by Dietmar Wehr
As Stevens approached the entrance with Remington off to one side and a half step back, the platoon came to attention with impressive precision. She could tell that even Stevens was impressed. He acknowledged the act with a quick nod of his head. He stopped roughly a meter from Trojan and the two men looked at each other. Remington suddenly realized two things. One was that while Stevens was relieving Trojan as Commander-in-Chief/First Fleet/Army Force, Trojan had three stars on his collar and Stevens only had two, which meant that Stevens should salute Trojan first. The other thing she noticed was that the other officer, whose collar had the insignia of an Army Colonel, was wearing a handgun with the covering flap open.
Stevens finally offered Trojan the salute that protocol required of him, and Trojan returned it with what Remington couldn’t help thinking was an amused smile.
“General Trojan, I’m here on specific orders from the Council to relieve you of your post as CINC/1FAF. I’m also instructed to tell you that you are ordered to accompany Commander Remington,” Stevens turned in her direction, “to her ship for immediate transport back to Earth where a Disciplinary Hearing will be convened to determine if your actions here have exceeded your authority.”
Trojan’s amused expression didn’t change one iota, much to Remington’s surprise. After about three seconds of silence, Trojan turned to look at the Colonel. “Well, Colonel Ericson, the Council wants to relieve me of command here. What do you think of that?”
Remington watched in horror as the Colonel took out his handgun, pointed it at Stevens’ head and pulled the trigger. She jumped to one side as Stevens’ now headless body hit the ground. She glanced up and froze when she saw the Colonel’s gun pointed at her head.
“Not her, Colonel. We can always use another ship commander.” The Colonel put away his gun and Remington started to breathe again. “You can dismiss the Honor Guard, Colonel. Commander, come with me please.” As Trojan turned to go back inside the Complex, Ericson brought his right fist up against his chest and said in a loud voice, “Long Live The Empire!” Remington jumped when the platoon immediately did the same thing in perfect unison. Trojan acknowledged their salute with a wave of his hand.
An hour later, Remington stepped back aboard her shuttle, which proceeded to lift off on its way back to Trafalgar. She was deeply conflicted. Trojan had shown her the Majestic computer in all its awesome size and let her read Majestic’s prediction of the future of Human Civilization with and without a single, all-powerful, central authority. The evidence was compelling. The machine’s impeccable logic was impossible to refute, but even that might not have been enough to convince her to abandon her oath to the Federation if Trojan hadn’t also told her about the new stealth technology and Majestic’s prediction that Commodore Romanov’s three stealthy cruisers would sweep rebel defenses from Sparta’s orbit. The war was effectively over, he told her. All that was left to do was to land troops on the main rebel planets and pacify them. He needed her cruiser to escort the troop transports in case the troops needed orbital bombardment support when they landed. Could he count on her to see where her greater duty lay? Her conscience fought a losing battle to convince her to keep her honor and refuse. The prospect of centuries of chaos and anarchy among hundreds of planets, including Earth, was just too horrible to ignore. It was the fanaticism that Trojan was actively promoting that caused her the most anxiety. She was enough of a student of history to understand how easily that kind of movement could take on a life of its own, and she was certain that she didn’t want to be a part of that. He could have her co-operation, but not her soul.
Three days later, Trafalgar received new orders from Majestic. Word had come back from Sparta that Romanov’s ships were in total control of Sparta’s orbitals, and the coast was clear to send troops there. Trafalgar would be one of two conventional cruisers escorting the troop transports. This was her moment of decision. So far she hadn’t disobeyed any orders from Navy Chief of Staff Chenko, but if she obeyed Majestic via Trojan, she’d be committing treason, no ifs, ands or buts. She gave the orders that would take Trafalgar to Sparta. The die was now cast.
Day 206/2549
As Trafalgar’s shuttle carried Remington down to Sparta’s Capital, she reviewed the events of the past 24 hours. With the arrival of his troops, Romanov had demanded Sparta’s surrender, explaining that if the rebels resisted, he would order orbital bombardment of cities, with the attendant risk of collateral damage to civilian structures, and civilian casualties. The surrender demand also included a thinly veiled threat that his troops would shoot first and ask questions later if there was resistance of any kind. The Sparta Chancellor surrendered the planet and promised that there would be no resistance. Remington was relieved to hear that Trafalgar would not be ordered to fire on the planet. If Drake was down there, she would never forgive herself if he died while stationed at a military facility targeted by her ship. When it became clear that the Spartans would not resist, Romanov had ordered Trafalgar and the other escorting cruiser to stand down from Battle Stations, and the status change opened up the window for her to go down to the surface. If questioned, she would claim that she was gathering information for her own After Action report to Majestic and General Trojan. In fact, she was hoping to find Drake and escort him personally into FED custody to avoid the possibility that some trigger-happy, black-uniformed fanatic would shoot him for ‘acting in a suspicious manner’. Her contemplation was interrupted by the shuttle pilot’s voice.
“Commander, we’ve been ordered by Assault Ops to stay in a holding pattern until the rest of their troops are on the ground and the landing zone is clear.”
Remington shook her head in dismay. Why did everything have to be so damned difficult? “Stand by, I’m coming up to the flight deck,” she said. When she entered the cockpit and was standing behind the pilot’s right shoulder, she asked, “Where are we now?” All she could see out the windscreen were clouds.
“We’re about three klicks out from their spaceport at an altitude of 2500 meters,” answered the pilot.
“Can we at least drop down below these clouds?” asked Remington.
The pilot nodded. “THAT we can do. Here we go.”
The shuttle dropped quickly until they were below the cloud cover. The city was now laid out before her. In the distance, she could see multiple tiny dots moving down to the spaceport landing sites. More troops were coming in by anti-gravity troop carriers. The nose of the shuttle started to swing away from the spaceport in what Remington knew would be a curving path around it.
“Bring us over the city center and lower too if you can. I’d like to see how our troops are doing for my report to General Trojan,” said Remington. Might as well give some support to my excuse, she thought to herself.
“I can get us over the center but not much lower. However, we can use our nose camera to zoom in on anything you’d like to get a good look at, Commander.”
“That’ll be fine, Lieutenant.”
It wasn’t long before the shuttle was nearing the administrative center of the city. Remington recognized the building where the rebel government had its offices. The flat top seemed to be crowded with people.
“Okay, can we zoom in on the top of that gold-colored tower?” asked Remington.
The pilot nodded. “Take the flight controls, Shooter. I’ll operate the zoom,” he said to the co-pilot. Remington watched the video screen in the center of the cockpit console. The image zoomed in, and she gasped as she recognized who was standing in a line at the edge of the roof and what was about to happen. The SSU Chancellor and a dozen others who were probably his cabinet were standing right at the edge of the roof with their hands behind their backs. In front of them was a line of Colonel Ericson’s black-uniformed troops holding weapons that were pointed at the rebel leaders.
“My God, that’s a firing squad,” said Remington in shock. She could tell by the recoil that the troops had fired. The Chancellor and all his people spun around and fell over the edge
. As she tried to understand why Ericson would feel the need to conduct summary executions after a peaceful surrender, her peripheral vision detected the pilot turning to look at her. She looked at him and saw that he was also disturbed by what they had just seen.
“Going to put that in your report, Commander?” said the pilot in a low voice. It wasn’t so much a question as a challenge and was borderline insubordinate. She could tell that he was expecting to be chastised for it, and when that didn’t happen, she saw both men relax.
“I won’t need the zoom anymore, Lieutenant,” said Remington finally. The pilot turned the screen off and took back control of the shuttle.
Remington was about to turn around and go back to her seat when a thought came to her. “Listen, you two,” she said as she turned back to the two men. “I suggest you watch what you say when we’re down there. Those black-uniformed troopers are fanatics, and I don’t think you want to draw their attention. Got it?”
The pilot looked over at his co-pilot and then at her. “Oh, yeah, Commander, we definitely got that.”
It was almost an hour before the shuttle was finally allowed to land and she could disembark. Two assault troopers were standing beside a commandeered vehicle as she stepped off the shuttle. As they approached her, the one on the left spoke.
“By what authorization are you on Sparta, Commander Remington?”
She gave him her cover story. The troopers looked at each other. The GENERAL’S orders were not to be disobeyed or questioned. Challenging her right to be here might be considered as questioning the Big Guy’s orders. Better to play it safe and let her go ahead. All of this had passed between the two troopers non-verbally, and Remington understood it completely.
“In that case, welcome to newly-liberated Federation territory, sir. Can we give you a lift somewhere?”
She decided that it would be less suspicious looking if she let them give her a ride. “I’ll accept your kind offer, trooper. I’d like to see the Ops Center for planetary defense, if you happen to know where that is.”
Both men relaxed visibly. This Navy Commander looked like she’d be easy to get along with. “No we don’t, but we’ll find it for you if you hop in, Commander.”
They were as good as their word. Fifteen minutes later, she was standing in the huge Ops Center looking up at the three-story high main display, which was dark now. The room was empty of people. Most of the consoles were turned off. She was hoping to find someone who could tell her where Drake was assigned or at least point her in the right direction of someone who would know, but clearly she wasn’t going to find any answers here.
“Remington, is that you?” said a female voice from behind her. There was a hardness in the tone that made her reach for her handgun as she spun around. She saw a woman wearing the rebel uniform of an army Major, with her hands up. Remington lowered her weapon but didn’t put it away. There was something vaguely familiar about this major. The woman stepped closer, and Remington read her name tag. Foster. Suddenly her memory clicked.
“You’re Cate Foster, the spy who was in Trojan’s planning group on Earth,” said Remington.
Foster nodded. “And you’re Lorelei Remington, Roland Drake’s long lost love. Let me guess why you’re here. You’re looking for him, right?” There was a sad smile on her face. While Remington was still making up her mind how to answer that question, Foster asked, “Can I put my hands down without getting shot?” Remington nodded. Foster stopped approaching when they were roughly two meters apart. They looked each other in the eye and said nothing for several seconds.
Remington was just about to give Foster her cover story when on a sudden impulse she said, “Yes, I’m here to look for Roland. Do you happen to know where he is?”
Foster gave her a calculating look. “I don’t know exactly where he is, but I can tell you where he isn’t. He’s not here on Sparta anymore.” Remington’s disappointment must have shown on her face, because Foster continued in a less harsh, even slightly sympathetic voice. “I can see how that news affects you. It’s been how many years since you’ve seen him?”
“Too many,” whispered Remington.
“Yes, a long time without the man you love, and now you’re faced with the prospect that you’ll never see him again. I know what that feels like, Lorelei. My husband was on Midgard when FED forces raided our operation there. He’s almost certainly dead, but I’ll never know for sure.”
After a period of silence, Remington said, “I’m sorry about your husband. I hate this war. I hate what it’s made us become and do. Trojan’s turned his troopers into fanatics, and a little while ago I saw them shoot your leadership off the top of the gold tower. Whatever happened to honor, Cate?”
“It was never here to begin with, Lorelei. We only had rumors of honor, that’s all.” Foster looked like she wanted to say more, and Remington waited. Stepping over to the nearest console, Foster sat down on the edge, folded her arms, and continued.
“I’ve got a proposition for you, Lorelei, and it’s not as one officer to another, but rather as one woman to another. You want to join up with your man, and I want to join up with mine. I’ll help you if you promise me, on your…honor, that you’ll help me.”
There was something about her tone that made the hairs on Remington’s neck stand up. “You want my help to get to Midgard?” she asked.
Foster shook her head. “Bret’s not there anymore. Oh, his body may be, but his soul has moved on, and I need your help to follow him wherever he is now.”
“I don’t understand, Cate. Do you want me to help you commit suicide?”
“I’ll explain everything, but only after you agree to the deal. I help you find Drake, and you help me with what I need to do.”
“One question first. You said you don’t know where Drake is now, so how can you help me find him?”
Foster thought for a moment and then said, “I didn’t lie to you, Lorelei. I don’t know for certain where he is right now, but I can point you in the right direction. If you’re clever enough, you can pick up his trail and follow it. That’s all I’m prepared to say at this point.”
Remington didn’t know what to say to that. Cate clearly had something other than simple suicide in mind, and Remington had a hunch that if her help came to light, it would be bad for her career, maybe even bad enough to get her booted out of the Navy altogether. Then she remembered that by following Trojan, she had already crossed a line. Maybe being able to take her uniform off for good wasn’t such a bad prospect. Unless Cate was lying to her, this might be her only clue to Drake’s whereabouts, and her intuition was telling her that Cate wasn’t lying. She made a decision.
“I give you my word that I’ll help you in return for pointing me in the right direction to find Roland.”
“Good! Good. Here’s what I need from you. Do you know who was in charge of the raid on Midgard?” asked Cate.
“Yes. Commodore Romanov was in charge of the fleet component, and Colonel Ericson was in charge of the ground operation.”
“Is Ericson here on Sparta now?”
“I know he’s in charge of the troops, but I don’t know for certain if he’s on the ground or not.”
“Then I need you to find out if he’s down here, and if so, arrange for me to be taken to him. Then your part’s done, Lorelei.”
Remington frowned. “What exactly are you planning on doing, Cate?”
Foster stood up and undid the front of her uniform jacket. When she opened it, Foster saw that she was wearing a harness containing flat bricks of what had to be plastic explosives.
“I’m going to get as close to him as I can, and then I’ll blow both of us sky high,” said Foster.
Remington’s first impulse was to say no, but then she remembered how Ericson had murdered Stevens in cold blood, and the firing squad on the top of the gold tower looked like the kind of thing that he would be capable of ordering.
“I don’t see how I could get you near him. I’m not on his staff
you know.”
Foster closed her jacket and smiled. “I can tell that you’re shocked by this. You’re desperately looking for a way out of your obligation to me. The answer is quite simple really. You take me at the point of your gun to the nearest trooper officer. Then you explain that you’ve stumbled on the rebel spy who used to be on General Trojan’s staff on Earth and that Colonel Ericson would definitely want to have a little chat with me, which I’m sure is absolutely the case. We know that Trojan was embarrassed by having a rebel spy on his staff all that time. What do you want to bet that he didn’t order Ericson to try to find me?”
