The Armageddon Inheritance

do something, or were you just pissed off?”

“Terran humans,” Horus said feelingly, “are pretty damned smart-mouthed, aren’t they?”

“One of our more endearing traits.” Hatcher smiled at Jiltanith’s father and sat down. “I take it you did want to see me?”

“Yes.” Horus waved a stack of printout. “You’ve seen these?”

“What are—?” Horus stopped waving, and Hatcher craned his neck to read the header. He nodded. “Yep. What about them?”

“According to these, the military amalgamation is a month behind schedule, that’s what,” Horus began, then paused and studied Hatcher’s expression. “Why don’t you look surprised or embarrassed or something, General?”

“Because we’re ahead of where I expected to be,” Hatcher said, and Horus sat back with a resigned sigh as he saw the twinkle in his eye. Gerald Hatcher, he sometimes thought, had adapted entirely too well to the presence of extra-terrestrials on his world.

“I suppose,” the general continued unabashedly, “that I should’ve told you we’ve deliberately set a schedule no one could make. That way we’ve got an excuse to scream at people, however well they’re doing.” He shrugged. “It’s not nice, but when a four or five-star general screams at you, you usually discover a few gears you weren’t using. Wonderful thing, screaming.”

“I see.” Horus regarded him with a measuring eye. “You’re right—you should’ve told me. Unless you’re planning on screaming at me?”

“Perish the thought,” Hatcher murmured.

“I’m relieved,” Horus said dryly. “But should I take it you’re actually satisfied, then?”

“Given that we’re trying to merge military command structures which, however closely allied, were never really designed for it, Frederick, Vassily and I are pleased at how quickly it’s moving, but time’s mighty short.”

Horus nodded. Sir Frederick Amesbury, Vassily Chernikov, and Hatcher formed what Vassily was fond of calling Horus’s military troika, and they were working like demons at their all but impossible task, but they had barely two years before the first Achuultani scout forces could be expected.

“What’s the worst bottleneck?” he asked.

“The Asian Alliance, of course.” Hatcher made a wry face. “Our deadline hasn’t quite run out, and they still haven’t gotten off the fence and decided whether to fight us or join us. It’s irritating as hell, but not surprising. I don’t think Marshal Tsien’s decided to oppose us actively, but he’s certainly dragging his feet, and none of the other Alliance military types will make a move until he commits himself.”

“Why not demand that the Alliance remove him, then?” It was a question, but it didn’t really sound like one.

“Because we can’t. He’s not just their top man; he’s also the best they have. They know it, too, and so much of their political leadership was in Anu’s pocket—and got killed when you took out the enclave—that he’s the only man the Alliance military still trusts. And however much he may hate us, he hates us less than a lot of his juniors do.” Hatcher shrugged. “We’ve asked him to meet us face-to-face, and at least he’s accepted. We’ll just have to do our best with him, and he’s smart, Horus. He’ll come around once he gets past the idea that the West has somehow conquered him.”

Horus nodded again. All three of his senior generals were “Westerners” as far as Tsien and his people were concerned. The fact that Anu and his mutineers had manipulated Terran governments and terrorist groups to play the First and Third Worlds off against one another was just beginning to percolate through Western brains; it would be a while yet before the other side could accept it on an emotional basis. Some groups, like the religious crackpots who had run places like Iran and Syria, never would, and their militaries had simply been disarmed … not, unhappily, without casualties.

“Besides,” Hatcher went on, “Tsien is their senior commander, and we’ll need him. If we’re going to make this work, we don’t have any choice but to integrate our people and their people—no, scratch that. We have to integrate all of Earth’s military people into a single command structure. We can’t impose non-Asian officers on the Alliance and expect it to work.”

“All right.” Horus tossed the printout back into his “IN” basket. “I’ll make myself available to see him if you think it’ll help; otherwise, I’ll stay out of it and let you handle it. I’ve got enough other headaches.”

“Don’t I know it. Frankly, I wouldn’t trade jobs with you on a bet.”

“Your selflessness overwhelms me,” Horus said, and Hatcher smiled again.

“How’s the rest of it going?”

“As well as can be expected.” Horus shrugged. “I wish we had about a thousand times as much Imperial equipment, but the situation’s improving now that the orbital industrial units Dahak left behind are hitting their stride.

“A lot of their capacity’s still going into replicating themselves, and I’ve diverted some of their weapons- manufacturing tonnage to planetary construction equipment, but we should be all right. It’s a geometric progression, you know; that’s one of the beauties of automated units that don’t need niggling little things like food or rest.

“We’re just about on schedule setting up the tech base Anu brought down with him, and the part Dahak landed directly is up and running. We’re hitting a few snags, but that’s predictable when you set about building a whole new industrial infrastructure. Actually, it’s the planetary defense centers that worry me most, but Geb’s on that.”

Geb, once Nergal’s Chief Engineer and currently a senior member of the thirty-man (and woman) Planetary Council helping Horus run the planet, was working nineteen-hour days as Earth’s chief construction boss. Hatcher didn’t envy his exhausting task. There were all too few Imperials available to run the construction equipment they already had, and if purely Terran equipment was taking up a lot of the slack, that was rather like using coolie labor in light of their monumental task.

Geb and Horus had rejected the idea of reconfiguring Imperial equipment—or building new—to permit operation by unenhanced Terra-born. Imperial machinery was designed for operators whose implants let them interface directly with it, and altering it would degrade its efficiency. More to the point, by the time they could adapt any sizable amount of equipment, they should be producing enhanced Terra-born in sufficient numbers to make it unnecessary.

Which reminded Horus of another point.

“We’re ready to start enhancing non-military people, too.”

“You are?” Hatcher brightened. “That’s good news.”

“Yes, but it only makes another problem worse. Everyone we enhance is going to be out of action for at least a month—more probably two or three—while they get the hang of their implants. So every time we enhance one of our top people, we lose him for that long.”

“Tell me about it,” Hatcher said sourly. “Do you realize—well, of course you do. But it’s sort of embarrassing for the brass to be such wimps compared to their personnel. Remember my aide, Allen Germaine?” Horus nodded. “I dropped by the Walter Reed enhancement center to see him yesterday. There he was, happily tying knots in quarter-inch steel rods for practice, and there I sat in my middle-aged body, feeling incredibly flabby. I used to think I was pretty fit for my age, too, damn it! And he’ll be back in the office in another few weeks. That’s going to be even more depressing.”

“I know.” Horus’s eyes twinkled. “But you’re just going to have to put up with it. I can’t spare any of my chiefs of staff for enhancement until you get this show firmly on the road.”

“Now there’s an efficiency motivater!”

“Isn’t it just?” Horus murmured wickedly. “And speaking of getting things on the road, how do you feel about the defensive installations I’ve proposed?”

“From what I understand of the technology, it looks pretty good, but I’d feel better if we had more depth to our orbital defenses. I’ve been reading over the operational data Dahak downloaded—and that’s another thing I want: a neural link of my own—and I’m not happy about how much the Achuultani seem to like kinetic weapons. Can we really stop something the size of, say, Ceres, if they put shields on it before they throw it at us?”

“Geb says so, but it could take a lot of warheads. That’s why we need so many launchers.”

“Fine, but if they settle in for a methodical attack, they’ll start by picking off our peripheral weapons first. That’s classic siege strategy with any weaponry, and it’s also why I want more depth, to allow for attrition of the