sterile white corridor. More bionic men stood at attention along the corridors. No one said a word as General James Hawthorne’s heels drummed upon the tiles. Impassively, they watched. How carefully and zealously Enkov had built up this special Corps of new men, Hawthorne thought. Surely now the Lord Director had to rule with a greater severity than before. A purge would be in order, a cleaning out of the traitors in the military who had allowed such an unprecedented disaster. At least Hawthorne was certain this was how Enkov would be thinking. Today, Hawthorne himself would be the first scapegoat.
They finally reached a steel door—the end of the corridor, end of the line. The door slid open, and the captain and his five most trusted men marched the general into a small room, interrogation sized. Lord Director Enkov sat behind a rather small desk. Flanking him stood his original bionic bodyguard.
A plain wooden chair sat before the desk.
“Sit,” wheezed the old, wrinkled man who held supreme power.
General Hawthorne sat.
With a trembling, palsied hand, Enkov stuck a stimstick between his withered lips. His eyes seemed to glitter with promised death for everyone who had failed him. As the stimstick glowed into life, the Lord Director pointed an accusatory finger at the general.
“You failed.”
“May I speak?” asked Hawthorne.
The bionic captain shifted uncomfortably.
Enkov noticed. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. He leaned back in his chair and eyed the captain of his guards at the military command center of all Earth. It had been a post of high rank, surely one of the Lord Director’s most trusted positions. The evidence of the captain’s five-man security team, still armed in his presence, showed the truth of this.
Enkov asked, “Do you have something to report, Captain?”
“He did his duty,” General Hawthorne said.
The Lord Director lifted his bushy white eyebrows. Red smoke drifted out of his nostrils. “I don’t recall asking you a question, General.”
“No,” agreed Hawthorne. “But it’s time we told the truth, you and I. And heard the truth, too,” he said to the bionic captain.
Enkov glanced from the bionic captain to the general. A mixture of caution, suspicion and—was that fear?— mingled in the old man’s features. He noticed the port arms of the five trusted bionic soldiers. The Lord Director leaned toward his intercom.
The bionic captain, the one who had stopped General Hawthorne from using nuclear weapons to stop the million-ton meteorites, gave his men a subtle finger-signal. They raised their carbines and riddled the Lord Director’s bodyguard with bullets.
The Lord Director jerked back in his chair, surprised and bewildered at this sudden turn of events.
“You are relieved of duty, sir,” General Hawthorne told Enkov.
The stimstick dropped out of Enkov’s mouth. Then he snapped forward as his old, palsied hand reached for the intercom button. The hand never made it. The carbines spoke again. And the ancient, Lord Director fell to the clean floor, dead.
***
A half-hour later, the bionic guards ushered the General into Director Blanche-Aster’s office. She sat in a wheelchair, a red plaid blanket over her useless legs and a bulky medical unit hooked into her and keeping her alive. Her face was drawn and old and she wore a turban because it was rumored that all her hair had fallen out. Her eyes yet shone with dangerous life.
“General Hawthorne,” she said in a surprisingly strong voice.
“Director.”
“By killing the Lord Director, you have committed a horrible deed.”
“I stand by it,” he said, determined to die with dignity.
“Do you? Do you indeed?”
“The Lord Director’s arrogance cost Earth too dearly,” General Hawthorne said. “He had a debt to pay and I merely helped him pay it.”
“That’s claptrap, General. Your neck was on the block and you did what you had to in order to save it. Or do you think me so dull that I’d actually believe that you’re committed to saving Earth?”
General Hawthorne clicked his heels together. “Director, I think of nothing else.”
She studied him with those dangerously bright eyes, with those deeply knowledgeable eyes. “A single word from me, a nod even, and you’ll be dragged out and shot like a murderous junkie.”
“Yes, Director.”
“Don’t interrupt me, General.”
He tilted his head in acknowledgement.
“I could first have you tortured, lingeringly tortured, the scene saved on video for the world to watch.”
His stomach knotted, but he kept the bitter emotions off his face.
“Yet I need someone to run the war, General. I need someone who can hurt the Highborn. You’ve hurt them. Tell me, if you fought this war under my direction, could you win it?”
He peered straight into her eyes. “I could.”
“Director,” she admonished.
“Director,” he said.
“I’m reinstating you as the Supreme Commander of Social Unity. And I insist that you defeat the Highborn.”
“I will do my duty, Director, to the very best of my ability.”
“Hmm. Yes, I really do hope so.” A hard, wintry smile twisted her face. “So hadn’t you be off then, my General?”
General James Hawthorne saluted smartly, turned on his heel and marched out of her office. He had a war to win.
22.
Transcript #42,124 Highborn Archives: an exchange of notes between Paenus, Inspector General, Earth, and Cassius, Grand Admiral of Highborn. Dates: May 13 to May 17, 2350
May 13
Hail the Grand Admiral! Glorious! Victorious! The very Earth trembles at your audacious blow struck amidst treacherous sneak attacks and a startling new enemy beam weapon heretofore unknown. I salute you, Grand Admiral. Your strategic brilliance awes us in Training Army, Earth.
I am pleased to inform you that ahead of schedule Australian levies E, F and G have been trained to competency and await FEC Army assignments. Alas, not all is perfect. We still await the Antarctica transshipments of the new Praetor Mark III panzers. Three battalions of veteran panzer crews have been assigned them, but until we receive the transshipment, training will continue to be delayed. Otherwise, Grand Admiral, excellence reigns in Training Army, Earth.
May 14
The Japanese furnace all but devoured our FEC Divisions. Despite overwhelming losses, however, they held. You are to be congratulated on your training procedures, my dear Paenus. The panzer crews proved disciplined, although yet lacking in true exploitation zeal. Still, under the circumstances of narrow, built up fronts and mountainous terrain, I am not displeased with their performance.
Paenus, our glorious victory of 10 May moves the Campaign for the Solar System into its next phase. I must ask that you scour the FEC Divisions recently thrown into the Japanese cauldron and designate several “hero” units. At once, contact Commander Brutus of Ninth FEC Army so he may award honors to the deserving premen.
