by Daniel Gibbs
“No, not if we surrender. If nothing else, they’ll need us to work these mines. The conditions will be worse, but we’ll survive until the League Navy can rescue us.”
“Who cares who we slave for, as long as we get fed,” Markov stated, his hands shaking. “One more night I can spend with my daughters and my wife is one day I didn’t think I’d get.”
“Get on the transmitter, send a broadband transmission that we surrender, and ask for a truce to discuss terms,” Ivanov said, drawing himself up to his full height. “Tell them that the chairman of the worker's committee speaks for the entire planet.”
“Yes, comrade, it shall be done.”
Now I have to convince these Terrans not to slaughter us all as an example. In the name of Lenin, this day keeps getting worse.
3
“This place is a shit hole,” Calvin said as he climbed over a pile of debris from the brief engagement they’d had with League forces.
“A more colorful way of putting it, sir. But yeah,” Menahem replied, ever-present at his side.
“You’re the only Marine I’ve ever met that doesn’t cuss.”
“Heard that a few times, sir.”
Calvin snickered. “You got a point, Master Guns. I still can’t get over it. I mean, come on, in the crucible of combat, there are two truisms. One, no one in a fox hole is an atheist. Two, the inner desire to let loose with foul language is nurtured by bad guys shooting at you.”
“Perhaps, but swearing is a sin against God.”
“One of the Mitzvot, right?”
Menahem stopped and stared at him. “Since when do you know what Mitzvot are?”
Calvin shrugged in his power armor, the large gauntlets flapping together. “Well, my CO’s an Orthodox Jew, so is my senior enlisted man. Starts rubbing off after a while. Don’t worry, I’m not converting.”
Menahem laughed loudly. “I’m not sure you could find a rabbi that would convert you, Colonel.”
“Yes… I know I’m a bit rough around the edges.”
Menahem checked the number of rounds left in his battle rifle. “All of us are imperfect before God. As long as you’re getting better, that’s what counts.”
“I try, Master Guns. Long road.”
“It’s a very long road for all of us.”
“So what’s this Leaguer want?” Calvin asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine. We’ve got snipers ringing the area, just in case they try something.”
Calvin snorted. “After how fast those troops they had surrendered? We’re dealing with rear echelon soldiers, Master Guns.”
“Who can still be deadly, sir.”
“Point taken.”
Little else was said as they walked into what had to be a central plaza, if one could call it that, for the planet’s capital. With less than fifty thousand inhabitants, there just wasn’t a lot of infrastructure. Calvin grunted. I’ve seen little towns back on New Washington with more buildings and in far better repair.
A lone figure emerged from one of the buildings, dressed in threadbare clothing.
“I’ve got a clean shot,” a voice belonging to one of the snipers echoed in Calvin’s helmet commlink.
“Hold fire unless and until I give the word,” Calvin barked. He motioned the figure closer and walked forward himself. He appraised the figure from afar. I doubt they’d employ suicide bombers, but who knows with Leaguers.
Once they’d closed to within five meters, the man who’d been walking toward him stopped and held his hands up. “We wish surrender,” he said in broken English.
“Do you speak for all?” Calvin asked.
“Da, yes. I chairman of workers’ committee. Gregory Ivanov.”
“Colonel Calvin Demood, Terran Coalition Marine Corps.”
“Good meet you, Colonel.”
“You too, Ivanov. What’s the workers' committee?”
“We, how you say, represent worker in League.”
Calvin adjusted his footing, staring at the gauntness of Ivanov’s face. “When’s the last time you had a good meal?”
“Food scarce. League low on resources because of war. We make do.”
If these poor bastards only knew. “What do y’all do here?”
“Mine minerals for war. Make metal. No fight.”
“Look, Ivanov… I’m just a Marine. Pretty black and white guy. If your people will lay down their weapons, we’ll treat you with respect. But… some BS starts with a resistance movement, I won’t stand for the men and women under my command getting shot at by un-uniformed partisans. Are we clear?”
“Don’t understand. What is resistance? Partisan?”
“Let me boil it down like this. You fight us, you don’t like what happens next.”
Ivanov’s face blanched as recognition lit up in his eyes. “We will not fight. Know what happens when state is resisted.”
“Okay, buddy. I want you to pass the word to surrender every last gun, explosive, or other weapons in your settlement. Marines will be searching each house. Order your people not to interfere.”
“I will.”
“My commanding officer will be coming down later today to finalize discussions with you. Is there an area we can land transport ships?”
“Transport?” Ivanov asked, his tone one that belied his poor understanding of the language.
“Yeah, smaller ships that carry people and stuff.”
“Oh, yes. Outside of city, about three kilometers from here. Large field. Where cargo ships come to pick up metal.”
Calvin stuck out his hand. “We have a deal, then.”
Ivanov stared at the hand before taking it and shaking it gingerly. “Deal, yes.”
Calvin turned and motioned Menahem forward. “Master Guns, house to house search, secure all weapons. This gentleman is going to ensure the cooperation of the local population. Once that’s done, get Colonel Cohen and the rest of the circus down here.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Menahem patted Ivanov down for weapons; finding none, he escorted the Leaguer away, leaving Calvin alone with his thoughts, staring at the utterly depressing row of buildings that passed for a city.
Twelve hours later, David stepped off a shuttle on to the surface of New Rostov. As he took in the scenery around him, he found himself shocked. I’ve seen pictures of Earth. It’s billed as a socialist utopia where no one goes without, and everyone is free to pursue their dreams. I guess when you have hundreds of worlds providing materials and labor, it’s possible for a few planets to have the easy life.
A small army of Marines were assembled, both an honor guard and active protection detail, just in case the inhabitants decided he was worth assassinating.
Calvin walked up and brought his hand up in a salute. While the tough old Marine was still wearing power armor, his helmet was absent.
He thinks the threat has passed. David returned the salute. “Colonel Demood… another fine operation by the Terran Coalition’s misguided children.”
“Ah, you got jokes today, Colonel,” Calvin replied as he snickered. “They only had three hundred actual soldiers on this ball of rock, and those lacked any fighting spirit.”
As he spoke, the deafening roar of spacecraft engines filled the air; an old CDF assault lander dropped out of the sky and landed in the same field. Glancing at it, David recognized the emblem of the Jewish Galactic Service, a charitable organization with a charter to help under-developed planets. Since the invasion of the League had begun in earnest, charity organizations from around the Terran Coalition had joined in relief efforts to the civilians left behind on former enemy-held planets.
“So you guys going to convert them after handing out some food and blankets?” Calvin cracked.
David couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Haven’t you learned yet that Jews don’t seek converts?”
“I’ve heard that a few times. Still like busting your chops about it, sir.”
“You’re confusing us with the other guys aga
in,” David said, pointing at other landed ships that sported the logos of the Allahu Akbar Relief Society, along with the Samaritans’ Purse and Salvation Army. As they kept on, he spotted another vessel marked with the logo of a secular humanist group. Nice to see that despite the vitriol in the political campaigning season at home, all our citizens remember what counts.
“Nah. No confusion here,” Calvin replied, his face completely straight and free of the trademark Marine smirk.
“Sitrep?” David asked.
“No resistance once the worker's committee guy ordered everyone to lay down their arms. We did find a dead political officer in their government building. They’re not talking, but it's pretty obvious someone offed him.”
“Part of me says good for them, saving us the trouble of a trial. I’ll try to push it out of my mind.”
Calvin snorted. “My views on Leaguers have—evolved—if you will. The political officers and the top Leaguers that treat their citizens like garbage… Nah, shoot ‘em all, let God sort it out.”
David slapped Calvin across the shoulders. “I’m not going to argue that one with you. I do however, want to meet the guy who surrendered the planet.”
“Figured you would, sir. Follow me. Marines, protection formation!”
Taking in the sights over a hike across a couple of kilometers to the center of what consisted of civilization on New Rostov, David found himself disgusted. The poorest of the poor live better than this on New Israel. What kind of animals treat their own citizens like waste to be recycled?
“Pretty bad, huh?” Calvin said during a quiet portion of the walk.
“Yeah. Horrific.”
“You speak any Russian, sir?”
David shook his head. “No, can’t say I do. Hebrew, English, a little Spanish.”
“This Ivanov guy, he’s a bit light in his English.”
“Don’t use big words then?”
“Well, you do like them, sir.”
David laughed. “Thanks for the info there, Colonel.”
“Anytime, sir,” Calvin said, laughing himself.
They passed by several run-down buildings that had missing pieces of roof, but were brightly festooned with propaganda posters. They extolled the citizens to work harder, mine more ore, and help defeat the capitalist dogs of the Terran coalition. It's almost like some sick joke. The conditions they accuse us of forcing on the working class are the same ones they enforce at the point of a gun. David’s face blanched, and he wore a frown as they walked on.
Calvin gestured toward a building that had extra Marines around it. It also had the only fully intact roof on the block. “In here, sir.”
After he’d walked inside, it took David’s eyes a few moments to adjust from the blinding sunlight to the dimly lit interior. There were a couple of Marines present, along with a motley group of men and women, numbering at least ten. They all had on poorly fitting clothing, and at first glance, were sickly and malnourished.
One of the men stood up and took a step forward. “I am Gregory Ivanov. Chairman of Workers Committee,” he said, his accent thick. A woman also stood next to him.
“Chairman,” David said, deciding the best course of action would be to show the man respect. “I’m Colonel David Cohen, commanding officer, CSV Lion of Judah. Colonel Demood informed me that you were the one who agreed to surrender. I want to talk to you for a few minutes and see how we can help.”
Ivanov’s eyebrows went up, and he cocked his head to one side. “You wish us mine ore, yes?”
“No, Mr. Chairman. We’re not here to make you mine ore for us.”
“I not understand.”
The woman interrupted them. “Allow me, Colonel. I am Natalie Ivanov. My husband is of Russian descent, while I am not.” Her accent was far softer and harder to place.
“Of course, ma’am. Could you explain to your husband that we’ll never force him or anyone else on this planet to mine ore or perform any type of work for the Terran Coalition.”
She nodded, leaned into Ivanov’s ear, and whispered in rapid-fire Russian.
“Then vhat do you vant?” Ivanov replied, his w’s sounding like a v.
“We want to help,” David began. “Our private charities—what we call non-government organizations or NGOs—are ferrying food, medical supplies, and essential need items down from space as we speak. At the same time, military police units from the Coalition Defense Force will arrive within the next twenty-four hours to take over law-keeping duties.”
“What rules do you want us to follow?”
“Right now, I’d like you to order your citizens to remain indoors during the nighttime hours; we’ll establish a curfew and around-the-clock military patrols. Martial law will be enforced, and I need everyone to understand that Marines aren’t the police. This means if they’re attacked, they’ll use deadly force. We don’t want that.”
Ivanov looked to his wife, who again whispered into his ear.
“I see, Colonel. It will be so. No trouble from us. What you want in return?”
David shrugged. “Nothing at this time. We want to help, first and foremost.”
“League says Terran Coalition is capitalist pig empire who wants to enslave all humans.”
“To be honest, we say they’re a communist empire that wants to enslave us,” David said, cracking a smile. “I would challenge you that perhaps the things you’ve believed aren’t exactly accurate.”
Ivanov pointed to the Star of David patch on David’s shoulder. “That is same symbol on side some boxes of food. What is it?”
“It’s the religious symbol for Jews. The Star of David.”
“What is Jew?”
Calvin let out a belly laugh. “Oh no, here we go, boys and girls. Colonel’s going to preach a sermon!”
“That’s a rather loaded question,” David said, quirking his nose. “Judaism is a religious belief system, in a single, omnipotent being we call God. We worship Him in everything we do.”
“What is God?” Ivanov asked in utter bewilderment.
“The being that created the universe and everything in it.”
“But everything in universe created by random chance. Humans come from lower life form… apes.”
“Some believe we evolved from apes, yes. There’s nearly universal agreement that God created the universe through the big bang, though.”
“I don’t understand. Are Jews like Christians?”
“You know what a Christian is?”
“Evil reactionaries who fight against state,” Ivanov said. “At least, that’s what we’re told.”
“We’re similar in that we’re both religions, and we both believe in God. What we hold to be true is different, though.”
Ivanov’s eyes lit up. “Yes, now I understand. Jews are religion. League says all religions wish to die as martyrs and kill as many committed citizens as possible.”
“I hope you’ll judge us by our actions, not the words you’ve heard.”
“Why would you help us?” Natalie interjected. “We are your enemy.”
“Love those who hate you,” Calvin began.
David whipped his head around, shocked more than anything to hear a verse from the Bible coming out of the lips of the tough Marine.
“Do good to those that hate you,” Calvin continued. “Love your enemies and do good to them, hoping for nothing in return. That’s my religion… I’m a Christian.”
“I don’t understand,” she finally said.
David cleared his throat. “We don’t believe that innocent civilians should be punished because they happened to be born under the banner of the League of Sol. We come here as liberators, not conquerors. If you work with us, our government and NGOs will rebuild your planet, heal your people, ensure there’s enough food.”
“We can’t possibly repay you except through mines,” Ivanov said. “But you say no ore. What you want, then?”
“At some point, I’m sure those mines will be worked, Mr. Chairman. But not in t
he way they were. Safely, using only adult laborers, who are paid properly for their work and can choose how to spend that pay and ensure their families have enough.”
“You pay us to work? Capitalism.”
David cracked a smile. “Exactly, Ivanov. Capitalism.”
“We in Terran Coalition now. Must do as Terrans do.”
“No… that’s not how we do things. We believe in the right of all for self-determination.”
“Self…determination?” Ivanov asked, a look of confusion crossing his face.
David struggled to explain the concept. “It means you get to decide what you want to do in life. We don’t make the choice for you. Eventually, your world will be able to choose what it wants. You could stay with the Terran Coalition, become independent, or rejoin the League once the war is over. Your call, not ours.”
Natalie leaned in close and whispered into Ivanov’s ear yet again.
“Ah, I understand now. Thank you, Colonel. You will have our cooperation.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” David replied. “A civilian from the Terran Coalition Agency for Intergalactic Development will be on-site soon to start coordinating all relief operations. Let me know if you have any issues, and I promise I’ll do my best to help.”
“Da,” Ivanov said.
“Good. Godspeed, Mr. Chairman.” He turned to go, Calvin following him out of the building and back into the blinding sunlight.
“How close did the science types say we are to the star in this system?” Calvin asked.
“About twenty-five percent closer than Canaan. Long term exposure would cause radiation issues in time.”
“Yeah, easily stopped by a planetary shield grid.”
David snorted, glancing at the older Marine. “I don’t see one in evidence, do you?”
“Nope. But hey, it’s a worker’s utopia.”
Glancing around as his eyes again adjusted, David took another look at the buildings. He’d seen the work that the Terran Coalition Agency for Intergalactic Development had done on previously liberated worlds. Give it six months. These people will never want to go back. That’s called winning the peace.
“Colonel Cohen?” a voice from behind David asked in a hesitant voice.
