Stark’s Crusade

by John G. Hemry

  Stark’s meandering thoughts settled on that last question. Reminds me of something. Some guys who stood and died. Who? Where? A face came to mind. Rash Paratnam? He’s still alive, thank God. But he told me once about some guys. What was the name? Something like Sports. Spartans. Yeah. Some battle where they stood and fought to the last. Why the hell’d they do that, anyway?

  The answer might not matter at all, but at least finding it would be a diversion from bad dreams and other questions whose answers couldn’t be looked up. Rousing himself, Stark activated the display, searching for the battle his friend had once described. This must be it. Thermopylae. He read the description, grew intrigued enough to call up the background, then the longer-term results. An hour passed.

  Stark had been given the Colony manager’s private number, and he used it now. After several rings, Campbell answered, gazing bleary-eyed and disheveled into the screen. “Sergeant Stark? Is there an emergency?”

  “No. Not an emergency. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Campbell squinted toward the corner of his own screen where the time would be displayed. “Sergeant, you’re not much for following normal sleep patterns, are you?”

  “Uh, I guess not, sir. Too many nights on duty, I guess. Listen, you ever hear of some guys named Spartans?”

  “Spartans? Of course. Ancient Greece, correct?”

  “That’s right. Well, they fought a battle once at some place I can’t pronounce. Thermo something. There were only a hundred of them, sent to stop an invading army.”

  Campbell shook his head as if trying to shake his thoughts into order. “That would have been the Persians, if I recall right.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, these Spartans held for a while. Those were their orders. Hold the position. But the Persians had a huge army. So eventually they surrounded the Spartans and killed them all.” Stark moved his finger as if pointing to text no longer displayed. “They could’ve run, but they didn’t. They’d been ordered to hold. They stayed and died.”

  “It was certainly a noble sacrifice, Sergeant Stark, but what—?”

  Stark looked upward, seeking the right words. “But it was more than that. All the different Greeks fought a lot with each other. Cities, I guess. So even though this big Persian army was coming, the Greeks weren’t cooperating well. But those hundred Spartans changed that. They didn’t just buy a little time. What they did was give all the Greeks a symbol. See, they didn’t die for themselves. They knew even if the Persians got beat that they’d still be dead. And they could’ve hung back in their part of Greece and just tried to protect their own territory. But they died protecting everybody. They became a symbol. Something for all the Greeks to rally around.”

  Campbell nodded, clearly puzzled. “Yes, that would have been important. But why is this old battle important now?”

  “Because it tells us something, Mr. Campbell.” Stark leaned toward the screen to emphasize his next words. “Something about making good things happen. I’m going to ask you a favor, sir.”

  “What’s that?”

  “This vote on declaring independence. I want you to postpone it.”

  “What?” Campbell shook his head again, as if testing his hearing this time. “Postpone the referendum on independence? Why?”

  Stark hesitated, once again searching for the words he needed. “Because we can leave the U.S. and get away with it for at least a while. I mean, the Colony is pretty well off, now that it’s not being sucked dry by the corporations back home and by the extra taxes you civs had to pay because you weren’t allowed to elect your own representatives to help protect you from that kind of nonsense. Hell, you’re rich in resources and specialized manufacturing plants, right? And my troops can protect this Colony for a while. Maybe forever. But we’d be cutting and running, wouldn’t we? Taking what we could get and leaving all the ordinary civs back home stuck with the same corrupt politicians and corrupted system.”

  “You’re saying we should stick with a country which is doing everything it can to intimidate, coerce, and oppress us? Why?” Campbell repeated, this time more forcefully.

  “There’s two things you can do when something’s broke, sir. You can throw it away, or you can try to fix it. I know, it seems like the attitude has always been to throw it away. But it couldn’t have always been like that.” Stark paused, remembering another point. “I’ve got parents back home still. Civs, like you. I still remember being a know-it-all teenager, being embarrassed by them. But, you know, they were, they are, decent people who want to do the right thing. Most civs are, I guess. Like most mil, too. They’ve just been convinced that nothing they do can change things. Maybe if they have an example of people who keep trying to change things for the better even when those people could just cut and run and be pretty well set, maybe they’d try, too. And if enough of them decide to try, what happens to the system?”

  “You’re saying we should stick with the U.S. as an example to everyone else, that by committing ourselves to fix the system we’ll inspire others to try? That’s a noble sentiment, Sergeant, hut I’m not sure it would be responsible of me to make it policy. I have to think of the people of this Colony. You’re asking a lot of them.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, my people are dying every day to defend the Colony. I’m not asking your people to face that kind of thing. I’m just asking them to stand up and say ‘we’re not running even though we could.’ ”

  Campbell’s expression had closed down at Stark’s last words, giving no clue to his inner thoughts. “I appreciate your sacrifices, Sergeant. We all do. But you do realize a declaration of independence would benefit your soldiers as well. As our own country, we can make peace with some or all of the enemy alliance which has been at war with us since this Colony was founded. That would take a lot of pressure off of you and your soldiers. And it would mean my people wouldn’t have to live in state of siege any longer.”

  “I already figured that, Mr. Campbell. But I heard something earlier today that really bothered me. One of my smart advisers told us about how a guy named Hannibal got beat because he couldn’t defeat a Roman army that wouldn’t fight him the way he wanted, and because he couldn’t take Rome while that army was still out there. That made me pretty unhappy, because I figured we haven’t got any army out there to make life difficult for the people trying to take this Colony.”

  Campbell nodded. “There simply isn’t any prospect for forming an alliance with other Earth nations. They won’t risk the wrath of the United States—”

  “No, sir,” Stark interrupted. “I didn’t mean any foreign army. But everybody back home, the civs who are supposed to be supporting these attacks against us, ain’t they an army? If they all refused to back the people who are trying to defeat us, the same people who’ve been using guys like you and me and every other poor slob up here and back home for who knows how many years, what would happen?”

  “I don’t know.” Campbell stared, so intent that Stark imagined he could see the wheels turning in the Colony manager’s brain. “That’s a thought, Sergeant. A very interesting thought. And you’re right that inspiring such action by the civilian populace back home would require a powerful example.”

  “So you’re gonna do what I ask?”

  “I’m going to think about it. No promises yet. I can stall the independence referendum for a short time without creating too much trouble. Outright canceling it is a step I’m not prepared to take at this time.”

  “I can’t ask for more than that.”

  “Would you, personally, be willing to tell the citizens of this Colony what you’ve told me?”

  “Me? I’m no public speaker. I’m just a grunt. You’re the politician.”

  “Sometimes, when sincerity and believability are at issue, a politician isn’t the best speaker to use,” Campbell noted dryly. “Do you believe in what you just said enough to go on vid and tell everyone else?”

  Stark felt a major headache coming on, but nodded.
Ah, hell. Why do I keep trapping myself into this kind of thing? “Okay. If I have to, I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” Campbell glanced ostentatiously toward his clock once again. “I’ll call you about this later on. During normal hours. When people are usually awake.”

  “Sure,” Stark grinned at the gibe. “Any time.”

  “Goodnight, Sergeant.”

  The screen blanked and Stark leaned back, letting out a long breath. Now what have I done? Vic is gonna give me hell… A slight sound near the door to the rec room caught his attention. Looking that way, Stark saw Vic Reynolds leaning against the doorway, her arms crossed and an enigmatic expression on her face. “Oh, hi, Vic.”

  “ ‘Hi,’ he says. Going off half-cocked again, Ethan?”

  “It’s the way I work best.”

  “You occasionally might try thinking and planning things through first. Just for the hell of it.” She came in, sitting across from him. “So, you’re going to ask the civs not to declare independence. Are you planning to tell the troops that?”

  He hadn’t thought about that yet, but the answer came instantly anyway. “Yeah. As soon as I talk to Campbell again. Within a few days, I guess.”

  “Good.” The answer surprised him, as did Vic’s smile of grudging admiration. “You always surprise me, Ethan. We’ve been looking for a cause, something to fight for, and most people figured that would turn out to be independence.”

  “There isn’t a lot of enthusiasm for independence, Vic. It’s more like something people figured they’d have to do.”

  “Exactly. Instead, you offer as a cause our own country again. Hang in there because the country needs you to find its way, so the civs will do the right thing once they see you willing to die for it. Not as a vid show, not to prop up corporate profits in some stinking part of the world that happens to be rich in natural resources, but as defenders of what’s right.” She raised her hands and applauded softly. “Good work, Sergeant.”

  “Knock it off. I didn’t think it through like that. I wasn’t trying to figure all the angles.”

  “You never do, Ethan. That’s why people believe in you.” She bent her head slightly to one side, regarding him closely. “But to make this one work, you’ll have to convince the civs to follow your ideas, too. Can you do that?”

  “I dunno.” He scowled down at the blank display, where the screen saver was once again painting random patterns. “I’m just a grunt, Vic. When did my job get so complicated?”

  “Probably about the time you took it seriously. There aren’t any easy jobs, Ethan. Not if they’re being done right.”

  “What was that dumb motto they tried to foist on us once? ‘If you’re not having fun, you’re not doing it right.’ Remember that? Well, I haven’t been having much fun lately, so I guess that speaks for itself. What are you doing up at this hour, anyway?”

  “Ever since that raid hit us here at headquarters I’ve been waking up at odd hours with an urge to inspect the security posts.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.” The raiders, using access codes provided by Grant Stein, had almost achieved the total surprise they needed. Almost. Neither Reynolds nor Stark had been happy with the amount of luck that had played a major role in saving them that night. “Everything okay?” Vic nodded as Stark yawned. “Then I suggest we go to bed.”

  “You sly devil, you.”

  Stark felt his face warming. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know. Life’s complicated enough without adding something like that.” Vic stood, heading for the door. “See you in the morning, soldier. Whatever the future holds, we’ll handle it better if we get some sleep between now and then.”

  “Commander Stark? The civs are seeing ghosts again.”

  Stark was into his battle armor and fastening the seals so quickly that he was still blinking sleep out of his eyes as he headed for the command center. The last time the civilian technicians responsible for scanning space above the Colony’s landing field had reported seeing a ghost on their scans it had been the only warning that a raid was about to hit Stark’s headquarters. Inside the command center, Sergeant Tran and Sergeant Reynolds waited, both armored as well. “Good morning.” Outside, the black sky never changed, but by the artificial human clock it was about 0300 now. “How many ghosts? Where?”

  Tran pointed at the display, where unknown contact symbology overlay trajectories curving down from space toward the Colony. “Either three or four. The civs notified us as soon as they spotted the ghosts on their scans, and by working directly with them we’ve been able to tweak our own sensors to get occasional detections.”

  “Why are they trying this again? The last time the fact that the civ sensors work on slightly different parameters let them see a shuttle that was hiding from our own sensors and warn us. Don’t they realize the same thing will happen this time?”

  Vic shook her head. “No, Ethan. They don’t realize that because they probably never found out the civs tipped us off. As far as they know, we were oblivious until the raid hit our headquarters, after which we did a manual scan looking for the raiders’ shuttle and spotted it.”

  “So they figure they could get away with inserting raiders that way again, huh? Those ghosts don’t look like they’re heading for the headquarters complex, though.”

  “They’re not, but we can’t be sure where they are heading. Our systems are still trying to refine their objective, but the hits we’re getting on the ghosts are so weak they’re having trouble.”

  “So give me a guess, damnit. Those shuttles will be grounding before long, and I want a reception committee on hand for them.”

  Vic looked at Tran, who focused on one of his watchstanders. That corporal squinted at the display, tapping in a few commands, which brightened or faded different portions of the ghosts’ projected tracks. “Sir, if I had to call it now, I’d say they’re headed for the primary power plant.”

  “The power plant.” A high-power fusion reactor, off to one side of the Colony proper, buried and surrounded by berms. “That’s it, Vic. They want to grab that power plant. What happens if they do?”

  Another watchstander answered. “Slow death, sir. They’ll have us and the civs in the Colony by the throat. We can’t run things up here off the backup plant and whatever solar cells we can spread.”

  “Great. And I guess the alternative would be trying to retake it with a firefight around a fusion reactor. Vic, get the on-call units moving to the plant, as fast as they can go. What kind of security does that power plant have, anyway?”

  Sergeant Tran indicated a scattering of symbology as he zoomed the display onto the power plant’s location. “Military Police, backing up civ security personnel.”

  Stark checked the symbology quickly. “A squad of MPs? That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “And there’s three or four raider shuttles, you said? They’re smaller than the cargo shuttles, so that’d be about a company of attackers?”

  “That’s our estimate, Commander. The raiders are likely to be elite troops, if the attack on our headquarters was any indication.”

  “Vic, I want those on-call units at the power plant five minutes ago. Tran, alert all units on the perimeter that we’ve got something going down and there might be some probes or all-out attacks coming to take advantage of it. Oh, yeah, and get me the commander of those MPs.” A moment later, Stark’s display popped up a window showing a tense-looking Sergeant. “You in charge of the MPs at the plant?”

  “Affirmative. They tell me we’ve got company coming.”

  “Looks like it, yeah. What kind of armament have you apes got?”

  “We’re real light infantry. Rifles and sidearms. That’s it.”

  “What about the civ security people there?”

  “Strictly nonlethal stuff. Unless we want to use them for human shields, I’m planning on telling them to stay under cover.”

  Stark took a moment to check the progress of
his reaction forces. APCs loaded with infantry were converging on the power plant from three locations, while a fourth column consisting of a couple of Lamont’s tanks headed that way as well. “Okay. I’ve got three companies heading to reinforce you, as well as some heavy armor. But the stuff we’re tracking is going to get to you before those reinforcements can. I need you to hold that power plant.”

  The MP sergeant nodded. “I guess after this I won’t have to listen to you guys tell us we’re not combat troops. But it sounds like we’re going to be seriously overmatched in numbers and weaponry.”

  “I know. There’s nothing else there you can use in the way of weapons?”

  “Just the particle cannons.”

  “Particle cannons?” Stark checked his display, punching controls with increasing anger. “I don’t show any super-heavy weaponry like that at the power plant.”

  “That’s ‘cause they ain’t weapons. Technically. There’s a couple cannon here to fragment or divert any rocks falling on the plant. But they’re only designed to engage rocks. I don’t even know if I can train one at a surface target.”

  “Give it a try.” Stark checked the progress of his units again, measuring it against the increasingly firm tracks of the ghosts. “You only have to hold for maybe fifteen minutes, Sergeant.”

  “Is that all?” The MP tried to smile. “If we make it, I’d sure appreciate having some heavier firepower added to our TO&E.”

  “You hold that plant, and I’ll add a damn tank to your table of organization and equipment if you want one.” He looked over at Vic. “Okay. Tell me why such a critical location only has a squad of MPs guarding it.”

  “I don’t know, Ethan. That’s how it was when we took over, and it was one of a million things we’ve never had time to review. According to the system, those MPs and the civ cops are only supposed to provide security against individual nut cases, not a full-scale raid. Oh, hell. Tran, can those particle cannon knock down the ghosts before they land?”

  Tran gritted his teeth. “I should’ve thought of that. Does anybody on the watch team have the answer?”