by Dale Musser
“I’m certain of it.”
I paused a moment to think.
“Do you remember Bandur? He was one of the crew members on the NEW ORLEANS. The Brotherhood deliberately compromised him with God’s Sweat years ago in hopes of inducing such a strong addiction that he would do anything, even assassinate me, in order to be able to restore his access to the drug. The effect of the drug on him was so great that he committed suicide to escape the power it had over him, rather than succumb to Ming’s terms. If he is any example, it’s going to be chaos and destruction throughout the Federation in a few days when the God’s Sweat supply dries up.”
My wrist com beeped again.
“Tibby here.”
“Admiral, Leader Pheosa is on the vid and wishes to speak with you.”
“Very well. Put him through,” I answered.
Leader Pheosa’s image barely appeared on the screen before he began to speak. He was clearly rattled. “Admiral, I assume you’ve seen Ming’s Federation-wide broadcast. His threats and demands are surely causing a ripple of panic across every world in the Federation. Rioting and destruction is going to rule the streets as these addicts scramble to get the remaining God’s Sweat… and who knows what will happen when the drugs start to run out! We have to do something!”
“Yes, sir, I realize that, but I haven’t had a chance to think it over. I assure you it’s the top priority, and we’re arranging a meeting with my top officers and advisors to see what we can do,” I replied.
“You do realize that you only have maybe twelve to twenty-four hours before things turn to anarchy,” said Leader Pheosa.
“Yes, sir, I am painfully aware of it. We will do all we can to take action before everything is out of control.”
“I’m sure you will, Admiral,” said Pheosa nervously. “May the stars be with you. Please keep me informed as to the plan of action. If you and the Admiralty deem necessary, I will broadcast a state of emergency and impose any martial law or curfew measures you feel are in order.”
“Thank you, sir. You will be the first to know. You may want to let the Senate know you have spoken with me, otherwise I’ll be getting calls from them all day long and I won’t be able to address the problem at hand.”
“Ah, yes. You’re right. I’ll do that right away, Admiral. Thank you.”
I turned to Marranalis as the vid screen went dark. “So much for me getting some rest. We may as well go back to the War Room.”
“I think you should call in Howebim, sir.” said Marranalis. “The Federation Office of Investigation has an entire database of information associated with suspected drug users and suppliers within in the Federation; and as the head of the FOI, Howebim’s input will be invaluable.”
“I agree, Marranalis. Contact him and ask him to join us as soon as he can get here. Oh, and contact Padaran as well. I think we’ll be needing his services.”
“Right away, sir.”
“Oh, and order foccee and food for delivery to the conference room. I doubt we’ll be getting any breaks today.”
I was pretty much expecting to see Howebim and Padaran show up within twenty to thirty minutes. Instead, it was nearly an hour.
“My apologies, Admirals,” said Howebim as they entered the conference room where everyone was assembled. “Both Captain Padaran and I were at the base blast sites on Plosaxen when you called. It took me some time to get to one of the functioning gates and then we needed to go through the Central Hub Station to get here. Everything’s still a bit hectic and security is still elevated, so it took longer than usual to make our way here.”
“You’re here now, and that’s what matters,” I said. “Have a seat, both of you. Have you eaten? We can have some food brought in. We’ve just finished ourselves while discussing how we’re going to address Ming’s threats and the consequences that are no doubt already beginning to unfold.”
“I’m afraid we haven’t seen his broadcast. We only just briefly heard about it while we were in transit.”
“That’s alright. We’ll play it back. It won’t hurt for the rest of us to review it. While we’re at it, Marranalis, can you see to it that a copy of this is sent to A’Lappe and to Doctor Danjuma on the NEW ORLEANS. I’d like to hear their comments on Ming’s appearance and behavior.”
By this time, I was starting to experience much longer periods of intense pain and was wincing frequently. Marranalis had suggested earlier that I get some medication and rest, but the rapid progression of events didn’t permit it and I didn’t anticipate a lull in the activity anytime soon.
“Marranalis, while you’re talking to A’Lappe would you relate to him that I’m having a lot of pain from my fractured ribs and I can’t be interrupted to visit the infirmary. Ask him if he can recommend any kind of pain control that won’t put me to sleep or impede my thinking. I need something to keep me going the next several hours.”
“Yes, sir,” he said with a knowing expression. It was important that whatever medication I was given wouldn’t have an adverse impact on the treatments for my synthetic nerve rejection. Only A’Lappe would know how to handle that complication.
“You do look pretty bad, Admiral,” Wabussie said to me quietly. “Are you sure you’re alright to continue?”
“I’ll be fine. It's just these broken ribs. I feel like I’ve been kicked by a rookaromba.” A rookaromba was a creature that was slightly larger than a human. It had three legs – a larger, stockier one in the front and two sleeker ones at the back. This unusual animal moved in a strange but rapid hopping motion using the front leg first, followed by the two hind legs that hurtled in unison past the first. The front leg was also used in acts of defense and aggression and could deliver a strong kick that was, in many cases, fatal.
The replay of Ming’s message was coming to a conclusion as the guard outside the door announced that Pieamar had arrived with food, which he served to Howebim and Padaran as dishes from the earlier meal were removed.
“So now you know what we’re up against,” I said. “Immediate action is required, so right now we need to compile information from every available source, formulate a plan and initiate action to prevent Federation-wide anarchy and rioting.”
“Yes, I see that. How do you want the FOI to proceed?” Howebim asked.
“Well, the priority is to disseminate the FOI’s intelligence regarding all known God’s Sweat users and suppliers to our bases and deployed forces across all Federation worlds. We also need to mobilize as much enforcement as possible to safely locate, detain and isolate as many of these individuals as possible – from the public and from each other – using whatever legal charges we can muster. Thankfully, we’ve been able to clear a lot of the prisoners out of the Lunar prison over the past two years, so we have a great deal of temporary holding space. It’s not going to be easy. These individuals are probably already manically trying to buy up and stockpile drugs, but the real violence and desperation will start within 20 hours, maybe less.”
“Excuse me, Admiral, but the FOI doesn’t have enough personnel to pick up one tenth of the people who would be on that list – not in twenty days, much less twenty hours,” said Howebim in shock and dismay.
“I didn’t think you would; hence Captain Padaran’s presence for this planning session. Padaran commands highly trained troopers stationed at our ground bases all around the Federation. Most of them should be able to assist in the operation. Even then, I know we’ll be coming up short, but it’s better than nothing.”
“I’ll be able to assign FSO agents to assist as well,” said Wabussie.
“If necessary, we may need to rely on second-year cadets at the JAC bases to join the effort. I’m not sure what they can do and I certainly don’t want them involved in combative situations; but perhaps they can provide administrative support by processing the addicts that we are able to detain,” I added. “Marranalis, I know Commander Ircart has his hands full, but make contact with him and determine how many second-year JAC cadets are e
nrolled at each base JAC campus across the Federation. For the sake of working out some numbers, I’ll take a shot in the dark for now and say we have maybe a couple of trillion.”
Padaran interrupted. “Admiral, I’ll do what I can to provide support from the troopers, but if there’s a major attack anywhere we’re going to have resource problems.”
“By the stars, Admiral, you don’t think we can put together something on this scale overnight, do you?” asked Howebim.
“No, but I’m hoping that what we can put together will be enough to keep society from totally disintegrating overnight.”
“There was a signal at the door. The guard checked the visitor’s identity and announced that a medic had arrived with medication that A’Lappe ordered for my pain.
“Send him in,” I said with the hope of some relief.
“Sir, A’Lappe has recommended that you wear this device. He advises that it will both reduce your pain and accelerate healing. I’ll need to remove the electrode patches we applied earlier. A’Lappe assures me this chest piece will perform the same function as the electrodes and will ease your pain at the same time.”
“Very well. Do any of you object to him helping me put this thing on while we continue our discussion?” I asked those in the room. No one objected, so the medic proceeded to help me out of my uniform jacket. I heard a collective gasp as the deep bruise on my chest was revealed.
“By the stars, man, how are you even functioning?” exclaimed Howebim.
“It looks worse than it is,” I replied and then quickly added, “But not by much.”
“How…how did you survive that?!” stammered Padaran, wide-eyed and pale. It looks like you should be dead, or at least laid up in bed and hooked up to life support!”
“Confidentially, I was dead… for a few minutes… I guess. The cadets at the ceremony took resuscitative actions until they could get me hooked up to the med unit equipment in the patrol ship. Had it not been for my body armor, I’d have been completely blown away – and I doubt there would have been enough of me left for A’Lappe to reassemble this time.”
“Admiral, you can’t keep doing stuff like this. Sooner or later, your luck is going to run out,” said Padaran.
In my mind, I was thinking it already had, only no one else knew it. I could tell I was running on a short fuse with the progressively complicated synthetic nerve rejection.
“Back to the matter at hand,” I replied, trying to get everyone back to the issue, “Have any of you collected any recent intelligence that might relate to this matter?”
“I might have something,” began Wabussie. “About two weeks ago we started hearing unsubstantiated claims that the Brotherhood has been having problems with their production of God’s Sweat. The FSO has since been trying to confirm the story that some sort of fungus is attacking the source plants, resulting in a greatly reduced product output. The rumor implied that the mold has somehow made its way to several primary agricultural sites and production facilities on the worlds where they manufacture the drug. It’s unclear how this happened, but from what we can tell, nearly two thirds of their production sites are infected.”
“So Ming’s threat isn’t coming about because he planned to create havoc by way of the addicts, but because he knows the Brotherhood won’t be able to meet the demand for the drug. By making it sound as though the fault of the shortage falls on me and the Federation, he hopes to turn the God’s Sweat users against us. Very shrewd. Even if we release the information, it will do us no good. Addicts in withdrawal will neither care, nor will they be rational enough to recognize the truth. All they’ll understand is that they need their drugs and they aren’t getting them. They’ll strike out at anyone and anything they perceive to be standing in their way, including other addicts. The only one they won’t perceive as an adversary is the guy who supplies their drugs. I’ve got to hand it to Ming; he’s clever.”
The medic finished applying my new pain inhibitor and assisted me with my jacket before leaving.
“Is there anything we can do to stop him?” asked Howebim.
“Not unless we have amassed vast supplies of this drug ourselves and plan to go into the drug business by providing the addicts with God’s Sweat to keep them mollified,” answered Wabussie. “And even if we did have the drugs, there’s no way that we could go that route without creating even bigger problems.”
“I agree with Admiral Wabussie,” I said. “We’re just going to have to deal with this the best that we can. Howebim, how many God’s Sweat users do you estimate are in the Federation?”
“Roughly one hundred trillion or just slightly less than one percent of the Federation’s total population. But the distribution isn’t equal across the Federation. The centralized larger and wealthier worlds have a higher percentage of users than the smaller and more remote worlds.”
“One hundred trillion! ONE HUNDRED TRILLION! How in the stars are we supposed to contain that?!” I had to force myself to calm down, because I couldn’t breathe. “So, what are we talking about on a planet like Megelleon?”
“A million, maybe more. It’s really hard to say. We do know that the God’s Sweat that comes into Megelleon does so through numerous sources. As fast as we find and shut down one source, a new one is established and distributing at full capacity.”
“What if we stop shutting them down for a few days – let their supply dry up naturally? That might buy us some time,” I suggested.
“I see what you’re saying,” said Wabussie. “The supply will last longer without our intervention, giving us maybe an extra day or two before things get ugly.”
“I can see where that might work,” Howebim added, “But I don’t like it.”
“What have we got to lose? We all know there is no cure for God’s Sweat addiction and that every addict dies in the end anyway either from the drug’s cumulative toxicity or from the withdrawal. If we can delay or reduce the impact of the rioting by preventing them from going into withdrawal all at once, we may have some chance of controlling the violence.” I paused briefly to think. “Padaran, how many troopers do we have on each planet…on average?”
“On average, eight to ten million, with the exception of the smaller worlds where we retain something more on the order of six million,” replied Padaran.
“So if we take ten percent of our troops and put them on the streets and install the second-year cadets in administrative and processing roles at the bases, we might be able to deal with any organized violence,” I said, feeling a bit more at ease.
“Except that it won’t be organized,” replied Howebim. “Strung-out drug users don’t organize. They become crazed, rabid animals. You’re going to need several troopers just to handle one addict.”
“Yes, I see what you’re getting at. I’m afraid we have no choice. Once the mayhem exceeds our ability to maintain security, we’ll have to declare martial law Federation-wide and impose strict curfews. At some point, I fear we may have to use deadly force against anyone who resists or refuses to comply.”
“That’s not going to go over well with the citizens,” replied Howebim.
“No, I suspect not. Let’s put together some plans and outline the protocols for the situations we expect to encounter, and then I’ll need to meet with Leader Pheosa about the situation.”
The meeting continued for several hours – long enough to order an additional meal, which I ate sparingly as we formulated a plan of action. I lost track of time. Gratefully, the special vest that A’Lappe sent for me to wear around my injured ribs helped considerably and made what otherwise would have been an unbearable situation possible to endure.
Late in the evening Commander Ircart was finally able to report back that the total number of the second-year JAC cadets Federation-wide numbered at approximately one trillion across the nearly one million Federation worlds. That amounted to approximately one cadet for every one hundred God’s Sweat addicts – not a good ratio. Of course, deployment of our ground troop
ers was also included in the planned operation, where possible, but the use of these resources would be kept as centralized as possible. All ground forces were required to remain on alert, in the event the Brotherhood decided to strike in force anywhere.
As we sorted through the unknowns and tried to prepare for the worst, I wished Slater was still alive to help us. He was far better in matters like this than me or anyone else I’d ever known.
It was sometime past midnight when we finally adjourned the meeting. I knew Leader Pheosa would be asleep; and frankly, I needed rest myself, so I decided to wait until morning to discuss the plans with him. I was too exhausted to return to the NEW ORLEANS and since the situation was still volatile, I decided to stay in my quarters on the GLOMAR ROSA. I intended to take a shower and head straight to bed. The last think I expected to see when I opened the door was Kala, Lunnie and Reide sitting before the news broadcasts, waiting for me to arrive.
“Dad!” cried Lunnie as she jumped up and ran to me. I expected another air-hug, but instead she grabbed me and squeezed so hard that I nearly dropped to the floor. I yelled out in pain, and she quickly jumped back, “Oh! I’m sorry, dad, I’m sorry! I forgot!”
“It’s alright,” I winced. “Just don’t do it again.”
I glanced at Reide. He’d changed out of his formal cadet uniform and was now wearing the uniform of a trooper with lieutenant’s stripes around the chest. He looked so sharp. I tried to give him a salute, but the motion gave me such shooting pains that I couldn’t quite make it. I coughed and laughed a little, which only added to the pain. “Sorry, son, it doesn’t look like I can salute tonight. Congratulations. I see you’re a full lieutenant now.”
I couldn’t help staring at Reide and Lunnie, my twins, my children. I was overwhelmed with emotion and began weeping with pride and also out of sheer fatigue. Immediately Kala and Lunnie helped me into a large easy chair.
“I’m so proud of you two…,” I said. “…the way you responded to the attack at the parade grounds yesterday. Not only did you save my life, but you saved untold others as well…and in ways you may never know. That was some fast thinking and action on both your parts.
