By Force of Arms (14 page)

Now, as he prepared to return home and report to the hive mother, it was necessary to evaluate the situation as dispassionately as she would.

The plan to destabilize the Earth government, and thereby lessen the extent to which the humans controlled the Confederacy, had been successful initially, and might have achieved the desired end had it not been for the sudden reemergence of the damnable ChienChu, and for the meddling by Hiween DomaSa. A dangerous pair who had suddenly dropped from sight. Why? Where were they? And what were they up to? There was no way to be sure.

What the Ramanthian did know was that the newly stabilized Earth government, plus the arrival of the Thraki, plus the threat posed by the Sheen had altered the political landscape. Yes, it would take idiots like IshimotoSeven and his ilk awhile to notice, but the nature of the game had changed.

Certain elements within the Hegemony were in the process of reconsidering their options. The conversation between IshimotoSix and Maylo ChienChu was proof of that, and the possibility of war lurked just beyond the horizon. War between the clones and the Thraki, war between the Thraki and the Sheen, and war between the Sheen and the Confederacy.

Should the Ramanmians choose sides? No, the politician decided, not with so many variables clouding the outcome. His race had been scavengers once and could so profit again. The most intelligent strategy was to pull back, allow the cabal to wither, and wait to see who or what reigned victorious. Then, their strength undiminished by war, his people would emerge to claim the worlds they so desperately needed.

Omo settled into the sand and allowed the substance to take most of his weight. Warmth sought his center. Yes, the Ramanthian decided, there are times to act and times to wait. The trick was knowing the difference. Sleep pulled him down.

Clone world Alpha001 was extremely Earthlike in keeping with the nearly endless edicts laid down by the Hegemony’s founder Dr. Carolyn Anne Hosokowa. Though beautiful when viewed from orbit, the surface of the planet was less attractive from thirty-five thousand feet, and even less so as the courier ship came in for a landing. Not because of some failure on nature’s part but due to what human beings had done to it.

Maylo watched with a growing sense of dread as the carefully laid out farms gave way to low-strung factories and rank after rank of identical high-rise buildings. They looked like what they were meant to be: cold, cost-effective boxes in which workers were “stored” during nonproductive “rest and regeneration periods.”

The business executive glanced sideways, saw the look of eager anticipation on IshimotoSix’s countenance, and was reminded of how adaptable human beings were. First, they had colonized every conceivable comer of their native world, and later, other planets as well. Even those that swirled with methane, were almost entirely clad in ice, or subjected them to 1.5 gees. More than that, they frequently came to love them, like ducks that imprint on the first animate object they see, and claim it as their own. And here, where an effort had been made to establish the “perfect” society, one could expect to see even more of that. “Beautiful isn’t it?” Six inquired as the ship flared in for a landing.

“Yes,” Maylo lied, remembering similar questions from Booly. He enjoyed looking at rank after rank of carefully arranged legionnaires… and couldn’t understand her lack of interest. Men. They were the true aliens.

There was a noticeable thump as the ship settled in. The senator’s assistant, GorginThree, appeared at the center of the aisle and announced the obvious: “We’re on the surface now—I will check on the ground transportation.”

IshimotoSix wanted to stand and choke her into submission. The ‘bitch had boarded the ship at the last possible moment, and by her miserable presence, had prevented him from enjoying some time with Maylo. Some zero gee sex, a pleasure he had enjoyed only once before, would have been a wonderful way to pass the time.

Now, determined to dog him, and report everything he said or did, she was like a cloud hanging over the clone’s head. Solely because she was a fanatic? Or because she had a crush on him? It hardly mattered. The senator growled a reply, gathered his belongings, and prepared to disembark. Maylo did likewise.

The tarmac shimmered in the afternoon heat, drives roared as an insystem freighter fought its way up through the atmosphere, and the courier settled onto the blastscarred pad.

The kill ball had been waiting for the better part of a local day. But machines are patient, especially those designed to assassinate people, so the delay was unimportant.

Some environments are difficult to operate in, especially those where a spherical self-propelled droid has a tendency to stand out, but there was no such problem here. The kill ball had simply lowered itself onto a pylon-mounted sensor pod where it looked very much at home. So much so that any number of birds landed on the machine, crapped on the brushed aluminum housing, and made it appear that much more natural.

Now, as the courier’s lock cycled open, the mechanical assassin activated its weapons and rose into the air. The moment had arrived. There was a task to perform. What it was made no difference. A variety of droids converged on the spaceship. The kill ball joined the throng.

GorginThree stepped out onto the rollup stairway, nodded to the Jonathan Alan Seebo who’d been sent to greet them, and scanned her surroundings. The assassins were waiting, of that she was sure, but where were they? In among the hangers that lined the tarmac in front of her? The thought that cold-blooded killers might be staring at her through high-powered telescopic sights sent a chill down the staffer’s spine.

However, while IshimotoSeven had told Three what to expect, he hadn’t told her who, or even how. Perhaps death would find Maylo ChienChu, while having a drink or taking a shower. It made little difference. The slut needed to die, deserved to die, for any number of reasons: for her opposition to the Hegemony’s legitimate interests, for the exploitation of workers, and for having sex with IshimotoSix.

GorginThree heard movement behind her, turned, and allowed Six to pass. He looked so handsome that feelings bubbled up from deep within her. What did it feel like? she wondered. To let a man… But no, such things were forbidden. She pushed the thought away.

Maylo nodded to the staffer and descended the stairs.

They bounced slightly. The sun warmed her face.

GorginThree caught movement from the comer of her eye. turned, and saw the sphere closing in. Some sort of guide drone? On its way somewhere else? No, those were orange. Then it struck her… Something was wrong! The droid paused, hovered, and fired a targeting laser. The dot wobbled across the top of Ishimoto’s head.

GorginThree screamed. “No!” at the top of her lungs, launched herself off the stairs, and hit Six with both her outstretched hands. He fell facedown. The high velocity slug tore through the staffer’s body, and the shot echoed across the spaceport.

Jonathan Alan Seebo saw what took place and fired a quick series of shots. Later, after the investigation had been completed, official documents would show that twelve of the fourteen shots fired hit the target and four caused serious damage.

The kill ball took note of the fact that it had failed to hit the assigned target, knew it was damaged, and tried to self-destruct. The mechanism failed, the device lost altitude, and crashed into the tarmac. All in a matter of five seconds.

Six did a pushup, made it to his feet, and turned toward the ship. GorginThree lay in a pool of her own blood. The politician rushed to her side. The clone was very near to death. She knew it, and so did he. There was something in her eyes, a tenderness the clone had never seen before, and suddenly wished that he had. “Samuel?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“I would have done it, if you had asked me to.”

IshimotoSix looked surprised. “Done it? Done what?”

Blood rose to fill Three’s mouth. She worked to swallow it. “You know… what you did with her.”

Maylo was there—pressing a makeshift compress against the entry wound. The politician’s eyes flicked to her and back. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Svetlana. I wish I had known.”

But her face was slack, the light had faded from her eyes, and GorginThree was gone.

The villa, which had been constructed to meet the exacting standards set forth by AntonioSeven, crowned a verdant hill. The roof was covered with locally manufactured tile, the walls were painted pristine white, and bright-red fire trees guarded the grounds. A series of gracefully proportioned arches admitted large volumes of air into the dwelling along with semicircles of warm orange-yellow sunlight.

Simply put, the villa flew in the face of the sort of institutional architecture the founder favored, and it was indirectly responsible for the rounded, more organic shapes that were starting to appear out away from the cities.

There was nothing especially luxurious about the house, however. The furniture was of good quality but far from ornate. Nor was there much of it, which meant that Alpha Clones Magnus MosbyOne and the flamboyant PietroSeven could either take the seats that were offered, or sit on the floor.

Magnus, who had been born of a union between the Alpha Clone MarcusSix and Marianne Mosby, one of the Legion’s most storied officers, had his father’s black hair, his mother’s tendency to put on weight, and a deep booming voice. He wore a plain white toga held in place by his favorite doublehelix pin. A pair of plain but sturdy sandals completed the outfit.

Pietro, who had exactly the same features as his host, wore a gauzy lime-green pullover top, matching pantaloon-style trousers, and a pair of leather slippers. A single earring dangled from his left lobe.

It was an embellishment Antonio considered to be excessive, like a dish with too many ingredients or a contrived work of art. He preferred a spartan black tunic, matching pants, and bare feet. They padded across the floor and stopped in front of his favorite chair. It was made of cane and creaked under his weight. His voice was slightly higher than that possessed by Magnus but a good deal more melodious. He looked from Magnus to Pietro. “Much has changed.”

“Yes,” Magnus agreed thoughtfully. “It has. Much as it pains me to say so … it appears that you were correct.”

Pietro looked surprised. “He was? About what?”

“Almost everything,” Magnus replied somberly. “Starting with his opposition to the cabal—and extending to his suspicions regarding the Thraki. The first strategy failed to achieve its purpose, and, should the Sheen arrive, the second could actually destroy us. Especially if the alien military bases come under attack.”

Pietro, who was a much better administrator than a strategist looked alarmed and defensive. “That’s not what our experts say . . they say …”

“They are fools,” Antonio finished for him. “Many of them are sincere but misled. Much of the counsel they received originated with this man.”

The Alpha Clone touched a button and a holographic likeness of Ambassador IshimotoSeven blossomed at the center of the conversation area. The footage had been obtained surreptitiously. It stabilized and started to rotate. The diplomat was talking to someone.

“Nonsense,” Pietro replied. “IshimotoSeven is not only genetically appropriate to his task, he has years of relevant experience, and has been rated ready for promotion.”

“The very thing he seeks most,” Magnus observed. “Before all else.”

“Surely you are mistaken,” Pietro insisted, looking from one face to the other. “Where is your proof? Something objective?”

“Right here,” Antonio replied calmly. “Watch this.”

The holo of IshimotoSeven dissolved into a shot of a spaceport. Judging from the way it was framed and the duration of the subsequent zoom, the camera had been a long way off. All three of the men watched as the kill ball closed on a courier ship, lined up on Senator IshimotoSix, and fired a single shot. The clones remained silent as GorginThree died—and was carried away. Antonio was the first to speak. “My agents were caught by surprise and have some explaining to do … The kill ball was dispatched by IshimotoSeven. He knew Six was on the way to see us … and hoped to intervene.”

“So you say,” Pietro replied stubbornly. “Prove it.”

“All three of the Alpha Clones were equipped with implants. Antonio cocked his head as the message came in. “The accused has arrived,” Antonio replied. “Make no mention of what you’ve seen, wait for the rest of our guests to arrive, and watch Seven’s face. His personal communications devices were spoofed hours ago… He will convict himself.”

Pietro considered the matter for a moment, gave a jerk of his head, and wondered if the rumors were true. Had his brother’s DNA been obtained from one of their predecessor’s backup copies rather than stored material? And if so, could that account for the differences between them? There was no way to know.

A chime sounded. Three officials were shown into the room and left to choose from the few remaining chairs. There was Catherine ChambersNine, the secretary of state, Morley HydeThirteen, deputy secretary of state, and Harlan IshimotoSeven, the Hegemony’s ambassador to the Confederacy.

Magnus, who had long wished that he were someone else, watched them in a way that he never had before. How, the clone wondered, had he failed to see the cruel almost predatory curve of the secretary’s lips? Her deputy’s sleek, overfed assurance? And the diplomat’s oily self-satisfied smirk? They were like fingers on a hand. Their joint perfidy seemed so obvious now, so amazingly clear, that he could barely believe his own lack of clarity. His mother would have seen it, his father would have seen it, but he was blind. Damn them anyway! For giving him a life that he neither wanted nor was qualified to have.