The Fighter King

by John Bowers

  Erika's silver eyes flashed. "We're at war, Viktor! Who's going to arrest us?"

  As Oliver listened to this exchange, he remembered Horst Obermeit's words: "Sirius is not at war with the Federation — you should have nothing to fear from them."

  "I'm an expert rifle shot," he said quickly. "I'll go with them."

  Viktor looked surprised that Oliver was still there. He glared at him in irritation.

  "I'll make you a deal," Oliver said. "I'll cover your reporters if you'll send that subspace message for me. I've got nothing else to do right now anyway. Deal?"

  "I told you, the repeater …"

  "If the repeater comes back on line," Oliver stressed. "If it doesn't, then we're even."

  The news director's eyes narrowed.

  "Mister Lincoln, why should I trust you to protect my reporters? I only have your word that you're even from Terra. How do I know you aren't a Sirian yourself?"

  Oliver threw his starpass on the desk. Viktor opened it and glanced at it briefly.

  "Lincoln Enterprises?" He looked up. "LincEnt? The arms dealer?"

  "You've heard of us."

  "You build combat fighters for the Sirian Confederacy."

  "Wrong. We build them for defense and sell them without prejudice. I just sold two hundred fighters to the Vegan Space Guard this week. Unfortunately, it looks like I was too late." Oliver took back his starpass and shoved it into a pocket. "Do we have a deal?"

  Viktor nodded toward the two women. "Ask them."

  An awkward silence reigned for fifteen seconds as everyone looked at everyone else. Finally, it was Jacquje Norgaard who spoke.

  "I trust him," she said.

  Denver, CO, North America, Terra

  "Mr. Lincoln, it's Henry Wells on line nineteen."

  "Thanks, Rosemary." Oliver Lincoln II spun to face the vidphone on his credenza. He ordered the line to activate and saw his son's friend waiting expectantly on the screen. "Henry, how's it going!"

  "Hi, Mr. Lincoln. Sorry to bother you at the office …"

  "You can call any time. You know that."

  The young man hesitated briefly. "I have some bad news, Mr. Lincoln. I don't know if you've heard yet …"

  "Heard what?" Lincoln leaned forward, his granite face creased with concern.

  "It's all over the holonews. The Sirians have attacked the Vegan Monarchy."

  Lincoln felt an electric shock pass through his body. He sucked in his breath.

  "Jesus Christ!" he said. "Ollie was right!"

  Henry nodded. "Yes, sir. It came much sooner than … than he expected."

  Then the second shock hit.

  "Good god! Ollie is still there!"

  "Yes, sir."

  "He was coming home today. Did he get off the planet?"

  "I don't know. Right now we don't have any details at all except an emergency subspace from the Monarchy that they were under attack."

  "When did it happen?"

  "As near as we can determine, about six hours ago. After the initial subspace, the Monarchy went silent. So far, the Sirians haven't issued any kind of statement, and they haven't responded to any inquiries."

  Dizzy with emotion, Lincoln rested a hand over his face.

  "What about your friends at FIA?"

  "They may know more, but they haven't shared it with the Senate. I just wanted to let you know, Mr. Lincoln. I'm sure Ollie is okay. He's a neutral, and we have thousands of citizens on Vega 3, so the Sirians will have to make allowances for them. I'm sure we'll know something in a day or so."

  Lincoln knew he was right, but the words were hardly comforting. With an effort, he compressed his feelings long enough to give Henry Wells a fleeting smile.

  "I'm sure you're right. Keep me informed, Henry. Night or day, give me a call."

  Lincoln disconnected and sat perfectly still for several minutes. His emotions ranged from fear to anger, but the one thought that came back to him repeatedly was, When was the last time I told him I love him?

  Chapter 14

  Reina, Vega 3

  Most of Vega 3 was covered by ocean. The land mass consisted of one continent half again the size of Australia and numerous island chains, many of the latter uninhabited except by indigenous fauna. The main continent was bisected by the Sophia Alps, which ran east to west, with Reina and the major population centers to the north; to the south lay the vast Southern Plain, a fertile agricultural region populated by small towns and widely scattered cities. The largest of these was Soderstad, which sat at the southernmost tip of the continent.

  Picturesque Sophiastad was located on a ten-thousand-foot plateau in the Alps, just over twelve hundred miles from Reina. Renowned throughout the settled galaxy as Vega's center of religion, culture, and the arts, it was the biggest tourist draw on the planet. From any point in Sophiastad one could look to the east and see Mt. Sophia, the tallest peak on Vega 3 and an icon to the Cult of Sophia.

  The trip from Reina to Sophiastad was normally six hours by hovercar or two hours by tube train, but these were not normal times.

  "I haven't had any luck arranging transportation for you," Viktor the news director told Oliver and the two reporters. "The Guard has grounded all civilian hover traffic except emergency vehicles, and they won't budge on that."

  "We'll take the tube," Erika suggested.

  "I don't think so. The Sirians dropped seismic bombs and collapsed some of the tunnels."

  "How about surface car? It will take all night, but —"

  Viktor was shaking his head. "Surface highways are choked. About six million people are running in this direction, using all the lanes. Sirians are shooting down airplanes, so I don't know how you get there. But I need you there tomorrow."

  "Shit!"

  "What about the river?" Oliver suggested. "Does anyone own a boat?"

  The Queen River, Vega 3

  The Queen River meandered to within sixty miles of Sophiastad, but the linear distance was well over fifteen hundred miles. Still, it was the only avenue that was neither restricted nor under attack, and they located a riverboat captain who was willing to take them upstream for a substantial amount of cash. The boat was built to move cargo and not for luxury, but it had hydrofoils and was able to cruise at close to fifty knots. They departed late in the afternoon; the trip would take about thirty hours.

  The two women sorted through their equipment below decks in a cabin that had been cleared out for their use. Oliver settled down on the top deck and leaned back against the wheelhouse, glad to be off his feet. As the boat rode up and down across the choppy surface, he tried to relax and plan his next move.

  If he could somehow reach Sirian lines — wherever they might be — he could surrender himself as a Federation citizen. As a neutral, he had no official quarrel with the invaders, nor they with him. His starpass was proof of citizenship, so he should have no trouble convincing the Sirians to let him off the planet. All he had to do was get into their custody without getting himself killed.

  How hard could it be?

  The breeze generated by their speed riffled his hair and he closed his eyes, trying to still his racing mind.

  Someone sat down beside him and he opened his eyes. Jacquje Norgaard smiled at him.

  "Did I wake you?" she asked in her soft accent. It was the first time she'd spoken directly to him.

  "No. I was just relaxing."

  She leaned back against the wheelhouse and stared across the river. He looked at her closely and realized for the first time that he'd been with these two girls for several hours now without once entertaining a sexual thought. Recent events had driven all such thoughts from him, yet these two women were as stunning as any others on Vega 3. Jacquje was prettier than Erika, he decided. She was only five feet two and maybe a hundred Terra pounds, slender and petite, with dark brown hair that fell halfway to her waist. Now he caught a whiff of her Vegan perfume, and it had a predictable effect on him.

  "Tell me, Jacquje," he said, "are you by any
chance a follower of Sophia?"

  She turned her deep dark eyes on him and smiled.

  "Yes," she said. "How did you know?"

  Damn.

  * * *

  After darkness fell, the three travelers retired to their cabin and ate a simple meal of sandwiches. It was hardly satisfying, but it stilled their hunger.

  "Are you really an expert shot?" Erika asked.

  "Only with a rifle," Oliver said. "I never had much experience with handguns."

  "Laser or slug?"

  "Slug. There's no sport in hunting with laser."

  "Slug weapons are noisy."

  "True. But laser weapons give away your position, especially at night."

  Erika shrugged, as if it really didn't matter. "We'll pick up a rifle for you in Sophiastad," she said. "It's a popular region for hunters."

  Oliver merely nodded. He had no intention of shooting anybody, or even shooting at anybody, especially a bunch of armed soldiers. He'd volunteered to cover the girls only so Viktor would let him accompany them.

  "I don't know about you ladies," he said a few minutes later, "but I'm going to get some sleep. I had a very rude awakening this morning, and who knows what tomorrow will be like."

  The cabin had sleeping accommodations for four; the girls had draped a curtain across the center to allow a modicum of privacy. Oliver stepped through the curtain and stripped down to his shorts, then crawled into a bunk and tried to get comfortable. The girls talked in low tones for a while, but he soon drifted into slumber.

  Some time later — he was never sure how long — he woke suddenly when a soft hand closed over his mouth. Long hair tickled his cheek and he picked up that faint whiff of Vegan perfume again.

  Jacquje.

  "Oliver," she whispered, "can I sleep with you?"

  His eyes came open wide. Did she mean sleep, or did she mean …?

  He scooted to the side.

  There was barely room for her, but she crawled in with him. He shifted onto his side to make space, hoping she didn't feel his erection. He could feel the heat from her body.

  She kissed him, placing one hand behind his head. His heart almost stopped. He slid an arm around her, realizing for the first time that she was virtually naked.

  "You said you worship Sophia," he said when she gave him the chance. "Aren't you supposed to remain a virgin?"

  "Sophia also teaches that every woman has a right to her Moment of Awakening. If I am going to be raped by Sirians, I don't want them to get my virginity."

  He had no answer for that. He rolled on top of her and kissed her feverishly, closing his mind to all thoughts except the moment at hand. After several intense moments he removed her bra, then her panties. She opened her thighs for him, her small but perfect breasts rising and falling heavily.

  She moaned as he entered her, clasping her thighs tightly to hold him in place. He moved slowly, savoring every inch of her, and though his body screamed for release, he forced himself to take his time. Twice he had to stop to allow his own tension to subside, but before reaching his own climax he made sure she reached hers.

  With a loud explosion of breath she cried out; her nails dug into his shoulders, and her body convulsed under him. Before she stopped shuddering, he exploded into her, his entire body wracked with spasms, his brain melting into its surrounding tissues. After several long seconds of extended muscular rigidity, he lowered his weight onto her, breathing deeply until his vision cleared. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly.

  "Thank you, Oliver," she whispered into his ear. "It was everything I hoped it would be."

  He nodded wearily.

  "Me, too," he said.

  They fell asleep in each other's arms, but when Oliver woke again she was gone.

  Sunday, 12 July, 0195 (PCC) — The Queen River, Vega 3

  They spent the second day of the war on the river, isolated from the news except what the boat captain picked up by radio, which largely sounded like rumor. Clearly there was a need for objective, on-the-spot reporting, something Erika was apparently good at.

  As the day wore on, Oliver spent most of it sitting by the wheelhouse, watching the terrain change. From the reasonably flat country around Reina, they passed farms, villages and small cities, the land gradually becoming more hilly. In the distance, the Alps loomed bigger and closer, snow-capped peaks gleaming in the sunlight. The river itself began to bend and twist, becoming narrower. Still they plowed on.

  "Kind of ironic, isn't it?" Erika said as she sat beside him.

  "What's that?"

  "You build fighters, sell them to the Sirians, and here you are on the ground when they use them."

  He nodded ruefully. "Too goddamned ironic."

  "So why did you do it?"

  "Do what?"

  "Sell them to the Sirians?'

  He shrugged. "We've been selling to them for a decade, long before I was old enough to have a say. But who would have dreamed the bastards would use them this way?"

  "I would. I could have told you they would attack us. It was inevitable."

  "Why inevitable?"

  "Their society is a throwback. Every other culture that migrated to the stars tried to improve itself, but they regressed. Back to ancient times. They don't think like any other culture in the galaxy, and yet they are so fucking arrogant, as if they're superior to all the rest."

  "They think they are."

  "We have very strict laws governing our citizens. One is that rape is a capital offense. If a Vegan man commits rape, and it can be scientifically established that he did it, he dies. Very simple, very effective. When an off worlder does it, we either remand him to his own government for punishment, or give him a life sentence. His choice. But the Sirians took advantage of us.

  "Not everyone on Vega is a Sophia worshipper. We have more sexual freedom here than most other places, and we provide sex facilities for men who want them. But Sirian merchant spacemen come here and ignore the establishments we provide for them. They often go into the streets and hunt down women. For years we would arrest them and turn them over to Sirian authority for punishment, but we kept arresting the same men over and over again."

  "So you started executing them."

  "That's right. I personally think that was a mistake, because it gave the Confederacy the excuse it needed. They've been after our women for years. The Constabulary has records of hundreds of missing women every year, usually within fifty miles of a spaceport. The merchant spacers kidnap them and smuggle them onto their starships. Once they get to Sirius, they disappear into the slave market and no one ever hears from them again."

  "You can prove this?"

  "Not conclusively. Once or twice the Constables did track kidnapped women and found them on board Sirian merchant ships, but no one has ever proved that it's a conspiracy. Sirius insists that those were isolated cases of criminal conduct, nothing more. But I don’t believe it.”

  "I saw your interview with Jackson the other day," Oliver said. "What an asshole he is."

  "That sick bastard!" Erika's expression darkened with hatred. "He likes little girls, keeps about a dozen in the embassy. They aren't Vegan citizens and he has diplomatic immunity, so we can't touch him."

  Oliver clenched his fist. "You can't expel him?"

  She shook her head. "We have no jurisdiction. The embassy is Sirian soil."

  Oliver was too angry to ask any more questions. They sat in silence for a while.

  "I want to thank you for what you did for Jacquje," Erika said at length. Oliver's head swiveled in surprise.

  "You heard us?"

  "Are you kidding? She hasn't made that much noise since she was born."

  Oliver stared back at the river, embarrassed.

  "Jacquje is terrified of the Sirians. When she was about ten, a Sirian murdered her mother."

  "Christ!"

  "What you did for Jacquje last night — well, it was really important to her."

  Oliver shrugged. "It didn'
t cost me anything."

  Sophiastad, Vega 3

  Darkness had fallen again when they left the river at a small town called Royal Falls. The road from there to Sophiastad wasn't a major artery, and thus not in use by refugees. They managed to hire a surface car for the final leg, and two hours later arrived at their destination.

  Sophiastad was under blackout, but fires burned in several areas of the city. The streets were largely deserted except for Constabulary and military traffic. The building housing Royal Holo News hadn't been damaged, but most of the staff had fled. The news director was a man named Svensen. He looked harassed and sleepless, but for all that was in a better mood than Viktor had been.

  "Sirian fighters hit us again a couple of hours ago," he told them. "Mostly military targets, but they're also taking out certain factories and communications sites. They hit the satellite farm this time. Knocked us off the air."

  "So if I want to file a story to Reina, I can't?" Erika looked less than pleased.

  "We still have a relay station a few miles from here on Carlena Peak," Svensen said. "You can use that, probably, but we can't transmit to our audience right now."

  "I thought this place was full of refugees," Erika said. "The streets are empty."

  "They mostly headed on north. If you didn't take the main artery, you missed them. Still a few coming in from the south, but the Guard has dug in about twenty miles from here and they're not letting everyone get through."

  "Do you have a spare hovervan we can use? We had to leave ours in Reina."

  "You can have the convertible. It isn't as well equipped, but it has a dish on it so you can file. Stay as near the ground as you can — the Guard is real jittery about hover vehicles."

  Erika searched the streets for refugees, found a handful, and interviewed them. Their stories were fanciful and contradictory, the bottom line being that they hadn't actually seen any Sirians, but knew all about atrocities on the Southern Plain. Erika filed the story with reservations; Jacquje aimed the dish toward Carlena Peak, and minutes later received verification that the feed had been received. Almost immediately, Viktor came in voice-only.

  "That was mostly shit, Erika!" he said. "It's the same garbage we've been getting."