by Jay Allan
The crowd hesitated, staring up as Tyler stood before them, his uniform torn, a bloodstained bandage wrapped around the arm he held aloft. It started with a single voice from deep in the crowd, a lone, ‘yes,’ barely audible across the vast sea of people. Then it was joined by another…and another…until the whole surging mass was screaming as one, “Yes…yes…yes…”
Tyler pumped his fist and encouraged the cheering. But his thoughts were dark. It was one thing to rally the crowd, to incite defiance, standing here in this plain. He knew their morale would quickly diminish when they were marching through the swamps…when they started to run out of food. They would begin blame him, he knew, and this show of loyalty would quickly transition to disappointment, then to despair…and finally to hate. They would chant his name at first, swearing loyalty and support. But later, when they had suffered enough, saw their friends and neighbors dying around them, they would shout his name as a curse. If the exile went on long enough, he knew a dread day would come…when he had to turn the rifles of his army on his own people. He knew he would do it when he had to…the alternative would be to fall into disarray and defeat. But he didn’t know if he could live with it afterward.
Is this the right thing to do, he thought…or am I leading them all to their deaths? It was the right choice for him, certainly. He had no doubt of that, none at all. If defeat was his destiny, he knew he had no wish to survive it. Jarrod Tyler had no stomach to live as a slave, to meekly do the bidding of his conquerors, to watch his soldiers led away as defeated captives. He would choose Valhalla first, to die in arms resisting the enemy to his last breath.
But did he have the right to make that decision for almost two million people, the men, woman, and children who called themselves Columbians? Was he their war leader, encouraging them, bolstering their morale, cultivating their strength until victory was theirs? Or just a butcher leading them all to certain death?
Chapter 21
CAC Committee Command Bunker
South China Sea
Earth – Sol III
Li An sat back in the plush leather chair taking in the luxurious surroundings. She’d last seen the room on an inspection tour a decade ago, but it had been maintained in perfect condition over those years, waiting until a crisis made it necessary. It was furnished with priceless rugs and antiques. The walls were covered with rare teak paneling worth a king’s ransom. The facility had been spec’d out at least 30 years before, and she wondered if the trees that yielded the precious boards even existed anymore. C1’s chief wasn’t a botanist, and she didn’t spend much time thinking about trees, but she knew many rare species were lost each year. The Treaty of Paris had pulled man from the brink of extinction, but the damage done to the Earth by centuries of war and abuse wasn’t so easily reversed. Recent events suggested it might not be so easy to keep man from extinction either. The Treaty of Paris had held for a century, but now that peace was in ruins. Earth’s Superpowers were at war again.
She couldn’t help but feel the extreme luxury was misplaced in a wartime shelter, but most of the CAC’s leaders were the sons and daughters – mostly sons – of the previous generation of Committee members. They’d never known anything but unimaginable luxury and phenomenal excess. The sparse, sustenance-level lives most of the Combine’s citizens lived would be unimaginable to them. They would retreat to an undersea bunker to protect themselves in wartime, but that refuge had to befit their stations. Li knew firsthand the Committee could argue about such things with as much vigor and emotion as major matters of state. She recalled an ancient parable with grim amusement. If Nero did, indeed, fiddle while Rome burned, she thought, depressingly little had changed in two millennia.
Li An was a rarity in the CAC hierarchy. She had not been born to privilege; she’d grown up in the notorious Shanghai ghettoes, surrounded by a level of violence and deprivation no one in the government class could truly understand. She’d pulled herself up by her own skill and initiative, something nearly impossible in the CAC. But Li had a brilliant mind and a flexible attitude toward morality, the perfect attributes for a career in espionage. With her knack for information-gathering and her sleek, petite figure, she rose quickly, using the two tools that were highly effective for the upwardly mobile – sex and blackmail. The young Li An had been one of the most wanted women in the CAC, and she used her appeal with ruthless efficiency. Her secret files had struck terror into the heart of the highest government leaders for almost three-quarters of a century. Her data – and the fear of what information she might have – formed the basis of her power, and it had taken her from starving street urchin to the only woman on the Committee.
Her office in the undersea command bunker was smaller than her palatial quarters at C1 headquarters, yet it would have been accounted plush enough for an ancient duke or prince. She leaned back in the priceless chair, her head sinking into the buttery soft leather. Li An was facing her own failure, trying to understand what had gone so horribly wrong. How, she thought…how did things get out of control so quickly?
Stark. The name floated around her mind like a curse. Alliance Intelligence’s brilliant mastermind had been killed in the explosion that claimed his headquarters…at least that was the official story. Li An didn’t believe a word of it. Not for a second. More than likely, it was Stark himself who had blown the building. The CAC had taken the blame, but she was certain no one in the Combine had been involved. She knew none of her people had done it…and it was inconceivable any other CAC personnel could have pulled it off without her knowledge. But the evidence was real…and damning. She couldn’t imagine anyone other than Stark who could have framed the CAC so effectively without her people finding out about it.
She was certain Stark was behind other events that had fueled the rapid slide into open war. The destruction of Marseilles, the nuclear exchange in the North German Plain…she saw Stark’s fingerprints on all of it. She had no real proof, but there wasn’t a doubt in her mind. Nearly a century’s experience in the field further fueled her intuition. She leaned back and sighed. Yes, she thought…it’s Stark. All of it. But what can I do to stop him?
She wished she could talk with Roderick Vance. She was sure the Martian spymaster would have come to the same conclusions she had. But communications in and out of the secure bunker were controlled by the Chairman’s personal security. And that made contacting Vance difficult and dangerous, a gamble she wasn’t ready to take. At least not yet.
Huang Wei had allowed himself to be swayed by the hawkish party on the Committee, and he’d grown less and less receptive to her counsel of caution. There wasn’t a doubt in Li’s mind that the foolish CAC mobilizations Huang had insisted upon made Stark’s job vastly easier. The CAC chairman later pulled back, paused the preparation for war. But a mobilization that size left evidence, information Stark undoubtedly used to help move the Alliance to war.
Now, however, Huang was in a state of paranoia and near-panic. Committed to his hawkish rhetoric, he found it had taken him down a path he now feared. He’d locked down all communications and ordered Committee members to remain in the bunker at all times. The generals and admirals were running the war now, while the politicians who’d destroyed the peace hid under ten kilometers of seawater and solid bedrock.
Li had operatives in the Chairman’s security team, of course, but only a few. They were extremely valuable assets, and she couldn’t risk exposing them simply to get a pointless message through to Vance. The Martian intelligence chief undoubtedly had plenty of his own problems now. Li admired Vance, but she also knew his interests and hers had diverged. They’d shared a desire to preserve the Treaty of Paris and avoid war. But now that war was a reality, the likelihood of stepping things back seemed remote at best. Li hadn’t wanted war; she’d done everything she could to prevent it. But now, she realized the only way she could serve the CAC was to try and find a way to win it. If winning was even possible.
She looked down at the reports piling up on her desk
. There was rioting throughout Hong Kong…and most of the other major cities. The economy had collapsed entirely, but the government was so focused on the war, it was doing almost nothing to deal with the problem. The wealthy neighborhoods and government districts were cordoned off, garrisoned by army detachments and provisioned by special armed convoys. But a mob was a hard thing to control. Killing a few sometimes put enough of a scare into the rest to send them flying back to their homes. But these masses were starving, facing slow and painful deaths if they disbanded. It wouldn’t be long, she knew, before they lost their fear of the soldiers and tried to break through to the elite areas.
The Committee members and their families were safe in the command bunker, but there were plenty of influential politicos left in Hong Kong and the other cities…well within the reach of the mobs. The CAC couldn’t function without those legions of bureaucrats. If the armed checkpoints failed to keep the political neighborhoods safe the CAC itself could collapse. And Li and the rest of the Committee members would be nothing but a bunch of windbags hiding under the South China Sea.
She sighed and looked at the chronometer. So many problems, so little time. The Committee meeting was about to begin. She held onto the armrests of the chair, pushing herself painfully to her feet. She could feel her strength slipping away almost daily. Why, she wondered, couldn’t I have faced my worst crisis when I was younger and stronger? Why did this happen now, when there is so little of me left? She knew there was no answer. Crises chose their own moments, and those affected could only do their best to cope.
She grabbed her cane and moved slowly toward the door.
The Committee Chamber was considerably smaller than the ruling body’s magnificent meeting place in Hong Kong but, for a facility buried deep below the seabed, it was breathtaking. The rulers of the CAC had been preparing their wartime refuges since the day the Treaty of Paris was signed. The CAC elites demanded both safety and comfort for themselves and their families during wartime, and the undersea shelter southwest of Hong Kong addressed both concerns admirably. It had been the primary bunker marked for the wartime use of the Committee for 50 years…half a century during which there were one or two scares, but no major crises. Now it was in full operation…the wartime seat of government for the Central Asian Combine.
“We must strike a major blow against the Alliance. We must drive them from our sphere of influence at the very least.” Deng Chao was one of the oldest members of the Committee. Autocratic and arrogant, he’d been the unofficial leader of the hawkish party for the last twenty years. “We can no longer tolerate the enemy’s presence in the Philippines.” He paused, then added, “Or Oceania.”
Li held her tongue. Let him finish, she thought. His words will make your case. She had been Deng’s primary opposition for years, urging restraint in dealings with the Alliance. Li was as cold-blooded as anyone in the CAC, but she knew what war would be like, and she’d done everything in her power to maintain peace between the Powers, at least on Earth. Too many Committee members had forgotten the horrors their grandparents had suffered to forge the CAC from the gutted ruins of China and half a dozen other wrecked nations. The early leaders, those who ruled from Hong Kong in the early days of the peace, knew firsthand how close they had come to the brink. Their capital was a devastated ruin, the process of rebuilding just beginning. They had considered it unthinkable to risk the renewal of war on Earth. But time had virtually wiped away living memory of the horrors of the wars, and slowly, steadily, the fear that reinforced sanity faded. The leaders were afraid of war on Earth, but not the same way their grandparents had been.
“We must not blindly fear controlled escalation.” Deng slapped his hand on the table in front of him. “We cannot crawl before the Alliance, fearing their military might, checking our every move for concern over their response. Indeed, it is time for us to take the initiative, to strike hard against our enemies and allow the Combine to achieve the true greatness that is its just due upon the world stage.”
Li heard the applause begin at scattered locations around the Committee table, and her heart sank as the cheering grew louder and more energetic. Deng was playing to patriotism, to national – and racial – pride. She was amazed, not for the first time, how emotional appeals could cripple even the most intelligent and capable individuals. There were men present she knew to be smart and highly educated, yet they were ready to yield to foolish, reckless arguments.
She rose slowly and waited for the cheers to die down before she began. “I have argued these points many times, my friends and comrades…urged this body to moderation.” Li tried to hold herself steady without her cane. The pain in her legs was worse than ever, despite the heavy dose of pain meds. “I have but one request…that you all ask yourselves a single question. Why are we here…in this shelter? Is it not because, regardless of jingoistic flag-waving and self-serving speeches, we all fear this war will quickly escalate?” Her voice was weak, throaty. She swallowed hard, trying to increase her volume. She needed to be at her best now, but she knew her strength was almost gone.
“We have not utilized nuclear, biological, or chemical weapons yet; neither have our adversaries. We have not yet invaded any home territory of the Alliance, nor have they done so to us. The fighting to date has been confined to the Manila Perimeter and the sea zones in its immediate area…a location that has been claimed by both parties for over a century. Yet, despite all of this, we have fled the capital, and we cower beneath the South China Sea, hiding from the massive nuclear strikes we all fear will come. Whether we allow our conscious minds to admit that dread or not, each of us knows it is possible, perhaps likely. Or we would still be in the Committee Chamber in Hong Kong, would we not?”
She stared at each of the Committee members in turn as she spoke, not expecting an answer to her question. “Is that what we want? To see Hong Kong and the other great cities of the Combine turned to poisonous ruins? To see the great industry of our nation reduced to radioactive slag?”
She looked around the room and immediately realized she’d gone too far. There were those in the room receptive to arguments for caution, but none who liked to be told they were ‘cowering’ in their undersea refuge. Li was angry with herself. Her argument was sloppy, too direct. She’d been careless and alienated those she needed to court. She was about to try and salvage things when Deng jumped to his feet.
“We, too, have the power to destroy our enemies, to burn their cities into toxic dust.” Deng spoke out of turn, a breach of normal protocol. But emotions were running high, and tensions were showing, even in the Committee’s closed chambers.
“Yes, what our esteemed colleague says is indeed true.” Li strained to raise her voice. Deng was a fool, she knew…but that didn’t mean his views wouldn’t prevail. “But what ultimate purpose does that serve? Does Washbalt destroyed compensate us for the loss of Hong Kong? Will the annihilation of London or New York make up for the obliteration of Shanghai or Nanjing? Or Macau?” Li knew she sounded desperate, but she didn’t know what else to say. “Is mutual destruction a victory for either side?”
Deng raised his hand and interrupted again. “I understand Minister Li’s protestations.” He stared at Li as he spoke, his eyes a pointed warning. “No one has served the Combine longer or more faithfully than Li An.” He turned toward Huang. “Mr. Chairman, esteemed Committee members…I’m sure I join with all of you in wishing to express my profound appreciation for Minister Li’s lifetime of service to our great nation.” A soft murmur of agreement worked its way around the table.
Li stared at Deng. She knew what he was doing, but she didn’t know how to counter it. Any rebuttal to his tribute would appear irrational and only further damage her political capital. She could hear his next words, even before he uttered them.
“Perhaps Minister Li has taken too much on herself for too long. I submit that we, as a governing body, have demanded a greater workload from our esteemed colleague than anyone, no matter how intelligent a
nd capable, can carry.”
Deng’s voice was kind, compassionate. And Li knew every word of it was pure bullshit. It was a warning shot, and she knew it. A glance around the room was all she needed to see that she had a good chance of losing C1 if she pushed too hard. She knew Deng didn’t want that fight; he was well aware that Li An was always a formidable opponent even when she seemed at her weakest. But he had the upper hand, and they both knew it. Her heart told her to argue, but her intellect – and her instincts, her unmatched years of experience – urged her to stay silent, to allow Deng to win this round. To survive to fight the next round.
“The current situation requires unprecedented strength of resolve. We must move forward without fear, without hesitation. We must meet our enemy with courage and determination…and we must never waver.” He paused, glancing toward Li An as he continued. “Or allow ourselves to be ruled by caution when the situation calls for boldness.”
Li sat silently, her expert eyes reading the reactions of the Committee members. Deng had the majority; she had no doubt about that. The war was new, and for all the talk of the horrors of the Unification Wars, that nightmare had been over a century before. Conventional wisdom and stories handed down don’t carry the same weight as remembrance. Li An knew the truth, and she realized it applied to the other Powers as well. People no longer had enough fear of the horrors of total war. They talked of quick victories and gaining the upper hand…not of utter devastation and extinction. Her biggest problems weren’t Deng’s actions…they were the same things that had caused mankind to repeat mistakes again and again. Time and forgetfulness.
She had a few remaining weapons up her sleeve, but if she used them now and failed, she’d be finished. Without C1, she’d lose most of her power. She would become a helpless old woman, watching from the sidelines as her world collapsed. She knew letting Deng have a free run now would only make things worse, but she didn’t see any way to stop that. At least if she preserved her power base there would be a chance later…assuming there was a later.
