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Cloaking technology? asked the colonel.
Despite himself, Mike said, At this scale?
Working. A huge pause, as deep as a canyon. Negative. It appears that they
are surrounding themselves with some form of subwarp field. They are
retreating.
As Mike watched, more of the ships began to flash and vanish. The great
carriers and their brood of smaller ships, the lesser golden vessels, all
vanished like fey spirits with the coming of dawn.
Fey spirits that can burn a planet down to its molten core, Mike reminded
himself.
The colonel allowed himself a smile. Good. They re afraid of us. Have all
stations stand down, but remain alert for a trick.
Mike shook his head. This makes no sense. They have the power to toast a
planet. Why are they afraid of us?
Obvious, said the colonel. They re spent. They don t have enough force to
engage us.
We re only one ship. Mike shook his head angrily. There were dozens out
there.
They fear possible reinforcements.
No, no. Something s going on here. It doesn t make human sense.
We re not dealing with humans here, said Duke, scowling. Look at their
firepower.
Exactly. These Protoss have superior numbers and firepower, and we re facing
them down? Why they are here?
Mr. Liberty, that will be enough questions for the day. The scowl deepened,
but Mike ignored the warning.
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No, something s not jake in all this. Look at the damage reports. Mike
pointed at one of the tech s monitors. They cooked an entire planet, but some
places deeper than others. Every major human city, yes, but look. Mike
pointed at the wall of data. There are strike zones on the other side of the
planet, far away from any recorded human settlement. I know. I was just
checking the archives.
I said that will be enough, Mister. We have more to worry about with the
Protoss than just how effective they are in choosing their targets.
Mike s face lit up as a connection was made deep in his brain. And where did
we get the name
Protoss, Colonel? Is that ours, or theirs?
Mister Liberty! Color was creeping up the sides of Duke s face.
And if it s their name for themselves, how come we know it? Didn t we have to
know it in advance? Or did they send a warning before they attacked? The
reporter was raising his voice now, the way he would for a dissembling
candidate in a precinct by-election.
Lieutenant Swallow! Duke bit off the command.
Yes, sir? Another perfect salute.
Escort Mr. Liberty off the bridge! Now!
Mike gripped the railing firmly with both hands. A ligatured arm wrapped in
metal snaked around his waist. Mike was shouting now, Dammit, Duke, you know
more than you re telling. This stinks to high heaven!
I said now, Lieutenant! Duke snarled.
This way, sir, said Swallow, breaking Mike s hold and pulling the reporter
off his feet. With her prize, she retreated for the lift.
Still shouting questions, Michael Liberty left the bridge. The last thing he
heard before the doors slid shut was Colonel Duke ordering the opening of a
comm line with the colonial magistrate of Mar Sara.
CHAPTER 4
DOWN ON MAR SARA
There s a period in any war between the first blow and thesecond. It s a quiet
moment, an almost tranquil time, whenthe realization of what has happened is
just sinking in andeveryone feels they know what happens next. Some prepareto
flee. Some prepare to hit back. But no one moves. Not yet.
It s a perfect moment, the time when the ball is at the highest point of the
throw. The action has been taken, and for onefrozen moment everything is
moving, but everything is at rest.
Then there are those jackasses who can t leave such thingsalone. And the ball
starts downward again, the second blowis thrown, and we plunge into the
maelstrom.
THELIBERTYMANIFESTO
MICHAEL LIBERTY WAS NOT ALLOWED OUT OF his quarters for the remainder of the
action over Mar Sara. Lieutenant Swallow or one of her neurally resocialized
comrades stood guard outside his quarters for the next two days. After that it
was an escort to the dropship and a shuttle to beautiful Mar
Sara itself.
Now, a day after that, he was in the press pool, fleecing the local reporters
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