Battle of the Planets belongs to Sandy Franks. Any resemblance
Between this story and BotP is more than coincidental.
Chapter One
Everybody wanted to believe that Lucifor's
organization had died with him, refused to see
evidence to the contrary. Fortunately there were
those who knew better and worked in secret,
preparing for the next round.
Eugene Geist,
ISO: The Official History
Doctor David Kimble hated Security Council Meetings. He had always
hated them. During the war they had been far too dramatic, the stuff of
catastrophe, disaster and tragedy, now they were too dull, concerned
with political maneuverings that had nothing to do with him or ISO.
*Why am I still here?* he wondered. *The reason for my emergency
appointment ended with the war, why haven't they given me a gold watch
and sent me back to Academe where I belong?*
The sound of an all to familiar, well hated name jerked him back to
full attention. He stared at the Helvetian Ambassador, wondering if his
ears had somehow deceived him, then saw that his collegues ranged round the
ring shaped table wore identical looks of shock and disbelief. They had
heard it too.
She said: "Our government has been approached by intermediaries
claiming to represent surviving officers of the Lucifor coalition offering
military and technical intelligence in exchange for amnesty -" she got
no farther, the table exploded in outrage.
"Amnesty! For genocide!" snarled the Chinese Representative. His country,
Had once been the most populous on Earth. Thanks to Lucifor it now had
the lowest population density of any of the First Powers.
"For destruction of life and property unequalled in world history!"
flared the American Ambassador, doubtless thinking of the great quake that
had turned Southern California into an offshore island.
"For betraying the Human Race and allying themselves with an alien
invader!" From the Japanese Ambassador.
*For killing nine of my children.* Kimble thought but didn't say.
"The officers making this offer played no direct part in any of those
atrocities -" the Helvetian representative began, only to be interupted
again.
"Says who? Them?" Kimble asked acidly. "For God's sake Schonberg!
by now you should know what Lucifor's word is worth!"
"Lucifor is dead and his organization with him." she replied icily,
"It is quite obvious to me, as an unbiased observer, that lower
level functionaries are looking for ways to secure their own futures."
"In other words the rats are deserting the sinking ship." said the
Secretary General, drily.
"A situation we can use to our advantage." the Helvetian Ambassador
agreed. Turning gratefully to the other woman.
*Always assuming Lucifor really is finished.* Kimble thought grimly.
He didn't say that either. The Council, the world, didn't want to hear it.
Kimble wished he could fool himself so easily. *The disadvantage of
a scientific background, it forces you to face facts even when you'd much
rather not.*
"We have been given a list of approved negotiators-" Schonberg was saying.
"We're letting them set the conditions are we?"
"Please, Dr. Kimble," from the Chair. "let the Ambassador finish at
least one sentence."
He subsided, steaming gently.
"They have requested representatives from the First Powers, UN
Military Command and the ISO. The suggested names are -"
Kimble listened intently as the list was read. Lucifor had shown
sufficient sense not to ask for first rank officials but their choice of
second stringers was interesting, every one of them an able up and comer.
*This stinks of a trap.*
"For ISO-"
*Over my dead body are they getting any of my people!*
"Special Assistant Director Dr. Carl Anderson."
Kimble's blood froze. "No!"
Schonberg broke off, glaring.
The Secretary General sighed, "Dr. Kimble you have been warned twice -"
He felt a hand on his shoulder looked up to see his deputy and foster son
standing over him. "Steady, Dad." Carl murmured in an undertone, then raised
his voice to address the Council.
"You all know the losses suffered by our Organization during the last
war, both scientists and special operations personnel,"
*Smoothly done, son, remind them who won their war for them and died
doing it.* Kimble thought, trying to calm down.
"As a result it is difficult for any of us to regard our former enemy
objectively." directly to Schonberg. "I'm sure the Ambassador will agree
this offer requires careful consideration and thorough investigation. If
it is accepted percautions must be taken to safeguard the negotiators,
Lucifor's henchmen do not have a reputation for dealing in good faith."
*Now there's an understatement!*
Murmurs of agreement from the other Ambassadors.
"Naturally." Schonberg agreed, "I merely submit this offer to the
consideration of the Council, and urge the honorable members not to reject
it out of hand because of personal or institutional biases."
"That fence sitting, moral equivalency spouting, neutral!" Kimble
raged quietly as they passed through the corridors to the exit and their
car.
"Calm down, Director, remember your blood pressure. Schonberg isn't worth
having a stroke over." Carl soothed.
"My cardio-vascular system is perfectly sound." Kimble snapped back.
Safe in the privacy of their car he turned worriedly to his foster son.
"I don't like Lucifor asking for you by name, Carl. Could they have
guessed who you are?"
"Possible but unlikely." was the calm reply. "Carl Anderson has done
quite enough in his own right to attract enemy attention." shrugged,
"The Mantle Project alone would be enough to secure me a place on their
'most wanted' list."
"You agree it's a trap?"
"Oh, yes. 'Five gets you ten' as Chance used to say."
Kimble gave him a sharp, startled look. It was the first time in four
years he had heard his foster son speak the name of any of his lost sibs.
"Fine. It won't be hard to kill the idea. The rest of the Council hated
it at least as much as I did."
"They'll need talking around." Carl agreed. "I think we should
accept Lucifor's offer, Director."
Kimble blinked rapidly but kept his composure. "All right, Carl,
what do you have in mind?"
Chapter Two
Lucifor had a real knack for shooting
himself in the foot, a trait he's passed on
to Zoltar and Mala like a family curse. It
never fails, whenever things are going good
for them, (and bad for us) they get overconfident
or over ambitious and pull some damnfool stunt
that gives us just the opening we need to bring
them down.
Colonel Roy Cronos, Notebooks
Dr. Anderson's desk com pinged. "Yes?"
"Colonel Cronos for you, sir." said his secretary.
He smiled, he'd been expecting this. "Put him on."
The monitor lit up with his brother's anger reddened face. "Are you
out of your frigging mind?" Cronos roared.
Anderson clucked. "Language, Roy! What if the children should hear you?"
"We've heard worse." piped a voice offscreen.
Cronos looked around in suprise. "Mark? step outside a minute, son, I
need to have a private word with your uncle."
"But I want to hear what Carl's done." the seven year old protested.
"I said out, Mark!" Cronos left his chair to enforce his order.
Anderson listened, mouth curled in amusement, to the quick patter of
small feet, punctuated by childish giggles, an occasional supressed oath,
and the thump and scrape furniture as Cronos chased his son around the
office. Finally a door slammed and his brother reappeared onscreen, visibly
winded.
"Where was I?" he panted.
"Am I out of my frigging mind." Carl prompted helpfully.
"Yes!" Cronos answered his own question emphatically. "You must be
slipping, Carl. I can smell the trap from here and you want to
walk into it, unarmed with a gaggle of government bureaucrats!"
"I never said I'd be unarmed." Anderson objected mildly.
Cronos checked, did a perfect double-take. "No you didn't." he admitted,
begining to understand.
"Yes, it's a trap," Carl continued briskly, "but it's also the perfect
opportunity to get inside Lucifor and see what's really happening."
an astonishingly predatory smile transformed his usual bland expression.
"I was planning to ask you and the girls along, if you're free."
Cronos grinned wolfishly in return. "We'll clear our calendar."
"It'll be just the six of us." Anderson assured him, "No innocent
bystanders."
"Just like old times." said Cronos.
Anderson stood on the fringes of the little group of men and women
in business suits, clustered nervously around the stolid, confident figure
of Ambassador Schonburg.
It had been an long, and deliberately confusing journey involving several
changes of transport, all tightly curtained against any glimpse of the
outside. They now stood in a windowless room surrounded by masked guards
in the familiar green and blue. There were two doors, one at either end
of the room, but their host elected to enter via a hidden panel.
*Typical Lucifan flamboyance* Anderson thought, amused, mentally
shaking his head over the officer's elaborate purple costume complete
with cape and a stylized cowl mask with elongated nose and ear pieces.
*What's that supposed to be anyway? A rabbit?* His amusement vanished
abruptly as the Lucifan spoke.
"Welcome Ambassador, ladies and gentlemen. I trust this will be the
begining of a profitable relationship."
*Zoltar!* the familiar musical, mocking voice shivered down Anderson's
spine. *Could he be the new leader?* Zoltar had always been more than half
mountebank, it seemed incredible that he of all Lucifor's Lieutenants should
have won the vicious power struggle after the Leader's death. Yet it was
possible, with Mala his soi-disant sister behind him, providing the brains
and the strategy and Zoltar himself the necessary charismatic leadership,
*Which means Mala's here too, somewhere....*
"- and Dr. Anderson for the ISO." Schonberg was saying. Light blue eyes
met steely grey for a long moment. Anderson's empty of all but cool
curiousity, Zoltar's filled with uncertainty, and near recognition.
Abruptly the Lucifan turned away, readdressing himself to the ambassador.
