by John Bowers
"Fuck you, Feddie! I do that, you'll kill me!"
"You put down the laser, we won't kill you. I promise."
"Yeah, right! The promise of a Feddie, and a goddamned serf, too! You're a fuckin' Spanic!"
"Put it down, man!" Chavez said from the center of the room. "You kill her, you're a dead chingader'."
The kid was too frightened to move. He just kept swiveling toward one, then the other, the woman still held as a shield.
"Put down your rifles!" he repeated, hysteria edging his voice. "If you shoot me, you'll hit her, too."
"I'm tellin' you, man," Rico insisted, "if you hurt her, you're gonna die. You let her go and put down that laser, I'll guarantee your safety."
"Fuck you! Fuck you!"
"I swear to God, man!"
"You're lyin'! I can't trust a Feddie!"
"We don't kill prisoners, man. Just give yourself up." Rico felt sweat trickle inside his shirt. Enough of the Sirian's body was visible that he had a clear shot, but with that laser pistol still against the woman's head …
"Say goodnight, peckerwood!"
The kid jerked in panic at the deep baritone of the new voice. A black hand reached around the edge of the doorway, lit by the glow of a stubby laserblade. With one quick stroke Jeff White cut the Sirian's throat; his other hand grabbed the woman by the hair and jerked her toward the floor just as the laser pistol chirped, blasting a hole in the ceiling. The woman shrieked in horror, kicking like a wounded rabbit, then fainted dead away.
Rico sagged with relief, suddenly trembling from an overflow of adrenaline.
"Jesus Christ! Where the fuck did you come from, Knee Grow?"
"I was right behind you boys all the way," Jeff White said, looking at the rapidly spreading lake of blood from the Sirian's throat. "I hoped you might git him to give up, but it was pretty obvious he was gonna do somethin' stupid. So I helped him make up his mind."
"Fuck, man!" Chavez chattered. "Fuck, man! Fuck!"
* * *
The battle for Lancalpha lasted for nine days. SE headquarters and the slave depot were taken on day seven, but Rico and Delta never saw it. After three days in the city they were relieved by more reinforcements, and were moved to the perimeter of the city to guard against any attempt by the massed divisions outside to retake the prize. Close ground support by the Space Force prevented the Sirians from trying that, and as more Federation divisions were ferried in, the enemy was forced to back away.
Delta spent a total of five weeks in the city, and when the threat of recapture had been sufficiently reduced, all Star Marines were airlifted out, leaving the Infantry to occupy the prize.
Chapter 42
June - August 0230 (PCC) - Wallace Plantation, Texiana, Sirius 1
Scarlett Wallace-Vaughn divided her time evenly between the plantation and her new home in the city. Martin seemed more withdrawn each time she saw him — the battle for Alpha Centauri was going badly. Though he rarely discussed any of it with her, she learned enough to know that the Feddies were indeed more tenacious than anyone on Sirius had ever expected.
"We had them beaten!" Martin told her on one of those rare occasions that he let his hair down. They were sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, holoflames flickering realistically a few feet away. His left hand was wrapped around his fifth glass of Lightning, his eyes glazed. He was slurring a little, but Scarlett was too entranced at his words to scold him.
"We had the bastards! Back in twenty-two. We had 'em by the throat and we were a-squeezin'. They had no carriers; their defense factories were mos'ly in ruins. And then … "
His voice trailed away and he stared into the holoflames, lost in thought.
"What?" Scarlett whispered. "What happened?"
He looked at her, almost as if he hadn't known she was there. He shook his head slowly.
"Then, my darlin', disaster struck. We sent an invasion convoy to invade their fourth planet. We had bombed it nearly to rubble, an' all we had to do was land troops. Once we had Mars, Terra would be completely cut off, totally isolated. But … "
"What?" She was breathless with curiosity.
"The invasion convoy ran into Feddie fighters, just a few hours short of commencin' operations. Somehow, one o' them fighters got past our screen — all by itself — and took out two of our transports. Killed half our invasion force, all at once."
"Oh, my stars!" Scarlett had turned pale.
Vaughn was staring at the flames again, shaking his head sadly.
"We had to postpone the landin's, and then they put their first carrier into commission, and stationed it off of Mars. We never got another chance."
His eyes focused on Scarlett as if it were her fault.
"It was pure ol' luck, but it gave them the morale boost they needed. And people here at home acted like it was the end o' the goddamned universe!"
"Martin, I am so sorry! I never heard any of this."
He dropped his gaze and shook his head sadly.
"You wasn't even here then. You was on Altair, with plenty o' troubles of your own." He scooted closer and slid an arm around her. "My poor, darlin' Scarlett! How I do love you!"
She kissed him fiercely, as much to lighten his mood as anything. He rested his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes while she raked his hair with her fingers.
"What are we goin' to do about Alpha Centauri?" she whispered. "Surely the Feddies are not strong enough to take it from us?"
He sighed and shook his head.
"I'm afraid they are. We are sendin' in fighters from Beta Centauri every day, but somehow they keep ahead of us. They must have carriers we don't know about, because there ain't no way they could have kept so many fighters up to oppose us." He grunted. "Now, of course, they are usin' the bases they took from us, and we don't have enough resources to push them back."
Scarlett pushed his head upright and peered into his eyes with her green lasers.
"Martin Vaughn, are you tellin' me the whole Confederate fleet cannot stop the Feddies? I thought you said a while back that they were beaten!"
He blinked against the alcohol flooding his system, and pushed himself back away from her.
"Oh, we'll stop 'em, all right. They'll never git to Beta Centauri. But unless things change drastically in the next few weeks, I don't have much hope for savin' Alpha."
"You told me they didn't have a prayer to take Alpha, either. Martin, are we in any danger here?"
"No, no, of course not! Now don't you fret, my love. They will never reach us."
"How did they get such an advantage at Alpha, then?"
"It's complicated, my dear. I don't have the energy to explain it. And anyway, I am not even suppose' to be talkin' about it."
"Martin, I'm your wife! I believe I have a right to know some things! Especially if there is a chance we might lose this war!"
"I told you, we ain't gonna lose no war. We ain't never lost one yet, and this won't be the first one. Please don't trouble yourself, my love. And please, do not repeat any of this."
That was the most he ever said about it at any one time, until the day he came home in such a depression that she had to insist he tell her what was wrong. It was like pulling teeth, but finally he gave her a thumbnail of the situation.
"The Feddies have overrun Lancalpha," he told her listlessly. "It was two thousand miles inside our lines, but the bastards airlifted troops and captured it. I still can't believe our people could not stop them."
"What is Lancalpha?" she asked. "I never even heard of it."
"Only the most important city on the planet," he said. He lifted his eyes to look up at her. "It was SE headquarters. Our entire slave processin' industry was located there. They shut the whole thing down."
Scarlett stared at him as if he'd just announced that Feddie troops were in New Birmingham.
"How could they do that?" she whispered.
"By bein' bold and darin'. And by controllin' the air. I am told that troop morale on the planet
is at an all-time low."
"Goodness!"
"I don't know how much longer we can hold the planet."
"Martin! Surely we can take that city back!"
But he was shaking his head.
"They have control of the air, and the city is surrounded on three sides by water. It's like a fortress."
"If they took it, then we can take it!"
"No. We can't."
In August, Martin confided in her again. This news had nothing to do with battles or troop dispositions, but proved to be shocking just the same. It was a Sunday afternoon at the plantation. Martin had been drinking all day, a development that had begun to alarm his wife over the past several months.
"The Feddies have elected themselves a new president," he told her wearily as they sat on the back lawn.
"Is that bad news?" Scarlett asked.
"Might be. This fella is a militant son of a bitch. His daddy used to be ambassador to Vega, forty, fifty years ago. When we invaded Vega, he started tellin' people we was comin' after the Federation next. How in the name of God he knew that is still a mystery, but he got himself elected to their Senate and went right to work tryin' to build up their space force. We did everything we could to discredit him, but it didn't help. He kep' at it for years. We almost had to call it off because of him, and as it was we had to move the timetable up several years. If we hadn't, we never would've got this far."
Scarlett's face felt hot. She stared at her husband with glittering eyes.
"What is his name?" she almost whispered.
Martin was slouched in his lawn chair, staring at the sky.
"Henry Reagan Wells," he said.
Regina almost fainted. She suppressed a gasp, and turned away, lest Martin see the flush on her cheeks. Fortunately, he was too far gone to pay attention, and continued chattering aimlessly, giving her time to catch her breath and slow her hammering heart while brushing away the tears that sprang to her eyes. Almost five minutes went by before she trusted herself to speak again.
"Martin," she said finally, "how do you know so much about what goes on inside the Federation? Surely what you are tellin' me must be very highly classified on their end."
Martin grinned as the thought gave him pleasure.
"We have eyes and ears," he said.
"Inside the Federation?"
"Of course. You don't think we would undertake a war of this magnitude without preparin' for it, do you? We put people in place years ahead of time."
"Like Mister Lonely?"
His head jerked around, and his eyes narrowed.
"How do you know about him?" he demanded.
"Why, Martin!" Scarlett's eyes were wide with innocence. "You told me about him, my love. A long time ago."
"I did?"
"Of course. Back when you said the Feddies were goin' to … Well, I forget, but they were about to do somethin'. And you already knew it."
He grunted and relaxed. He tipped his whiskey glass, but it contained only melted ice.
"Perhaps I should be a little more circumspect," he muttered.
"Martin, you are under an awful lot of pressure. You have to relax once in a while. A man's home is his castle, you know."
He grinned at her, and stuck out a hand to caress her face.
"And you, Scarlett my love, are the perfect queen."
She giggled and kissed his knuckles. "I feel much more secure just knowin' we have capable men inside the Federation, lookin' out for us. When the war is over, perhaps we can invite Mister Lonely here for a feast. I imagine he is indeed very lonely there, wherever he is."
Martin nodded.
"He certainly is. He isn't our only intelligence source, but he is the most important. His situation is very precarious, for he is in a very high position."
"Really?"
"Yes. He has been there for years, waitin', feedin' us critical information. And now he is more valuable than ever before."
* * *
Late that night, after their lovemaking, after Martin had passed out at last, Scarlett slipped out of bed to the bathroom. When she came out she gazed at her snoring husband, then slipped into a robe and left the room. Minutes later she entered the garden behind the house, making her way among the rose bushes until she'd reached the gazebo. Davenport was already there.
"Anything?" he asked.
Regina sat down beside him for a moment, suddenly weak in the knees.
"My father is now the President of the United Solar Federation," she said, almost numbed by the words. "Can you believe that?"
Davenport stared at her a moment, his face impassive.
"Congratulations."
She shook her head in disbelief.
"Is that it?" he pressed.
"No. Mister Lonely is definitely a man. He's been in place for a number of years. Martin didn't say so, but I had the impression we're talking about decades. More important, though — he said Mister Lonely is now in a position that makes him more valuable than ever before."
"In what way? Was he promoted or something?"
"That's all he said. We'll have to leave it to FIA to figure out what it means."
"Maybe Mister Lonely is your father," Davenport suggested wryly. Regina's eyes flashed.
"You don't know my father!" she snapped. "You'd never say that if you did. Anyway, Martin was almost angry when he spoke of him, so that doesn't fit."
"Nothing else?"
"No."
"Okay. Get going. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Scarlett left the way she'd come, making her way carefully through the shifting shadows of three moons. She didn't see the figure that stood frozen in one of those shadows, fifteen feet from where she'd been talking to Davenport. Nor did Davenport see it when he left the gazebo five minutes later, going the other way.
Kim remained where she was for at least ten more minutes after the two had left, her young heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and terror. Unable to sleep, she'd decided to take a walk in the garden, which she often did at night just for the solitude. She'd never intended to spy on the white people, but if they caught her they would never believe that.
Especially since she'd heard every word.
Tuesday, 10 August, 0230 (PCC)
Three hundred twenty-nine days after landing on Alpha 2, the 3rd Star Marine Division boarded starships and returned to Terra. The battle for Alpha Centauri wouldn't end for another twenty months, but 3rd Division had done its part.
Book Three – Periscope Harbor
"The history of Sirius includes more than a dozen wars of conquest. Sirian military philosophy dictates that an enemy, once conquered, must never again be able to oppose the Confederacy. To this end, pillage and humiliation are mandated. Slavery and rape is an important weapon in breaking the will of a defeated enemy. In every war Sirius fights, the real losers are women and children … "
— Regina Wells, Your Sirian Enemy
Chapter 43
Friday, 5 April, 0232 (PCC) - AB 131, Asteroid Belt, Solar System
It had been almost four years since AB-131 was recovered and restaffed. Four fighter squadrons now operated off the asteroid, flying four patrols every day. Not a single enemy had been encountered, and hopefully none ever would be, for the Sirians had been driven out of the Solar System. But if they ever returned, the asteroid bases were fully operational again, their fighter squadrons manned by a mixture of rookies still learning their craft and weary veterans who'd practiced too much of it.
Inside the asteroid, the base was busy and vibrant, almost a living organism. Passive Ladar monitored nearby space and computers processed the data, providing real-time information for the fighter crews and the Federation. Located just off the main comm center, the computer room was the true nerve center of AB-131.
* * *
Spec/4 Ernie Rivers frowned in confusion as he stared at the display before him. Something was funny about the data on the screen, but he didn't yet know what it was. His supervisor had told him
to erase static drive 94 and initialize it for reuse; he'd done that, but the drive stats didn't make sense. He hadn't figured out why.
Static drive 94 was a standard storage unit for the MegaLyth mainframes used by the Space Force. Manufactured by GBM, it was widely used throughout the Federation for military, police, and government systems. Ernie had seen a thousand of them, and they all acted just alike — except this one.
He ran the erase procedure again, overriding all the cautionary prompts, then ran the init again. It took seventeen minutes, and when the job finished he ran the drive status display again. Nothing had changed. Next he ran a surface scan, which returned a code of normal. He leaned back and stared at the HD, biting his lip. Just for kicks, he ran the drive stat on drive 73, which had also been cleaned. This one looked normal, so he wasn't crazy. Something was different about 94, but there was nothing logical about it.
Ernie looked around.
"Sandra, you got a minute?"
Spec/3 Sandra Billings glanced in his direction, saw the expression on his face, and pushed her chair over next to his. He pointed at the display.
"You've seen a million of these drive units, right?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Tell me what's wrong with this one."
The youthful tech leaned closer to the display, her hair brushing his shoulder. She frowned briefly.
"Looks like it lost part of its storage capacity," she said. "You're about seven gig short."
"I know. But I erased the damn thing and reinitialized it. Twice. It's clean."
"Any bad sectors?"
"None showing." He pointed. "I even ran a surface scan, and everything showed up."
"That's weird. Have any of the other drives acted like this?"
"Not since I've been here. We've cleaned about thirty of them so far, and they all read normal. Until this one."
"You better tell the chief."
"Is she around?"
"I think she went to lunch. Should be back in twenty minutes."
Ernie nodded and wiped a hand across his mouth, staring at the display thoughtfully. It might just be a bad drive, but his curiosity was aroused. He'd like to solve this one himself, but he only had twenty minutes. It was better than nothing.
