Winds of Vengeance (25 page)

It was a bit of a dirty trick, invoking the legendary admiral’s spirit, and an especially potent one when he wielded it, being widely considered to be one of the two surviving members of the fleet who had been closest to Compton. But his intentions had been good. Both West and Frette had been through their share of suffering and pain during the fleet’s struggles, and he’d hadn’t wanted to see pointless regulations interfere with their chance at some happiness.

“I know you’re telling me what you think I want to hear…but you always manage to make me feel better.” West’s voice was controlled, professional, as it always was. But Harmon knew she was hurting.

“Look, Erika…we’re both worried about what is happening out there…but Nicki Frette is one of the most capable officers I’ve ever known, and she’s got a lot of power with her. I believe she can handle whatever she finds.”

“I know you’re right.” West paused. “I just wish we’d hear something.”

Harmon nodded and leaned back in his chair. West’s office was large, something he’d insisted on when the navy’s headquarters building had been built. Left to her own devices, he knew she’d have put her desk in a small windowless cubby somewhere. West wasn’t an officer who dealt comfortably with splendor and the trappings of office, at least not most of them. Harmon’s eyes moved toward the one luxury she had embraced, and included in her office by her own command…a small fireplace, even now crackling merrily as two logs burned in the stone hearth.

“You haven’t given me any opinions on the standoff at the Mules’ compound.” Harmon thought a change of subject might help West. And he’d been anxious for her thoughts.

“You haven’t asked for any.”

Harmon looked across at his top admiral. For an instant he thought she was giving him a sarcastic answer, but then he reminded himself how straight laced West was…and how well she had slipped into the role of his subordinate instead of his superior.

“I’m asking.”

“Well, sir…” She’d been talking to her old friend moments before, but now she slipped into a more formal role, that of an admiral speaking to the president. “You know I am not inclined to tolerate rebellion…but…” She paused, turning her gaze away from Harmon toward the fire.

“But what, Erika? My God, by now you should know you can say anything to me.”

“Well, sir. Years ago I would have said send in the Marines, crush the revolt. But now…I’m just not so sure. First, they do have legitimate grievances, don’t they? We may deny that in public, and I understand why the things that were done were done. But between us, we know it wasn’t just.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Harmon sighed. He wished he’d fought this battle years before, when he was stronger, when he still carried the weight of being Compton’s successor. But the Mules had been children then, and for many years there was no significant opposition to retaining the Prohibition. He’d taken the easier route, sacrificed justice to political expediency. He was ashamed of his choices then…but that didn’t change the fact that he had precious few now.

“But there is another concern, a far more practical one.” West’s voice broke from her normal hard edged monotone. “We need the Mules, don’t we? People can react to them with fear, and I’m not even sure that is entirely without some justification. But where would the republic be if they had never existed? What would our city, our fleet, our ability to grow and prosper be without the technology they developed? Certainly Dr. Cutter and a few others would have made some progress, but we benefit today from years of work by over one hundred men and women with intellects and abilities we can hardly imagine, much less properly appreciate.” She paused.

“What dangers will we face in the future? What might Nicki uncover out there even now? How much stronger are we with the Mules than without them?” Another pause. “If we suppress the Mules, imprison or destroy them…apart from the moral problems such a course raises, do we not in many ways endanger our own future? You and I remember what it is like to fight an overpowering enemy. If we’d had one more piece of bad luck back then, if we’d had a leader less capable than Terrance Compton, what would have become of us? Are you confident we will never again face such a challenge? Can we afford to make ourselves weaker?”

Harmon sat quietly, taking a deep breath. “You are right, Erika…across the board. But there is one problem. If we don’t do something to resolve this impasse, I will lose the election. And whether Jacques Diennes replaces me or someone else, they will move against the Mules immediately.” He hesitated. “And Diennes, at least, will take advantage of the opportunity to get rid of the Mules for good. There will be no negotiation, no moderate solutions.”

West sat quietly for a moment, clearly wanting to say something, but hesitating. Then she looked right at Harmon. “Jacques Diennes cannot become president, Max.” Her eyes were cold, bright, and her tone was deadly serious. “Whatever it takes.”

Harmon stared back at her. “I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you are, Erika…because that is not an option. Do you understand me?”

She looked back at Harmon, but she just sat quietly, not answering.

*    *    *

“Where is the president now, when the republic faces the greatest threat in its thirty years of existence? What steps has he taken the crush this foul rebellion, to bring those responsible to justice?” Jacques Diennes stood in the central square of Victory City. He’d chosen his spot carefully, clear on the other side of the park from the massive statue of Terrance Compton. Compton was still a revered figure to the people of Earth Two, and the last thing he wanted was to remind people that Max Harmon had been Compton’s close comrade.

“Our Marines stand to arms, surrounding the compound for days now, but where is the order to move? Where is the leadership? The courage to do what is necessary to protect and preserve our republic?” Diennes looked out over the crowd. His speeches had been drawing larger numbers, more people showing up each day, it seemed. Max Harmon’s prospects had been in doubt since the day he’d been compelled to call a new election, but his popularity had truly plummeted with the Mules’ uprising…and his reluctance to do anything decisive to end it.

“There have been those who have mischaracterized our movement, branded the Society as an organization that is concerned only with natural born humans. But now we see the dangers of uncontrolled experimentation with the human genome. We have allowed the creation of would be super-beings, men and women who see their true place as our masters, and not our brothers and sisters. And what of the unenhanced clones, those we call the Tanks? The Plague that strikes without warning is another example of how our uncontrolled pride has brought suffering and death upon us. Scientific hubris created this terror.”

Diennes had studied politics, read hundreds of accounts of the history of elections on Earth. He was lying, changing his positions, his words flying in the face of speeches he’d given before. But he knew it didn’t matter. Even the educated and disciplined citizens of Earth Two responded only to superficiality. Their votes would follow their fear…and right now, Max Harmon was allowing dangerous rebels to stand in defiance of the republic. Diennes knew they would believe him. Not all, perhaps, but most. He knew he could lie almost with impunity, as long as he told them now what they wanted to hear.

“We do not advocate persecution…we stand for protection, for greater safeguards and care, before a few scientists, driven by ego as much as any other force, manipulate DNA, unconcerned with the results of their reckless experimentation. We face grave danger at the hands of the Mules, even now. What terrors wait in our future, if we do not stop this insanity now?”

He could see the crowd responding to his words, the excitement building. He put his arms up in the air, and the crowd began to cheer loudly. He had hoped the Society would gain seats in the Assembly, that it would become an influential part of a coalition government. But now he was beginning to believe his party could win an outright majority. He was even seeing inroads with fringe elements among the Tanks, those most concerned about the danger of the Mules. He had stepped up his rhetoric about the Enhanced Hybrids and their rebellion, and he had softened his words with regard to the Tanks. He’d called them abominations before, but now he cast them as victims, blamed the scientists for the Plague. And it was working.

“Stand with me, citizens! Help me save our beloved republic. Together we can do what has to be done, we can secure a bright, safe, and prosperous future for ourselves, and for the generations to come.”

He thrust his hands up again, and the crowd went wild, cheering, chanting his name. He turned his head, looked down the street toward the executive building, his eyes focusing on the northeast corner of the top floor. The president’s office. Max Harmon’s office.

For another month, at least…

*    *    *

“Hieronymus!” Ana Zhukov ran across the room and threw her arms around her longtime comrade. She’d long considered Cutter like a brother, even closer. The two had worked together almost every day for more than thirty years.

“Ana, what are you doing here?” Cutter returned the hug, but there was concern in his voice. He stepped back. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Mother, welcome. It is most gratifying to see you.” Achilles walked into the room, followed by half a dozen of the other Mules…and H2. The Mules didn’t call Zhukov ‘mother’ as frequently as they addressed Cutter as ‘father,’ but Achilles did so pointedly, and she could hear the warmth in his voice.

Achilles looked toward Cutter. “You needn’t be concerned, Father. We would never harm either of you, no matter what the circumstances.”

“Are you going to imprison, Dr. Zhukov as you did me, Achilles?”

“No, of course not.” Achilles looked over at Zhukov. “You are free to go whenever you wish, Mother…or to remain with us.” He turned toward Cutter. “As are you, Father. It was necessary for us to keep you here only until we revealed our defensive capabilities. You may leave whenever you wish, though of course, we would rejoice if you chose to remain with us.”

“Achilles…” Zhukov moved toward the Mule, put her hand on his arm. “I have come to try to reason with you.”

“I know what you have come to argue, and it hurts me to reject your wishes, Mother, but we must look to our own preservation. We have already begun the quickening sequence…the next generation is even now coming into being, cells dividing, specializing. Indeed, we have built on your groundbreaking work, and the children we create will be superior to us, indeed perhaps vastly so.”

“Would you stand your weapons down if President Harmon repealed the Prohibition? He knows it should have been done long ago, and he is truly regretful that it wasn’t.”

Achilles was silent for a moment. Then he shook his head slowly. “Nothing would please us more, Mother, but I do not believe that is possible now. Indeed, perhaps against my best judgment, I would take Max Harmon’s word…but he does not have the power to deliver on such a promise? We have been monitoring the speeches and statements of the candidates with growing concern. I fear President Harmon’s prospects for reelection are rapidly diminishing…and we must prepare for whoever replaces him.”

“This rebellion of yours is destroying his chances…and his failure to take decisive action against you is costing him votes every hour.”

“I would help President Harmon if I could, Mother. But I will not expose my own people to the terrible risks if someone like Jacques Diennes should win the election. A man like that would imprison us at the very least…and very likely worse. There is nothing I can do.”

“Do you really think you can hold off the entire Marine Corps here?”

“You underestimate the effectiveness of our defensive systems. If the Marines assault this compound, they will suffer tremendous losses. Our analysis suggests that an all-out attack has a thirty-two percent chance of success, and a ninety-four percent probability that casualties would exceed fifty percent of engaged forces.” Achilles extended his own arm, putting his hand on Zhukov’s shoulder. “I am sorry…I know your husband commands the Marines.”

Zhukov sucked in a deep breath, but she didn’t say anything.

“We have also heard several of the candidates for president suggest using high-yield weapons to destroy our compound. Yet this as well is the voice of ignorance. Quite apart from the close proximity to the city and the inherent danger of using nuclear weapons in such a circumstance, our power source is a thirty gigawatt fusion reactor. If this facility is destroyed by a nuclear attack, the resulting core breach would almost certainly destroy Victory City.”

Zhukov was fighting back frustration, tears. “How can you speak of causing such devastation, of so many people being killed?”

“I do not threaten to invoke such a catastrophe. I merely state that any attempt to annihilate us would, by extension, also destroy the city. Indeed, the magnetic containment system under the compound also stores the relatively minor amount of antimatter we have been able to produce. While this is only several kilograms, the results of its escaping containment would be disastrous.”

“I tried to warn you, Achilles, that this would get out of control.” Hieronymus Cutter walked across the room, moving next to Zhukov. “Your grievances are legitimate, no one here questions that. But so is the fear you have instilled in the people. Did you think you could unleash robots that looked like First Imperium combat units and not create a backlash?”

“Of course we realized that the similarities would cause discomfort. But there was no other way for us to protect ourselves. Without the bots, we would be one hundred sixteen against thousands. We would be mostly unarmed scientists against armored Marines. We had no choice.”

Achilles stood still and looked at Zhukov and Cutter. “You are our creators, the two of you, and always we shall think of you as father and mother. You are torn between your loyalty to your own kind, and your affection for us. We understand this…which is why you are both free to go, and to return whenever you choose. You shall always have a home with us, and we shall do anything you request, save continue to accept our place as second class citizens. Perhaps we will lose this standoff, perhaps the Marines will attack and destroy our robots and storm the compound. But if we had done nothing, we would have died out anyway. Even if our lifespans are longer than those of normal humans, as we suspect they will be, one day the last of us will die…and we will not do so quietly, penned in and marginalized and prevented from procreating in the only way we have available to us.”