by John Bowers
"No, my dear. Bless you. You took the opportunity to fight them. I owe you for that."
The White House, Washington City, DC, North America, Terra
Henry Wells hadn't slept since the day before. He remained at his desk in his oval office as situation reports came in. It was his first experience as Commander in Chief during a major engagement, and he found it disquieting. He bore no personal responsibility for the landing, as the war had been under way for years and the machinery in place long before his election. Yet he'd approved the Periscope Harbor operation, based upon the recommendations of his advisors. Lester Rice had been particularly excited about the plan, claiming it offered a chance to capture the planet in ninety days. The risks were high, but the potential savings in lives was almost seductive.
Henry sat with his necktie loosened, a glass of scotch at his fingertips. He was tired, but couldn't have slept had he tried. The news wasn't all bad, but was much worse than he'd expected. It didn't take a hyperdrive scientist to deduce that, in spite of everything, Mr. Lonely, before his death, had somehow gotten word to his superiors about Periscope Harbor — or else he had a backup. The diversionary strike against Vega had met with disaster, eleven full squadrons decimated in the atmosphere as they approached their targets. Little damage had been done to enemy fighter bases, and Federation crews had been forced to fight their way back to the carriers. Even worse, UFF Indira Ghandi had been severely damaged by enemy space power before it could warp to safety, and would be out of action for a year or more while repairs were affected.
On Beta Centauri, the Star Marines had met a bloodbath at the airport, and fought their way out only because they were Star Marines. The enemy had been waiting for the landers, and the expected annual carnival had been nowhere in evidence. There was no question in Henry's mind what it all meant — they'd been sold out.
Henry stared at a holomap of Periscope Harbor that had been erected in his office. Military experts loitered about, waiting for the next bit of news, everyone on edge.
The door opened. Everyone jerked upright as General Luna stepped inside and stopped, looking around in awe. Luna wasn't part of the briefing team, and his arrival was quite unexpected. Henry stood up, question marks in his eyes.
"Mr. President," Luna said, his dark eyes focusing on his Commander in Chief, "we have an unusual development."
"What is it, General?" Henry felt his blood pressure increase.
"It's a subspace communication, sir. From the enemy."
Every heart froze, every eye widened in disbelief. Henry waited for Luna to explain.
"It's … from the President of Sirius, sir. He wants to talk to you."
Periscope Harbor, Beta Centauri
Laser bolts exploded against the side of a starcrete building as Rico Martinez dashed wildly toward cover, diving at the last possible second behind a low stone fence. He landed heavily and grunted in pain as the hard ground skinned his elbows. He panted a few seconds as Spandaus from his squad ripped into the house thirty yards to his left, exploding through its wooden sides in an attempt to kill whoever was behind those lasers. Rico dared lift his head only briefly, taking a retinal snapshot as he ducked again and gripped his rifle. The house was burning, but the BC inside were still shooting back. Damn!
"Beaner!" The breathless voice in his headset was Texas, and he sounded worried. "You okay?"
"They missed me," Rico replied. "Can you see how many there are?"
"Can't see shit! There's three windows and a door, looks like they're shooting from all of them. But the flames're fucking up my contacts — I can't get any bodyheat sigs."
"Okay, keep up the covering fire. I'll try to work in closer."
He could hear the chirp of lasers above the hammer of the Spandaus, but they were no longer coming in his direction. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his knees under him, gripped his rifle, and sat up suddenly, spraying the nearest window for a full five seconds; the frame ripped apart as the heavy slugs exploded. He heard a cry and thought he saw a body fall, but couldn't be sure. Another laser blasted past his head and he dropped again, heart thudding, sweat streaming into his eyes. Behind him, the rest of the squad kept up a steady fire.
The stone fence was only twenty feet long and perhaps two feet high. Rico began to crawl until he reached the far end, peeking around briefly. Now he could see the corner of the house, and the adjoining wall that stretched away from him. Two more windows were visible, but the fire was spreading, and flame poured from one of them. If they waited long enough, the fire would take care of the BC, but it might take fifteen minutes or more, and they were still two blocks from the river.
"Preacher! Where's your people?" he demanded over his helmet mike.
"We're pinned down," was the worried reply. "We're taking fire from two sides." Preacher had come up the parallel street; Rico could expect no help from him.
"Hang on, we'll get to you when we can."
Rico wiped his forehead with a sleeve and surveyed his situation. The intervening space between him and the house was an open yard, with no cover. Crossing it would be suicide, but his squad couldn't move until those inside the house had been neutralized. He didn't feel like waiting for the fire to spread. Instead, he pulled two plasma grenades off his belt and laid them on the ground. Laying down his rifle, he picked up both grenades and got ready.
"Fire in the hole!" he warned the others, then pulled the pins, rose to his knees again, and flung both objects as hard as he could toward the house. To his surprise, one grenade sailed through a window, the other bounced up against the side of the house. He ducked quickly and covered his head with his arms. The grenades flashed, white heat washed over him, and he heard more screams.
He came up shooting, racing toward the house with his Spandau on full automatic. Flame sheeted the outside of the building now, and through the windows he could see the interior lit by white flame. Four figures staggered out the door and another tumbled out a window, all of them blazing. Rico cut them down as quickly and mercifully as he could, his explosive slugs chewing their bodies to shreds as they died, and he ran down the side of the house, firing through the windows, though he saw nothing moving inside.
He reached the far end of the house and crouched beside a tree, panting from adrenaline.
"Second Squad, the house is clear. Move up."
It took them thirty seconds to reach his position, and they fanned out as they approached the next house. The only sound now was the crackling flames from the burning structure, and the stutter of automatic weapons from the next block.
"Preacher's in trouble," Rico told his squad mates. "Let's go."
"Jesus is never around when you really need him!" Texas muttered.
The White House, Washington City, DC, North America, Terra
W. C. Adolph sat in a large leather armchair as he gazed at the holocams that recorded the image Henry Wells was looking at nine light years away. He was a tall man, slender almost to the point of gauntness; his eyes glittered slightly as he smiled benignly. He looked very presidential, surrounded by his bookshelves, with his galaxy map in the background. He held an old-fashioned briar pipe in his right hand.
"President Wells," Adolph said in his famous baritone voice. "We meet at last."
Henry Wells hardly knew what to say. He was still recovering from the shock of the unexpected communication, had had no time at all to brace himself. His advisors stood like mannequins as they stared in amazement at the holo of the enemy leader.
"I suppose it's premature to expect that you called to ask for surrender terms," Henry said evenly, hoping to buy a few seconds to compose himself. Adolph's head tilted back as he laughed good-naturedly.
"Yes, I'm afraid so," he said. "Extremely premature. By the same token, I don't suppose I would gain anything by offerin' you terms?"
"You would gain nothing at all."
Adolph nodded as he sucked at his pipe for a moment. In spite of the distance, the round trip for the transmission require
d only six or seven seconds.
"No doubt you didn't expect to hear from me," Adolph said.
"No, sir, I did not."
"And yet my call is not a complete surprise?"
"No. Not a complete surprise."
Adolph nodded, his expression almost friendly.
"Since we have this opportunity, President Wells, allow me to congratulate you. I have followed your career for many years now, and I have to say I have admired you greatly. You, sir, are a worthy opponent."
Henry nodded deferentially, but said nothing. He hadn't expected Adolph to do anything as unorthodox as to call him directly, person to person, but since he had, the only thing of interest to Henry was his daughter. But he let Adolph have his head, since he'd clearly called with an agenda.
"I also congratulate you on your military forces," Adolph went on grandly. "For a people whose heads were buried in stardust for so many years, you have fought extremely well. I must admit that I have been quite surprised."
"People can do remarkable things when their survival is threatened," Henry replied. "I'm surprised you didn't learn that on Vega."
"As you are also learnin' on Beta Centauri," Adolph smiled.
Henry nodded slowly. "We're going to take Beta Centauri away from you," he said. "And Vega, too."
Adolph seemed to be enjoying himself. He smoked for a moment as the subspace transmission streaked toward him, then lifted his chin slightly as he heard the words.
"Well, sir, I am sure we could sit and debate that all day. But that would prove nothin', would it? Only time will tell."
"Yes. Time will tell. Tell me, President Adolph, what did you really call about?"
The moment had come, and Henry felt his stomach twist slightly, but resolve settled in as well. If there were to be negotiations now, he was determined to come out on top. Adolph's smile faded and he removed the pipe stem from his mouth, tapping the partially smoked tobacco into a dish. He sniffed, cleared his throat, and looked at Henry's image again, all business now.
"I see that you have staff members present," he said. "I trust they are all cleared for this conversation?"
"None of them has a clue what we're going to discuss," Henry admitted. "But they all have top clearance. What's on your mind?"
Some of the generals glanced sidelong at their President, but all eyes returned to the holo quickly enough. Not a man present dared miss a word.
"My intelligence people have captured a Feddie spy, Mr. President," Adolph said carefully.
"I am aware of that," Henry said.
"The spy in question," Adolph continued, "is a young woman. Quite a lovely young woman, in fact. Red hair, green eyes. Her name — her real name — is Regina Wells."
Henry felt his face grow warm as several of his staff turned to stare at him in shock. His eyes never left Adolph's face.
"Yes," Henry said. "That is also my information."
Silence mounted for twenty seconds. Henry waited. The generals exchanged glances. They all looked as if they could use a drink.
"We are on the same bandwidth, then," Adolph said.
"I believe we are."
"Good. President Wells, what do you suggest I do about this situation?"
Henry resisted the temptation to chew his lip, but his heart hammered suddenly. This was the critical moment.
"What do you normally do in these situations?" he asked, his voice slightly strained.
"Normally?" Adolph's eyebrows lifted a fraction. "Why, I believe that is obvious, sir. Normally we conduct a little execution."
Henry's eyes were frozen on the other man's face. What did he want?
"But this time you've captured the daughter of the Federation President," he said, his arms tingling with fear.
"Yes, sir. That is about the size of it."
"And you've called to find out what kind of ransom I am willing to pay."
Adolph stared at him thoughtfully.
"'Ransom' is a such harsh word, President Wells. It suggests a kidnappin', don't it?"
"I wouldn't characterize this situation as a kidnapping," Henry conceded. "But I trust that you want something, or you would already have executed my daughter."
Adolph's lips curved again.
"Very astute, sir. Very astute, indeed. What, exactly, is she worth to you? I presume that you do want her back?"
"Yes, I do."
"Then, I believe we can do business."
Henry relaxed a fraction.
"Before we do," he said, "would it be possible for me to see my daughter? Speak with her?"
"Ah, no, sir, I'm afraid not. But I assure you that she is alive and comfortable. She did endure a rather vigorous interrogation, but that is over now. She is being held less than a hundred yards from where I sit, and she is in good health."
"I'm grateful to hear that."
Adolph smiled again. He was in a comfortable bargaining position, and could afford a certain amount of magnanimity.
"So what kind of deal can we make, President Wells?"
"Tell me what you want," Henry said, "and I'll tell you if it's acceptable."
Adolph laughed. "Like a couple of Ay-rab traders, eh?"
Henry allowed the corners of his lips to curve slightly.
"All right, then," Adolph said. "Why don't we begin with the galaxy and all its stars. If we cain't come to terms, then I can always execute your daughter."
Henry leaned forward, his expression hardening.
"President Adolph, you are holding a laser to my head, and we both know it. But I do not appreciate you making a threat like that, even in jest. Let me say this before we go any further — if you execute my daughter, I will take extreme measures against the people of the Sirian Confederacy. I will execute every Sirian prisoner of war that we have, and every one that we take in the future. My armies will adopt a scorched-planet policy in all future actions, and when we reach Sirius — which we will — I will erase every city on the planet!”
He sat back suddenly, panting with surprise at his own outburst. Adolph stared back at him in startled disbelief for just a heartbeat. His cheeks reddened and he blinked once before recovering his professional demeanor.
"Well said, President Wells! I appreciate passion in a leader. But don't you think you have overstated your capabilities? You and I both know that your congress would never approve such tactics, and even if they did, the Feddie people would not. Your soldiers are magnificent fighters, but they generally stop short of murder."
"We are a democracy," Henry admitted. "But in wartime, certain emergency powers are allowed. Trust me when I tell you what I can and will do. I urge you not to test me on this."
Adolph was right, and they both knew it. But Henry had let his emotion get loose and now couldn't back down. His eyes remained hard as he glared at the Confederate leader.
"Very well," Adolph said. "For the sake of this conversation, we will assume that you will do what you say. Shall we get on to the horse tradin'?"
Henry nodded.
"My first proposal, then," Adolph said. "Pull your Star Marines out of Periscope Harbor. Pull your fleet back to Alpha Centauri, let us declare that the frontier, and let's end these hostilities."
"You want to stop the war."
"Don't you?"
"No. I want to win the war."
Adolph smiled again.
"Surely you know that is not goin' to happen?"
"As you said, sir — time will tell."
"Then, I trust the first proposal is rejected?"
"It is."
Adolph lifted a glass of clear liquid filled with ice crystals, sipped it, and set it down again. As if he were shuffling the top page of a document to the bottom.
"Proposal number two. Pull all your intelligence personnel out of the Confederacy. Bring them all home. Stop spyin' on us."
"Does that mean you are willing to do the same?"
"Of course not. In return, I offer you your daughter's life."
"You would never know if
I had complied or not," Henry pointed out. "For all you know, Regina may be the last spy we had."
They both knew that wasn't true. The Sirians had identified a number of spies who were still operating, and were feeding them disinformation. Adolph merely smiled.
"That sounds like no."
"It is."
"Very well, sir. Proposal number three." The smile left Adolph's face completely; for the first time since he'd called, his eyes turned as hard as Henry's. "In return for your daughter, give me … the Fighter Queen."
Henry felt his skin crawl. The generals stirred unconsciously at Adolph's words. Henry pursed his lips, peering closely at his opponent.
"The Fighter Queen? You mean Onja Kvoorik?"
Adolph nodded. "A one-for-one trade. Your daughter gets to go home, the Vegan bitch stops killing my people."
"She dies, you mean. You want me to trade her for Regina so you can kill her."
"I assure you, President Wells — she will live a very, very long time. I want that girl alive."
Henry's forehead creased as his imagination wandered for a moment. He didn't have to voice the thought, but he knew what kind of future the Fighter Queen would face as a Sirian prisoner, as a Sirian slave.
"The Fighter Queen has won the highest medal the Federation can award," he said instead. "She is a national hero."
"She's a Vegan mercenary! She ain't even one of yours! Let me have her, your daughter comes home tomorrow!" Adolph's own passion was mounting.
"I'll never turn over a Federation soldier," Henry said. "I'd surrender to you myself before I'd do such a thing."
"Not even to save your daughter's life?"
It was a knife in Henry's heart, but some prices were just too high to pay.
"As a father," he said hoarsely, "I have an obligation to protect my child. As a President, I have a duty to protect my citizens. Onja Kvoorik is not for sale."
Adolph glared at him for nearly a full minute, almost trembling with barely controlled rage. Finally he sat back, blinking rapidly, sucking his top lip.
"President Adolph," Henry said, sensing that Adolph might terminate the subspace, "here is what I'm willing to do. I am currently holding nearly a quarter-million prisoners of war. We've taken them from the Outer Worlds, from Altair, and from Alpha Centauri. We also have several hundred fighter pilots and miscellaneous civilians. At the rate this war is going, none of them is likely to get home before they reach retirement age, and I'm sure their families want to see them just as much as I want to see my daughter. So … you return my daughter safely, and I will send them home. Every last one."
