The news of the failure of the cyborgs sent Plezmarxsh into action. He whipped out a stilleto and sank it to the hilt in Magnawl Ahx's back. The Superior Buro Chief slumped over the side of the command pit. Aides ran forward and pulled him away. Melissa Baltitude watched in stunned amazement.
Two Superior Buro spies, planted in Plezmarxsh's private guard sprang into action. A short gunfight ended with both dead, along with one of the remaining guards.
The interior of the big battletank stank of smoke and blood. Two screens had been blown out along with a big hole in one of the command chairs. Melissa's ears were ringing from the incredibly loud gunfire.
Plezmarxsh reopened the channel to Jon Iehard inside the great machine. "Jon Iehard, this is Commander Plezmarxsh of the space group shock division. The Superior Buro are no longer in command here. I am initiating contact with the Grand Council on Laogolden. The Heir himself will stand by to speak with you, please be patient."
Inside the firing chamber, Jon Iehard let out a whoop of victory that momentarily awoke Eblis Bey.
"They're putting me through to the Heir." Jon exclaimed. The Bey struggled to a half-sitting position.
"We have them worried. They know the machine's power. They've had an ample demonstration. Now they calculate and scheme and will pretend to negotiate."
"But they're trapped," Jon exclaimed, "we just destroyed half of the fleet up there!"
Inside the tank, Melissa pushed forward to the microphone.
"Jon, is that you?"
He jumped at the sound of that voice. "Melissa! Where are you? How?"
"I'm out here with the laowon, underneath this machine. They caught me, soon after I left you. But they weren't able to use me the way they wanted to. There's been quite a little gun battle in here and I can vouch for the commander. He's telling the truth. The Superior Buro Chief is dead. They're calling Laogolden now. You've won Jon, you've done it!"
General Plezmarxsh switched off her microphone.
Jon let out a whoop. "Battlegeneral, are you listening?"
Plezmarxsh grunted reluctantly.
"Put Miss Baltitude back on the line. I want her to join my negotiating group. She can monitor such things as the evacuation of the machine. I want all your troops out and I want that main airlock door closed or I will destroy Laogolden and as many other laowon homeworlds as I can target and fire at."
Plezmarxsh could find no way out of the box. He turned Melissa's microphone back on.
Inside the Hammer control chamber, Jon smiled grimly. Eblis Bey laughed lightly, despite the pain it caused him.
"Bring on the Heir," Jon shouted. "We have some proposals to make, proposals that he cannot refuse."
He reexamined the control panels.
"We need a video link."
But Jon had been anticipated by the laowon military communications people and now on one of the screens there appeared the image of the Heir Apparent, surrounded by several members of the high council of court.
Jon heard them arguing in laowon, the radio link was amazingly strong. He could even hear the rustle of their robes of seygfan.
For a moment he stared in awe at the fountainhead of authority in the known Galaxy.
The Heir hushed the council with his raised hand. Jon concentrated on him, a laowon in his middle years, firm of flesh, with fiery eyes. Reportedly a person of ferocious tastes and instincts. He had unseated his senile parent at the age of thirty and ruled alone ever since. But now fear was reflected in the Heir's eyes, a fear unlike anything Jon had ever seen in a laowon before. It brought a strange little smile to his lips, and just for a moment he recalled Hut 416 on North West Alley, far, far away.
"What do you want?" the Heir said in laowon, the inflections one used for servants.
"Many things," Jon replied quietly, "A great many things. Beginning, I think, with a general removal of laowon power from the human hegemony."
"I am not inclined to negotiate with feral bandits."
"I don't think you have much choice."
"I have ordered the High Fleet to prepare to depart to Earth. They will firebomb the planet at my command."
Earth! Jon's heart jumped at that name for some reason he could not explain.
"Then I will destroy Laogolden, and you."
The Heir stared at him flatly. Behind him, the Seygfan leaders boggled in bloodshot rage.
"You will have to prove that you can do as you say."
Jon swallowed. There was a throb in his shoulder, blood matted inside his shirt. Eblis Bey stirred slightly and groaned. Owlcurl Dahn had lost consciousness.
"You would have me send a star nova? That's what this weapon does, you know."
The proud eyes flashed back in fury. Like a wild beast caught in a trap. "Prove it! Only then will all Seygfan of the Imperiom believe."
Jon looked to Rhap Dimple.
"Rhap Dimp, I need a secondary target, one with no habitable worlds, near the primary target."
The mote exchanged flickers of light with the Keeper. On the screen the purple targeting feature around Laogolden became mobile. One of the control levers moved the target overlay.
A bare seven light-years from Laogolden blazed Mayark, a hot white star with no planets. Jon targeted the hammer on Mayark. "The white star that marks the center of your constellation 'Justice,' the balance of law over disorder?"
"Mayark!" the Heir exclaimed.
"What have you there?"
"A few robot probes, maybe some asteroid miners, the Second Orbital Fort."
"The forts are tough, aren't they? Well, this one's going to get a pretty thorough workout. As for your miners, I just hope they're working the outer parts of the system. I want you to set up a deep link with Mayark. Then I want you to watch."
A few moments later the Heir said, "It is done."
Jon ordered Rhap Dimp to activate the Hammer.
"This one's for Meg. For all the gigahabs, all the breathers," he whispered to himself.
Another cube of Baraf was consumed in a fiery flash and instantaneously a gravity void appeared in the heart of mighty Mayark. For a fraction of a second the massive star lacked gravity. An enormous puff of material rose off the surface and then as gravity returned and Mayark fell together again there came a flash, a bubbling on the star's surface, indeed seconds later there was no surface and Mayark increased in magnitude by several degrees and blew a sizable fraction of its own mass into surrounding space.
It was impossible to see anything on that screen except the blazing whiteness. It threw stark shadows, Jon, the mote, the looming mass of the Keeper, against the wall.
"Are you satisfied?" Jon said grimly.
The Heir had paled. Around him the Grand Council were bathed in the death light of the nova. All rushed to speak.
"We shall have to confer. We will reopen communications in ten minutes."
"Don't be a second late, remember I have already targeted Kbark." He switched back to Melissa for a progress report on the closing of the outer airlock hatch. The cyborg shock troops had withdrawn beyond the treads.
Jon ordered Melissa to keep a sharp eye for anything that might mark an attempted attack with an atomic weapon. Not even the great machine could be immune to a nuclear device at close quarters.
The screen blanked. Jon looked around, Eblis Bey was unconscious. Owlcurl Dahn was curled up in a fetal ball. Only Rhap Dimple remained, resting on the console beside the screen. "Just you and me now Rhap Dimp." Suddenly Jon was afraid of relaxing, terrified of falling asleep by mistake, he was aware of his acute exhaustion.
"Incorrect, we are three who are 'on.' You forget the Keeper."
And Jon looked up at the immense batrachianoid robot that squatted silently behind them.
"Yes I'd forgotten about him. Well then, there are three of us to man the Starhammer."
"Incorrect," warbled Rhap Dimp, "you are manning the Hammer. We are part of the Hammer."
And, he realized, without him they would just sit there an
d do nothing. They were machines, they had no self will. The mote's enthusiasm for their cause was the result of the bond between Rhap Dimp and the Bey.
Jon took a deep breath, pulled himself erect. Ignored the stab of pain in his shoulder. The ten minutes ticked by.
Precisely on time, the screen came back to life. The Heir had a weird expression on his face. His eyes seemed to waver in his head.
"Well, what is your decision?" Jon said.
"We shall have to negotiate," stammered the Heir.
"Call off the High Fleet first then."
There was a long tense moment. Finally, the Heir bowed his head with a little sob. "I will do so." He turned and issued a stream of orders to an aide.
Before he had finished there was a commotion, the sound of gunfire.
On screen, figures in the red robes of the lao cult had appeared. They shot and stabbed the Grand Council with every evidence of joy in their hearts.
"I am the new High Minker!" shrieked a voice in a heavy Laogolden accent. A narrow-faced fanatic had taken over the screen. It bayed at Jon in harsh laowon syllables, demanding surrender and blood.
Jon stared into those eyes, they lacked the slightest glimmer of reason.
The figures in red were actually garroting the Heir on screen, a warning to all members of the Royal Family that treachery to the racial mission of the laowon would be punished by the cult with death.
"All of these treacherous Aristocrats will be slain for their appalling weakness. As High Minker I will immediately order the High Fleet to attack the planets of the under-race. Not a grain of sand will be left unfused!"
Jon checked the targeting patch. "One last chance," he said to the mad eyes in that blue face.
"Surrender!" it screamed in a rage close to insanity.
He ordered Rhap Dimple to fire.
Jon assumed Laogolden would be a few minutes from the primary and so it proved. The High Minker howled and roared threats and prayers until the connection abruptly cut off in a blaze of furious light.
There was silence for a long minute or more. Then a bewildered-looking Battlegeneral Plezmarxsh appeared on the screen. It had been an unexpected turn of events. "The deep link is gone. We cannot raise anyone on Laogolden."
"I am sorry," Jon said, appalled by the enormity of what he had just done. He had killed an entire world, indeed an entire system. Billions upon billions of people were dying in the catastrophic effects of the nova flash of the primary. Laogolden's rotation carried the remaining population on into the incinerating fire, minute by minute. The Imperiom had been beheaded.
"What will you do?" Jon said. "Who can negotiate now for the laowon?"
"I will have to enquire. There is considerable confusion."
"Better hurry it up. Also, I want a deep link opened to Earth at once. If the High Fleet attacks Earth, I will continued to fire the Hammer at your homeworlds. We now target the Feress system and planet Ratan. The population is, I believe, three billion. In addition, I want your troopers moved further away at once. And I'm only going to give you a couple of minutes. You'd better think about what that could mean. So, make haste; we are about to change the ways of the galaxy."
Plezmarxsh went away. Minutes dragged by with infinite anxiety levels until he reappeared on screen. He looked perfectly flustered.
"There is a search now being undertaken for representatives of the Royal Family. The only agreement we have been able to reach is agreement to abide by the social contract with the Monarchy. Only the Crown can hold together the Imperiom in this crisis." There was considerable irritation in the Battlegeneral's voice. He had been struggling with a chaotic situation and the ugly turmoil that had broken out in the remaining Seygfan.
"What about the link to Earth? Where is the High Fleet?"
"Coming, it is being made now. You forget that we have suffered heavy losses to the fleet here. But we are opening a line to the assembled Diktats of Earth. The High Fleet has been recalled."
"To where?"
Plezmarxsh was in agony.
"Where?" Jon repeated, "I may have to target it before things are done."
After a long moment the Battlegeneral broke down. "Fatuz, the fourth orbital fort."
"The coordinates in human digital code, please. Do not attempt to deceive or dissemble if you value your homeworlds."
Tonelessly, Plezmarxsh obeyed.
"By the way, what happened to the Second Orbital Fort?"
There was a long moment of silence.
"We are still trying to regain contact."
"Not tough enough, then. I'm sorry, Battlegeneral, believe me. But I won't hesitate now. What made them do that, do you think?"
Plezmarxsh looked acutely uncomfortable.
"Ah, you don't want to comment on that, eh? I suppose you're afraid of them, too. I must admit they frighten me. Now they've made me history's greatest killer."
Plezmarxsh stared into the screen for a long moment. Then he turned away.
Minutes dragged by. Jon pondered the tactical problems surrounding him. He had no food, no medical supplies, and two wounded colleagues. He could not hope to negotiate for very long, he needed a swift set of decisions. In addition, there was the problem of the vang that was aroused and watchful now in the machine interior. How would a rescue party get in? And how would he and the others get out? He swallowed, his throat was dry from thirst.
"Rhap Dimple, is there any way of getting some water?"
"You lack vital fluids? There is medical emergency!" Rhap Dimp turned to the Keeper who opened a small cabinet set into a wail. Inside were some modular boxes and a spherical water container.
Jon held the sphere up to his face. Water spurted out, straight into his face. He opened his mouth and took a drink. When he lowered the sphere the flow stopped.
In turn, he held the sphere to Owlcurl Dahn and Eblis Bey and bathed their faces in a little water.
The Keeper reached the end of a long interior dialogue between levels of programming. It decided to turn over command to the control chamber to the mote and the still functional comrade biped. The Keeper had a nagging housekeeping problem that might at last be attended to.
Light flashed from its eyes to Rhap Dimple, bathing the mote in code.
"The Keeper is turning over control of the Hammer to this unit. The Keeper is going out to deal with enemy cells."
"Enemy cells?"
"The machine is infested with them."
"Like the things that were inside M'Nee and Chacks and the rest?"
"Enemy cells!"
The iris door opened and the Keeper, protected in armor of flexible eternite, went out to end forever the energy drain in the engineering section.
Another screen brightened. A collection of wide-eyed humans in the ceremonial robes of the Congress of Diktats. At their center was a sturdy fellow with a red face and massive jowls. "I, Borgis Belan, speak on behalf of the Diktats of Earth. Who are you and what is all this about?"
Jon explained.
Belan's eyes grew wider still. "You have turned the Kbark nova? There is no life left on Laogolden?"
"The cult gave me no choice, they garrotted the Heir to the Imperiom right in front of us."
"But, what are we to do? How will we keep order?"
Another Diktat, a slender, brownskinned man wearing a narrow hat with no brim, spoke up in a sing song voice. "Diktat Belan does not relish the idea of a world without the laowon to back him up, you see."
The voice caused Eblis Bey to stir uneasily, but not enough to bring him round.
"I am the Diktat of Sumatra, I believe I know one of the members of your expedition. Is the man called Eblis Bey among you?"
"He is indeed, although he's resting for the moment. We have been traveling for many days."
"Incredible," the Sumatran Diktat said.
On another screen Battlegeneral Plezmarxsh reappeared. He announced that the new Heir to the Imperiom had been proclaimed and that he would be in communication in just a few
seconds.
Jon waited breathlessly. Finally, the screen brightened with Innoo of Firgize's face. He stared at Jon Iehard's reciprocal image in obvious shock. Jon guffawed.
"Lord Innoo? Can it be you? The new Heir?"
"How?" Innoo was dumbfounded. "How has this happened? How have you perpetrated this terrible tragedy?"
"There are a number of things you will have to learn, Innoo of Firgize. Firstly, you will have to accept a radical reordering of the balance of powers between our peoples."
"They tell me you have destroyed Laogolden. That I have no choice but to negotiate with you, a feral slave! What have you done?" Innoo was distraught. Jon thought the young laowon lordling was doing rather well considering the circumstances.
"First Innoo, you must learn to call me Lord, I'm tired of being called a feral slave. Then you can begin with a proclamation of immediate freedom for all humans now held in bondage in laowon systems. Do you understand me, Innoo of Firgize? The days of laowon rule of humans are over!"
Table of Contents
STARHAMMER'S MAP
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Starhammer Page 31