Impact and Ice

M.Y 41.

I have invited Santiago's Scout Patrol to a tour of my main research facilities at Ivory Tower, as the Transport Foil that bore them here is apparently not returning for some time. Their leader is a seasoned veteran, with the look of a man who has faced Mind Worms and knows that no other threat could be half as dangerous. His eyes are everywhere as he is led through the perimeter gates, noting defenses, cataloging weaknesses. His fingers play constantly over the keypad of his wristlink, and I cannot help but smile as I watch him through the eyes of the watchvid cameras. If information is what he seeks, there is no greater store of it on Planet. He appears nonplussed by the big metal doors that go swoosh! when they open, despite my Psych Advisor's assurances that they would make visitors "feel like they were in the future". I must have words with her later.

As I continue my observations, I note that even the leader is equipped with no more than a shredder pistol—of course I could never be so foolish as to ask a Spartan to surrender his weapons—and that relic of the Unity seems much less formidable now than it did in those dark corridors. Santiago's followers have certainly survived Planetfall, but they have not thrived nearly so much as have my own minions. Ironically enough, use of obsolete weapons goes directly against Santiago's philosophy of warfare. A tap of my keypad, and Santiago's smooth Spanish accent fills my chamber like smoke.

"Superior training and superior weaponry have, when taken together, a geometric effect on overall military strength. Well-trained, well-equipped troops can stand up to many more times their lesser brethren than linear arithmetic would seem to indicate."

A shiver of... anticipation? trembles across my chest and again my lips curl upwards. Well-equipped, indeed. Today, the most powerful weapons reside in my arsenals, not hers. As I stride from my chamber, I commlink the technician guarding... guiding the Spartans to rendezvous with me at the firing range. As they enter I spread my arms wide in a magnanimous gesture, revealing my teeth in what I've been assured is a fair approximation of a welcoming smile. After terse greetings, I inform him of why I've brought him here: to witness firsthand the fruits of our research, which I have no doubt his Colonel will find quite intriguing.

A snap of my fingers echoes about the large chamber, and an instant later there is motion at the far end of the smooth white expanse of the weapons-testing range. Seamless doors slide open in the far wall, and in slides a freshly-frozen chunk of Planet's nearby sea, a perfect cube of clear ice ten meters on a side. I hold out a hand, and a lab assistant passes me one of the new Particle Impactor Rifles. Although my own monoculens provides far superior magnification and detail enhancement, I make a show of sighting down the rifle's optics as I depress the weapon's firing stud. The rifle is recoil-less and almost noiseless, but the effects are as dramatic as anticipated.

A single hypervelocity particle drills its miniscule line through the center of the giant block of ice. Nanoseconds later, the destructive effects of its passing resonate throughout the cube. Ice explodes in all directions, a few large fragments pinwheeling through the air as much of the rest is shattered into infintestimal particles that fall like a rain of diamond dust onto the smooth white floor. I turn to face the lead Scout in order to gauge his reaction, a movement that inadvertantly brings the Impact Rifle swinging around in his general direction.

His training is superb, his face not betraying a single iota of emotion. And yet his reflexes betray him: the fingers of his right hand twitch for an instant as though to grasp his shredder pistol before they are halted by an iron will. Remarkable. His voice, too, shows no sign of the hope and fear that must be coursing through him as he speaks. "A most impressive display. Colonel Santiago will doubtless want to be informed immediately." He looks askance at me. "If you will allow it, I can upload her direct commlink frequency to your central computer, allowing you to speak with her at once." At my gesture he heads towards the Network Node, tapping commands into his wristlink.

My Head Datatech appears to be mouthing words at me, eyes bulging, and makes several frantic gestures as he hurries to my side. I brush the man aside, favoring him with a glare colder than the ice melting on the floors of the firing range. I swear it, if that man prattles on to me one more time about "network backdoors" and "intolerable security loopholes", I will Nerve Staple him so hard his children will feel it!

Although... it would be much more efficient to just Nerve Staple the children as well.

I am shaken from my reverie by the hum of the main vidscreen warming up. The Scout leader indicates that his message has been sent and we await only the Colonel's response.

In mere seconds, we will at last meet face-to-face.

The Spartan and I.

—Academician Prokhor Zakharov, Personal Log