Asteroid E rotated as huge jets flared. Seventeen minutes later, a flicker appeared in the giant, crater-sized exhaust-port. Then a vast plume erupted from the asteroid. It lengthened to over one hundred kilometers. With the thrust, Asteroid E so very slowly began to change its heading and velocity. Given enough time on this new vector, it would glide past the Earth and no longer impact with the third planet from the Sun.
Unfortunately, it was only one asteroid out of seventeen, and time was fast running out.
-77-
As the battle raged on the asteroids speeding for Earth, Hawthorne accepted a fateful call from Cone.
She was in the Japanese Home Islands, Highborn-controlled territory. During these past few days, Cone and her teams had made contact with Free Earth Corps people. Now she called with interesting information, and spoke via a tight-link security beam to Hawthorne in his office in the Joho Command Bunker.
***
CONE: I’m afraid I must keep this short, sir. My expert has established the fact of nearly constant enemy surveillance of my whereabouts and communications. The FEC soldiers and their loyalty monitors are nervous.
HAWTHORNE: Are you in immediate jeopardy?
CONE: Every minute I’m here. The islands are heavily militarized, full of military police and secret service personnel. The first runs loyalty checks on the soldiers and the second searches for spies and saboteurs.
HAWTHORNE: Perhaps we should try to establish contact with the security services.
CONE: The FEC soldiers don’t recommend it.
HAWTHORNE: Why not?
CONE: Sir, my expert has assured me I’m clean of listening devices—for the moment. But the tails will close in soon and likely frisk us more thoroughly. This will be my only call from the islands where I can guarantee a tight link.
HAWTHORNE: I understand. What do you have for me?
CONE: As I said, the FEC soldiers are nervous. Everything is in turmoil and the Highborn have left Earth as we surmised. I can fully substantiate that now. The soldiers I’ve spoken to are certain the asteroids will strike the planet. Why otherwise would the Highborn have completely evacuated Earth?
HAWTHORNE: And these soldiers are willing to turn?
CONE: (pauses) They’re sensitive to terminology. Perhaps it’s their long association with the super soldiers. They bristle at the idea of disloyalty to the Highborn or any idea that they’ve betrayed Earth through their hostilities.
HAWTHORNE: What is it they think they’ve done?
CONE: Become the best soldiers in the world.
HAWTHORNE: Do they think they’re better than the Highborn?
CONE: They’re proud of their military achievements and constantly point to their victories in North America.
HAWTHORNE: Don’t they realize that space superiority and Highborn insertions into critical battles allowed them these victories?
CONE: They’re proud, sir. And they think of these victories as coming from their sweat, blood and military acumen.
HAWTHORNE: So they don’t understand that they’re traitors to everything they used to hold dear?
CONE: Enemy propaganda has brainwashed their thinking.
HAWTHORNE: I think I understand. The ancient French Foreign Legion used to achieve the same results with their recruits.
CONE: I’m unfamiliar with this legion.
HAWTHORNE: It doesn’t matter now. You’re on a tight schedule and wish to let me know something critical, I presume.
CONE: I’ve found several colonels willing to meet with you, sir.
HAWTHORNE: I’d hoped to speak with generals and preferably with a field marshal or two.
CONE: There are no FEC generals or field marshals.
HAWTHORNE: Before they left the planet, did the Highborn order them shot?
CONE: It is my understanding that there have never been any FEC generals or field marshals.
HAWTHORNE: Explain that.
CONE: It is simple political cunning, maybe military cunning, too. Highborn officers command all division-level or larger FEC formations. Therefore, the highest slot a man can aspire to is colonel.
HAWTHORNE: What about staff officers?
CONE: Excuse me, sir?
HAWTHORNE: Surely, there must be chief of staffs of general grade.
CONE: No man is higher-ranked than colonel. That’s been made clear to me on several occasions.
HAWTHORNE: Who controls the various FEC divisions and armies now that the Highborn have fled?
CONE: As I said, sir, with the Highborn evacuation there’s great unrest among the FEC soldiers.
HAWTHORNE: That will make everything much harder. I’d hoped to win a charismatic general to our side and have him bring over other FEC personnel.
CONE: I read your brief, sir. And I think I’ve found your man.
HAWTHORNE: A colonel?
CONE: Two colonels, sir. One is Colonel McLeod of the Twenty-second Jump-Jet Battalion. He’s the most highly decorated FEC soldier on Earth. Originally, he’s from Australian Sector. He’s a fire-breather, as they say here. And he’s angry at the Highborn.
HAWTHORNE: That they fled Earth at this critical hour?
CONE: That they failed to take him. He spoke about his spilled blood on three different continents. Colonel McLeod believes himself betrayed.
HAWTHORNE: (laughs grimly) Is he delusional?
CONE: He’s enraged at the idea of dying helplessly, and he wants revenge. I think Colonel McLeod may be your man, sir.
HAWTHORNE: You spoke about another colonel.
CONE: I’ll have to cut this short, sir. My expert says security people are already cordoning off the area.
HAWTHORNE: Yes, yes, hurry then.
CONE: Colonel Naga is a panzer officer, a tank-man. He enlisted after the Japan Campaign and he has driven from the tip of South America to Hudson Bay in Manitoba Sector. His men are fanatically loyal to him. He believes himself worthy of higher command, and he hungers for power. If you offered him political control of North or South America, I believe you’d win him over.
HAWTHORNE: These two are the only—
CONE: Excuse me, sir. I must run or risk execution. Are you willing to meet these two? They insist on a face-to-face meeting.
HAWTHORNE: Where?
CONE: I suggest along the coast of Korean Sector.
HAWTHORNE: Yes, agreed. Where exactly do you suggest?
CONE: (panting) On the Pyongyang beachhead at twelve hundred hours. We will arrive via hovercraft.
HAWTHORNE: I’ll be waiting. Hawthorne out.
-78-
Early next morning, Hawthorne left the Joho Mountains in a two-seater attack-jet. The pilot flew nap-of-the-Earth, roaring over trees, valleys and low hills. At times, Hawthorne twisted around and watched the highest leaves rustle from the jet’s wash. The trip was tiring, with everything soon blurring below him.
The Highborn laser satellites had headed out to space to do battle with the approaching asteroids. But Hawthorne wasn’t taking any chances. He trusted the Highborn to act with ruthless cunning, keeping something in low orbit to hit when the right moment came.
Toward the end of the trip as they flashed over the Liaotung Mountains, Hawthorne pressed his nose against the canopy’s glass. Orange flowers blossomed on the hillsides. They were beautiful. The idea that cyborg-sent asteroids would soon crash into Earth and burn everything in an end-of-the-world holocaust made him nauseous. That he’d had anything to do with originally summoning these aliens made it a hundred times worse. Were the Highborn to blame for that? They’re the ones who’d started the rebellion.
Highborn, cyborgs, plunging asteroids—madness gripped the Solar System. Now he was rushing to meet traitors to humanity, outlaws who had cast their lot with mankind’s nightmare. Had the fools only realized now that they were bootlicking slaves to genetic supremacists? How could he trust such people?
Hawthorne sat back as the jet whooshed over a mountain, zooming toward a river in the distance. He couldn’t trust them. He didn’t even trust Cone. Maybe the only people he’d ever really trusted were Captain Mune and his bionic soldiers. Most of them were already dead from trying to storm stellar death.