for him.”
Osadar had been listening to the exchange. She now swiveled around. “We may not reach Geneva in time if we do.”
Marten read the reader, seeing what else the article had to say. He began shaking his head. “If we don’t help our friends, we’re useless. We’re heading for Venice.”
“It’s a possible hot zone,” Osadar said.
“There is fighting near Milan. But I don’t think it has reached Venice yet.”
“This is a risk,” Osadar said.
“What do you want me to do?” Marten asked, looking from Osadar to Nadia. “We stick together or we’re no good. Force-Leader Yakov taught us that.”
Nadia frowned, but she began to nod. “We have to go back for Omi.”
Osadar threw up her hands. “I cannot counsel you on this. You know my thinking.” She turned to her computer.
Marten picked up his com-unit and began to issue orders.
