She flagged down one of the aides. "Get the governor down here. Pull him off the senate floor if you have to. We've got something to sell, and I need the full holy trinity to do it."
The aide looked puzzled, but rushed off on his errand.
She glanced up at Trenton again and wondered what new problems he had found for her.
* * *
Tires squealed, and Taylor Bane slid across the backseat of the car. The leather was lubricated by something sticky, which he dimly realized was his own blood.
The painkillers from their emergency kit were finally starting to kick in, and the stump of his wrist now hurt less than the makeshift tourniquet, a leather belt that Bruno had strapped above the wound. With a detached sense of interest, he observed the hotel ice bucket on the car floor. It contained ice, and his severed hand. He laughed. "Good thing that hotel had ice."
Bruno used the rearview mirror to glance at Bane from the driver's seat, his own hair matted with blood. "You take it easy, boss! Help is close. 1 called in some favors. We'll get you fixed up."
The tires screeched again, and the ice bucket threatened to tip over. Bane braced it with his foot, and laughed again.
"It's the drugs, boss." The car swerved. "Wish I had some, but somebody had to drive."
Bane giggled, and with some effort pushed himself up on his left elbow, just so he could see over the back of the seat. They swerved though morning traffic. The light was like liquid gold. It was so beautiful it made him want to cry. but it was easier to laugh. "I think Krago sold us out."
"Krago is dead. boss. I found his body in the garage on the way to the car. I think they beat the information out of him. then killed him when they were sure it was correct."
"Bastards. You see his family gets taken care of, Bruno."
"See to it yourself, boss."
He felt hot and cold at the same time. Something seemed to be draining out of him. something less obvious but more important than blood. He'd been wounded before, but this . . . "Bruno, this is why you always keep something in reserve. The package is on its way. but these Combine bastards have it coming. Send the consolation prize."
"You think about that when you're feeling better, boss."
Bane suddenly felt lucid.
He was angry. No, he was furious. He called on all his remaining reserves of strength. He shoved himself upright in the seat. "Bruno," he said with all the authority he could put into his voice, "this isn't the drugs talking. This is me! Send the signal!"
Bruno glanced back at him nervously. "Transmitter's in the trunk, boss. I'll do it before I let them start working on me. But we get you to the doc first."
The last dregs of his energy were fading away. His right hand throbbed, even though it was still there in the bucket of ice. He looked out through the windshield and saw they were pulling up to a guarded gate. A man in a uniform waved them through.
Far beyond the fences and barricades, a great silver ship rose towards heaven on a tail of blue fire.
15
Broadcast transcript of address by Galaxy Commander Isis Bekker, transmitted by all Vegan and Ghost Bear occupation media, 1 December 3136, 0620 hours Nasew time:
Freedom-loving people of Vega and my fellow Clansmen of the Ghost Bears, I address you this morning concerning matters of vast importance to both our peoples.
Standing behind me you can see Star Colonel Conner Hall, commander of my military forces here on Vega, and Acting Provisional Governor Vincent Florala. Many of you have already seen Star Colonel Hall in the media this morning, and I am sure you must wonder about my response to his decision to join the Freeminders.
I will address that presently. First, I must discuss more pressing matters.
Since our Omega Galaxy forces liberated Vega from the oppression of the self-styled warlord regimes, in particular the butcher named Jedra Kean, our presence here has been controversial.
For well over a year, I have struggled daily to bring together the many contentious factions of this world and rebuild a stable government that would allow the Rasalhague Dominion to withdraw from Vega. You know the players: the four major parties, the four minor ones. You know their leaders. You know their agendas. They agree on much, but they disagree on even more. Though some progress has been made in this past year, I am sad to say that, overall, these efforts have been a failure.
Meanwhile, my people have seen the rise of a contentious faction within our own ranks, a group called the Freeminders. This group, until recently composed mostly of our laborer and technician castes, has advocated changes to our Clan society that many find frightening, even abhorrent.
They seek freedom of speech and thought.
They seek the right to choose their own marriage partners, and even to marry outside our Clan.
They seek to change the caste system that has served us since the founding of the Clans more than three centuries ago.
As most of you know, now even higher-caste members of the Clan are beginning to embrace the Freeminder philosophy. Much to my shock and surprise, one of my highest-ranked warriors, a trusted member of my staff, has embraced the group.
And all the while we have bickered, jostled for position and negotiated, enemies have taken advantage of our confusion and uncertainty to strike at us. We call them insurgents, but that is not their name. They have no leader that we can identify, no formal structure or defining philosophy, no serpent's head that can be cut off to cripple them, as the warlords were crippled when I killed Jedra Kean.
They are united only in their hatred of the Ghost Bear occupation of Vega.
Some of you call them heroes or freedom fighters, but I do not think most of them even know what they are fighting for. They are united only in their anger at us, and they strike violently and without honor. They have drawn the blood of my people, but they have drawn the blood of your people as well. You know of the bridge bombings, the destruction of the Touten Waterworks, the monorail bombs and the MyoMaxx factory attacks. These attacks hurt Vegans as much as, probably more than, the Ghost Bears.
These people are not heroes. They are traitors and assassins. They hurt us all, and worse, they betray us to our enemies.
Right now, you see on your screens a firing squad assembled near the fountain in Star League Park here in Nasew. The man in the picture is named Lee Roche. He is an electronics technician who immigrated to Vega five years ago. We believe that he was sent here as a sleeper agent for the Draconis Combine, who have for years been looking for a way to return Vega to their control.
Several weeks ago, he sabotaged three key radar installations, allowing an unknown number of enemy 'Mechs and other forces to be delivered to Vega undetected. Some of these forces recently attacked a combined reconnaissance force, critically injuring the commander of the First Vega Regulars as she attempted to cover the retreat of one of her own against overwhelming force.
You have already heard that commander's name: Captain Karen Tupolov.
The evidence against Roche is overwhelming and unambiguous, and that information has already been released to all planetary media. Roche is a traitor who sold out your people and mine to the hostile forces of the Draconis Combine.
He is only one of many such traitors who I believe operate freely in our midst.
Perhaps you are one of these people. Perhaps you have aided the Draconis Combine out of some misguided sense of patriotism. Perhaps you have information about foreign agents and have kept silent.
I now show you the swift justice that will be meted out against traitors to Vega. The firing squad is made up primarily of Ghost Bear warriors, but two Mech Warriors from Captain Tupolov's unit also volunteered for this duty.
The video of Galaxy Commander Bekker cuts to a wide-shot video of a middle-aged man dressed in a technician's coverall.
The man's hands are bound, he is blindfolded and two soldiers push him back against a concrete retaining wall in the park and then walk away, joining a line of their fellows carrying rifles. Most
of the soldiers wear the white-gray-and-black camouflage of the Ghost Bears, but two in the middle sport the desert tan fatigues of the Vegan Volunteer Force.
An officer standing at the end of the line yells. The line snaps to attention.
Another yell. Rifles are raised.
Another yell. Multiple cracks ring through the air. The rifles buck.
The man slumps to the ground, lying motionless.
The camera lingers for a moment, and then the picture is cut off, returning after several seconds of blackness to Galaxy Commander Bekker standing at a podium. She resumes speaking.
This action will anger many Vegans. But this man was not a native of Vega. He was a traitor whose actions led directly to a Vegan Volunteer Force officer suffering critical wounds, and allowed the invasion of enemy forces onto Vegan soil. All Vegans must understand that we will not tolerate treason, and you must not either. If you have information on such traitors, it is vital that you contact the Clan paramilitary police or your local Vega Police Militia at once. If you have unknowingly or unwittingly aided these people, I urge you to turn yourself in at once. I promise that you will be shown leniency that will not be available to those we seek out and arrest.
Rapidly developing events again threaten the security of Vega. Very soon we will be at war, this time with a foreign power. Thanks to the betrayal of the traitor Roche, a force of undetermined size is maneuvering northwest of Nasew. Recon patrols are currently advancing to learn the extent of the threat.
But I can tell you who they are.
Doubtless these forces contain some element of the insurgency, if only to provide a cloak of legitimacy. If we only faced the insurgency, I would have little concern. We have fought them for over a year, and we could continue to fight them. But they have been provided with unknown military resources by an outside power that evidence says is the Draconis Combine. In fact, the bulk of the forces may be Draconis Combine, simply pretending to be insurgents.
I can offer only circumstantial evidence to support these charges at the present time. As we enter combat and capture prisoners, that situation will change.
But for US to have any hope of victory, we cannot fight on multiple fronts, and we cannot fight alone. All members of the Ghost Bear Clan and all people of the planet Vega must stand together against the invaders.
I know that seems impossible to many of you, even absurd. But allow me to make my case. I know that many of Vega hate the occupation forces of the Ghost Bear Clan. I cannot end that hate, but I can end the occupation.
As of this date and hour, the military occupation of the Ghost Bears is at an end. All Ghost Bear personnel and civilians are free to leave the combat zone at their earliest opportunity with their honor intact. Those wishing to transfer to other units will be processed and transported as soon as the situation allows.
You can see from their faces that this announcement comes as a shock to my comrades here on camera. I am sure it must seem equally shocking, perhaps even unbelievable, to you. But I see this move as the only way of demonstrating our sincerity to the Vegan people as I declare, once again, that we never came as aggressors or conquerors, but as friends seeking to restore your broken world.
That said—and I speak only for myself—my honor will not let me abandon you in this time of need. Governor Florala, I pledge my service, and if necessary my life, to the defense of the provisional government and the freedom of the Vegan people.
I ask this thing in return: that you accept my request for citizenship of Vega, and allow for my permanent residence on your world under its laws. I also request that you extend such citizenship, along with its rights and responsibilities, to all of my people and their families who so request, and who are also willing to join me in contributing to their new world's defense.
Governor Florala steps up to the podium.
Galaxy Commander, while it is not within my personal authority to grant your request, I hereby use my authority to bring this matter to the floor of the Provisional Congress and call for an immediate vote on the matter in principle, details to be worked out later.
Florala steps back. Bekker starts to return to the podium, but is intercepted by Star Colonel Hall. Whispers are exchanged, and he steps to the fore.
I too request citizenship of the world of Vega, and pledge myself to its defense.
I would like to address all those in the Clan who, at least until this morning, considered themselves under my command. My fellow warriors, you face a momentous decision, and by all that we have shared in blood and battle, I beg you to consider well.
Here, the Honor Road branches. While none will question your honor if you walk away from this world and the Omega Galaxy, I suggest to you that the more honorable path will keep you here. History will be the judge of that.
But remember that only those worthy few who followed Nicholas Kerensky into battle, the eight hundred, became the progenitors of the Clan's Bloodnames. Will those who walk away today walk with honor only into the shadows, to be lost to history? I challenge you who are courageous enough, of all castes, to walk with me that high and dangerous road that leads towards the future.
Hall steps back, allowing Bekker to return to the podium.
People of Vega. You have heard our pledge, and our plea. For more than three centuries, the Clans have built our strength for some purpose that most of us could not even imagine. But here, on Vega, the birthplace of our beloved Star League, I believe fate has shown us the way. Let us join you. Let us fight at your side. Let us die together for our world.
People of Vega, you believe us invaders, but I show you we are not. You believe us rigid and inflexible, and yet this day I have agreed to allow the Freeminder movement to operate freely in our midst. What more can I do to convince you . . . ?
Bekker hesitates, looks back at Florala, then continues.
It may be some time before we know if our request for citizenship will be accepted. But I believe there is a quicker way I could become a citizen.
Though it is not widely known, for some time Acting Provisional Governor Florala and I have had an—intimate relationship. This may shock some people of Vega, but such relationships are not forbidden by our Clan ways. For us, sex is a matter independent of procreation or love. It is a bonding ritual between equals.
But to you, it means something more. A week ago, Vincent Florala asked me to marry him. Until now, I have not given him an answer. But as I understand your tradition of law, an outsider who marries a citizen is entitled to citizenship themselves. If anyone doubts my sincerity in my commitment to Vega, and my openness to reform, let that doubt end now.
Bekker turns to face Florala and takes his hands in hers.
Vince, I will marry you, as soon as we can possibly arrange it.
And a world watched in wonder as he took her in his arms, and they kissed.
16
From the Great Work of Galaxy Commander Isis Bekker
The fundamental building block of all civilization is the union, the decision of two or more people to stand together in some way. Without unions, there are no tribes, much less interstellar empires. Without unions, we are but upright apes, standing alone.
There are many kinds of unions: alliances, treaties, contracts, pledges, mergers and so on. The human race has turned most unions into something abstract and formalized, all sanctified by papers and signatures and law. It was not always so.
There was a time when unions were deeply felt and visceral. A promise might be sealed with the letting and mingling of blood. A man might prove his manhood and his loyalty to his tribe through trials or bodily mutilation.
And What of a union between two groups, the bonding of tribes, or kingdoms, or nations? There was a ritual for that as well. Marriages were arranged between royalty of the two powers, thus mingling their bloodlines both symbolically and literally. Through that simple act, two great families became one, and two nations became one as well.
Such marriages were arranged, and were mat
ters of duty, not love. It is said that in some cases, love later flowered.
But in many, it did not.
It did not matter. Duty does not ask for love.
Duty does not need it.
Stellar Orbit, Vega System
The little satellite lay sleeping, as it had since being clandestinely ejected from a DropShip air lock a month earlier. Occasionally it would roll in its sleep, gyros gently turning its solar panels to face the sun to keep its batteries charged. But though it slept, it was alert. It kept one antenna pointed towards Vega, waiting for a very specific coded signal.
A wave, nearly imperceptibly weak, washed over it at the speed of light. If the satellite had been an animal, its ears would have pricked up. Gently the antenna moved, centering itself on the distant signal. There had been signals on this frequency before: stray transmissions, bits of noise, but always it had been a false alarm, and the satellite had returned to dormancy.
Not this time.
The satellite came to full wakefulness. Its radio transmitter and onboard computer were brought to full power. A data file in its memory was accessed and transmitted towards Vega on a specified frequency.
It was a large file, and the transfer took several seconds.
When the transfer was complete, the transmission was repeated. Then the satellite changed to a second frequency, and repeated the process.
There was a list of sixteen frequencies for it to cycle through, then the entire process would repeat from the beginning, as long as power was available. The powerful transmitter drained the batteries, and at this rate, they would last less than thirty minutes. It didn't matter.
By that time, somebody, probably several somebodies, would have noticed the transmission and recorded it. They would share it. The news would spread. The word would be out.
Taylor Bane had called it the consolation prize, but there could be no doubt at all. It was a weapon.
Trial by Chaos Page 25
