Planet Wrecker

-23-

At the sound of a chime, Marten checked his watch. He was late for his meeting with the Sub-Strategist. Excusing himself from the group, he left the chief mechanic and his workers and hurried down the corridors.

The byways and corridors were narrow, a veritable maze throughout the meteor-ship. Recycled air pulsed everywhere, and clangs, thrums and low murmurs were constant. Marten passed technicians wiring panels and he said hello to his fire-control officer checking laser-coils. After climbing a ladder to a different level, Marten hurried around a corner. He adjusted his uniform and told himself he needed to control his temper better. Nadia was right. Circe was Tan’s representative. He needed to learn how to convince the Sub-Strategist, to look past her aloof attitude. There had to be some way to convince her to work together with him instead of battling him at every step.

“Marten—wait!”

Recognizing Omi’s voice, Marten halted. “I’m late for a meeting with Circe. I need to hurry.”

“You need to hear what I’ve found first.”

There was something troubling in Omi’s voice. Then Marten saw Osadar Di. The tall cyborg had trailed Omi. The frowning senso-mask startled him. Marten recalled something about the mask being able to sense its owner’s moods and adjust accordingly. How it could do that with a cyborg, he had no idea.

Marten glanced down the corridor toward Circe’s chamber. There were spy-sticks there.

“In here,” Marten said, indicating a storage chamber.

With the three of them among coils, auto-welders and construction-foam blowers, it made a tight fit. Osadar took out a sonic-shield, turning it on. The vibration hurt Marten’s ears. Listening to it too long would give him a headache.

“I’m late for a meeting with Circe,” Marten whispered.

“The crack in the fusion core’s outer shell wasn’t an accident,” Omi said.

“What’s that supposed mean?”

“Sabotage,” Omi said.

“Do you have proof?” asked Marten.

Osadar slid out a scroll-pad and showed him the evidence. After five minutes of tech-talk and Osadar explaining what she meant by it, Marten realized that they were right.

“The question is now,” Marten said, “who do you think did it?”

“I suspect the Sub-Strategist,” Osadar said.

“What reason could she have?” Marten asked.

“Delay,” said Osadar.

“Why?” Marten asked, as he shook his head.

“Have you studied the manifest of the new personnel?” asked Osadar.

“Yeah,” said Marten. “Headquarters is sending an arbiter, more myrmidons and replacement technicians.”

“I managed to discover the point of origin of several of the new technicians,” Osadar said. “It is Callisto.”

Marten frowned. “Has Tan changed her mind about us?”

“Someone has,” said Osadar.

Taking the scroll-pad, staring at the names, Marten mulled over the implications.

“You dare not enter the Sub-Strategist’s chamber,” Osadar said.

“Why not?” asked Marten. “I don’t see the connection.”

“Given that she sabotaged the core-shell,” Osadar said, “shows that she willingly risked the deaths of at least eighteen people. You must ask yourself—after her arrogance toward you—why does she now wish a private meeting in her chamber? The answer is obvious to me. So she can stage an incident and order her myrmidons to kill you.”

“Why didn’t Tan have me killed when she had the chance?” Marten asked.

“We do not know all the realities of the Chief Strategist’s current political position,” Osadar said. “Clearly, she feared to have you murdered outright. Now, however, time has passed. A staged incident would allow her to remove you and place one of her people in charge of the warship.”

“I don’t know,” Marten said. “Tan seemed genuine. She also recognized the need for an alliance with everyone else against the cyborgs.”

“According to the reports,” Osadar said, “this alliance has been achieved. Before, you believed Tan wanted to use your unique experiences with the Highborn, Social Unity and the Martians. It may be that your expertise is no longer required. Therefore, she is free to kill you.”

“It’s possible,” Marten said thoughtfully, “and it might explain why she sent Circe in the first place.”

“Kill Circe and the myrmidons,” Omi said. “Then kill the new arbiter before he can board.”

“That seems harsh,” said Marten.

“So does sabotaging the fusion-shell and causing eighteen crewmembers to be poisoned with radiation,” Omi said.

Marten rubbed his forehead. The sonic-shield made his brain pound. If all this was true…. He looked up at the others.

“You have reached a solution,” Osadar said.

“Maybe,” said Marten. “Let me think about it first.”

“What about the meeting with Circe?” Omi said.

“Osadar might be right,” Marten said. “So I’ll let her stew. Yeah,” he said with a grin. “I’ll make the Sub-Strategist angry enough to come see me.”