The plan worked exactly as he anticipated.
Two years earlier, three massive colony pods were constructed in secret, financed with money from the Covert Operations "slush fund."
And while Chairman Yang's best troops were busy putting an abrupt end to General Cho's rebellion, those three pods were manned, fueled, and brought to life like great, lumbering beasts.
Transport planes were commandeered in no less than eight Hivean bases, and Ashaandi's followers were shuffled onto them and flown to one of three departure points. From there, they were loaded onto the main colony vessels, or in any number of convoy vehicles accompanying them.
While the civilians were being moved out, the operatives in place at every Hivean base took care to disable communications and military navigational systems, ensuring that bases could not communicate with each other, and effectively grounding the war planes not already in the air (and the ones currently in the air were all occupied with General Cho anyway, and now flying by "dead reckoning" as well, which was undoubtedly making things both messy and amusing).
Simultaneously, the two divisions of troops loyal to his cause, along with the entire Internal Security Force then sprang into action using a list drawn up by Ashaandi himself. The names of people in key positions all over the Hive. The troops descended on the homes of those people, and they were given a simple choice….join or die.
Many joined, some died, and some could not be located. That bothered the assassin, for it hinted that perhaps his abrupt departure was not as complete a surprise as he thought, but there was no time to dwell on it. Plans were in motion and there was no going back now.
The troops had exactly two hours to find as many people on the list as they could, and then they too boarded transports (with their "charges" in tow) bound for one of the three departure points.
In all, the exquisitely planned operation took eleven hours to complete. Eleven hours, and an astounding forty-five thousand-odd people were spirited to the fringes of Hivean territory, ready to strike out on their own.
Harrand Ashaandi stood on the observation platform of his mobile command center and surveyed the progress of his followers. Order was being strictly kept by virtue of the presence of his columns of armed troops, and more subtly by the less conspicuous and all-the-more terrifying presence of his black-clad ISF troopers, who flitted constantly on the fringes of the crowd, watching for even the slightest hint of disobedience or dissention.
One key advantage though, was the fact that Yang's followers were a highly disciplined people. Give them a strong leader, and they would comply for the most part. Oh, certainly there would be a rabble-rouser here and there, but his troops stood ready to bring swift, terrible justice to anyone who even appeared vaguely interested in causing trouble. Still, the fact that they were able to carry out such a massive operation in so few hours was a proud tribute to the discipline and character of the former Hivean citizens, and Ashaandi found himself nearly bursting with pride.
Former Hivean citizens. His people.
The madness danced once more behind his violet eyes, and he held his arms skyward, peering into the heavens. "I am a god." He said to the night, and the fungal stalks nearby seemed to rustle as he spoke. Whether it was a sign of agreement, or Planet recoiling from him in disgust he wasn't sure and didn't care. He had read a great many of Lady Skye's essays on the topic of Chiron, and although most people wrote her off as being a "tree-crazy witch" he found the work to be insightful and wise. Planet was alive, and the signs were everywhere for those who opened themselves up to it.
He scanned the horizon, eyes fixing on a patch of fungus. "Don't cross me." He told the stalks in a quiet, sinister tone. "I don't want to fight you but I am not afraid. Cross me and I'll bring you down."
He could have sworn he heard the stalks rustling again, and it amused him to imagine them trembling in fear.
Fear of him.
The god of pleasure and pain. Release and death.
He held his hand up, fingers in the likeness of a gun and pointed it at the fungal barrier in the distance.
"Bang." He said more loudly than he had intended, and then blew imaginary smoke from his fingertips.
OoO
They made good time, considering the bulky nature of the equipment with them, and vast number of people involved. He wasn't sure who had arranged it, but apparently one of his more forward thinking operatives had seen to it that a pair of Terraformers got requisitioned to make the trip with them, along with at least three Supply Crawlers. Borderline psychotic or not, there was no denying their talent, and it made him swell with pride.
He thumbed the conference button on the portable comm console in his command center, and in seconds, all six of his subordinates had reported in and were standing by.
"Well done so far." He told them. "We're safely across the border and there have been no signs of pursuit, but we can't expect that to hold."
He punched a few more buttons, and a topographical map of the terrain they were moving through came up on the screen holographically. He rotated it and used a pin-light laser pointer to show their current position. "I figure if we strike north west from here, we can skirt the edges of Spartan territory and buy a measure of safety from Yang."
"Violate Spartan borders?" Sand asked, eyebrows raised.
Ashaandi only smiled in response. "You forget, Brother Sand….we are no longer members of Chairman Yang's Human Hive, but representatives of an entirely new faction….the Circle of Ashaandi. We have no formal diplomatic status with the Spartans as yet, and if stopped and questioned, we'll tell them we are precisely that….a diplomatic envoy. And….considering the current lack of love and trust between the Spartans and the Hive, I think that using them as something of a shield will prevent the good Chairman from making too many hostile moves in our direction."
"Or, it could bring both the Spartans and the Hive down on our backs." Angel said with a sneer. "Great thinking, Ashaandi….just great."
His eyes narrowed as he glared at her and lashed out with a moderate dose of Psi energy. In a moment she bowed her head and put a delicate, ivory hand up to wipe the blood from her nose. The fight and defiance gone from her entirely.
"Just pointing out another possibility." She mumbled weakly, still not looking at the view screen.
"Much better, my beautiful pet." He said in response. "Demure suits you well."
No one said a word, or even as much as breathed for a long moment, and two of his makeshift cabinet jumped when he clapped his hands sharply, bringing the impromptu meeting back into focus.
"Now….as I was saying….the plan is to use Spartan territory as a shield to blunt any attempt by Yang to strike at us, pleading for diplomatic immunity as an independent faction should the Spartan military come calling. A few days should put us north of Spartan territory, in an area toward the polar region which has not yet been claimed or colonized."
"Intelligence reports that the area in question will support approximately eight bases, and give us a border with the Spartan Federation of approximately 1140 kilometers." Malachai intoned in his deep, gravelly voice.
"Indeed and again, considering that there's no love lost between our former masters and the Spartans, I think we could thrive there simply by playing one against the other….plus, there's always the sea. Long term, I see us ringing the entire continent with sea bases and choking the life out of both of them."
Again, total silence. They had not even gotten to their proposed new homeland, and their leader was already thinking in terms of conquest. No one was brave enough to mention the fact that there were no guarantees that they would survive the trip, let alone convince the Spartans to give up any future ambitions they might have toward colonizing the northern portion of the continent they shared with Chairman Yang. And despite having been harshly silenced, the fact was that Angel had a point. Santiago was somewhat unpredictable at times, and the Spartan military was fearsome indeed. The two divisions they had under their command were loyal and highly trained, but if it came to a stand-up fight, there was little doubt about what the outcome would be. The Spartan military could crush them like insects without even breaking a sweat.
Needless to say, there was an electric undercurrent running through the remainder of the meeting, but a great many things went unsaid. Angel could get away with more than anyone else in the circle, and she had been brutally silenced, so no one else even dared speak, unless it was to agree completely with their leader.
The meeting ended as soon as Ashaandi had made his intentions and plans known, but as soon as the comm-link was terminated and the last of the images faded out, he ran tired fingers through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh.
Something was….not right.
There were problems, and he could not see quite make out what they were. First, there was the mysterious and timely disappearance of some of the people on his list. People that were simply nowhere to be found when his troops had come to pick them up.
That spoke volumes, and he did not particularly like what it said.
Mole.
The word floated in his mind's eye. Taunting him.
Challenging him to think further along those lines. Daring him to accuse or even suspect one of his Inner Circle leaders of being a traitor.
It was unthinkable.
They alternately feared and revered him, which made them incapable of betrayal….didn't it?
Suddenly, he wasn't so sure.
But it was more than just that, it was….well, truthfully, he didn't know what it was….couldn't quite put it into words.
On the one hand, he was very glad that his minions and underlings were terrified of him. That made them easier to control, but this….habit of constantly lashing out at those close to him for offering up a different or dissenting opinion….it was destructive.
He made it a point to watch that more closely in the future so as not to stifle creative thinking in his group. In the absence of brute strength (and they clearly did not have that) they'd need a healthy dose of creative thinking if they were to survive.
Carefully then.
He nodded to himself, satisfied.
OoO
First Night
Twenty miles inside Spartan territory they stopped for the night. The command vehicles of his subordinates were arranged in a roughly circular pattern around his own vehicle, with the support personnel arrayed in a circle around that, and the troops serving as pickets and look-outs on the periphery. An even dozen hand picked ISF troopers served as Ashaandi's personal guard, and each of his subordinates hand picked half that number to serve as their personal guard.
Thus, when Ashaandi went to sleep that first night, it was deep and restful. The slumber of a completely confident man. The sheer size of their encampment, with him tucked safely at the core, personal guards lurking about just outside, and his own Psi-awareness to warn him in advance of approaching trouble.
By any reckoning, the camp was a mobile, impenetrable fortress, and Ashaandi had no difficulty drifting off to sleep despite the fact that he had just betrayed one of the most powerful factions on Chiron.
OoO
Hours Later
He awoke with a start, and looked frantically around the chamber.
Silence and shadow greeted him, and he swallowed hard.
It hadn't been his imagination….something had been there….in the room with him! He was sure of it. He was….
Not quite trusting his night senses, he flipped on the lamp beside his bed and scanned the room carefully.
Nothing.
Reached out to flip the lamp back off, fingers only inches from the switch when he heard it again.
A faint clinking sound coming from the far end of the command vehicle. The living quarters.
His eyes narrowed hatefully.
How dare one of his guards take such liberties as to come into his living quarters!
Rising from the bed and taking absolutely no notice of his nakedness, he strode from the room intent on boiling some unfortunate soul's brains out.
The sight that greeted his eyes, however, took him completely by surprise, and suddenly the most deadly assassin Chiron had ever known found himself stark naked in his own command vehicle, staring at someone who shouldn't have been there….couldn't have been there, but was there nonetheless.
His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came to mind for a long moment.
He stared silently….hatefully.
The person across the room from him stared back, trying hard to suppress a grin, apparently unfazed by the danger Ashaandi represented.
(to be continued….)
Hologram….it has to be. He told himself as he regarded the vaguely amused expression on Chairman Yang's face. Which means trap….
Before the thought had even fully formed in his mind, a pair of strong arms grabbed him from behind and he found himself in a vice-like headlock, a thin, cold steel blade gently pressed against his spine.
He groaned inwardly, furious with himself for having been taken so easily, and lashed out with a blast of Psi energy, intent on turning his as yet unseen opponent into a drooling vegetable.
He felt a curious resistance and flinched in recognition. His assailant was wearing a Feedback Emitter, which not only blocked Psi Energies, but it also….
As if keeping pace with his thoughts, the sense of resistance increased, and then the flow of Psi energy reversed itself and began heading back toward its point of origin. Ashaandi braced for what was next, but there was no time to mount more than a token mental defense. Twice back to back, he had been taken by surprise.
The wave of energy blasted through his still-forming defenses and he hissed in pain, refusing to cry out lest he let his assailant know how bad it hurt. Also, he made a quick mental note not to try that again.
"Who are you? Who sent you?" He demanded, although his voice was somewhat muffled, being that he was in a smothering headlock.
He got a thickly accented chuckle in response. "It would appear that you are in a poor position to be making demands." Another chuckle. "So….this is the great Harrand Ashaandi everyone's so afraid of."
The man loosed his grip and Ashaandi spun around to face whomever it was who had gotten the better of him.
The real person before him was only slightly less of a surprise than the holo of Yang.
"The elusive General Honshu." He said in amazement. Despite the fact that none of his operatives had ever been able to obtain a photograph of him, he recognized him at once from the detailed verbal description Sand had given him two years ago….the one and only time one of his agents had even gotten close.
The man before him nodded slightly, as Ashaandi sized him up.
One question was answered right off by looking at the clothes the General was wearing. A one-piece camouflage jumper. Computer controlled, it could mimic almost any color or texture, block body heat, and so forth. Very handy, but that was the only thing about the man before him that "fit" with the situation at hand. He was a smallish, wiry fellow, with a blending of features both middle-eastern and oriental. Delicate bone structure, honey-brown skin tone, thick curly hair and a full moustache, both jet-black. Piercing brown eyes. Somewhat menacing yes, but certainly not the sort of person you'd expect to see sneaking into an Assassin's den and succeeding at getting to their leader, and certainly not the sort you'd expect to see overpowering anyone….he just didn't have the physique for it, but there it was just the same.
"How did you…." Ashaandi began.
"My apologies in advance, but you'll find two of your guards dead. A good bunch, at least the ones wearing black pajamas. The regular troops were easy to slip past, but the Men In Black certainly lived up to their reputation. Stayed together, stayed alert….the only way past them was a blitz, and two of them died."
Ashaandi shook his head, dismissing the deaths but still amazed that this little runt of a man had managed to do it. "What do you…."
Again, Honshu cut him off. "Want?" He smiled. "We want to know what the Hell a large, somewhat motley collection of Hivean forces are doing inside Spartan borders."
The assassin glared at him. "Hold that thought a second." He said harshly. "Let's get one thing out of the way right now….do not cut me off again." It was clear that the man had no breeding and even less good sense, cutting him off in mid-sentence as though he were some commoner.
The swarthy man before him clicked his tongue mockingly. "What's the matter? Did the spoiled little rich boy get his feathers ruffled?"
Ashaandi roared in pure hatred and lunged at the wiry little man before him. The nerve! He had more than half a mind to….
Suddenly, the man he was attempting to grapple with was no longer occupying the same space he had been a fraction of a second before, and Ashaandi found himself oddly off balance, and then tumbling roughly to the floor.
Nobody can be that fast! He thought in frustration as he started to pick himself up off the floor. This was not working out according to plan. The man shouldn't even be here, and he certainly shouldn't be able to one-up even the least member of his circle of assassins, much less its leader! Suddenly, an unfamiliar feeling washed over Ashaandi….the gentle tickle of a tendril of fear. Not only had this man, this….stupid, wiry jar-head of a Spartan soldier slipped past his hand-picked guards, but he was also clearly superior in hand-to-hand combat.
Ahhh, but that was the rub, wasn't it? Ashaandi, for all his skill at assassination, rarely had to call on martial prowess at all. One quick strike at the unsuspecting target, and it was all over. There simply was no retaliation to worry about. But this…this was new.
Different.
Terrifying to him.
The tendril of fear tickled his belly again, and his hatred for the General burned higher and higher, until it was all but blinding.
I'll kill him….I swear on both of Chiron's suns I'll kill this cocky bastard if it's the last thing I do! He thought as he continued to pick himself up off the floor.
His upward progress was halted by a black leather boot, planted firmly at the base of his neck, forcing him back to the floor.
"Sorry," the Spartan General told him, clearly enjoying himself. "I don't dance with naked men."
He waited until Ashaandi stopped squirming, and then continued. "I have a proposal to make….why don't you go put some clothes on and we shall begin again. Perhaps have a proper conversation this time?"
No response, so Honshu pressed his boot a bit harder against Ashaandi's neck. "It should be clear to you that I could have killed you at least twice already, and my patience is wearing thin. Kindly nod if you accept my proposal."
After a pregnant pause, the assassin nodded, and Honshu let him up.
Retreating back into his bed chamber, he donned a robe, and then returned to his living quarters to find the General reclined back in his chair, feet propped unceremoniously up on a hand-crafted table that probably cost more than Honshu made in an entire year.
Wordlessly he swept the smaller man's feet off the table. "And that's my chair." He said with authority.
Honshu nodded. "Very comfortable. Thank you."
When it was clear that he wasn't moving, Ashaandi reluctantly moved off to the other chair in the small room, glaring the entire time. Never in his life had anyone gotten so totally under his skin! The man was infuriating! Apparently capable of sending him into a blind rage which tossed all sense of logic and reason right out the window.
That wasn't like him at all, he realized, and tried to compose himself.
In with the good, out with the bad…deep breaths.
Honshu waited patiently, watching him closely with a half-amused expression that threatened to ignite his rage all over again. Only the tickle of fear in his gut kept the rage at bay.
When he was calm, Honshu spoke. "You no doubt have questions? In the spirit of fairness and goodwill, I will answer yours first. How would that be?"
Ashaandi nodded, suddenly unsure where to begin. He sighed heavily and shook his head. "Okay….for starters, how did you zero in on us so quickly? And how did you get into the heart of my camp? Past all my guards?"
The General let loose a full-blown belly laugh and shook his head. "Find you? Find you?? How could we avoid finding you? You're traveling through a heavily patrolled border region with not one, but three colony pods, two full divisions of troops, a whole host of support personnel, and God-knows how much heavy equipment. All that, and you're actually surprised we found you quickly? What, do you actually believe Chairman Yang's propaganda that we are woefully unprepared for battle? You think we're napping over here on our side of the border?"
Ashaandi's brooding silence was answer enough, so he continued. "As to the other part….chalk it up to Spartan training and a lifetime of experience." He thumped his chest to add accent to his point. "And I take it by the look on your face that you're now thinking your own faction's military training might not be quite up to par?"
His violet eyes narrowed, but he kept control of his temper this time. "Former Hive troops and citizens."
"Defectors….perhaps seeking asylum inside the Spartan Federation?"
"Not exactly, no."
"On the run then?"
"Yes."
"Ahhhh." The General said, as though that cleared everything right up. "So you're….what? Out sight-seeing?"
"We're escaping….I'm leading these people off to unsettled territory to start fresh. A new faction entirely."
"Then perhaps we should take this opportunity to discuss your group's diplomatic status with us? I'm fully authorized to hold such talks with you, if you're interested."
"For now, all we want is safe passage through your lands to the unclaimed territory north of the Spartan border."
"And what makes you think that we're not interested in eventually colonizing that region ourselves?"
"I didn't come empty handed. We made off with the full body of Yang's proprietary research. Perhaps there's something in the datafiles which might be of interest."
"What are you offering, exactly?"
"Detailed files on the Mind-Machine Interface that Hivean scientists have been working on for the past ten years. Construction plans for the assault chopper the Chairman plans to use against you in his coming attack of Spartan bases, and blueprints for the as yet theoretical Cyborg Factory and Cloudbase Academy that Yang has on the drawing board."
The General considered for a long moment, but was clearly impressed with the offer. "I'll need to call a conference of Junta leaders to discuss the details, but based on the strength of your offer, I give you tentative approval here and now, and a grant of safe passage through Spartan Territory along a route set by me. Deviate from the route, and it will be seen as an act of aggression, and dealt with accordingly."
The assassin nodded. "That sounds reasonable to me."
"Excellent. Then I shall transmit the route you are to take before sunrise."
Silence ruled the room for a long moment, and Honshu leaned across the space separating him from Ashaandi. His voice was barely more than a whisper. "Let me be plain with you….I don't really care what you did or why you ran away….just know that if you intend to stir up any trouble here, I'll personally lead the attack against this little traveling circus of yours and make sure that none of you leave this place alive."
Having calmed down considerably, Ashaandi was much more clear-headed, and could not resist playing the game. He smiled his most vicious smile as he matched the same whispered tone as Honshu. "General….I now know how you were able to resist my Psi-attack. In fact, I helped test the Feedback Emitter you're wearing right now, or a model very like it….now, I have no idea where you got one, but I do know that they can only be worn for a limited time before they must be removed for re-calibration."
He paused to let that sink in.
"I'd be very careful about just when and where I removed it General….very careful indeed."
"I'll keep that in mind." Honshu said with a grin. "But perhaps before you get too wrapped up in making threats, you should remember just how easily I slipped into your dreams….right past all that security you were so proud of…..Had our situations been reversed, I doubt you would have found your way to me quite so effortlessly."
Before Ashaandi could respond, General Honshu patted him on the head like a lap dog and stood to go. "It goes against my better judgment, but I like you Ashaandi. If that hot head and moon-sized ego doesn't get you killed, I think things will be a lot more interesting with you around."
The assassin flushed crimson in his rage and opened his mouth to speak, but Honshu cut him off again (intentionally, he realized, which only added more fuel to his rage). "See….there it goes again….that nasty temper of yours. It made you a lot easier to beat, you know. Control, Ashaandi….control. That's the name of the game. Live it. Learn it. One day, your life may depend on it.
He reached the door and turned, pointed to his own eyes, and then to the assassin. One final grin, accompanied by an almost conspiratorial wink, and General Honshu of the Spartan Federation disappeared in the night.
Ashaandi tried, but failed to fight off the shiver building up in him.
Humiliated.
Utterly and completely humiliated….and by a Spartan, no less!
His face still flushed, he buried his head in his hands for several long moments.
Not only that, but Honshu was right, he realized.
On many, if not all counts.
The General could have killed him easily. that was food for thought, and he mentally chewed on it awhile.
Now separated from the Hive, he suddenly realized how much more vulnerable he truly was. No longer was the massive industrial might and raw manpower of Yang's faction at his disposal. He was on his own….exposed.
Vulnerable.
Given his precarious position, an expression of outrage at the wrong moment could get him killed. An outburst of any kind could set his plans back years.
Carefully then, oh yes. Very carefully indeed from here on.
Honshu had, infuriating as he was and as short as their meeting was, taught him a great many things. "And one day, I will return the favor General….I promise you that." He whispered to the now empty room.
He did not sleep for the rest of the night. Too much to think about…too much to worry about.
And when he called his staff together the next morning, he was much more subdued than he had been the day before. His cabinet members voiced their opinions and did not get blasted for it (literally, as Angel knew firsthand). He was cautious, and twice he even bordered on being courteous to those reporting to him.
It was a remarkable change, and the camp was all abuzz for the entire second day.
He was, of course, still Harrand Ashaandi. Greatly feared by those who followed him, and that fear, combined with the ever-present, ever-watchful ISF troopers kept dissention at absolute zero.
The sun was rising on a new faction. A faction unlike any other. Its followers not bound together by a common sense of ideology, but solely on the strength of one man's eerily magnetic personality and his unyielding ambition. A group held together by fear and the promise of vast personal gain by proving oneself useful to the leader.
He had no plans for building a utopian society, and no interest in running a corporate empire, or spending his precious time and energy preaching the virtues of a kind-hearted God, a sentient planet, or the UN Charter for that matter. His only goal was to build an empire centered around himself and his personal desires. Any who helped him achieve that goal would be lavishly rewarded. Any who got in the way would be removed in the most painful way he could imagine.
And despite last night's humiliation (which he never mentioned to any of his cabinet), he was now several steps closer to achieving his goals.
The eerie light which sometimes burned in Ashaandi's eyes glowed fiercely as his minions sorted themselves out and slowly got underway.
(to be continued….)