Stark’s Crusade

by John G. Hemry

  “Yes?” Campbell questioned. “Yes, what?”

  “Yes. If they want my whole staff, and they want all the people who took command positions, we’ll go. Just trade that for amnesty for the troops.”

  Campbell seemed lost for words for a moment. “Are you certain you don’t need to discuss this with them first? I mean, we’re talking… well…”

  “We’re talking marching to our deaths. Yeah. I know. We can do that. As long as it means something, sir. As long as we know it means something.”

  “What if the government doesn’t even offer that? What if it simply demands you accept lawful authority once again, with no promises about what will happen to any military personnel up here?”

  Stark tried to conceal his distress. “Is that what they’re talking about, sir? Is that what the government wants?”

  “I don’t know. They’re clearly trying to determine what we want, what is necessary to end this situation.”

  “But they’re coming to offer you colonists statehood, right? And they did get rid of most of the officers who’ve messed things up in the military lately?”

  “Yes. That’s all true.”

  “Then, sir… how can I say no? To anything? It’s not my call. You give the orders. You do what’s best for everyone. That’s your job. My job is to do what those government representatives tell me to do. I’ll spend my last breath asking them to treat my people right, but there’s no reason left to justify mutiny.”

  “There’s your own self-interest, Sergeant. Self-preservation.”

  “Hell, Mr. Campbell, if that mattered so much I wouldn’t go out and get shot at on a frequent basis. Look, I did what I figured I had to do. I did it all the best I could. Now I’ve got to pay whatever price my actions demand. I know that.”

  “Speaking from the perspective of a colonist, and a person you’ve helped defend, I’d think your actions demand a reward, not a punishment.”

  “Thank you, sir. You do what you can for us. Get the best deal you can for the troops. But whatever comes out, we’ll accept it.”

  “Are you sure, Sergeant? Are you sure all of those troops will follow you this time?”

  Stark paused again, remembering the events that had brought them to this point. “I can’t be certain right now, but I’m pretty sure. I’ll talk to everybody. Make sure they know what we have to do, what’s expected of them. We want to go back, Mr. Campbell. We’re American soldiers, no matter what’s happened.”

  “Then I will do whatever I can in the negotiations, Sergeant. Are you sure you don’t want to participate directly in those negotiations?”

  “That’s not my department, Mr. Campbell. I don’t want anybody thinking I’m using my firepower to influence what you decide. You do your job. I’ll do mine.”

  Vic took Stark’s news without any apparent surprise. “We always knew when the bill came due we’d be the ones paying it, Ethan.”

  “You think everybody else will feel the same?”

  “Everybody I know. Well, Yurivan is a question mark, as usual, but she’ll be certain of her own ability to cut a deal no matter what happens to the rest of us. It’s the average grunt you’ve got to worry about.”

  “That’s what I figured. I’ve got to talk to them, but there’s not enough time for a face-to-face with everyone. I want you to set up something for tomorrow. A big room where I can talk to, oh, say one representative from each company in person. Everybody else will be linked in.”

  “You’re going to give a speech, Ethan?”

  “Yeah. And then I’m gonna answer questions. You got a better idea?”

  “Nope. I’ll set it up.”

  Stark spent a restless night composing his speech, running words through his head time and again in a futile effort to order them in just the right manner. He was still trying as he walked to the briefing room Vic had prepared, pausing just outside the entrance. Hey, this is the place where we got that briefing on synergy warfare. Never thought I’d be here again, like this. Well, I’ve been rolling with events long enough. It’s time I took charge of myself.

  Soldiers filled the room, corporals and privates sitting in the uncomfortable chairs that were standard issue on the Moon. Someone yelled “attention” and they all sprang to their feet, standing respectfully as Stark strode to the center of the stage.

  “At ease, everybody. Seats.” Stark stood for a moment, frowning, then shoved aside the podium and gestured down to the first row. “Pass me up a spare chair.” Seating himself, he looked out across the audience.

  “You all know what’s been going down. You all know that reps from the new government are coming to settle this mess. And I know you’re all wondering what that means for you and me. First off, I’ll tell you straight: I don’t know. Everybody’s still talking. But I do know what we should do. We should take whatever’s offered. The civ colony is gonna be part of the U.S. again, all legal and official. We should be, too.”

  “Look, you apes. We did something wrong. Mutiny. Bad word. Bad thing. We did it because doing anything else, or doing nothing at all, seemed to be even worse. That’s how bad it had gotten. You remember. It wasn’t just losing our friends, or losing one battle, or even losing a war. Everything was being lost. We didn’t trust our officers, we didn’t trust the civs or the government, we were watching people die for nothing and knowing inside that we’d be next and then everything that still mattered to us would be gone, too. So all we could trust was each other, and all we could do was try to stop things from getting worse. But was anybody happy about it? No. Because we knew it should’ve never come to that. We never should’ve had to choose between duty and honor, between bad and worse. It seemed the only way to save things was to make that choice, but it wasn’t one we ever liked.”

  “But things have changed. We’ve worked with the civs up here. They’ve helped us, and stuck by us when they could’ve screwed us over. They’re doing it now, I promise. Talkin’ to the new government about how to fix things. You all know that new government got rid of an awful lot of officers, right? They’re gonna screen the ones who are left, make sure they can do the job, make sure they stick to military stuff and stay out of politics. Regardless of what happens to me or any other senior noncom, the mil is gonna be better tomorrow.”

  “It’s gonna be better if you guys stick with it. You know how it should work, now. Treat your people decent, focus on what’s important, get the job done right. You can pass that down, and apply it yourselves when you become senior noncoms. And teach it to the new officers.”

  “I don’t know what the new government’s final offer is gonna be. I don’t know if they’ll let all you guys remain in the military. I told ‘em you should, that you’ve done what you were told and done it well. But that mission’s over and you got a new one, now. You know what it’s like, when you’ve been on a really difficult campaign. It’s hard, it’s ugly, but at some point you realize you’re over the crest and everything is downhill from there because you’ve done what you needed to do. Okay, that’s here and now. The Colony is safe. The war up here’s gonna end, they say, for at least a while. The rot that was tearing the mil apart is finally being ripped out. Most important, there’s a new government, one that looks to be by, for, and of the people again. So there ain’t no excuse for not following orders anymore. We’re U.S. military. We don’t mess with the Constitution. We defend it. Whatever the new government offers, we take it. That’s our job. Any questions?”

  A long silence descended, then a corporal stood. “Commander—”

  “Sergeant. Let’s keep it regulation from now on.”

  “Okay, Sarge. What happens to you?”

  “I dunno. Probably something real serious. I started it, I ran with it, I commanded it. I already told ‘em, if somebody has to pay, that’s me.” A low murmur came from the soldiers before him. “Responsibility, soldiers. That’s the way it works. Don’t do something if you’re not prepared to live with it.”

  A private stood next.
“Sergeant, are you saying we really might be able to be official again? Go back home and everything?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for. I can’t promise it, though. That’s up to the government.” Stark watched unhappy expressions settle onto the faces before him. “It’s a legitimate government, people. They’ve got a right to tell us what to do, and we’ve got a duty to do what they say. I’m gonna do what they say, and anybody who thinks I’m gonna get a better deal than they are is welcome to swap places with me.”

  Another corporal. “Sergeant Stark, what if you’re talking a prison sentence for all of us? It could happen.”

  “Yeah, it could. They’d have to build some more prison space, but they could do that. I don’t think they will. We know they’ve let the Second Division people out and rearmed them, so the new government’s not as stupid as the people they replaced. They know they need you. To keep defending this Colony. To help defend the country. But here’s the catch; if you want them to trust us, we’re gonna have to trust them. That means taking orders, whatever they are.”

  “What if they tell us to shoot you, Sergeant?”

  “Then you do me the favor of making sure you hit clean. I don’t want any lingering death scene. Understood?”

  A second private. “What if we don’t want to, Sergeant? We tossed out a bunch if idiots who were telling us to do something stupid. This sounds stupid, too. What if we don’t want your deal?”

  “Then head for the perimeter and offer your services to a country that wants that kind of soldier. Become a merc, fighting for a paycheck. I don’t care. We fight for our country, not ourselves. As long as I’m in charge, we’ll take whatever’s offered.”

  A third corporal stood. Anita Gomez, her face hard. “I ain’t got no question, Sargento. I just want to say I’ve followed you for a long time, up close and personal, and I ain’t never regretted doin’ whatever you said was right. I’m gonna follow you now, too.” She sat, leaving silence in her wake.

  Finally, a fourth corporal came to his feet. “Sergeant Stark? When will we know what’s gonna happen to us?”

  “The representatives from the new government are arriving in three days. They’ve got a meeting scheduled already at 1400 Thursday. That’s where we’re supposed to get our marching orders.”

  “So I guess we all oughta have a beer Wednesday night, huh, Sarge? Just in case it’s the last one for a long while?”

  Stark grinned as the other soldiers laughed. “Sounds like a plan. Save one for me. I’ll try to drop by.”

  “Sure, Sarge.”

  Vic waited for him off the stage, nodding at Stark as he left. “Good job, soldier.”

  “You think they’re gonna do it?”

  “I’m sure of it. They’d follow you to hell right now, Ethan Stark, trusting you to somehow beat the devil once they got there.”

  “Hah! How about you, Sergeant Reynolds? Would you follow me to hell?”

  “Let me think about that. I am willing to follow you to the nearest bar, though.”

  “Let’s get the rest of the staff together for that. Just in case we don’t get another chance.”

  Thursday. 1400 in military time, or 2 p.m. as civilians measured it. The same conference room where a succession of government and military representatives had threatened the lunar soldiers and colonists numerous times. Now representatives of a new government, with new military guidance, were waiting inside. Stark and Reynolds came to a halt at the door, where Campbell and Sarafina awaited them. “Not a big group this time, huh?” Stark observed.

  “This time the negotiating has been done in advance,” Sarafina advised. “We only need to review the agreement.”

  Stark extended his hand. “It’s been nice working with you, Mr. Campbell. You, too, Ms. Sarafina.”

  Campbell shook hands, his grip firm on Stark’s. “That sounds like a farewell.”

  “It might be, sir. I figure there’s real good odds I’ll leave that room under guard.”

  “Sergeant, I don’t know exactly what the new government will offer, but I’ve done my best for you.”

  Reynolds stepped forward. “You really don’t know what their offer to us will be? Even now?”

  “Sergeant Reynolds, I only know that they’ve asked a lot of questions and wanted to see a lot of records. They’ve listened to what I and the other representatives up here have said. But they’ve kept their cards very close to their chests.”

  A few moments later, Stark found himself sitting at the familiar conference table, looking across it at the representatives of the new government. He’d somehow expected them all to be young, full of fire and idealism, which had caused him some considerable concern. Young idealists tended to do really dumb things in the name of their ideals because they hadn’t the experience in life to know better. But many of the representatives were middle-aged or older, seasoned veterans of their own campaigns. Down at one end of the table, Lieutenant Colonel Hayes sat along with a couple of junior officers whom Stark didn’t recognize. Hayes nodded in silent greeting to Stark, his poker face not revealing any emotions. I guess here’s where I find out if I did the right thing saving that guy’s butt.

  A civ woman stood carefully, wobbly in the unfamiliar gravity. “As a first point of order, we must be certain of the status of the military forces here. We are all too aware that nothing can be done if the military resists.”

  Stark stood, ramrod straight, and saluted. “The U.S. military forces assigned to the defense of the American Lunar Colony are ready to receive orders from the government’s representatives and our superior officers.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  Lieutenant Colonel Hayes spoke up. “I believe Sergeant Stark is telling us his forces are no longer in a state of mutiny. Is that correct, Sergeant?”

  “That is correct, sir.”

  Instead of replying directly to Stark, the woman looked over at Campbell. “You are surrendering prior to reaching an agreement?”

  “Not exactly,” Campbell advised. “We still need to reach an agreement. But as I have advised you, Sergeant Stark has told me in no uncertain terms that he, as a soldier, cannot negotiate with the government. He feels he has to accept your orders.”

  “I see. Sergeant Stark, if this is the case, why did you fail to accept orders for so long?”

  “Ma’am, things happened that nobody wanted to happen. If someone, anyone had been willing to just listen and think… well, it’s a long story, but we’ve been trying to straighten this out ever since then. I accept full responsibility for all acts—”

  “Yes, yes, I’m sure you do, from all I’ve heard,” the civ woman interrupted. “It appears we may proceed, then. You may sit down, Sergeant. As our second issue, I am authorized to apologize on behalf of the government for past actions against you. You, Mr. Campbell, and the colonists you represent, and you, Sergeant Stark, and the soldiers you have led in the defense of this colony.” She made a gesture, and one of the other representatives tapped in some commands on his display. “Here is our offer. Please take a moment to read it.”

  Stark glanced at Vic, then they both turned to their displays and began scanning the text. Stark read rapidly, skimming in search of key words and phrases. Amnesty for past actions by civil authorities… restoration of civil rights within the Colony… vote on statehood during the current session of Congress. Fine. Wonderful. Where the hell’s the part about my people? He read on, finally finding the subsection dealing with the military forces. Amnesty for all enlisted personnel for all acts committed during a period of civil unrest… reaffirmation of oaths of fealty to the Constitution… all acting officer assignments formalized and confirmed by appropriate promotion. Stark blinked, looking back over at Vic. “What about me?”

  “It says ‘all enlisted personnel,’ Ethan.”

  “That can’t include me.”

  “I don’t believe it, either, but how about that bit about officer assignments being formalized?”

  “I
didn’t think about that yet. Why? What do you think it means?”

  Vic spoke so only Stark could hear, her voice hidden by murmurs from others at the table speaking to their neighbors. “It means, Ethan Stark, that I’ll have to start calling you general.”

  “What?” Stark scanned the text, his eyes wide. “No. That’s not possible.”

  “That’s what it has to mean, Ethan. You will be formally appointed to command the division and promoted to the appropriate rank for that position.”

  “That’s ridiculous! There’s no way—”

  “Is there a problem, Sergeant Stark?” Stark looked up to the see the civ woman eyeing him.

  “Uh, ma’am, I was just attempting to determine the meaning of the document.”

  “Which specific portion?”

  Vic spoke up as Stark hesitated again. “He’s wondering what the phrase ‘all enlisted’ means.”

  “Exactly what it says.”

  “Ma’am, Sergeant Stark and I are also enlisted personnel.”

  “So I have been informed. Are you saying you don’t want to be covered by the agreement?”

  Reynolds stared at the woman. “Are you actually granting him amnesty? As well as the rest of us?”

  “That is our intent.”

  “Then your offer is extremely generous, ma’am. Frankly, it surprises us. A great deal.”

  The woman smiled back. “I’m sure it does. I understand you’ve been told to expect the death penalty for your crimes.”

  A man near her nodded. “We reviewed your actions very carefully. Had you committed crimes against the United States or her citizens, you wouldn’t be getting this offer. There have been deaths, on both sides. In one case, you executed a soldier for his role in an attack on you.” Stark tried not to let his distress show at the words, a reference to Private Grant Stein’s betrayal of them and his subsequent court-martial. “That particular case was of special concern, and even though we found you acted with every appropriate formality to ensure a legal outcome, we wish that had not occurred.”