The Orion Plague (11 page)

Heppner manifested a blade from somewhere but
Stone waved it off. “I won’t need that. I’ll break you with my
hands, bitch.”

Jill took a breath and shuffled forward.
Stone dropped into a wrestler’s stance, his long arms low, pawing
and twitching slightly. Jill held her knife in her right hand tight
to her body, with a killer’s grip. Her left fist stayed closed and
up to block.

She remembered Spooky’s classes on blade
work. He’d said, “Knife fighting is bollocks. I’m not teaching you
to knife fight. I’m teaching you to win. That way when you run up
against a knife fighter, you’ll put him down like a dog.”

This was different, though. She had to make
sure she didn’t kill Stone if she wanted information, and he was
twice as large, three times as strong, and outweighed her by more
than a hundred pounds.

So this was going to hurt. She just wasn’t
sure whom.

Probably both.

Stone came out away from the wall, and the US
troops fell back in a rough circle, weapons pointed in and down.
His face was drawn in a tight smile, concentration in his eyes. He
focused through her chest, and by that she knew he was a skilled
opponent.
Only amateurs look at the eyes.

She feinted a couple of times to test him,
then began a disarming sequence Spooky had taught her. Only Stone
had no weapon, so instead of binding up her enemy’s knife, she drew
the razor-sharp blade along the inside of his elbow as her left arm
locked around his right. Blood spurted and his severed tendons
pulled back inside his muscles. Eden Plague or not, he would need a
medic to reattach them.

The price she paid was his knuckles in her
face, reminiscent of the time he had hit her before. It felt like a
mule kicked her.

She had hoped and planned for this, that he
liked to strike, liked to cause pain rather than being smart and
trying to lock her joints up and use his superior strength to break
her bones or go for a submission choke.

Her skull rocked twice with his blows and she
had to let go, spinning away, shaking her head to clear the blood
from her eyes. He was on her instantly, striking at her backhand
then forehand with a roar of anger.

Her arms came up to block the blows,
nauseated from the first strikes.
Concussion…can’t go out.
Scrabbling sideways toward his weakened right, she made him come
after her, turning to keep his injured arm back.
His instincts
betray him; he isn’t used to the blade. Better for him if he used
the injured arm as a shield instead of leading with the good
one.
She kept blocking, waiting for her vision to clear, taking
the bruises he dished out on her arms, stinging him with the knife
when she could, timing his swings.

Then she shot under his hands to bury her
blade in his abdomen.

His huge arm came down between her shoulder
blades and slammed her to the floor, but she was already driving
forward with her legs like a football lineman, forcing the knife
deep into his guts, so deep the handle could barely be seen.

He clutched at the hilt and tried to draw it
out but couldn’t get a grip as his legs turned to water and he fell
to his knees. Spinning onto her back, she kicked him across his
face, then used the momentum to roll to her feet. Bouncing on her
toes as if at a boxing match, she gasped, “Had enough there,
blondie?”

Stone tried to put his right hand down to
brace himself but he forgot that he had no tendons in his elbow,
and he fell over on his face. Rolling over onto his back, he held
up his one good hand. “All right. You win. Just get this pigsticker
out of me.”

“Allow me,” Lieutenant Heppner said, stepping
past Jill and pulling his gloves back on. “Try not to move, sir.
This might sting a bit.” He grasped the bit of the hilt still
showing with his fingertips and wiggled.

Stone grunted, then roared as the commando
got a grip. Slowly he pulled the knife out, and then wiped it on
the wounded man’s khakis. “You’ll be fine, sir,” Heppner said as he
squatted and looked the wrestler in the eyes. “And if you think
getting your ass kicked by a girl was fun…try me. Please.” He
stared at Stone until he was satisfied with the defeat in his eyes,
then stood up. “Now I believe the lady wants to ask you a few
questions.”

Jill cuffed him just in case, and he started
talking. He talked for a while. Lockerbie took notes.

Brigadier Tran Pham “Spooky” Nguyen finally
felt comfortable in this tenth weekly meeting of the secret
Committee of Nine, the shadow government of Australia that
controlled the true strings of power.

He had become an accepted and respected part
of the Nine, all the more so because of the disappearance of one of
his recent challengers. Despite the lack of any hint of proof, he
had let it be known that in this case, “disappearance” meant a
horrible death. Because death terrified every man and woman at that
long oval table, every day.

Everyone but one.

The untimely termination of their
potential immortality seems to them ever more frightening
,
Nguyen thought.
The more they have to lose, the more they have
to fear. The antidote to such an attitude is that of warriors from
antiquity: like Musashi, I count myself already dead. Every new day
is a gift from the gods.

I simply refuse to fear.

Ariadne Smythe called the meeting to order
and Nguyen divided his mind. One part listened to the routine
business while the other carefully watched his colleagues for
anything useful. Like a master poker player, he constantly
evaluated their mental states, their strengths or weaknesses, their
needs and desires.

His eyes rested briefly on Under-Minister of
Research James Ekara. Smythe had procured him the official title, a
favor to be exchanged later. Nguyen was not worried. Spooky had a
much stronger hold, a much more powerful
relationship
with
the dapper half-aborigine. As the secret supplier of Ekara’s
pleasure, Nguyen held the whip hand.

Unlawful chemicals and pharmacologicals were
the least of his leverages. Those were simple to obtain, and the
Eden virus fended off physical addictions as effectively as
disease. Sex and infatuation were much more effective, and the
secret brothel staffed with carefully-selected deviants gave him
levers to move anyone foolish or weak enough to accept its
services.

Like Ekara
.

But I’ve never had to threaten or push him.
He swallows the hook with the bait and a gentle tug is all I need
to lead him where I wish him to go. Thus I effectively control both
Direct Action and Research and Development.

Nguyen’s attention focused when one of
Ekara’s experts made his daily report on the Plague situation.
Displaying his ever-present PowerPoint charts, the analyst reported
the statistics of horror. “The current estimates stand as follows:”
he concluded, “Fifty-eight percent of humanity is now infected by
Eden Plague. Twenty-two percent are functional Demon Plague One
infectees; seven percent have Demon Plague Two. Both of those
numbers are dropping steadily except in Russia and parts of Central
Asia. The remaining thirteen percent is uninfected. Note that these
percentages reflect only live human beings, and change daily
according to Reaper Plague deaths, which presently stand at
something over one point five billion.”

“And of Australians?” Smythe snapped. “Get on
with it.”

“Yes, ma’am. Current population stands at
approximately thirty-five million, of which ninety-three percent
are Edens or Outliers.” That was the polite term they had come up
with for Psychos. “Six percent are normals, as government policies
have recently been adjusted to stabilize this number, to ensure an
adequate research pool. The remaining one percent or less
represents small outbreaks of the various alien plagues, but the
Health Service has been effective in quick containment.” At a nod
from Smythe, the man sat down with a pleased expression.

“Excellent circumstances indeed. The Plagues
have barely affected us, because of the wise leadership of this
Committee. Australia is truly a leader in the Free Communities,”
Smythe declared smugly, “rivaled only by South Africa. Not that
there is any
actual
rivalry. We are all friends in the FC,
under the illustrious Chairman Markis.” The rest of the table
chuckled at her heavy-handed joke, and went on with its routine
business.

When his turn came to speak, Nguyen bowed his
head humbly. “Thank you, Madame Chairman.” While she technically
denied the title, he knew it pleased her nonetheless. He made it
sound as if she was co-equal with Markis.

Another lever.

“I would like to report a modest success. My
technicians have succeeded in modifying the US-supplied
nanovaccine, which is compatible with the Eden Plague, to provide a
human performance boost of ten to twenty percent. Once testing is
complete, in perhaps two months, we should be able to distribute
the update to all of our combat forces.”

Mathilde Van Berson spoke up suspiciously.
“Are there any side effects or disadvantages?”

He responded blandly to the wealthy transport
magnate, “We will not release anything with
serious
side
effects. A mild and probably inevitable effect will be increased
caloric intake. The nanobots must have energy, and they are
parasitic upon the body’s resources. Another issue is that the
modification cannot at this time be made permanent. It will fade as
the reprogrammed nanobots fail and are replaced by the basic
models.”
And will keep users dependent on Direct Action for
periodic infusions.

She grunted. “How much increased intake?
Won’t that complicate our logistics?” Her adipose jowls and neck
quivered as she shook her head in disapproval.

How much must you eat to overcome the
desperate ministrations of your virus and sustain that obesity
,
he wondered.
And how ironic it is for you to quibble about the
troops’ need for food to sustain that which makes them
effective.
“We believe the cost-benefit analysis will prove
favorable.” He left it at that.
Sometimes an argument simply
draws attention, and opposition.

Smythe nodded and moved on to the next piece
of business. Nguyen put his mind on autopilot until Ekara made his
report regarding the
Orion
, the space warship he had
proposed scant months ago.

The R&D minister began, “As you may have
gathered from the media, the Orion effort is proceeding ahead of
schedule. The countries of the world have been surprisingly
forthcoming with resources and personnel.”

Personnel
are
resources
, thought Nguyen with hidden amusement.
That is
why I will always control you, James.

Ekara went on, “We have chosen from among
basic plans offered, and have selected a ten-million-ton design.”
He smiled as those who understood the numbers gasped. “A hundred
times as heavy as an aircraft carrier, and it will fly into space.
And it will be simple, though not easy. Controlled thermonuclear
explosions will power it. It is so big because all our eggs are in
one basket, and we will achieve economies of scale. It will have
every weapon we can devise aboard, and further ships of its class
will follow in mere months.”

Nguyen was impressed in spite of himself.
Even he had not thought on such a grand scale. “How soon will
this…space battleship be ready?”

“With weeks to spare, if we are on schedule.
Perhaps sooner.”

Smythe spoke up. “And can this monstrosity do
the job? Can we beat the Meme ship that’s on its way?”

Nguyen saw Ekara prepare to waffle so he
spoke up, saving his colleague the difficulty. “I have obtained
reports from Daniel Markis’ own intelligence files that indicate,
though vaguely, that the Meme scout ship is, perhaps, the size of a
naval frigate. One or two thousand tons.”

Van Berson replied grumpily. “So aren’t we
overdoing things just a bit? Sending an elephant to stomp a
gnat?”

Funny you should speak of elephants
,
Nguyen thought to himself. He stood up, placing his knuckles on the
table. “Raphael’s small spaceship travelled easily within our solar
system, something humans have been unable to do up to now. Even
that little craft possesses technologies far beyond ours, and from
observations, its drive system is six or seven times as efficient
than even our thermonuclear drive will be. If Meme weapons systems
are equally effective, the contest between our representative
champion vessels may look something like a bullfighter versus a
rhinoceros – and we are the latter. We will need the enormous
weight and ability to take punishment to offset their speed and
advanced weapons. There are so many unanswered questions that we
simply cannot make an accurate prediction. While I am not in
charge, I am perhaps the most experienced military person here, and
I for one would want our one throw of the dice to be heavily
weighted in our favor.”

He stared at Van Berson for a moment, until
her eyes fell. “There is no question of efficiency, only
effectiveness. We must be profligate. We must install our best
weapons on our best ship with our best personnel in charge using
our last drops of blood and treasure. We must expend and keep
expending to ensure the survival of Earth, and thus of ourselves.
And one more thing. Something even more dangerous may be coming
behind this scout ship.” He sat down to a ringing silence. That was
all right, he had not expected applause.

Even so, Ekara’s eyes admired him, which was
gratifying
. Happily, I am not homosexually inclined
, Nguyen
thought.
It’s also good I have distractions for him, that I may
avoid any need to pretend.
After the meeting he pulled Ekara
aside and handed him a read-once flash stick.