by John Bowers
"I never called you Henry back then," Wade grinned.
"No, you were too interested in my daughter, and you were about half scared of me."
"Not half — completely."
Henry laughed heartily. "Here, sit down. Can I get you anything? Do you like scotch?"
"I love scotch."
A minute later they both had glasses in their hands.
"Where is Regina, sir? I tried to contact her for several months and finally gave up. She just disappeared on me."
Henry's smile faded.
"She's doing well. She was recruited by the FIA for a mission, and she was off the planet for several years. But she's home now. In fact, she was asking after you just the other day."
Wade smiled his relief. "I'd love to see her."
"I'll arrange it."
Henry paused and sighed, the signal that pleasure was over and it was time for business.
"Tell me about Periscope Harbor," he said. "From the very beginning. From its inception. I want to know the whole story, and don't leave out anything."
Wade stared at him in surprise. "Sir, it's only my viewpoint. There are many things I don't know, and I may have opinions that are inaccurate."
"I understand that. Tell me anyway."
Wade talked for two hours. Henry hung on every word, asking an occasional question. When Wade had finished, Henry sat in thoughtful silence for a time.
"What are your plans now?" he asked.
"I … was thinking about getting out of the service," Wade said. "I re-enlisted just before shipping out to Beta, but with this medical condition, I thought I might be able to talk my way into a discharge."
"And civilian life? What are your plans there?"
"Finish my Masters, then get into the private sector."
Henry nodded thoughtfully and sipped his scotch.
"Would you consider returning to the Polygon?" he asked.
Wade frowned. "In what capacity?"
"As a planner. Only this time, with a direct line to this office. Wade, we can't afford a repeat of Periscope Harbor. As it is, we're playing down the disaster there because we can't afford the public outrage. It was a fucking fiasco from start to finish, and if the full story ever gets out, public opinion could turn against the war. We can't afford that; we'll never get another chance like this. We've got to put the Confederacy out of business."
Wade stared at his fingernails.
"Well … "
"I guarantee a promotion to go with the job," Henry said. "You would be a senior planner this time, with battlefield experience. And a Crimson Cross to prove it."
"I was planning to get married," Wade said. "My fiancée wants me to get out."
Henry was surprised.
"Congratulations. Anyone I know?"
"No, sir. At least, I don't think so. Her name is Dianne Love. She was a gunner for six or seven years."
"Would she be terribly upset if you were merely in the Polygon? Not too many bullets flying around in there."
Wade shrugged, then grinned.
"She might be, but if you spoke to her about it yourself … "
"Consider it done." Henry clapped him on his good shoulder. "Now, how about some lunch?"
"I'm starving."
"Good. So am I."
Orbit of Alpha 2
Carla Ferracci stared out at Alpha 2 from an observation lounge on board Sadat, her arms wrapped around herself. She'd taken herself off-line as soon as they returned from Periscope Harbor for the last time, fully aware that she was no longer in any condition to do her job. Had she not done so, Capt. Carson had been fully prepared to do it for her.
James had been wonderful during the days since, she had to admit. He was about the best friend she'd ever had. She'd remained in her cabin for days, too listless to come out, too stubborn to seek treatment for her depression. Her entire universe had crumbled as she watched the names appear on the computer terminal in the ready room after returning aboard ship. Every man who was evacuated had been listed there as he was catalogued, either into a sickbay or onto a transport, with a notation as to his physical condition.
Rico's name had never appeared.
Several dozen wounded had been listed as John Doe; their datatags had been missing or unreadable and they'd been unconscious. Carla watched these names hopefully during transit back to Alpha 2, and gradually all the John Does were identified. None of them was Rico.
It had been the final brick, and she had collapsed completely. Now, a week later, she simply stared a lot, too numb inside to think about much. Food didn't interest her, nor did much of anything else. She slept a lot and paced about the ship when she was awake.
She didn't look around as she heard the hatch into the observation lounge whisper open and close again. People came and went about the ship at all hours of the day and night, and she just ignored them. But this time …
"Carla?"
The voice was familiar. She turned. Her dark eyes widened slightly at the sight of the famous blonde gunner she'd met on the planet below.
"Onja," she whispered. "What — what are you doing here?"
Onja Kvoorik approached quietly, her blue eyes intense.
"I came to see you," she said. "I would've come sooner, but they said you were in pretty bad shape."
Carla nodded, staring at her toes.
"I guess I was."
"Anyway, I came to tell you … about …"
Carla looked up sharply, her black eyes narrowing.
"Rico?" she whispered.
Onja nodded. "I was down there," she said. "I saw him. Just before — before the end."
Carla's eyes glittered. She took Onja's arm and squeezed it tightly. "Tell me!" she begged.
"Let's sit down," the gunner suggested. "I'll tell you everything I can remember."
Unobserved, James Carson slipped into the lounge a little while later, in time to see Carla weeping softly with Onja's arm around her.
"He said he loved you," Onja told her tenderly. "He said to tell you that his last thoughts would be of you."
Carla nodded, unable to speak.
"I know what you're feeling," Onja said, tears in her own eyes. "I lost two men that I loved in this war. I know exactly what you're feeling."
Carson watched silently from a chair in the corner, biting his lip as he saw the beautiful doctor bear the unbearable. Some minutes passed, and her weeping lessened. Onja glanced up and saw him. She motioned with her head and he stood, approaching cautiously.
"I have to go now," Onja said quietly. "If you need anything, Carla, please let me know. I'll do anything I can."
Carla looked up at her with streaming eyes, her lovely mouth open.
"Thank you, Onja. Thank you for coming to tell me."
She saw Carson and reached for him, sliding her arms around his neck as he sat beside her. He pressed a hand against the back of her head and held her firmly against his shoulder. He nodded his thanks to Onja, and the blonde gunner walked out of the lounge with her head down, fighting her own emotions.
"James, did you hear?" Carla asked, pressing her salty wet face into his neck.
"I spoke with her before she came down here," he said. "She told me."
"What am I going to do, James? He was the first man who ever truly loved me!"
Carson laid his cheek against her silky black hair.
"You're going to go on living," he told her. "A little sadder, a little more tender, but you will go on living."
"I don't think I can."
"You have to," he said. "Rico wanted you to. That's why he stayed behind, to make sure you and a lot of other people got out alive. He was … " He had to stop and catch his breath as her emotion spilled over to engulf him. "He was a true hero."
"I loved him, James! I still love him."
"And he loved you. The greatest love of all is when someone gives his life for the people he loves. Rico's love for you will live as long as you live."
She was silent then, and he sa
t there with her for a half-hour. Until she cried herself out, finally getting the hiccups. She pulled back from him and wiped her face, breathing deeply to stop the contractions in her chest.
"Carla," Carson said quietly, "this may not be the right time to tell you this, but you were wrong about one thing."
"What is that?" she asked, looking at him.
"Rico loved you more than he loved his own life, but he wasn't the first man to truly love you."
She blinked at him, clueless, searching his eyes for understanding.
"You're not alone, Carla. You'll never be alone as long as I'm alive."
Beautiful dark eyes widened slowly, lips parted.
"Do you understand what I'm telling you?" he asked gently.
She nodded slowly, still vulnerable, but with growing awareness.
"Yes, James, I — I think I do."
Epilogue
The battle of Periscope Harbor proved to be the worst military disaster the Federation suffered during twenty-three years of war against the Sirian Confederacy. No one ever compiled an exact body count of those lost, but the number of confirmed casualties was finally set at thirteen thousand Star Marines killed, twelve thousand wounded, and an estimated two thousand captured. Roughly thirteen thousand men escaped uninjured, or with only minor wounds.
In addition, the Space Force suffered over nine hundred casualties, most of them fighter crews, lander crews, and ResQMed personnel. Fewer than a hundred miscellaneous other Space Force personnel, such as Wade Palmer, were killed or injured.
General John Willard issued a statement in the wake of the disaster in which he accepted full responsibility for the tragedy. Wade Palmer privately disagreed, for he knew that many high level planners had also known the plan was flawed, but elected not to oppose Willard and possibly jeopardize their careers. They would never be called to account.
Willard received an offer from President Wells to resign. No alternative was stated, nor was one necessary. Willard stepped down with full benefits and retired to a lonely cabin in northern Minnesota, where he spent a lot of time fishing and writing his memoirs. When his manuscript was finished, he printed it out and set it on the corner of his desk, then took out a bottle of scotch and poured himself a drink. After that, he inserted a music chip into an audio player and set it on repeat. His final act was to push a laser pistol into his mouth and pull the trigger. When neighbors found him the music chip was still playing; the title of the song was Mr. Lonely.
Willard was replaced by a member of his own staff, Rear Admiral — now a full admiral — Henri Boucher. Boucher was personally appointed by President Wells, thanks in no small part to Wade Palmer's recommendation. Boucher would be the top man on the planning staff until the end of the war, but never again did one man wield as much power or influence over operational planning as Willard had done. And no disasters such as Periscope Harbor ever happened again.
The evacuation of Periscope Harbor didn't end Federation attempts to capture Beta Centauri. Another invasion took place more than two years later, but it was a more conventional assault, based upon plans initially drawn up by Wade Palmer. It took longer to execute, but it succeeded. The planet was captured after sixteen months of fighting, with losses that roughly equaled what the Star Marines had suffered in four days. Periscope Harbor wasn't attacked, and didn't fall to the Federation until the planet had surrendered. After the surrender, the first units into the city were the 3rd and 14th Star Marine Divisions.
The body of Rico Martinez was never recovered, but was most likely included in one of many mass graves where the BC buried their slain enemies. Each grave was clearly marked as to the number of bodies buried, but no names were inscribed. Rico's datatags were included among the hundreds collected by the BC and turned over to the Star Marines after the surrender, along with those of McGarrity and Carrington.
Onja Kvoorik put Rico in for another medal, this one the Federation Medal of Honor, for his refusal to leave Periscope Harbor and leave his men behind. Her recommendation was seconded by Captain Connor of Delta Company, but once again the medal was denied, for Rico had merely been acting in the expected high tradition of the Star Marines. After the war, Onja appealed to President Wells directly, but Federation law didn't allow him to overrule the Congress in such matters. Instead, Henry Wells issued a Presidential Unit Citation, usually awarded to combat units that served with distinction; this one cited Rico Martinez as an individual, and was awarded to his sister, Angela Martinez, in a special ceremony at the White House.
Regina Wells resigned from the Federation Intelligence Agency soon after returning to Terra. She suffered no lingering effects from her captivity, thanks to the hypnotechnology that had buffered her mind from its horrors, but her youthful innocence was gone forever. She attended Wade Palmer's wedding and then returned to California, where she completed her education at U.F. Stanford. She took a job at U.F. Berkeley where she taught Sirian Philosophy; students who took her class said she was far more knowledgeable than Professor Elliott, and before the war ended he retired and was never heard from again. Regina took over the Sirian Studies department. At war's end she took a leave of absence and returned to Sirius, where she worked with the occupation forces for several years as they tried to sort out the human tragedy perpetrated by the Confederacy.
Wade Palmer remained in the Space Force, and by war's end was the number three man on the Polygon planning staff. He served twenty years and retired as a rear admiral. He and Dianne had two children, but after six years of marriage Dianne was killed in a hovercar crash. Wade remained single until Regina Wells returned from Sirius. They renewed their friendship and married less than a year later. They had one child together.
Carla Ferracci left the Space Force less than a year after Periscope Harbor. She finished medical school in Milan, Italy, and earned her M.D. By the time she completed her residency, James Carson had also mustered out. They married six months later and settled in Australia, where Carla became a flying doctor — she did the doctoring, James the flying. They had three children, naming the boys Collin and Dennis, after McGarrity and Carrington.
Onja Kvoorik continued to kill Sirians through the end of the war, eventually becoming the only woman in history to command a fighter squadron. Her story continues in the final book of this series, The Fighter Queen.
Henry Wells was elected President of the Federation for three terms; when the war ended he didn't run again, for his life's work was complete. He and Yvonne moved to Colorado and Henry spent his final years in the company of his lifelong friend, Oliver Lincoln III. They fished and drank scotch and reminisced. Henry died in 0254 at the age of eighty-one.
Oliver Lincoln III, who'd designed and built the Lincoln fighters that became the backbone of the Federation fighter fleet, lived to the ripe old age of ninety-four, and died in his sleep in 0263.
Johnny Lincoln II — Juanito — joined the Fighter Service on his eighteenth birthday, following in the traditions of his late father and tio Rico. His story is documented in the final book in this series, The Fighter Queen.
Francisco Chavez returned to Beta Centauri in the second invasion and was with the 33rd when they marched into Periscope Harbor after the planet fell. Promoted to sergeant, he served with distinction in the invasion of Vega, winning two Galaxy Crosses for bravery. He could have gotten out, but instead chose to finish the war by re-upping for the invasion of Sirius. Now a Master Sergeant, he was killed just one year short of the war’s end.
Queen Ursula did return to Vega, but it was a bittersweet homecoming. The world she'd once ruled had changed dramatically; forty-seven years of Sirian influence had seared the Vegan conscience, and the generation that had fought for Sirian idealism had no memory of the old ways. The Monarchy was restored, and Ursula's granddaughter, Princess Monique, was installed on the throne. Monique was born in captivity, but had been nurtured from birth as a princess; she understood what Vega had once been, and what it must become again. Ursula sat as her advisor
until her death in 0249.
Upon her return home, Scarlett Wallace rejected General Field Marshal Vaughn as a suitor. She was an embittered young woman who hated the Federation for holding her prisoner, and resented her own military for not rescuing her. She lived in virtual seclusion on her plantation until the end of the war, when she was forced to flee from advancing Federation armies. Her serfs abandoned her at that time, except for Kim, who stayed at her side until the bitter end. Kim, unfortunately, was killed by Federation artillery during a night bombardment, but Scarlett survived and was captured by Federation troops. Her plantation was destroyed, however, and she was left penniless; Wallace Slaves and Wallace Shipping were both shut down by the occupation armies. Scarlett was in her early forties by then, but still an attractive redhead. She was last documented as a street prostitute, selling her body to soldiers and Sirians alike, anybody who would pay a hundred sirios for a few minutes in the dark. Her final fate was never known.
General Field Marshal Vaughn was heaped with glory over the successful defense of Periscope Harbor, but was unable to capitalize on it. Several attempts to regain the initiative in the war were met with defeat in open space combat; the Federation fleet had grown too powerful, and gained too much experience, to be thrown back easily. After the fall of Beta Centauri, Vaughn's career was on the line, but he kept his job another four years, until the Feddies swarmed over Vega and put twenty million men on the ground. That battle lasted nearly four years, and before it was over Vaughn had been demoted and drummed out of the Confederate army.
W.C. Adolph resigned as President of Sirius after Vega was lost, relinquishing the reins of government to his son for the last three years of the Confederacy. Convinced that he would be executed as a war criminal, Adolph took his own life in the final weeks of the war.
Lester Rice stood trial for espionage and was convicted on all counts. He was executed quietly and without public notice.
* * *
The full story of Periscope Harbor was not known for some years after the war ended. Only after the documentation was declassified were historians able to recognize the heroism of the men who fought and died there. The name of Rico Martinez is familiar to any serious student of the battle.
