“Drop it, Janas!” Hal Danser commanded, bringing his needle pistol around toward the starship captain. “Get Franken,” he yelled to the other man.
Janas fired twice more in quick succession. The first slug missed Danser and ended its flight somewhere down the long corridor behind him. The second was better aimed. Danser stumbled backward as it struck a heavy blow in his midsection, the activated beam of his needler cutting a great arc through the air, leaving behind it a trail of scorched metal and ionized air.
The third man had taken aim on Altho Franken and had already fired into the interior of the elevator car when Janas brought the automatic around to him. The beam of energy narrowly missed Franken, who had leaped to one side.
The .45’s aim was bad; too low to kill but high enough to blow off the attacker’s left kneecap and send him staggering backward, collapsing in pain. Janas fired again, this time directly into the other’s face. The man died as he hit the floor.
Hardly pausing long enough to catch his breath, Janas turned back to the interior of the elevator car.
“Everybody okay?” he asked.
“I guess so,” Emmett said. “Bilthor’s awake.” He gestured toward the dazed elder Franken.
“Maura?” Janas asked.
“Yes,” the girl answered, her voice weak and uncertain.
“Herrera didn’t order that,” Franken said in a shaken voice. “He wouldn’t have us killed.”
“You really don’t know what kind of man you’re dealing with, do you, Al?” Janas said. Turning back to Emmett: “We’d better get out of here.”
“Can you walk?” Emmett asked.
“Yes.” Gesturing toward the Franken brothers, Janas said, “Get out!”
As the president and vice president of the STC walked out of the elevator car half a dozen men came running down the corridor toward them, led by Juan Kai.
“Jarl, what happened?” Kai cried.
Emmett gestured toward Hal Danser.
“We had a spy, Juan,” Emmett said coldly. “He tried to kill us. On Herrera’s orders!”
*
Janas half-dragged, half-led Altho Franken across the large computer chamber to a big, paper-obscured desk that Emmett had indicated. Bilthor Franken followed, still dazed, an energy rifle prodding him forward.
Glancing at Janas, Emmett gestured toward a complex of screens and tanks against one wall. “We’ve jury-rigged radar and 3-V scanners,” he said. “We can see what’s going on topside.”
In the nearest of the 3-V tanks Janas saw a panoramic view of the roof deck of the Operations building. There were even more armed men there than before and all of them were looking upward. In the clear blue sky Janas saw perhaps half a dozen Pinker helicopters, and beyond them, no more than a tiny speck, was the distant shape of a starship. Though faint and far away, he recognized the lines of a Federation warship.
“Your estimate was high, Jarl,” Janas said in a hollow voice. “It didn’t take the Federation as long as you expected.”
Emmett froze. “Oh, my God,” he said weakly.
Chapter XXIV
The grayness of Non-space was behind them and the glowing disk of ancient Sol was before them. The TSFF Shilo came down toward the plane of the ecliptic and aimed toward the double world of Terra-Lima, toward the blue-green planet and its white companion.
By now they were within radio range of Earth, though there was still some delay in communications between the ship and the home world. As the remnants of the fleet fell Earthward, the light-speed gap narrowed—too slowly.
Grand Admiral Abli Juliene had given orders to the communications crew: Report to Earth everything we know.
And that report, after giving Federation losses and estimated rebel strength in great detail, concluded with: shortly after breaking back into normal space, the Federation fleet had recorded information indicating that the rebels had broached normal space not far behind them and were even then but a few light-minutes farther from Earth. There would be no time for the Federation ships to land on Luna to refuel and refit. Please, concluded the admiral’s report, advise us of our present orders. Where do we make our stand?
Something close to pandemonium broke out in the Federation headquarters in Geneva. It was happening too quickly, too soon. The experts had underestimated the enemy’s strength, his will to win.
A few men in Geneva kept their heads. Among them were the officers of the Terran Federation Military Forces General Staff, who even then were issuing their orders for the final defense of Earth. Orbital Forts were put on full alert. The Lunar Garrison was ordered into space and into orbit around Earth, forming a hard line of defense at one hundred thousand kilometers, bulking their forces in the anticipated direction of rebel approach. The surviving ships of the F.E.F. were ordered to join with the Lunar Garrison forces and Admiral Juliene was placed in command. The Auxiliary Terrestrial Defense Force would be kept in reserve, under the personal command of the Chief of Staff himself. Solar Trading Company patrol ships within the Solar System were to be led by their own commander as a separate detachment under the overall command of Admiral Juliene. The out-system ships of the STC, already reported to be within a few light-days of Sol, would act on their own initiative, maintain liaison with the Chief of Staff. So Earth prepared to meet her attackers.
There was another man in Geneva who kept his self-composure, and that was Citizen Jonal Constantine Herrera, Chairman of the Terran Federation, who was ordering the preparation of his private cruiser. Have it fitted, fueled and waiting, he commanded. He was not a big enough fool to stay in Geneva if the rebels showed indications of winning. His death would accomplish nothing, nothing at all, and his escape… well, “he who fights and runs away...”
There was a distant and little-known planet that he had long since prepared for such an event, though he had never really expected to use it. Nevertheless it was ready, a pleasant enough place fully equipped to sustain Chairman Herrera, his staff, his friends, and his harem for the rest of his natural life; to sustain him at the level of luxury to which he was accustomed, and it was far enough away so that he could probably enjoy that luxury in safety.
Chapter XXV
Deep within the computer chambers below the STC Operations building, the president of the Solar Trading Company suddenly laughed.
“Citizen Emmett, Captain Janas,” he said slowly, his words riding on his bitter laughter, “don’t you think you’d better surrender while you have the chance?”
Something exploded inside Robert Janas. He spun toward the man who had once been his friend, that man’s face blotted out by the rising red tide of anger. Janas’ right hand shot out, clenched in the hard knot of a fist, and struck toward Altho Franken. There was a thud, a snapping sound, a groan of agony, and Altho Franken staggered backward, his eyes glazing, his mouth and jaw twisted into an unlikely shape. He collapsed, a clumsy bag of bones, to the floor.
Janas looked down at his hand. The skin over his knuckles was split and bleeding, but he smiled a bitter, angry smile.
“I think you broke his jaw,” Jarl Emmett said tonelessly, the ghost of a smile playing across his lips.
“You’d better get a medic,” Janas answered. “We need him awake so he can sign those orders.”
Emmett glanced at the 3-V that displayed the sky above the building. “There’s a warship out there, Bob.”
“We may still have time,” Janas snapped, bending to the limp form of Altho Franken and roughly lifting him to his feet. “We can keep trying till they blow us off the face of the Earth. Get a medic!”
While Emmett ordered that one of the Operations staff doctors come to the computer chambers at once, Janas propped Franken up in a chair, then turned to his brother, the vice president in charge of Operations.
“Sign that order,” Janas said softly.
Bilthor looked at him, his eyes large and wide with fear.
“I said, sign that order!” Janas yelled.
Bilthor stepped forward
, picked up the pen and slowly wrote his name at the indicated spot. He then stepped back, sought a chair as if in a fog, and collapsed into it.
More quickly than Janas had expected, Emmett found a doctor. The medic took one look at Franken, then glanced at Janas, questions on his face. “Get him awake,” Janas said.
The doctor did not speak, but opened his case, took out a spray hypo and pressed it against Franken’s neck. There was a sudden hiss, then silence.
“Give him thirty seconds or so,” the doctor said.
“This ought to keep him going for a few minutes, but not long.”
“We don’t need him for very long,” Janas said.
He looked back at the 3-V tank. The Federation warship had grown in size until it was no longer possible for anyone to fail to recognize it for what it was.
“Jarl,” Juan Kai, who had gone to the communications equipment, called from across the room.
“What is it?” Emmett yelled back.
“That warship’s radioing us,” Kai answered. “Do you want to answer?”
“Yes,” Emmett snapped.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Ask them want they want.” Emmett smiled briefly, ironically.
Franken had begun to stir. His eyes fluttered open and he looked up. He tried to speak but seemed to find that his jaw would not obey his brain.
“You can’t talk,” Janas said, “but you can listen. If you don’t sign that order now, this minute, I’m going to kill you.”
He leveled the .45 at Franken’s eyes and snapped off the safety.
Franken’s eyes sought his brother. Bilthor looked back at him, his face white, deflated, and he nodded. “Sign it, Al. For God’s sake sign it, or they’ll kill us all.”
Franken peered at Janas, a strange, unfamiliar expression in his eyes.
“Think whatever you like,” Janas said, advancing the pistol, “but by all that I love I’ll blow your brains out myself if you don’t sign that paper in thirty seconds.”
Kai had made contact with the Federation warship that now hung less than a kilometer above the Operations building. He channeled its commander’s words into the speakers that ringed the communications chamber:
“…at once. I am authorized by the Chairman to use thermonuclear weapons if you do not comply. You have exactly one minute to acknowledge or I shall do as I am authorized. I repeat…”
“Sign it,” Janas said coldly.
Altho Franken reached for the offered pen, took it in a shaking hand, and carefully wrote his name above his brother’s on the emergency priority corporate policy modification orders.
Jerking him to his feet, Janas half-carried him to the computer recognition booth. He shoved Franken’s face into a hood, where a scanning device recorded the patterns of his retinas and compared them with existing records. A light blinked green. A similar action was performed with his right thumb and a similar green acknowledgment appeared. Janas pulled Franken back, then pushed him away. The injured man fell to his knees and whimpered through his broken teeth.
Robert Janas felt a sickness in his stomach and asked himself if this were the kind of victory for which he had hoped. He bit his lip and moved aside so that another man could repeat the actions with Bilthor Franken.
Seconds—or was it hours?—later, a cry went up: “Accepted! The computer’s been programmed.”
Jarl Emmett quickly placed tape reels onto the computer players, fed the leaders across the playback heads and onto pickup reels. Then he depressed a button and the tapes began to spin.
“Tell the warship that we’re surrendering,” Janas called to Juan Kai. “Now!”
The engineer bent to his task, acknowledging the warship’s command, saying that they would come out unarmed and surrender to the Pinkers who encircled the building.
Jarl Emmett watched the computer’s boards for a few moments, then turned to Janas.
“It’s done, Bob,” he said slowly. “The computer has signaled Luna.”
Janas nodded, slowly turned, took an energy rifle from one of the Operations men who stood guarding the Franken brothers.
“Everyone stand clear,” he said, raising the rifle and aiming at the computer banks. “We’d better make sure that they don’t have the facilities for recalling those orders before the message capsules are launched.”
Electric flame shot across the room as the seventh-level energy beam tore into the diodes and ferrite cores, into the circuit modules and inductors—the computer screamed in the fury of its dying, but it died, quickly and terribly.
Robert Janas staggered out of the room, coughing with the acrid smoke, and boarded an undamaged elevator behind Jarl Emmett. A few moments later they reached the surface levels and crossed the Operations building main lobby. At the door they were met by the Pinkers who placed them under arrest.
Chapter XXVI
The uneasiness felt by the commander of the Solar Trading Company Patrol Ship Number 438 grew as the time for breaking out of Non-space approached. Within a few minutes his ship, along with the thirty-four other patrol ships and the two STG cruisers that now formed Battle Group IV, would return to normal space some one thousand diameters from Sol and then drive toward Earth, toward battle. But the PS 438’s commander had no desire to fight, at least not in this war, not against the rebels whom he knew had something of justice on their side. But fight he must, despite his fears and reservations, for he was a man loyal to his commitments.
Standing on the bridge of his small craft, the commander of STCPS 438 was one of the first men in Battle Group IV to know of the approach of the message capsule. A blip appeared on the laser-radar, a blip that had been preceded by less than a second by a coded radio signal, broadcast widely, powerfully through Non-space. The signal was a high priority STC contact code.
Recognizing the code PS 438’s computer replied, sending out another coded signal, one that was the proper reply to the capsule’s broadcast. Since the PS 438’s reply preceded that of its companions by a sizable fraction of a second, the capsule homed in toward that ship.
A tractor beam captured the capsule when it was within range and pulled it to the patrol craft, while the capsule’s computer disarmed its destruct mechanism. Within five minutes of its detection the tape from the message capsule was brought to the commander of the PS 438. He placed the tape on a playback unit, depressed the operating switch.
“Pursuant to Executive Orders 91827-4738, dated this date, October 12, 979 FE, signed by Altho Franken, President, Bilthor Franken, Vice President Operations, Operations Division HQ, STC Central, Flagstaff Complex Division, North America (see addendum), all Solar Trading Company craft now en route to the vicinity of Earth charged with aiding the forces of the Terran Federation under Executive Orders 91807-4734, dated October 8, 979 FE, are hereby released from those orders, repeat, released from those orders, and are directed to return to their bases of origin where possible. No action will be taken to aid the Terran Federation in any way outside of normal trading as specified in Solar Trading Company Regulations, Volume One, Section VI, nor to aid the forces in rebellion to it. Orders concerning further disposition of Solar Trading Company craft and personnel will be forthcoming. Signed, Jarl Emmett, Operations Supervisor, Operations Division, STC Central, Flagstaff Complex Division, North America.”
There followed a complete text of the Executive Orders referred to in the message. The commander of PS 438 did not play them. It wasn’t necessary.
The information was relayed to the other ships that composed Battle Group IV, and by the very nature of the orders, Battle Group IV ceased to exist.
The commander of PS 438 ordered his ship to make a 180° turn, swing back and accelerate toward the Rim. They would go back to Loki, it they could, and await the outcome of the war. He sighed with relief and wondered why Altho Franken had changed his mind.
*
Later, much later, military experts reviewing the last battle of the Great Rebellion, or the Collapse, as it c
ame to be called, said that the intervention of the Solar Trading Company would have had little real effect on the outcome of the Battle of Earth. The forces and military tactics of the Alliance of Independent Worlds had been too superior to what was left of the Terran Federation’s defenses.
When the rebels swept toward Earth, driving before them the remnants of the Federation armada, a maser signal was transmitted from the Solar Trading Company Central Operations Division, near Flagstaff, North America. The signal was received by the STC Lunar Complex and fed into the main computer there. The master computer on Luna digested the information, determined that emergency corporate policy modifications were in effect, determined that orders implementing those modifications were valid, and set out to fulfill those orders. Within seconds of reception of that original intelligence, one of the most powerful maser transmitters in the Solar System was recalling all Solar Trading Company ships within range of its signals. At the same time Non-space message capsules were prepared, carried high above the plane of the ecliptic, out to a distance equal to the orbit of Saturn, pushed through Jump Units into Non-space, and sent toward the probable positions of the STC ships coming to the aid of the Federation. The message capsules found most of them—and they turned back, most of them, and did not join in the defense of the Federation’s capital.
When the rebel fleet swept into the Solar System, they found little resistance outside the orbit of Mars. The Federation had drawn back and had mounted their first line of defense only twelve million kilometers from Earth. The rebels brushed through the pickets, met the Federation’s defense line, and this, the last battle, was on.
The commanders of the Federation forces had not anticipated holding the first or even the second line of defense. Their plan had been to delay the arrival of the rebels to Luna’s orbit and there launch their real counteroffensive. The plan did not work; the Alliance refused to be delayed; the Federation was not ready when the rebels reached Luna, swept down across her surface, blasting the Federation strongholds, smashing the ships and men who were there to stop them. A portion of the ring wall surrounding Copernicus Crater was destroyed by a thermonuclear fireball whose ground zero point was the Federation Outpost in that crater. Along with Federation installations, the STC Lunar Complex received major, though “accidental” damage, making it impossible for further messages to be sent to the Solar Trading Company ships that had now turned their backs on the Federation.
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