What did it tell him that the ancient Party Secretary had possessed such a weapon?
“One hundred and fifty-four years old,” Benz said quietly.
She was the oldest person in the Solar System by a considerable amount. The next oldest was one hundred and seven, another woman but this one from Earth. That woman was within the historic norms.
One hundred and fifty-four was not within the historic norms. The chrome medical chair was a one-of-a-kind device. That was the legend. Her father had dug it out of Martian ruins in the South Pole Region. Others had looked in the strange ruins at the South Pole. Some people suggested those were alien ruins from thousands of years ago, maybe ten or twenty thousand years ago.
Benz examined the smooth compact. Was this disintegrator of human manufacture?
He pocketed the deadly device, but still did not move farther into the ready room.
Who had ever heard of a real-life empath? Benz hadn’t until this moment. Humans did not possess telepathy, empathy or other so-called psionic powers. That was just another term for magic. There weren’t any wizards in real life, any sorcerers or witches, not in the accepted norm of spells that teleported or changed people’s minds against their wills.
Benz moved woodenly into the ready room. He had to figure something out fast. He was going to need people to remove the dead. When they saw the carnage on the bridge…
That could topple him from power right there.
“You have to think, Frank,” Benz told himself. “You have to act like the smartest person in the Solar System, not just talk about it.”
Benz nodded as if fortifying his heart for what he had to do. He marched into the ready room and knelt beside the black-clad empath.
He touched the corpse. It seemed far too cool already. He leaned over and rose abruptly. He went to his desk, rummaged in a bottom drawer and came back with a small penknife.
He cut the corpse. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to find. That the outer layer of skin proved to be a false covering shocked him to the core.
The penknife dropped from his nerveless fingers.
Benz panted as he knelt there.
Soon, his forehead furrowed. He picked up the penknife and carefully inserted the tip of the blade between the human skin and the lightly bluish scales underneath. He peeled away the human flesh, the pseudo human-skin, and revealed—
“What is this?” he whispered.
He peeled more until he revealed the scale-like skin underneath on the left forearm. They were moist like a fish’s scales.
This was an alien.
Correction, the dead thing on the floor had been an alien. It was a corpse now.
What did that mean, though, that an alien empath and a…
Benz stood in a wooden manner and stepped beside the Party Secretary’s corpse. It was just as cool as the empath’s.
The creature—the empath—had definitely hit him with some kind of telepathic power. How had such aliens arrived on Mars? How long had they been here? How had an alien in pseudo human-skin come to run the Mars Social Dynamic Union?
“Why did you come alone into my office?” he asked the two corpses. “What did you hope to achieve?”
Benz stepped back until he bumped up against his desk. The aliens had come up here to gain control of the cybership. What had the one called it? A starship.
“Right,” Benz said.
The aliens wanted the cybership because it could cruise between the stars. They were going to grab it and do what—leave the Solar System?
He needed Vela. He needed to clean up the ready room and the bridge. He needed a good cover story—
Frank Benz gave a harsh caw of laughter. He had it. He knew what he was going to do. This could work. It could really work. Not only that, but it might actually cement his power so he could run the Mars Unity with true authority and assurance.
“This could be just what I need,” he said—if he played it right, and if he could convince the right people from the get-go. It was time to find Vela. He needed her expertise to help make this thing airtight.
-4-
The hatch to the bridge slid open and Vela Shaw almost collapsed with relief into Benz’s arms.
“You’re alive,” she said, coming to him. She laughed as he hugged her. “I’m alive,” she said into his right ear. “I thought—”
She gasped in what might have been horror. The strength left her knees. If Benz hadn’t been holding on to her, she would have likely hit the deck.
When he felt her strength return, Benz let go.
“Frank,” she whispered, as she stared at the carnage on the bridge, at the countless dead.
Benz turned toward the carnage, although he glanced at her to see how she’d take it.
Vela was startlingly beautiful with long blonde hair and green eyes of great intensity. She wore a Martian Fleet uniform, red with black. It helped highlight her beauty.
That beauty was how Benz had come to find her. Not so long ago, Secret Police Chief J.P. Justinian had raped Vela on Earth. She had been seething for vengeance. That wishing had gotten her into grave trouble when Justinian became the Premier of the Solar League. Benz had saved her life, giving her the same intelligence-heightening treatment that he’d received and had convinced her to enlist in his struggle. Along the way, the two of them had become lovers.
Now, Benz didn’t know what he’d do without her. It wasn’t simply her remarkable beauty. She was possibly the only one smart enough to appreciate his genius, and certainly the only one smart enough to help him.
“You killed them?” Vela whispered.
Benz nodded.
“How did you manage it?” she asked.
Over the ship’s comm, Benz had requested that she come alone to the bridge. The people who had been holding her apparently hadn’t recognized his voice. He’d used a scrambler, so that had probably helped. No doubt, those people had figured Vela was going to her death.
Benz took the compact disintegrator out of his jacket pocket.
Vela frowned at it.
“The thing has a nozzle as if it’s a weapon,” she said.
He began to tell her what had happened, although he left out how he’d acquired the disintegrator.
Vela nodded as she listened.
“I wouldn’t believe you regarding that thing,” she said, “except that I see the evidence before my eyes. It must really be able to do what you say. Here’s the problem, though. Where did you get it?”
“I’ll show you,” Benz said.
Vela stared at him.
“Do I want to see this?” she asked.
“Most definitely,” he said.
She considered that and finally nodded.
As Benz led her to the ready room, he described the Party Secretary’s arrival with the black-clad empath. By the time they weaved a path through the dead coup plotters, Benz had explained how he picked up the heavy glass object and hurled it at the Party Secretary’s forehead.
They stepped into the ready room. Benz raised his arm to indicate the two dead beings.
Vela stared at him.
“Do you see?” Benz asked her.
Vela shook her head.
He put a hand on her left elbow, guiding her to the dead empath.
Vela gasped, pulling away from him as she covered her mouth. She turned to Benz with horror and with understanding.
“Aliens,” she whispered.
Benz nodded.
“Where did they come from?” she asked.
“Out there is the clear but vague answer,” Benz said with a wave behind him. “It would be good to know when they arrived.”
Vela’s lids hooded her eyes as she thought about that. She nodded a moment later.
“Do you think these aliens fled from the AIs?” she asked.
“I deem that the most likely answer.”
“To hide on Earth? Well, the Solar System, I presume.”
“Exactly,” he said.
“When did
‘Anna Dominguez’ take over the Mars SDU Party?”
“We’ll have to check the history tapes. First, though, we have to clean up the bridge.”
Vela appeared thoughtful. “You’re going to need a cover story.”
Benz couldn’t hold it in any longer. He exposed his teeth in a fierce smile.
“What is it?” she asked. “Why are you—?” Her eyebrows arched as understanding hit her.
“This is exactly what I need—what we need,” Benz said. “Aliens have infiltrated the Mars Party. Now I’m going to say that I had the foresight to sniff them out of hiding. That’s why they came up here. The aliens had to kill me before I uncovered them. The Martians aiding the aliens are traitors to humanity. Anyone opposing me will be painted as anti-human.”
“That’s clever,” Vela said. “But I foresee a problem.”
“I’m listening.”
“Given the gravity of our larger problem, we should enlist the aliens to help us against the AIs.”
“Why do you believe there are more aliens on Mars? These two could be it.”
“Do you really believe that?” Vela asked. “I mean, think through the implications of their existence and their positions in Martian society.”
Benz bent his head as he truly began to think. He correlated possibilities with probabilities. After a time, his head snapped up as he stared at Vela.
“There’s likely a small colony of aliens on Mars,” Benz said.
Vela nodded.
“We could use the help of these aliens,” Benz said, “use their greater knowledge about the AIs and their knowledge about the interstellar situation. If the aliens are here and have this superior technology—” he raised the disintegrator— “it stands to reason they arrived here in hyperspace-capable vessels of their own.”
“I tend to think they no longer have such vessels,” Vela said.
“Yes… I agree. Unless they’ve grown arrogant.”
“That is only a small possibility,” Vela said.
“I’d grant it as a large possibility,” Benz said. “I spoke to them, remember? These aliens are arrogant. Besides, by coming to my office alone they showed overwhelming arrogance. Their misstep is what allowed me my opportunity.”
“I can see that,” Vela said. “But that still doesn’t solve our problem. If we use these aliens as our scapegoat, and as a means of unifying the Martians behind us, we’re going to have a difficult time letting the aliens aid us against the AIs. Public pressure might force us into having to kill them all.”
Benz could see that possibility.
Whipping up a nation or world against another group made it difficult later. Once people’s emotions were stirred so strongly, they demanded blood. In this case, they would want alien blood. However, the more he whipped up Martian hatred against the hidden aliens, the more the Martians would potentially rally behind him.
“Well…?” Vela asked. “What’s the verdict? You’d better decide now so we know how to explain your slaughter up here.”
Benz sighed a moment later.
“I don’t see that I have a choice,” he said. “I have to explain this in a way that will mollify the rest of the crew, with me slaughtering everyone on the bridge. I need a mortal danger against all of us in order to ensure your survival and mine.”
“I’m afraid I agree,” Vela said sadly.
“That’s not going to make it easy for us to encourage these hidden aliens to help us later.”
“We have to capture some if we can,” Vela said.
Benz nodded. He would like to make these aliens his allies. Humanity needed help. But he needed to cement his political position as leader before he did anything else.
“Are you ready?” Benz asked Vela.
She took a deep breath, nodding a moment later.
“Then let’s cook up a good cover story and get started,” Benz said. “I’m sure many people are waiting for the outcome up here. If we wait too long…”
“I know,” Vela said. “And I think I know exactly how we should proceed.”
Benz listened to her, soon grinning, liking his woman’s plan.
-5-
It turned out that the highest ranked members of the conspiracy had been on the Gilgamesh’s bridge. Likely, they’d wanted to be there for the aftermath in order to grab more power at the earliest opportunity.
Killing the ringleaders helped throw Benz’s most determined enemies into disarray. The conspiratorial organizations wasted time as the underlings struggled for the new primacy.
That allowed Benz and Vela time to recruit angry Martians hungry to destroy the secret aliens. The key was in acquiring the head of the Martian secret police and the fierce loyalty of the Martian space marines.
During the coming days, Benz worked tirelessly from his office aboard the Gilgamesh. As he did, concentrating on acquiring dominating political control, Vela hunted for traitors aboard ship even as she built up the number of Martians who realized that Benz had saved them and that Benz had the acuity to turn Mars into a powerhouse.
The days passed with the two of them working brutally long hours. The disintegrator and the two corpses became symbols of alien oppression. Propaganda moved Martians to the conclusion that these hidden aliens had helped bring the AIs to Mars. A year and a half ago, the attacking cyberships had dropped hell-burners on the planet. The enemy cyberships had slaughtered hundreds of millions of Martians, more than forty percent of the population. It was thus easy to whip up the people into a frenzy of hatred against the alien spies responsible for the destruction—that was the PR story, at least.
So far, though, after two weeks of neighbors watching neighbors and kids their parents, no genuine aliens had turned up. Oh, there had been endless calls and police searches. Many people had accused many others, but the police hadn’t yet gotten their hands on an alien spy.
Benz did use the opportunity to clean out the former Party Secretary’s political apparatus. Everyone with a connection to her, everyone with a connection to Benz’s most zealous political opponents either died by noose or pistol or found themselves incarcerated at the secret police’s most notorious prison, the Alamo.
It wasn’t pretty. In truth, the process was ugly and bloody. Grabbing political power directly usually was. Benz didn’t believe he had a lot of time left. In some instances, he tried to be smooth, but ended up having too many angry people working for him. They crushed the opposition as the opposition had almost given Mars and the Asteroid Belt to aliens—at least in people’s mind that was true.
The Red Planet seethed with this growing alien hatred, which fueled the increased alien hunting, turning Mars into a hotbed of activity. During the next few weeks, Benz hammered out new policies that would consolidate his power in time.
For a while, at least, the people of Mars, and Benz and Vela, forgot about the AIs and the stealth pods most likely sprinkled throughout the Solar System. They were too intent on ferreting out the alien spies on Mars.
Then, the secret police discovered a genuine alien. They only found out he was an alien after shooting him, though.
An alert major noticed something amiss after the body slumped in the courtyard. The major marched to the corpse, took out a knife and peeled away pseudo skin to reveal moist and lightly blue-colored scales.
Armored air-cars raced to a special facility of the Ares Corporation outside the city of Latium. The alien spy had come from there. The arresting police put every worker into police vans. Then, teams hunted through the facility, searching every cranny for secret doors to hidden hideaways.
The interrogators had everyone put in restraints. Thirteen hours after the first air-car landed at the main facility, the interrogators found their first living alien.
The chief of secret police, Rafael Franco, promptly contacted Benz.
The Premier was in his ready room, regarding the hologram image before him. Franco was a small man with a vintage Roman nose. He never looked a person directly in the eyes, seemingly
too shy to do that.
“Excellent work, Chief,” Benz told the man. “I commend you on ferreting out this creature.”
Franco sat utterly still, as if absorbing the praise into his pores.
“I believe the alien is female, Excellency.”
“Oh?” Benz said.
“She swore to her interrogator that she would be cooperative. She obviously desires to live, Excellency. But I doubt her word.”
“Why is that?”
“During her capture, she slew twenty-seven operatives. She also ignited the grounds behind her. We found massive amounts of strange alloys. My top scientists believe it was some kind of space vehicle.”
Benz couldn’t believe this. It was worse than he’d expected. Strange alloys—could the alien have destroyed a special type of space vessel?
As he ruminated, Benz noticed the secret police chief watching him stealthily. It was most carefully done. Franco was dangerous. He mustn’t ever forget that. What would the man expect from him…?
“Is the alien allergic to pain?” asked Benz, trying to find out if Franco had tortured her.
Franco grinned slyly, actually looking up at Benz for just a moment. He quickly looked down afterward.
“She is, Excellency.”
Benz appeared to be in deep thought. He already knew what he wanted. The alien could be a goldmine of information. This was fantastic.
“Use your top operatives, Chief. This must work flawlessly. They will escort the alien via shuttle to the Gilgamesh.”
Franco sat utterly still as his features appeared to harden.
“And if the alien dies during the ascent, Excellency?” the chief of secret police asked.
Benz became hyper-alert. What was the man’s problem?
“Why would you suspect such an accident?” Benz asked.
Franco spoke in a clipped manner. “She is an alien. She is dangerous. I have come to believe that she has psionic powers?”
Benz wished he’d never included in his original report the empathic and telepathic powers of the black-clad alien.
“In my opinion, Excellency, having her aboard the cybership would be the worst place for her. It would put her too close…” Franco looked up, and his normally placid eyes seemed to burn with passion. “It would put her within striking range of our primary source of military power. If the alien gained control of the Gilgamesh, she could destroy Mars.”
A.I. Battle Station (The A.I. Series Book 4) Page 12