Starcruiser Polaris: He Never Died

by Richard Tongue

   “Thanks. I think.”

   The shuttle’s engine died as it settled on the rock, and Cordova clipped the last elements of her suit into place, stepping into the airlock with Schmidt right on her tail, cycling the lock to step out on to the surface. One of the buggies had already pulled up, two figures warily walking towards them.

   “Gabi? Is that you?” a familiar voice asked.

   “Phil?” she replied. “Good God, man, I thought you were dead!”

   “Came close a few times, but they never seemed to quite get that last shot home,” he replied.

   “Phil,” Cordova said, “I’d like to introduce Commander Tasha Schmidt, of Trotsky. Commander, this is Phil Bailey, the craziest demolitions man in the system.”

   “My pleasure,” Schmidt said.

   “More of a politician now,” he replied with a sigh. “I’m running the First Landing Militia.” He turned as two more buggies approached, and added, “You can stop pretending that you aren’t monitoring our frequencies, you two. Lyle Foster and Jane DuBois are in the other buggies.” Turning to Schmidt, he added, “Port Lowell and Gagaringrad, respectively. The three of us run what passes for the Martian Underground. I guess we’re kinda the government now.”

   “Kinda?” Cordova asked.

   With a shrug, he added, “We could barely agree on anything when we were at war. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we’ve won...”

   “We haven’t. Not yet.”

   “...but we still haven’t decided on anything. The Gaggies think they should be running things...”

   “We have half the population,” a precise, clipped voice said, breaking in. “And a majority of the industry.”

   “Which doesn’t mean you can ignore the rest of the population,” a gruff man added. “We’re going to have a say in the running of our own affairs.”

   “We can only have one government.”

   Bailey looked at Cordova with a hang-dog expression on his face, and said, “I think you might be getting the idea about what we’re up against down here. We can’t even agree on our delegation to the conference on Titan. I’m going to assume that you won’t let all three of us go.”

   “Not a chance. I can only guarantee Mars a single seat.”

   “I figured that.”

   “Then you all want to go?” Schmidt asked. “Perhaps in some sort of observer role...”

   Bailey chuckled, and replied, “Commander, the one thing that we are all in agreement on is that someone has to go to represent Martian interests. Earth’s spent the last couple of centuries ignoring us, and it’s about time that changed. Hell, that’s what most of us out here are fighting for. The problem is that while we all want someone to go, we want it to be someone else.”

   Turning to Schmidt, Cordova said, “It’s simple, Commander. If one goes, his city loses their voice, their primary spokesman, and risks a permanent loss of influence in the future course of this planet. Right now, everything here is in flux, and the decisions made today could affect the lives of every Martian for the next century.”

   “Given your connections, Bailey,” DuBois said, “and the relative unimportance of your settlement...”

   “You mean other than being Mars’ primary spaceport,” Bailey replied. “Nice try, Jane, but that isn’t going to fly. Not with me. We’ve got too much at stake to let someone else handle it.” Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Let’s be honest. We could all make pressing arguments for any of us to go and any of us to stay, and all of them would make enough sense to hold up. We’re not going to get through this one by reasoned debate.”

   “Fine,” Cordova said. “Then perhaps you all want to shoot it out, and we’ll drag the survivor back to Titan. I’ve got news for you. If you don’t make this decision now, then Mars loses its seat at the table, and your internal political disputes aren’t going to mean a damned thing! You’ll be a backwater again, regardless of what anyone else might see.” Turning to Bailey, she said, “Port Lowell needs a treaty more than anywhere else on the planet, Frank, and you know it.”

   “Wait a minute,” DuBois said. “If he goes, then...”

   Reaching for a control, Cordova, “We don’t have time for this. I’m launching the shuttle in four minutes, whether any of you are on board or not.” Turning to DuBois, she continued, “You represent the largest population? Fine, you get to be Acting President, on the condition that you do not run in the first free elections, elections which are to be held in no more than three months time. If you decide to postpone them, I will personally come back and shoot you. Or if that fails, I’ll hurl rocks at you from orbit until you die.” Turning to Foster, she continued, “You’re her deputy, and can run in the election if you want, though why you should want a job like that is a mystery to me. Foster goes with us as local representative.”

   “Hang on,” Foster protested. “I don’t...”

   Stepping forward, a manic look in her eyes, Schmidt said, “You all wanted someone to make the decision for you, and Cordova’s gone ahead and done it. If one of you have a better idea in the next three minutes, feel free to implement it. Frankly, I don’t care. I’ve never set foot on this miserable excuse of a planet before, and I hope I never have to visit it again. I don’t have a dog in this fight.”

   “It’s not a bad idea, Jane,” Cordova said, glaring at Schmidt. “Probably the best compromise any of you are going to come up with, and the good Commander’s right. We’re running short of time.”

   “Fine,” DuBois said. “I agree. But you make damn sure you represent all of Mars, Bailey, not just your little part of it, especially if you are planning to run for election.”

   Reaching into his buggy, Bailey pulled out a carryall, and replied, “I half-expected something like this to happen. Everything I need is in here.” Climbing into the shuttle, he said, “Shall we go?”

   As the others moved back to their vehicles, Schmidt turned to Cordova, setting her channel for maximum privacy, and asked, “Did you mean all that?”

   “I’ve got a lot of blood on my hands, Commander. A little more won’t make that much difference, will it? I’m beginning to think that keeping everyone honest is going to be a hell of a lot harder than winning the damned war.”

   “You’re realizing this now?” Shaking her head, Schmidt said, “I just hope all of our problems get solved this easily, but I have an idea that they won’t.” She paused, closed her eyes, and cursed, adding, “And speaking of the devil, I’ve just been informed that we have some gatecrashers at the party.”

   “Gatecrashers?” Cordova asked.

   “The Commonwealth’s arrived, and several shades of hell are breaking loose back on Titan. We’d better get moving on the double. But it could be worse. They might have made you one of the delegates.”

  Chapter 9

   “Are you sure?” Mike asked looking at the doctor. “There’s no error?” Petrova looked at him, a frown on her face, and he added, “It’s just that I thought it was impossible.”

   “Normally, it would be, Commander,” he replied. “Excuse me, Commodore. I take full responsibility for this, naturally. When we were hit during the Battle of Hyperborea, one of the areas damaged was our medical fabricator. It was a top-priority repair, but an error must have been introduced into the systems at that time, and the result was that the contraceptive injections were replaced with placebos. That’s a standard safety back-up, in the event of any malfunction.”

   “Then…,” Mike said.

   “Lieutenant Petrova is seven weeks pregnant, Commodore. I’m not sure whether congratulations or commiserations are in order.”

   “The former,” he replied, bringing a smile back to Petrova’s face. “To get ship’s business out of the way first, I want a full break-down of the medical fabricator on the double, and a check of the entire stored pharmacopoeia. Everything you’ve produced since the battle will have to be tested or replaced.
I’ll leave it to you. And I think you’d better offer all female personnel a discrete medical check-up, just to be on the safe side.”

   “At once, sir.”

   Turning to Petrova, he added, “Now, Doctor, if you please, give us the room.” With a curt nod, he left his office, leaving the two of them alone. He sat down on the desk, looked up at Petrova, and said, “You realize our timing is lousy, I hope.”

   She nodded, and replied, “We’ll be tied up down here for months dealing with the negotiations. Though I suppose it’s better than being starside.”

   “I suppose we could just take a leave of absence.” A smile crossed his face, and he said, “What the hell am I talking about? We’re not in any formal military organization any more. The two of us could hop the next transport out of here and be settled somewhere else in a matter of hours.”

   “We could do that, but we won’t, and we both know why,” she said, placing her hand on his. “I was worried you’d be upset.”

   “Surprised, absolutely. Upset, not at all.” He took a deep breath, and said, “Ever since I lost my daughter, I locked myself away. Threw myself into my work. Somehow, you seem to have managed to smash through the bars. The only question is...”

   The door slid open, and Petrov raced inside, datapad in hand, and said, “There you are. I’ve been looking for the two of you all over the ship. We’ve got a problem with the Commonwealth delegation. They’re refusing to sit with the rebel forces, and want representation of their own.” He paused, looked around, as though only belatedly realizing where they were, and asked, “Is something wrong? One of you ill?”

   “I’m pregnant, Papa,” she said. Looking up at Mike, she said, “and Mike is the father.”

   Looking at the two of them, he nodded, and replied, “Commodore, I’m aware that you have seniority of rank, and that my only current position is as the delegate from Hyperborea, but if you don’t do the right thing...”

   “I intend to,” he replied. “As it happens, I was planning to in any case, but I had hoped to wait until things had settled down a little. This wasn’t quite how I pictured it.”

   “We make plans, and God laughs,” Petrov said. “My congratulations to you both. Does your father know?”

   “I only found out myself a few minutes ago,” Mike replied, rubbing his forehead. “I’ll tell him, but I think we’d better keep this to the five of us right now. I’ll have a word with the doctor and make sure he doesn’t tell anyone.” Looking up at Petrova, he added, “Would I seem evil and paternalistic if I confessed that I wanted you on the first ship out of the system?”

   “You’re that worried?”

   “We’ve got a lot of ships and a lot of angry people out here, all of them wanting a piece of a very small pie, and I don’t know if we’re going to be able to keep them under control. I don’t trust the Chairman as far as I could throw him. Hell, I don’t trust any of them.”

   “It’s fine to be worried,” Petrov said, a wry smile on his face. “Quite natural, under the circumstances. Though everything seems to be settling down relatively well for the moment, despite the abrupt addition of a third party to the negotiations.” Taking a seat for himself, he added, “I think it a good thing, actually. We may be able to solve an awful lot of problems at once this way. Bring all of humanity together once again.”

   “I admire your optimism,” Mike replied. “I don’t know if I share it. I’ve faced the Commonwealth in battle, and I can’t see them simply accepting peace on any terms other than their own. Especially after what we did to them last month.”

   “That might have helped, actually,” Petrova said. “That so many major fleet units were willing to switch sides and join the rebellion could have made it clear to their government just how strongly people’s feeling are on this issue. Most of them just want to live in peace, just like the rest of us.” She looked at Mike, and said, “For the record, I’m not going anywhere, not until all of this is over. I’ll promise that I won’t take any unnecessary risks if you do.”

   “Agreed,” he replied. The wall communicator winked on, and he reached across to throw a switch, saying, “Curtis here. Go ahead.”

   “Ortiz on the bridge, sir. The Federation delegation will be arriving in five minutes. I thought you might want to be up here to keep any eye on things. I know some of the other commanders are a little restless.”

   “On my way,” Mike replied, moving to the door.

   Petrov rose to his feet and followed, asking, “Do you really think someone might fire first?”

   “None of us have any particular reason to love the Federation. Everyone has their own horror story somewhere in their past, or they wouldn’t be fighting with us now, and too many people joined the rebellion to get revenge for my liking.” He stepped into the elevator with the two of them, and continued, “I know there were more than a few disappointed people when it became clear we weren’t actually going to launch an attack on Earth.”

   “Crazy,” Petrov said, shaking his head. “When you think of the casualties the fleet would have suffered...”

   “Ah, but that isn’t the point,” his daughter replied. “Nobody ever thinks that they will be the ones to die in such an attack. That fate is always left for someone else. Everyone is the hero of his own story, and I’m sure that all of them thought that they would be ones to strike the critical blow to bring the war to an end.” The elevator stopped, and another officer stepped in, another former ColSec guard, now wearing urban camo in lieu of a uniform.

   “You’d think this was a ColSec revolt,” Mike said, shaking his head.

   “I’m not the only former ColSec officer in the delegation,” Petrov replied. “You’d be surprised how many of us decided that our truest loyalty was to the people we were supposed to be protecting. I’m not surprised so many of us came along for the ride.” He smiled, and added, “From what I hear of the revolt on Mercury, they had it so well planned that it took less than five minutes to organize the transfer of power. Everyone’s been waiting for this for a long time.”

   Nodding, Mike replied, “That’s the problem. The rebels I’ve met fall into two groups. Most of them either didn’t think they’d live to see the end of the fighting and didn’t care about what happened next, or they had their own set picture of the world they expected to live in, and more importantly, their place within it. How many people are planning to set themselves up as little dictators right now?” He rubbed his eyes, and said, “To an extent, I guess you could add me to that first category. I didn’t give the aftermath of the fighting very much thought. I suppose I didn’t really think the Federation would just give in like this.”

   “They haven’t,” Petrova warned, “not yet. They’ll still be holding out for the maximum possible advantage, and they’ve still retained control of their space-based industries. Give them a decade, and they could rebuild their fleet far stronger than it was before.”

   “They’ll have trouble doing that without Titan,” Mike said, waving a datapad. “We’re already getting screaming requests from half a dozen facilities, asking when petrochemical shipments will resume. They’ve been running the stockpiles down a lot lately, I guess.”

   The doors slid open, and they stepped onto the bridge, Ortiz sitting in the command chair, his face a mask of concern. He looked up at their approach, then turned back to the display.

   “One minute to go,” he said. “I can’t raise the...” He paused, then said, “Damn it, this would be a lot easier if you two didn’t have the same rank and last name. Your father’s in a meeting with the Commonwealth delegates, and I can’t get through to him. I don’t like the way Regulus is moving forward. They’re drifting out of formation. Supposedly because they’re worried about some of the orbital traffic, but I don’t buy it.”

   Walking over to the communications console, Mike looked down at the technician, and said, “Connect me through to the entire fleet.”

/>    “Yes, sir,” she said. “All set up.”

   “This is Mike Curtis,” he began, wanting to remove any possible doubt to his identity. The ranks were almost superfluous in any case. His father was in charge, and he was second-in-command. Idly, he thought of suggesting that his father assume the rank of Admiral, but that was for a later time.

   “In a few seconds, the Federation delegates will be arriving in-system. They are traveling under a flag of truce, and for the sake of the peace we hope to secure at this conference, we are all going to respect that truce. I know that trust doesn’t come easy, and I’d be lying if I said I was comfortable with this myself, but we’re going to receive them according to protocol. And one more thing. If any ship decides to take matters into their own hands, I will order Castro to open fire on them at once. Get this straight. We’re here to save lives, people, not restart a war that could kill millions of people. Keep your swords sheathed today. That is all.”

   “Mike,” Ortiz said, frowning, “I’m not sure that I could...”

   “I don’t think it will come to that,” Mike replied, moving to the viewscreen. “Sensors, status of the fleet?”

   “Holding position for the moment, sir. Though most of them have gone to alert status.”

   “Sensible precaution,” Petrova replied. “This could still be a trap.”

   “If it is, we’ll shoot it to hell, then go kick butt in Earth orbit,” Mike said. “They know that.”

   “I hope so,” Ortiz said. He looked across at his tactical officer, and said, “Prepare defensive salvo, but keep our mass driver cannons offline. They can’t criticize us for protecting ourselves, as long as we don’t look as though we’re actually eager for a fight.”

   “Aye, sir,” the young officer replied, fingers moving nimbly across his controls. “Cleared for action, Commander.”

   “And don’t make a move without my direct order,” Ortiz added, looking at Mike. “Can’t be too careful.”