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  This time when he spoke, his words were almost inaudible. “Our kind was almost destroyed by the Manti scourge. Do we now intend to finish the job for them?”

  The Bounders and Claimers looked at one another, looked at the ground, nodded, shook their heads, but regardless of their individual reaction, all of them were shamed by Ganymede’s words. Slowly, quietly, they began to separate into two sides once more. Those that had been hit with stun lances were helped to walk, or in some cases were carried, by their fellows.

  Kyoto let out a sigh of relief. What had come way too close to boiling over into a riot was now simmering down to a peaceful protest once more – thanks to Seth Ganymede.

  Her two babysitters holstered their stun lances. “Let’s get back in the lev, Commander,” the woman said. “We shouldn’t have any trouble getting through now.”

  But Kyoto ignored her and started walking toward Seth Ganymede. Several hovercams detected her movement and instantly zipped over to track her, but she paid them no attention. She wanted to see how badly injured Ganymede was and if he needed medical attention. That was only part of why she wanted to talk to him, though. After all, the Civvies or the GSA guards could take care of him. But she’d been impressed with how he had managed to calm the crowd and maintain control over his own emotions after being injured. Most important, he had kept the protesters from going wild and perhaps tearing her apart. That deserved a thank-you at the very least. Plus, there was something about him that she found intriguing.

  A Civvy had helped Ganymede down from the maglev by the time Kyoto reached him.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  Ganymede turned to her and smiled. “Aside from a headache and several bloodstains on my tunic, I’m fine.”

  “You sure? It looks like your wound bled quite a bit.”

  He shrugged. “Head wounds tend to do that, don’t they? But I assure you, I’ll survive.”

  Kyoto peered more closely at the bloody patch of skin over his right temple. Though it was difficult to tell from all the blood, the injury didn’t look too bad. In fact, she couldn’t see exactly where he had been cut. As near as she could tell, underneath the blood, Ganymede’s skin was smooth and unbroken.

  The Civvy gave Kyoto a questioning look, and she said, “It’s all right, Officer. I’ll take it from here.”

  The Civvy nodded and moved off to work crowd control with the other officers and GSA guards.

  Ganymede grinned. “That was quite commanding of you.”

  Kyoto smiled back. “Yeah, well, I am the savior of humanity, right? Look, I just wanted to thank you for what you did. Not only did you stop the crowd from mobbing me, you prevented a lot of unnecessary injuries on both sides. Not counting yours, of course.”

  “As I said, I’ll survive. And if you believe in something, you have to stand up for it.”

  “Even if by doing so you make a target of yourself?”

  “You’re a fighter pilot, Elite Commander. I think you already know the answer to that question.”

  Kyoto laughed. “Yeah, I guess I do. Why don’t you come with me to GSA headquarters? You’ll be able to clean up there and get something to take care of your headache.”

  “I appreciate your kind offer, though I’m not sure your superiors would approve—not to mention the Council of Seven.” He lowered his voice and in a mock conspiratorial tone said, “Besides, I think I’ll leave the blood on for a while. It’ll make good PR.” He nodded to a nearby hovercam and gave Kyoto a wink.

  She was surprised by how much she liked this man. From what she’d seen on the newsnets, he’d struck her as humorless and a borderline fanatic for his cause. But she found him charming in an avuncular way.

  “All right, then. I’ll leave you to your protest. Just try not to get hit by any more flying objects, all right?”

  He smiled. “I’ll do my best. And I wish you luck on making it through today’s ceremonies. It can’t be an easy time for you.”

  Kyoto’s own smile fell away. “No, it isn’t.” She started to walk toward the entrance to the GSA installation when Ganymede called out after her.

  “It was an honor to meet you, Elite Commander. I hope we have the opportunity to speak again.”

  Unsure how to respond to this, Kyoto turned, waved, then continued toward the GSA entrance, trying not to think about what the rest of the day held in store for her.

  Seth Ganymede—or rather, the being that currently called himself by that name —watched Kyoto enter the GSA installation followed closely by one of the security guards assigned to her. The other had gone back to retrieve their maglev transport.

  The being was grateful that everything had worked out so well. He knew he’d been taking a risk by intervening when the protest had started to turn ugly, but he couldn’t simply stand by and watch as innocent humans were hurt—especially Mei Kyoto. After all, a large part of the reason he was here on Mars was to speak with her. He hadn’t anticipated being assaulted by one of the protesters, though. He supposed that’s what came from being more of a diplomat than a warrior. When he’d first been struck, he’d feared that he was going to be exposed—and with all those hovercams about, no less. He’d instinctively reached up to smear the blood around on his forehead before the nanocolony that shared and maintained his body could repair the damage. He wished the nanoparticles had a better sense of timing, but while he could influence them to a certain extent—such as using them to amplify his voice—they were programmed to attend to their host’s injuries immediately, and there was nothing he could do about that. As it was, it had taken all of his willpower to convince his microscopic friends not to reabsorb the blood on his forehead.

  He wondered if Kyoto had noticed. She was quite sharp, and she had examined his injury, or rather where his injury had been, up close. Still, she hadn’t said anything, and if she had suspected something was wrong, she would have insisted he accompany her to GSA headquarters. No, his masquerade was still intact, at last for the time being. But he wasn’t certain how much longer he could maintain it before he was exposed. He’d have to speak with Kyoto before that happened. The future of her species depended on it.

  Hovercams swooped in then and crowded in front of his face. Their AI’s began firing questions at him in a confusing babble of electronically synthesized voices.

  “Do you think this incident merely underscores the deep divide between Bounders and Claimers?”

  “Do you think bug dust was a contributing factor in today’s violence?”

  “How does it feel to get hit on the head by a rock?”

  The being who pretended to be Seth Ganymede raised his hands. “One at a time, please!” Then patiently, one by one, he answered their questions as his masquerade continued.

  CHAPTER

  FOUR

  Kyoto found General Detroit Adams in the command center of GSA Control. He stood before a bank of holoscreens while techs sat at workstations, manipulating the virtual controls of their computers. But GSA personnel weren’t the only ones present. A long table covered by a red silken tablecloth had been set up, and it was covered with food and drink. Not far from the table were seven pseudoleather chairs, and sitting in them—eating, drinking, and chatting with one another and select members of the GSA brass—was the Council of Seven. Hovercams circled the council members like tiny artificial moons, but the Seven ignored them. Kyoto figured they were used to constant media scrutiny.

  She wasn’t thrilled to see the council members, especially Janeesh Glasgow, Cydonia’s representative. Thanks to her fame, Kyoto had been introduced to and had vidded with them all, and she’d been romantically propositioned by several, males and females included. But Glasgow was the most persistent, Kyoto had lost track of how many times she’d turned him down. She was uncomfortable around politicians for another reason, though. Whenever she spoke to one, Kyoto always had the sense that he or she wasn’t really looking at or talking to her, but rather performing for the hovercams and all the voters on their ot
her end of their signals. But there was one good thing about having the Seven present: they’d keep most of the cams away from her.

  Detroit Adams was a middle-aged male of African descent. His close-cropped hair was starting to go gray at the edges, though his mustache and oatee were as black as ever. He’d lost his right eye in battle with the Manti, and instead of having a replacement cloned, he’d had an oculator attached to the empty socket. The device looked something like a metallic monocle and allowed him to remain in constant contact with the GSA datastream wherever he went. He was a warrior with a spirit of high-density ferroceramic and balls to match. No one had more confirmed Manti kills (Kyoto’s destruction of Earth notwithstanding) and every pilot in the GSA, Kyoto included, would fly with him through a stargate straight into the heart of a supernova without hesitation. Like Kyoto, Adams wore his dress uniform today, but his had general’s stars on the shoulder.

  “General Adams, I know you’re busy, but can I talk with you for a moment?” She glanced over at the Seven. “Privately,” she added.

  Adams didn’t take his gaze off the holoscreens as he answered. “In a few minutes, Kyoto. The Orinoco is just about to head to the dropzone. You’re welcome to stick around and watch. If you want to, that is.” Adams still didn’t look at her, but his tone softened, and she knew he was aware that she and Wolf had broken up.

  “Thanks, General. I think I will watch.”

  “Help yourself to some food if you’re hungry. But be careful. The meat is the real thing, not reconstituted protein squares. Unless your stomach’s used to digesting the stuff, you’ll end up paying later for eating it now.”

  Kyoto looked at the food table in surprise. Real meat? Only the wealthiest colonists could afford such a luxury. But then, the Council of Seven, while the duly elected representatives of their respective colonies, tended to be among the richest people in the Solar Colonie—industrialists, infotainment magnates, food producers, pharmaceutical developers. Sometimes Kyoto wondered if the word elected wasn’t just a pseudonym for purchased.

  Janeesh Glasgow saw her looking at the food. He waved and gave her a wink.

  Kyoto quickly turned away. “I think I’ll pass. I don’t have much of an appetite after the morning I’ve had.”

  One of the vidscreens showed an image of the GSA starship hangar, while another showed the dropzone. The Orinoco would travel several kilometers to the dropzone, and from there ascend to the stargate. Once through the portal, it would exit through another gate in orbit of what was left of Earth. The crew would then put the finishing touches on the holographic memorial.

  Adams harrumphed. “DeFonesca give you a hard time?”

  “An irritating time is more like it.”

  Adams chuckled. “I’d think that she’d be easy enough for you to deal with after facing a Manti swarm.”

  “To be honest, I’d rather spend time with a Bugger than her any day.”

  Adams laughed. “Now you sound like Mudo!”

  The hangar door slid open and the Orinoco slowly emerged, hovering no more than a meter above the ground. There was nothing especially elegant about the ship. It was a modified transport: long, narrow, and ungainly. But it would get the job done, and that was all that mattered.

  “Where is Dr. Mudo?” she asked. “I’m surprised he’s not here. After all, he was in charge of the tech team that designed and built the memorial’s components.”

  “Mudo may be head of GSA’s Research and Development division, but that doesn’t mean he’s personally invested in every single GSA project. Besides, you know him. It’s almost impossible to get him out of his damn lab as it is, let alone when the entire Council of Seven is here, along with their retinues and a fleet of hovercams. I imagine Mudo’s got the vid feed of the Orinoco playing while he’s working on another project.”

  The Orinoco cleared the hangar and, using only its maglev boosters, started gliding across ferroceramic rails toward the dropzone. Since the energies at the heart of a stargate tended to be somewhat volatile, planetside gates were usually positioned at a colony’s outer edge. Plus, on those rare occasions when there was an accident, the dropzone was far enough away that no civilians were harmed.

  Now two smaller ships emerged from the hangar. Both were Retribution class starfighters, the top of the GSA’s line. The model was built primarily for speed, which made it extremely effective in battle. A Retribution could literally outrun most weapons fire. But the use of the ship was strictly ceremonial today. The two craft were to serve as escorts only.

  Even so, Kyoto felt a nervous flutter in her stomach as she watched the two Retribution ships trail after the Orinoco. She was never nervous when she was in the cockpit. Well, not much. But she always worried whenever Wolf flew a mission. She knew it was foolish—Wolf was an excellent pilot and today’s mission was going to be a milk run—but she couldn’t help herself.

  “Which one—”

  “Commander Wolfenson will fly on the Orinoco’s starboard.”

  Kyoto nodded. That meant Julia Everest would be on the port. She’d been in the same Academy training class as Kyoto. While Julia wasn’t at Wolf’s skill level, she was a decent enough pilot and had made the rank of Commander. More than that, she was a good person, too. Kyoto was glad Julia had gotten assigned to today’s mission. Though Wolf was the command officer, it still would be a boost to her career.

  It took five minutes for the Orinoco to reach the dropzone. It then hovered in place as the two starfighters took up their positions alongside it.

  An electronic chirp sounded as the control room’s comlink activated. It was Wolf.

  “Everything looks good on our end, General. Request permission to lift off.”

  To anyone else, he would have sounded relaxed and professional, but Kyoto could detect the eagerness in his tone. Wolf was raring to go, as usual.

  “Permission granted,” Adams said. “Have a safe trip, Wolfenson.”

  “Will do, General. Wolf out.”

  Adams turned to Kyoto and raised a questioning eyebrow. The general was a man of few words, but she had learned to read his facial expressions. He was asking if she wanted to say anything to Wolf before he left.

  Kyoto shook her head, and Adams returned his attention to the holoscreens. The three ships cut their maglev boosters and switched to maneuvering thrusters. They rose in tandem and activated their fusion engines as they approached the stargate. As they drew near the energy vortex within the gate, they accelerated slightly as the hyperspace portal began to drawn them in. Blue-green energy flared white as it coruscated over and around the ships, and then they were gone.

  The image on the screen changed to one of another stargate hanging in space. The trio of ships emerged from the vortex, looking none the worse for wear.

  Kyoto relaxed once she saw the ships had arrived safely on the other side of the Gate. Looks like you survived another jump, Wolf.

  Beyond the stargate and the three ships loomed Earth—or rather what Earth had become.

  Where once there had been an inviting world of blue oceans and landmasses covered by white clouds, there was now only an inhospitable planet with a molten surface. This new world was encircled by a huge debris ring made up of chunks of both its former incarnation and the natural satellite that had been driven into it by the most complex artificial intelligence humanity had ever created. The ring would eventually coalesce into one or more new moons sometime in the distant future. The planet itself—Kyoto couldn’t bring herself to think of it as Earth—now had a carbon dioxide atmosphere caused by the melting of carbonate rocks in the crust as a result of Luna’s impact. During that collision, enough debris was tossed into escape orbit to form a mini-asteroid belt near the new planet. It was upon one of these asteroids that the holographic generator for the Earth memory had been installed.

  Seeing what Earth had become—what she had helped make it become—always filled Kyoto with an overwhelming sense of sadness mixed with awe. Sadness over the molten hell
that had been created as the price of the Manti’s destruction, and awe when she considered the sheer cosmic scale of what had happened.

  She understood that there hadn’t been any other way if the human race was going to avoid extinction, but in the greatest war her species had ever fought, their homeworld had been the most devastating casualty of all.

  Wolf’s voice came over the comlink once more, and startled Kyoto out of her thoughts.

  “Our jump was successful, and the techs on the Orinoco are ready to get to work.”

  “Sounds good, Commander,” Adams said. “Check in from time to time to let us know how it’s going. If all goes according to plan, we’ll bring the memorial online at noon CST.”

  “Understood, General. Wolf out.”

  The Orinoco began to move toward the asteroid where the previous components of the holoprojector had been installed. A pair of grappling arms extended from the front of the ship, and the cargo bay opened. A quartet of techs in vacc suits held onto the corners of a large solar panel. Tiny thrusters in their suits flared bright for an instant, and the techs began to guide the panel toward the small asteroid where the grappling arms would fit it into place.

  Evidently satisfied that the mission had gotten off to a good start, Adams turned to Kyoto.

  “Now, what do you want to talk to me about?”

  “Why didn’t you just ask the council yourself? They were all there in the control room, stuffing their faces and getting drunk.”

  Kyoto had to suppress a smile. She’d never quite figured out how someone as impolitic as Detroit Adams had managed to rise so far up the ranks of the Galactic Stargate Authority—especially when the GSA was under the partial control of the Council of Seven. Perhaps it was simply because he was every bit as tough as a Manti warrior—and then some. Or perhaps it had something to do with the way he’d been raised. Adams’s grandmother had been the council representative from Mars well before Janeesh Glasgow was elected. From what Kyoto understood, Adams had grown up living an existence of luxury, privilege, and power. But for reasons no one seemed clear on, he’d left all that behind and enrolled in the Defender Academy so he could kill Buggers—a goal Kyoto could certainly sympathize with.