by P. R. Adams
“Please.”
“Your assessment of Captain Rimes’s performance was overall negative. Is that fair to say?”
“Yes.” Theroux refused to meet Rimes’s gaze.
“You characterized his decisions as ‘weak’, ‘misguided’, and ‘timid’. In particular, you challenged his decisions to expend resources on Lieutenant Shaw, the genie prisoner, and Corporal Murphy. You stated that leaving Shaw and Murphy behind would have given the team a better chance of escaping the genies after the crash.”
“It would have. We eventually escaped, but we lost perfectly healthy personnel in the process. Captain Rimes allowed his concern for his team to influence his decisions. That’s how missions become failures. I told the captain as much, but he seemed disinterested in my position. When he did listen, he disagreed, despite my seniority. I feel the record should reflect my views.”
“It will.” Fripp’s voice was neutral. “You don’t really discuss the mission’s overall outcome or some of the decisions that might be considered imaginative or brave.”
“Such as?” Theroux didn’t even try to seem authentically curious.
“What do you think might have happened had the genies’ ships not been destroyed? You don’t refute Captain Rimes’s report on this point. The genies were heading back to their ships. With those, wouldn’t you have been easy targets, waiting for the death blow, incapable of avoiding it?”
Theroux shrugged. “I wasn’t there. If Captain Rimes claims he destroyed the genie ships just before the genies arrived, I can’t challenge him.”
“But if the genies had gotten to the ships, would you agree the mission would have ended right there?”
“We would probably have lost most of the team. I think I could have saved a few by convincing them to follow me.”
Rimes started. “Follow you? What are you talking about? Follow you where? There was nothing but desert for dozens of kilometers in any direction.”
Theroux looked at Rimes for several seconds before looking back at Fripp. “Captain Fripp, we could spend the next several hours going through the details of my report and get nowhere. What’s important is contained in the summary. The problems we faced on the planet below are the same sort of problems you’ll face in future engagements with the genies. You can either learn from them or not. Although it appears I’m critical of Captain Rimes in my report, I’m not. I’m actually critical of your military—its training, its philosophies and tactics. You are slaves to your human mindset, but you are fighting something more than human. You must learn to think differently, or you will fail. And if you believe your own messaging about the genies, failure can have only one outcome: annihilation.”
Fripp clasped his hands in front of him. “Is that the extent of it, Mr. Theroux?”
“It is.”
“And you’re satisfied with the conclusion of our operation here?”
Theroux bowed his head slightly. “Thanks to Captain Rimes and his men, I have Mr. Duke’s body in stasis aboard my ship. You’ve secured the Erikson. Overall, this must be considered a success, despite the complaints I’ve registered.”
Fripp typed a few notes, then he closed the report. “Very well. Your input has been integrated into the report. Your employers will receive a final copy from the Security Council.”
Theroux smiled and stood. “I look forward to seeing the final product and the Security Council’s communication. We all have a good deal of learning ahead of us, gentlemen. And in the weeks it takes us to reach our destinations, things may very well change all over again. Thank you for your time.”
Everyone stood, waiting for Theroux to leave. Once he was gone, Fripp excused his staff, signaling for Rimes to stay behind. When they were alone in the room, Fripp leaned back in his chair.
“I’m not sure I understand his angle.” Fripp’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “It seems, though, you’ve somehow managed to make a very influential enemy.”
“I don’t get it. Just surviving was…“ Rimes sighed, exasperated. “What did he think he could have done differently? He wanted us to leave the wounded behind. It wasn’t just inhumane, it was a misjudgment of personnel. Wounded or not, some of those people fought. To the end. Even if they didn’t kill any of the enemy, they bought the rest of us valuable time. And then there’s the impact abandoning wounded would have on morale. I don’t get the sense he’s used to team operations, sir.”
“I wanted to ask him about Mr. Duke.” Fripp pinching his lower lip distractedly. “I gather their interest in the corpse is tied to genetic reconstruction. Does he really think this construct is contained, though?”
“It seemed to me the aliens that sealed that thing down there were more advanced than us, sir, and it didn’t look like they had a lot of luck containing it. Sheila—Agent Fontana—said it thought on a scale of millennia. It was using the planet’s resources—the fungus and who knows what else—to break it out of that prison. It would’ve taken time, but they were breaking things down. There was a hole in the floor beneath it. I think it may already have been closer to escape than anyone realized. And in the end, it brought Pasqual’s team in with enough explosives to blast it free. When you think about something that plans that far out, and you compare that to humans who base everything off quarter-to-quarter profits, maybe planning a year or so out…“ Rimes shook his head, exasperated.
“Not everyone operates like that, Captain Rimes. You have to trust someone is looking out for the future.”
“I certainly hope so, sir.” Rimes thought back to what Pasqual had said about the EEC research that had been shut down outside Prague. Tymoshenko had promised caution, but EEC was repeating the same mistakes the other metacorporations had made. Everything in the pursuit of profits. “Will you need anything more from me?”
“The report captures all the details.” Fripp rubbed his eyes. “I’m sure someone will act at some point if they sense the risk is great enough.”
“Against the cartel?” Rimes asked, incredulous.
“Bean counters.” Fripp waved dismissively. “Someone runs numbers for scenarios and decides how we act. It’s been that way for decades. If the numbers say you act, you act.” He held up a finger suddenly, shaking it as if he’d just remembered something. “You said something in your report that I’d like more detail on.”
“I can submit an addendum.”
Fripp shook his head. “No. This needs to stay out of the report. I think we’ve cooperated enough with our benefactors at this point.”
Rimes blinked, surprised. “Sir?”
“You said Mr. Duke implied this whole operation was something of a feint, that they were buying time for the rest of their people to escape.”
“Yes, sir.” Rimes said.
“Did you believe him?” Fripp fixed Rimes with a penetrating gaze.
“I do. Somewhat. They don’t seem to be free of human faults—ego, pride, greed. Duke was sure he could control this thing. I think he wanted it to cement his power within their ranks, maybe to challenge for ultimate leadership. They apparently operate as families—like clans. Even so, I got a very real sense of family from them. I think everything they did was ultimately for the betterment of their people, at least in their eyes. I’m troubled by the idea we might be misunderstanding this struggle, sir.”
“Your statement the genies aren't the threat?”
“Yes, sir. That thing manipulated all of us, including the genies. Maybe it pushed them into this whole operation, all the bloodshed on Earth.”
Fripp considered that for several seconds. “Well, they're gone now, true enemies or not. And whatever is left of their fleet is long gone, including the Carolina.”
“Isn’t there a positive in all this? It seems like we had successes here and there.”
Fripp stood. “We’ll take them where we can.” He took a step toward the door, then stopped. “I almost forgot. Your request to have ‘Andrea Rimes’ buried with honors along with our military fallen? I had to
turn that down. Sorry about that.”
“I understand, sir.” Rimes tried to hide his disappointment.
“Since we’re burying the fallen on the planet, we won’t really have a formal cemetery. I believe we can show respect to everyone though, can’t we? I’ve ordered the detail to give each body its own grave. Ms. Rimes will receive an individual headstone noting her involvement in the battle and her heroic sacrifice.”
Rimes smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
Fripp scrutinized Rimes for a moment. “It’s a noble trait, being able to see the good in people, even the enemy, Captain. I’m not sure we have much room for nobility anymore, but I hope you’ll hold onto that part of you for as long as you can.”
Rimes stayed in the conference room after Fripp left. Absent the human sounds, the atmosphere recyclers filled the conference room with their quiet whirring. It was the only noise Rimes could hear. His body ached and he needed some sleep, but for the moment he felt renewed by Fripp’s encouraging words.
If someone else recognized the need to see the good in an enemy, there might still be hope.
48
10 December, 2167. Plymouth Colony.
* * *
Plymouth Colony had a reputation as a brutal, primordial world—still locked in an infancy marked by sweltering heat and smothering humidity. The air was thick with the musty, piquant smells of hardy vegetation, something that kept drawing Rimes from the moment. He stood next to Molly, right arm wrapped around her shoulder, examining the tower they would one day call home. It rose from blood-red clay, a soil that would shatter anything less than the heavy machinery rolling over it. Molly held Jared’s hand as he excitedly jumped and tugged against her and mimicked the roaring machinery. Calvin sat quietly in the crook of Rimes’s left arm, eyes tracking the robot vehicles speeding across the construction site.
“It’s hideous,” Molly lamented. “Don’t they know any other design? Everything’s just so blocky.”
“It fits right in—big, brutal, sturdy.”
Of the five continents covering Plymouth, only two were considered particularly attractive to the colonists. Riviera, the largest and now most populous continent, stretched diagonally three thousand kilometers from the equatorial region to the northern polar region. It was home to ten settlements, six of them near the equator. Settlement Three, officially registered as Halifax, was arguably the most uncertain of the settlements.
A series of blockish buildings radiating out from the tail of Riviera’s dominant mountain system, Halifax appeared ugly and brutish. Its occupants—miners, laborers, and construction workers—did nothing to counteract the image. As dicey as Halifax was, it occupants were dicier, and they were the ones responsible for building the Elite Response Force’s post.
“Where do they get designs like that? Is it someplace primitive?” Molly shivered.
Rimes laughed. “The United States. But these folks have been on-planet too long to be considered anything other than ‘colonists’. This is their home now, and they’d tell you that if you asked them. They know what they’re doing. Colonists have long memories. They resent the hell out of us being here, so close to Halifax, after years with no aid from Earth. We need to help them forget about the way they were treated, babe.”
Molly screwed up her face. He had a lot of work to make her forget the way she’d been treated, too.
He told himself the compound—now months under construction—would be a source of vital income for the people of Halifax. It would provide jobs for hundreds and it promised future opportunities for even more. That had to be something for the colonists to look forward to. After decades of abandonment, the spigot of financial assistance had opened again.
Molly shook her head. “I don’t have to like it, Jack.”
Rimes smiled, just happy to finally be home with his family, wherever that home was. “Maybe they’ll come up with something for the other buildings.” He knew better; the post would follow Halifax’s lead. Long before he set foot on the planet, he’d seen the virtual tour. Fierce storms and seismic activity dictated most of the design. Budget limits took care of the rest.
“Don’t you patronize me. There’s nothing wrong with wishing for things to improve.”
Rimes hugged Molly close and kissed her. Worry lines had formed on her forehead in the months they’d been apart; he felt guilty. Another look at her forehead and he realized he didn’t care. We’ll just have to deal with growing old together.
“I love you, Molly. Isn’t that enough?”
After some hesitation, she smiled back, but it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “For now, I guess.”
Pointing at where he imagined their floor would be, high atop the tower, Rimes smiled, “Uneasy on his throne, the king stares down upon his domain. I’ll have to get a few hunting dogs, a cleaning staff, and a court jester.”
“You’d better start with kitchen staff. And they better be fat and ugly.”
“What are we going to do to fill all that free space? Eight hundred square meters! The boys will get a room to themselves. How can you not love that?”
“Mm hm. Do I have to remind you that we’re outsiders here? And what about the other quarters? Have you seen what we would’ve been stuck with if you were still a sergeant? We’re four hundred and thirty light years from Earth and the boys will be full grown by the time they see their relatives again.”
With a heavy sigh, Rimes hung his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking, looking for a silver lining.” He gasped when she punched him.
They laughed together, then made their way across the construction zone, stopping at the modest shopping center on their way back to their temporary, modular quarters. A small bag of rice, a larger bag of vegetable paste, a few fresh vegetables and fruit, and a protein product derived from a local insect: they had their dinner ingredients. Trekking through the housing complex, they held hands and took comfort from each other’s company and the laughter of the boys.
While Molly cooked dinner in the kitchen, Rimes struggled through his physical therapy in the living area. He kept a watchful eye on the boys as they studied. It was reassuring to know the knee would recover fully, but he had weeks to go before he could make the demands of it he was used to. He laughed as Calvin sang an alphabet song and Jared joined in, then decided to join the two of them.
The enticing aroma from the kitchen soon made it impossible to focus on the physical therapy or studies. Rimes led the boys to the bathroom to wash up, then out to the dinner table. He set the table as Molly completed the last of the cooking. As she finished each plate, he set it on the table. There were three dishes, each slightly different from the other in texture and design. In total, it was enough to satisfy all of them, a reminder of just how much better they lived than most.
After rinsing the dishes in the sink, Rimes turned the house’s entertainment display on. He switched to Plymouth Headlines, the free, local news feed, eventually settling on a pretty, dark-haired, olive-skinned newser out of Delta City, Plymouth’s capital. Molly shot him an irritated glare and fidgeted with Calvin’s suspenders through the several minute stretch of impenetrable local focus.
When the newser switched to the latest Earth feeds, Molly turned to watch, transfixed.
The radical transformation that had seized their old home continued apace, with national governments daily ceding power to the concept of a new planetary metagovernment. Military transformation—a euphemism for mass separations—dominated several minutes of the feeds. Footage of the inevitable violent protests flashed on the display until Rimes shut it off.
“Shutting down III Corps.” Molly kissed Calvin’s forehead. “Did you expect they’d do that?”
Rimes thought for a moment. “No.” He filled the dishwashing machine, lost in thought. After turning the machine on, he wiped the table down. Bean counters. Cost cutting. Just like Fripp said.
“There’s not much left to restructure, is there?”
Rimes washed his hands and
settled at the table, painfully aware of the worry in her eyes. He took her hands in his. She was the one who always told him he could move on to something else. With millions of soldiers poised to be dumped into the civilian populace, Earth’s wobbly economy wasn’t going to offer many more opportunities. “I’m sure they have a plan.”
“If they shut all this down, will they send us back to Earth?” Molly nervously ran her fingers through Calvin’s coppery curls.
“The two times they did this before, they gave those discharged the money to procure transport to Earth. How they spent it was up to them. That’s where some of the colonial defense forces came from. You remember Perkins? That’s what happened to him. He got stuck out on Han.”
“They wouldn’t, right? I mean, they just spent all this money.”
Rimes hugged her. “They’ll do what they have to do. Compared to staffing this facility up, the cost of building it isn’t really that great. All they’ve completed so far is the parade ground and one of the barracks. Someone will look at the numbers and make a decision based off some sort of guidance. We weren’t part of III Corps. We may survive.”
Molly blinked, shocked. “I don’t want to be stuck out here. The boys deserve better than this place.”
“You said the same thing about Midway. It’s not that bad. They’ll get a better sense of the seismic activity soon enough. The storms here aren’t much worse than what they’re getting back on Earth, and you know they’re trying to figure out ways to work around those. There’s no pollution to speak of here, and they’ve had dozens of Earth species catch on.”
“And twice as many have failed. It’s dangerous here, Jack, and it’s not home.”
“Home is where you and the boys are. We’re going to be fine.”
They sat at the table for several minutes, frozen, silent. Calvin watched them, his big eyes slowly shifting between their faces. Despite his age and his unnatural silence, he seemed somehow wise and sensitive.
