by G J Ogden
Then Kurren paused while the holo lens zoomed in tighter on his face, highlighting the dark, craggy lines that spidered across his skin, and the tautness of his jawline as he clenched his teeth together, mentally preparing for his next statement.
“Let me be absolutely clear,” the broadcast continued. Kurren’s tone was lower, but his voice resonated with even greater power; the audio had also been amplified for effect. “Anyone sympathizing with or providing aid or comfort to Diana Neviah and Maria Salus will be deemed traitors, punishable by execution. Any civilian or military division refusing to accept my supreme authority will be considered traitors, punishable by execution.”
Diana and Maria both looked at Raina, but her expression gave nothing away; she remained focused on the holo image of Kurren’s face, paying close attention to his every word.
“For almost five years we have wasted our resources and efforts on this sham peace process, instead of focusing on our mission – the mission that our ancestors conceived and that we all have a duty to complete – namely the annihilation of our enemy, Global Power Security. I vow this to you now – I will not rest until GPS is eradicated and UEC stands victorious, our legacy fulfilled. Where others have faltered and failed, I will not. I will end this war decisively and ensure peace and security for all UEC citizens. Further announcements will follow. General Kurren, out.”
All of the holos base-wide simultaneously fizzed to nothing, leaving behind an eerie and sinister calm.
The absence of Kurren’s booming, gravelly voice made the impact of his words resonate in Maria’s mind with a terrifying clarity, like the feeling of waking from a nightmare with the images still vivid behind her eyes.
“He’s insane,” said Aster.
“No,” Diana replied, calmly. “He is, unfortunately, quite sane and quite serious. And he’s capable of everything he just threatened.”
Aster’s PVSM chimed, notifying him of an incoming comm. He walked away from the group to answer it.
“You need to get on that ship, now,” said Raina. “No more debate.”
Maria slammed her hands on the holo emitter, “Damn it, Kira, see sense! You just saw the broadcast; if you stay, he’ll kill you.”
“That’s enough!” Raina shouted back. “Look, this is my command, and this is my decision. Now get on that ship, before I stun you both and have you thrown on board! The damn autopilot can fly you there for all I care.”
Despite the severity of Raina’s voice, Maria laughed and relaxed away from the holo emitter, “You know, I believe you’re actually crazy enough to do that.”
“Damn right I will,” said Raina, remaining serious. “Look, I respect you, Sal, especially for what you’ve done these last few years. You made a believer out of me, and many others. But Kurren isn’t playing. What he’s doing will split the UEC in two, and I can’t allow it. Someone has to stand up to him, so I’m staying, and that’s just the way it is.”
Aster returned, and loomed in Raina’s peripheral vision, looking nervous.
“What is it, Lieutenant?” said Raina, irascibly.
“We have incoming outside the main gates, sir,” said Aster, stepping closer and standing rigidly in front of Raina.
“Kurren couldn’t have organized an assault so quickly,” said Maria, her pulse quickening.
Aster turned his head to Maria, “Not soldiers, Commander, civilians. Children.”
“Children?” said Raina. “What are you talking about?”
“From what I can tell, it seems to be the families of pilots and crew,” said Aster, facing Raina again. “They’re asking for our protection, sir.”
“Then it’s already started,” said Raina, folding her arms. “Do you see it now, Sal? He’s starting a war here too.”
Maria glanced over at Diana and she looked as resigned to the inevitable outcome as Maria felt. She clenched her fists and paced over to the window, feeling the need to punch something. But smashing her fists through the glass would do no more good than continuing to argue with Raina. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement at the perimeter of the compound. There were dozens of civilians massing beyond the gated entrance to the spaceport – fifty, sixty, maybe more – and Aster had been right; they were mostly children. She shut her eyes, let out a deep breath, and turned back into the room.
“What are you going to do about the people outside?” asked Maria.
Raina unfolded her arms and looked from Maria directly into Aster’s eyes. “Let them in.”
Chapter 2
The light from the holo recorder dimmed and left Kurren temporarily blinded. He blinked and rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger until they adjusted and Archer’s former office – now his office – came back into focus. He placed his hands on the desk, feeling the coarse grains of the wood, and let his weight sink forward. The desk was made from a dense, dark-colored hardwood which felt warm compared to the clinical polymers and metals that Kurren was used to. He remembered how fond Archer was of regaling guests with the story of the desk. Kurren had heard the story many times and it irritated him more with each re-telling. Archer would adopt his easy smile and then explain how the first governor of the moon base had built it with his own hands; he had even cut down the tree himself. It was ancient and priceless and the governor had insisted it be transported from the surface as a reminder of their living connection to the planet. Sentimental nonsense, Kurren thought, as he idly traced his fingertips along the lines of the grain.
His eyes had now fully readjusted to the dim light in the office, so that he was again able to see the dumpling-like figure of First Minister Jakub Kuba, or Acting Governor Kuba as he had now become, sitting at the side of the room in one of Archer’s famously uncomfortable guest chairs. Archer had specifically chosen these chairs for his office because of their surprising lack of comfort. The best way to ensure meetings are short and to the point, is to make it so that no-one wants to stay for any longer than is absolutely necessary! Archer would say, gleefully. Kurren clenched his teeth and pressed down harder on the desk. Archer’s weakness disgusted him. He had become a pawn in Diana Neviah’s game and a disgrace to the UEC. The anger swelling inside Kurren was stemmed only by the knowledge that Archer was dead, by his own hand. Kurren focused on that moment; the moment when he had plunged the polymer dagger into Archer’s neck and felt the warm flow of blood coat his hand, and he began to feel calmer. But there was still work to be done to undo his mess.
“Excellent performance, General, very well done!” said Kuba. The platitude was delivered enthusiastically, but Kurren was all too familiar with Kuba’s faux-Archer acting repertoire to be convinced that it was meant with any real sincerity. Kurren glared at him, examining the pathetic fake smile, also copied from his former boss, and he was again reminded of how much he hated it.
“It wasn’t a performance, Kuba,” he spat back in reply. “This isn’t a game.”
“Of course, of course!” said Kuba, undeterred and retaining the easy smile, “Apologies, General, I meant no offense. I merely meant to congratulate you on completing the first stage of your plan with such aplomb. I’m afraid I lack the military acumen to adequately describe my appreciation in the proper terms.”
Kurren winced as Kuba spoke the words. He had no tolerance for ‘politician-speak’. It was an infuriating way of talking that used a lot of words, but said very little. He had considered simply disposing of Kuba, but he needed him and his particular brand of politics to pull the strings of government, while Kurren focused on war. In fairness, Kuba had played his part well. In return for his newly elevated position and status, Kuba had agreed to falsify and manipulate records and hide evidence of Kurren’s scheming, so that Archer and other department ministers remained unaware of the planned coup. Kuba had also successfully planted false evidence of Archer’s collusion with Diana and GPS, including, at Kurren’s insistence, lies about Archer having been seduced by the GPS leader in ways beyond merely believing her doctrine. Kuba had done h
is work well, allowing Kurren to secretly recruit the UEC Security Corps to his cause without attracting suspicion. Kuba’s advise to restrict their activity to the foot soldiers and not attempt to infiltrate the Flying Corps had also been sound; there was too much rivalry, and also a separate chain of command that ultimately ended with Archer. If there was even one failed attempt to recruit a flyer, word would have spread back to Archer, and the plan would have been exposed. As it was, the plot had been executed almost faultlessly, which was in no small measure down to Kuba’s impressive knowledge of who was corruptible within the various organizations that Kurren needed on his side. In return for Kuba’s successes, Kurren had honored his agreement and made him Governor, with all the spoils that came with the title, including Archer’s former penthouse residence. But his tolerance for the man still had limits and this, combined with Kuba’s natural tendency towards deceit, meant that Kurren intended to keep him on a tight leash.
Kurren pushed away from the desk and clasped his hands together into the small of his back, causing his chest to swell out. “I don’t need your congratulations, Kuba,” he began, “and I don’t need your brown-nosing, either. I have made you Acting Governor, as promised, because I am a man of my word. But I can remove you just as easily. Whether I do so depends entirely on your continued obedience to my orders. Is that clear?”
Kuba shifted uneasily in his seat. “These chairs… so uncomfortable!” he said cheerfully, but there was a measure of stress in his voice that even he couldn’t mask fully. Kurren watched him eagerly, enjoying seeing him squirm. “I understand completely, General,” added Kuba, this time without any hint of joviality.
“No, I don’t think you do,” snarled Kurren. He stepped out from behind the huge desk and advanced on Kuba, causing him to shift uneasily in his chair again. “I have no interest in politics, Kuba. That’s why you’re here; you keep the departments in order and I give you what you want. I don’t play games.” He took another step closer to Kuba, so that he now towered over the politician’s comparatively diminutive, dumpy frame, pinned into the seat beneath him. “But this cuts both ways. Any tricks from you and there will be no second chances.” He placed a hand on Kuba’s shoulder, normally a gesture of reassurance, but then added just enough pressure to ensure the hold was painfully uncomfortable. “Now do you understand?”
Kuba nodded; all traces of his well-practiced smile had slipped from his face, “Yes, General,” he said, weakly, his head and neck in spasm as pain bit sharply into his shoulder.
Kurren’s PVSM bleeped, indicating an incoming message. He released the grip on Kuba and stepped back, flipping open the panel to check the notification; it was Major Darien, his newly appointed second-in-command.
Kuba rubbed his shoulder and swallowed hard; his mouth was dry and his heart was beating so urgently that his chest physically ached. He saw that Kurren had become distracted.
“I see that you’re busy, I’ll return later,” said Kuba, hurriedly, and he began to push himself out of the chair.
“Stay where you are,” replied Kurren without looking away from his PSVM; the strength in Kuba’s arms vanished and he flopped back into the chair. Beads of sweat had started to form across his brow.
Kurren finished reading the message and scowled. He tapped the controls and waited; after a few seconds the holo image of Major Darien appeared in front of him.
“I saw your message, Major. Are the squads ready?” he asked the shimmering image.
“Yes, General,” replied the holo of Major Darien. “It seems that Kuba was right about the flyers, but I’m still surprised at how quickly they have organized.”
“I’ll pass on your praise to the new governor,” said Kurren looking through the holo image at Kuba, who squirmed in his seat at the mention of his name. “It’s nothing we haven’t accounted for in our plans, Major. Have the squads form up, and deploy the weapon. Kurren out.” The holo image of Major Darien saluted and then faded to nothing. Kurren closed the panel on his PVSM, pressed his hands tightly behind his back and turned to look up at the shining UEC logo on the wall above the desk.
“Is the weapon really necessary, General?” said Kuba, nervously. “The risk to the dome is…”
“That does not concern you, Governor,” Kurren interrupted without turning around, and Kuba fell silent. “Now, call a meeting of the senior ministers and make sure they fall in line. Make sure they have all the evidence in front of them, and report any dissenters to me only.”
“Yes, General,” said Kuba again, taking this as his cue to leave. He pushed himself out of the chair, but felt dizzy and unwell and had to steady himself against the wall to avoid falling over. “I will do it at once.” Despite still feeling unsteady, he staggered his way to the door and waited impatiently for it to automatically slide open.
“One more thing, Governor,” said Kurren as the door thudded into its housing.
Kuba froze in the open archway, silhouetted by the light from the corridor outside. “Yes, General?” he said, managing to inject a small measure of brightness back into his voice.
“Get rid of this desk,” said Kurren.
“Yes, General,” replied Kuba. He slipped through the door, and was at the end of the long corridor outside before it had thudded shut again.
Chapter 3
Maria, Diana and Raina watched the rows of civilians calmly file into an empty hangar pod, under the guidance of Raina’s forces. The hangar was the only structure inside the port’s perimeter walls large enough to accommodate such a large number of people. The gates had already swung shut and Lieutenant Aster, who had been coordinating the operation, was running over to them.
“So many children,” said Diana. “This is no place for them.”
“They are safer in here than out there,” said Raina, dismissively. Diana chose not to reply; another confrontation with Raina was not needed right now, she realized.
Aster arrived, briefly acknowledged the presence of Maria and Diana, and then addressed Commander Raina directly.
“One hundred seventy-seven, sir,” he said, looking at his PVSM to check he had the number correct. “One hundred thirty-seven are children or minors, under sixteen years old.”
“One hundred and thirty-seven are kids, are you sure?” queried Raina.
“Yes, sir,” Aster confirmed, glancing down at his PVSM again. “We ran idents on everyone and I also spoke to a deck sergeant, who seemed to be in charge…” He checked his PSVM again, scrolling through the data until he found what he was looking for, “…Sergeant Yuri. He runs the deck at one of the reclamation zones. Salvage scouts, basically.”
“I don’t need to know his life story, Lieutenant, I just need to know why so many children are here,” Raina said, flatly.
“Sorry, sir,” said Aster. His cheeks had flushed a pinkish red. “The majority are confirmed to be family of pilots, officers and deck crew from all over the base; all UEC Flying Corp. Yuri said that when word of the coup spread, and that it was the blue boots in charge with Kurren at the head, they feared the worst. This is the biggest and most secure compound on the base, so their best chance of shelter, he told me. The adults are a mix of non-corps family members; the officers and crew chose to stay in their compounds, with the intention of resisting, like us.”
“Good,” Raina nodded. The knowledge that there were others also planning to resist felt oddly exhilarating; their odds had improved, even if only slightly. “We need to get the word out quickly, to let them know they’re not alone. Use my name personally and tell them to hole up and sit tight while we…”
Aster’s PVSM sounded three shrill tones; Raina immediately fell silent and looked at Maria, who met her gaze with one of equal intensity. Aster flipped open the panel and hurriedly checked the information.
“What is it?” asked Diana.
“Proximity warning,” said Maria, stepping to Aster’s side so that she could see his PVSM.
“How many?” said Raina.
Maria’s
eyes flicked left to right as she scanned the display over Aster’s shoulder; she was able to assimilate the data far quicker than Aster.
“A recon drone has picked up ten squads in full combat armor forming up in the civic center, three sectors away,” said Maria. “There are also four ground transports, and it looks like one has been heavily modified; there’s an energy spike that reads like a pulse cannon.”
“Is that even possible?” asked Aster.
Maria folded her arms, running the numbers in her head. “It’s extremely dangerous, but it’s possible,” she replied, “If they holed out the back of the transport and rigged-in a small reactor then maybe.”
“Where the hell did they get a pulse cannon from?” wondered Raina, looking worried.
“That’s not important now,” said Maria. “What matters is the ninety heavily-armed soldiers marching on this compound with a weapon that can easily punch a hole in your gate.”
“I would be more concerned about it punching a hole through your protective dome,” said Diana.
Raina felt a chill spread through her body. The exhilaration that she had experienced only moments ago had vanished. Instead, the adrenalin now knotted her stomach and turned her breathing shallower and more rapid. “Lieutenant, get every combat-trained flyer we have on that wall, quickly,” she said.
Aster’s face looked pale; he hesitated, looking lost in his own thoughts, but then nodded and turned away.
Maria caught his arm and held him. “Lieutenant, wait,” she said, but though it was Aster’s arm she gripped, she was looking at Raina.
“Maria, don’t start…” began Raina, but Maria cut her off.
“Hold on, let me speak,” said Maria. “I won’t try to stop you fighting if that’s your choice. But, if they punch through your gates, you can’t win against ten squads, and you know it.”
Maria paused, giving Raina an opportunity to object, but she was silent. There was a difference between audaciously facing down a challenge despite difficult odds, and deluding yourself that you can win a no-win scenario.
