CHAPTER 19
With speed and precision Jaret lunged, sliced and parried. Jaret beat the man steadily back until his back was against the wall and he could retreat no farther. His opponent threw down his sword and the bamboo clattered on the plasteel floor.
Jaret pulled off his Kendo mask. His opponent did the same. The soldier was a well-built Caucasian and looked similar to Jaret, same haircut, same gait. Teddy Dewayne hailed from the Kentucky Dewaynes, still the most respected family in horse racing. The purebreds they raised were highly prized and sought after on the colonies and outposts the UDA elite favored.
Teddy, a blue blood whose family sent him into military service to launch a career in intergalactic politics, served Lige as a body tank troop officer. Jaret, the son of a horse groomer employed by the Dewaynes, had enlisted with Teddy and risen into the officers program by merit. Jaret outshone Teddy in every way, even as Teddy's parents eased the path for their son from thousands of galaxies away on Earth. Teddy was a miserable failure as an officer. Jaret, on the other hand, was Lige's personal assistant and already a minor celebrity due to coverage of the three assassination attempts on Lige that he had personally foiled. His career opportunities were limitless and yet Lige was already exerting subtle pressure for Jaret to stay with him when his current tour of duty was done. Soft pressure, as Lige called it, incentives and promises, rather than threats.
Despite the differences between the two young men's military paths they were as close friends now as when they had spent summers riding horses around Churchill Downs. Jaret peeled himself out of the heavy awkward Kendo uniform while Teddy did the same. UDA troops came in to take the Kendo suits away for cleaning and the two changed.
“Word is the fleet is heading toward Chester Outpost Delta Six.” Teddy stated. “You know what that means… Something on your mind, hoss?”
Jaret looked up. “No, no. Just, uh, getting anxious about yearly recap. I don't know what to decide.”
Teddy shook his head vigorously. “What's it matter. You're the golden boy, any way it goes, hoss. Make a fortune in the private sector as a bodyguard or maybe see if they were serious about those offers out of Little Hollywood.”
Jaret tightened a string on his grey jumpsuit. He felt tired and confused. This frustrated him, considering this would probably be his only down time this week. “I'll catch you at Torrie's tonight.” Jaret headed out into the hall alone.
The young officer told himself he was wandering, but soon admitted he was simply taking the long route to the brig. Black Mariah held the brig for all of Lige's fleet.
Jaret walked into the guard station at the brig. His off-duty jumpsuit showed muted versions of officer stripes. As soon as the brig commander realized who Jaret was, he snapped to attention.
“First Officer Tucker, how may we assist you, sir?”
“Hiscomer 675624. I want all lock down codes.”
The words were barely out of Jaret's mouth before the soldier behind the brig commander stood. Jaret handed him his gauntlet comp and all codes where downloaded into it when it was handed back. Jaret walked down the hall past dozens of tubes. The tubes were capable of supporting a person in various states depending on the person's sentence. The tubes could support a person in real time (meaning the unconscious prisoner’s body aged at a rate of one day for every one day that passed). That rate could be slowed to as much as ten to one. Most prisoners on UDA ships were kept in these sleep chambers, aging at a rate of one day for every ten that passed.
Traditional cells, instead of tubular sleep chambers, were used for prisoners the UDA wished to observe. Jaret stopped in front of one of the cells and waved his gauntlet comp in front of the door. “Voice authorization, Jaret Tucker. Authorization Delta 764909. Lock all recorded material and allow access only to my voice speaking the following keyword - ‘Ranger’.” As was standard in UDA brigs, the video and audio recording of the cell could not be turned off or altered without high access. The cell door rolled back.
The interior of the cell was simple, a three-meter square room with a ledge where a prisoner could sit or sleep. The floor provided a low blue illumination. The room contained no objects other than its inhabitants and a minimal toilet. The grid on the exterior of the cell showed the exact position of the prisoner within the cell. Jaret entered the cell and the door closed.
Alexa Sullivan sat neatly in front of him. She was thin, thinner than Jaret liked. Her nose was sharp and her lips were as thin as the rest of her. She met his gaze and remained silent. Jaret stood, not knowing what to say. There was no good reason for him to be here. He waited for another moment to see if she would say something. He could react then. Reacting was his strength, waiting for an opponent to move and then violating that change by making the most of its inherent imperfection.
“I need to know how long you were with the AmerIndian Confederacy.”
A question played across Alexa's face and she said plainly, “No, you don't.”
Jaret's heart raced. She was right. He already knew the answer to the question, and she knew that. He was here for no other reason than to be close to her. She was beautiful. He tried not to focus on that while he searched for an answer.
“Who is the Alpha Defense coordinator for the Apache tribe?”
Alexa stood and walked one step toward him. “What are you here for?”
Jaret could not help but notice the lines of her figure. Her legs were long, her torso sleek. It was obvious that he had failed miserably in trying to pretend he was here to interrogate her.
“I want… I came to see you.”
She took a few steps around him. Her disapproval was apparent and it surprised him. He was not used to any woman frowning at him and the fact that she was his prisoner didn't make him any more comfortable with it. Angry, he stepped closer to her.
“I do have questions and you will answer them. Why did you join the AmerIndian Confederacy?”
She did not back away. “I've already answered that question for your master.”
“You joined to anger your father? I know a lie when I hear one.”
“I'll answer your questions and you will answer mine,” Alexa said with confidence.
“What makes you think you can demand anything of me? I can have you killed with a word,” Jaret spat.
“You could, but you won't. You could have drugged me for any answers you needed. Like you said, you are here to see me.” She sat. “My father keeps a house in Key West Florida. Huge, beautiful. Douglas was a groundskeeper there. I fell in love with him after only two weeks. But he shunned me and would not return my advances. Over a few more weeks we got to the point where we talked for at least an hour every day.
“It became obvious to me that he loved me and soon he told me he was a Zuni field agent gathering information on my father. I could have turned him in. Eventually, he told me he loved me but he wanted me to join the AmerIndian Confederacy, for myself, so I could see people who valued life and harmony. I almost never saw my father or mother. I wasn't very happy. I asked Douglas if we could be together if I joined the AmerIndian Confederacy and he said no. He said we could never be together because I needed the AmerIndian Confederacy and the AmerIndian Confederacy needed me. Douglas believed if we were involved before I joined the AmerIndian Confederacy then I would never join and if we were involved after I joined then I wouldn't know if I were staying for him or the AmerIndian Confederacy. I was amazed at his sacrifice. No one surrounding me at the time was true to any principles.
“So I joined the AmerIndian Confederacy. I was shocked at what I saw. They are a family community. They work together and live with the fact that one person's actions, decisions, and feelings affect the whole community. One month into life with the AmerIndian Confederacy and I felt at home. I have never felt such love from so many people. It did not make me miss Douglas any less though.”
Alexa stopped and turned away, tears streaming down her face. Jaret felt that overpowering, uncomfortable
feeling that descends on men when a beautiful woman cries. He thought of going to her, holding her. Instead he said, “They are killers. They have made war a business. Their share-and-share-alike love commune is funded by blood money.”
Alexa shook her head, “They aren't getting rich. They are preparing to take back the one thing they have been denied for seven hundred years, a Homeland. This time of merc work won't go on for more than another decade.”
“You can kill a lot of people in a decade.”
Alexa laughed. “What do you care about lives? Lige is an intergalactic butcher. I can't believe I am defending the actions of the AmerIndian Confederacy to the right hand of DeSade himself.” She waited, watching him. “Oh, nothing to say. No words in defense of the monster. You are silent because nothing can be said to justify the things he has done.”
Jaret did not look away but it was some time before he spoke. “Lige is a necessary evil. Only men like him keep the wheels turning. The balance between the Capitalists and the Universalists and the Anarchists is tenuous. In an intergalactic society, certain stabilizing actions have to be taken at critical points. Lige can do that. Level the field whenever it is needed. His methods are ugly, but he gets things done. You have to understand that even the wrong action is better in most cases than inaction. Lige has taken many lives in battle but his work has saved more lives. He alone averted an intergalactic civil war in '62.”
“The reason that civil war nearly occurred was because the UDA is corrupted to the core. It has to fall if there is going to be a better future.”
There was silence.
“Are they cloning me?”
The question hit Jaret like a blow; it framed exactly how deep he was. “Yes.”
“Lige is a demon. He serves no one but himself and you should know that he won't hesitate to sacrifice you when it becomes necessary.”
“Sacrifice me? I would die for him now.”
Alexa shook her head. “Why?”
“Lige made me what I am. He knows me and makes me stronger. With him I serve a higher purpose. And while the ride is hard with him, it is always a surprise. There is no limit to his potential, to what he can accomplish.”
“When will my clone be finished?”
“It is already viable.”
Alexa shook her head. “Sad part is there is no chance that anyone I knew on Earth, including my parents, will know the difference.”
Jaret pulled something out of his pocket. He handed her a candy bar. She laughed and Jaret's broad smile came despite his efforts to remain aloof.
“Thank you. Next time bring one for you.”
Alexa turned. It was clear to Jaret that Alexa had just told him to leave. He wondered why he did it when it was the last thing he wanted to do.
Kugan’s tone indicated anger, an emotion rarely present in the staid Elder. “Stormseeker is right. You blind-sided all of us. You could have discussed this and maybe now we could be working from an informed position instead of winging it. We have an hour to decide if we want to invade the ninth habitable planet ever discovered, Naanac?”
The Elders were gathered in the ship's council meeting room. Celetain sat in a large mahogany chair. A table made of the same mahogany sat in front of them. Stars could be seen out of the glasteel hull sections. “We just thrashed Lige because he didn't see us coming. Naanac is our Homeland. I have seen this in dreams and Sliver’s abyssal calculations confirm it. Naanac has a natural defense. It is a nature-made fortress. Stormseeker, you have to see the military advantages of Naanac over White Earth.”
“Oh, no question, it is secure. We have a ten fold better chance of taking Naanac than White Earth. In fact, I don't think we'll have to fight the Rowan Cartel or the UDA at all for the planet. They'll give it to us for a few creds and a corn dog. The entire planet is covered with swamps. That’s what the United States of America gave us in the nineteenth century, and now we go back to it? Homeland? That planet is swampland. Nothing more.”
Celetain rallied, “There you are wrong. Naanac is like no other world. It is a treasure trove. We just have to know where and how to find its treasures. If any people can make Naanac a home it is the tribals.”
Kugan stood. “We have been preparing for eight years to take White Earth. You think one hour of prep gives us enough time to equal the progress we have made toward the true Homeland?”
“You can spend one hundred years preparing to take ‘the true Homeland’ and you still won't be successful. It doesn't matter how prepared you are, how many lodge ships you have or how well our soldiers are trained. The Grandfathers are telling us that one path leads to ruin and one path leads to a Homeland, to Naanac. We cannot ignore their revelations.”
Morgan Weaver interjected, “Celetain, you are being needlessly dramatic. Let's stop for a minute. We are pressed for time so lets focus on the facts before us. If we commit to an invasion of Naanac then we show our hand. All the work we have done to take White Earth in '94 could be lost. Stormseeker, in as few words as possible what is the situation on the White Earth invasion?”
Stormseeker took a long draft from his mug. “Our soldiers perform currently two to three times more efficiently than UDA forces. Support on UDA colonies is five times greater than at the time of the White Earth Massacre. The lodge ships are performing at between eighty-five and ninety-five percent of their potential and there can be no question that we have superior comp power.”
This last point had been a major advantage for the AmerIndian Confederacy over the last decade. UDA tech officers were trained in traditional programming languages and most of their education was conventional. Many UDA systems were still paper-based. AmerIndian Confederacy coding training started hands on at age six. Handwriting, a useless skill in a paperless environment, had never been taught in the AmerIndian Confederacy. Tsimshian code crafters learned languages unheard of in the UDA and their unusual approach of apprenticeship made AmerIndian Confederacy programmers far more versatile, flat out superior.
Stormseeker massaged his fist before continuing, “But there was never a question that taking White Earth would be an uphill battle. I don't think any of the tribes will be willing to wage the war that will be necessary to take White Earth.”
A disgusted look came across Stormseeker's face as he mentioned the point of contention among the councils and the tribes. Stormseeker believed it would be necessary to wage guerrilla warfare. Stormseeker called for attacks on major public centers, grav-rail stations, movie theaters and sports arenas. These attacks would cause thousands of public deaths. Stormseeker wanted to continue to pepper these deaths over dozens of outpost, all of the colonies and Earth, causing a fear in the UDA public that their government could not protect them.
Celetain had been furious when she found out Stormseeker had created scenarios for White Earth that had been modeled after John O'Conner's freedom campaigns of 2032. No question the IRA leader's tactic had won Ireland back from the British. But it was considered by most historians to be one of the cruelest wars ever waged. O'Conner had led an orchestrated butchering of over seven thousand British in London before the King had urged Parliament to release all holds on Ireland. Ireland viewed O'Conner as a national hero. The rest of the world saw the IRA leader as a terrorist.
Stormseeker continued, “Current projections see us with a twenty-seven percent chance of victory considering a fifty-six percent loss of our current population and forty-two percent equipment loss.”
Celetain was quick. “I guarantee that any simulation run will triple those chances with a quarter of the losses for an attempt to take Naanac instead of White Earth.”
Weaver perked up. “That's an easy thing to guarantee now, knowing an accurate simulation would take a week to run.”
Celetain did not look at Weaver. No love was lost between the two. None of the Elders respected Weaver. He was simply a leverage piece, a slice of the voting pie to be persuaded whenever necessary.
J
ohn spoke evenly. “We have an hour to commit to this idea and mobilize the fleet. We all know that Lige is bound to be back to this location or to send other UDA ships soon.”
Stormseeker sat forward. “Then the answer is simple. This is all nonsense. No planning has been done. And moving all the necessary equipment would mean unnecessary death for our men. I will not allow that.”
Weaver agreed. “An invasion is not a spontaneous activity. We would be walking into a death trap.”
John began to speak but was interrupted by a raised hand from Celetain. “Planning has been done. All the material necessary to construct a chunnel through the Free Mantle is aboard lodge ships Steam Horse and Six Gun.”
Stormseeker looked down. “You have made war plans without consulting me. How can you possibly defend yourself against the charge of holding secrets? How can you say you have fulfilled your duties in an open and honest manner? Shall I begin research on a new healing ritual?”
For the first time Celetain did not feel as confident as she appeared. “I am sorry, Stormseeker. I have not been open or honest. I have known about Naanac for nearly a year. I truly felt the course I was taking was the best for the AmerIndian Confederacy. I have served with you long enough to know surprise is the greatest advantage a military leader can have. And I am offering you that, Stormseeker. I have not made war plans. I have made construction plans.” She smiled at him. “And how much planning do you have to have, old man, to defeat Rowan’s small garrison. We stand on the precipice of time. A moment we will seize, an action that will stun the worlds and cement the AmerIndian Confederacy as the mightiest independent force in any galaxy.”
“It’s not the Rowan’s small garrison I am worried about. It is the fleets of UDA ships that will arrive after we take the planet that concern me”, said Stormseeker. “The AmerIndian Confederacy has had unprecedented success for the past few years, since White Earth, at least. I think we will set major goals back by decades or more for the tribes. It worries me there will be no time to run simulations. We are going in blind.”
John sat forward. “Actually, I think it is good there is no time for simulations. It means we will have to act like human beings, assess the situation with the limited data we have and make up our minds. Let's set it to decision. We'll break and come back in fifteen minutes ready to vote. Does anyone object?”
All the Elders shook their heads and rose from the table. Celetain and John exited and headed for their places of contemplation. They were gone too soon to see Weaver gathering Kugan and Stormseeker farther down the hall.
Lige's fleet fired to a standard correspondence plane, the fastest escape from the situation. The moment his ships passed through the correspondence plane Lige ordered all firearms returned to each ship's armory and all troops confined to quarters with orders for body tank troops to kill any soldier out of quarters on sight. The navcomps had been set to calculate correspondence code for Tycho Command, the UDA Navy's headquarters orbiting Earth.
Lige sat in Black Mariah's war room with his back to his four advisors. Grant continued, “No question we took it in the teeth but we can still wipe the blood away and give a good smile. We just have to spin this right. I suggest you state that you only set up one Hellfire set, one ship was caught in the back blast of the Hellfire and it sent a Nagasphere critical, taking out the other eight ships. We dig up everything we can about the Captain of the mutiny ship and say he simply cracked under the pressure, which is actually true. I already have the video crews slicing up footage from the Prelgas campaign. We just lay in the star setting from the Steel Circle location.”
Lige remained silent.
Smith asked, “What happens when either the AC or the mutiny ship beam the real camera feed back to a communications satellite orbiting Earth?”
Grant shook his head, “UDA censors won't allow something that damaging to air without speaking to Admiral Lige first. We have too many friends there. If it is delayed long enough for us to get some agents in we can either insert something to make the feed agreeable or take control of the feed in some other way. But I hold to what I said. We don't communicate at distance from Earth, only in person. It gives way too much control to the media. If we say nothing the news producers can't put a slant on it. If we give them a three word statement it will be bent six ways to Sunday and spack us regardless.”
Grant sat back. Before becoming Lige's media wizard he had handled the Sullivan Presidential candidacy. He worked for Lige because he recognized the future when he saw it. Grant knew the UDA media world inside and out and routinely spun crisis into gold. Lige did not dwell on the fact that Grant viewed lying as a fine art form.
Next to Grant was Aykers. The lean, balding man was Lige's head of intelligence. Aykers had built an arsenal of damaging information on politicians, celebrities and power players in the UDA over the past two decades. His strength lied not in his ability to blackmail but in his ability to give poisoned gifts. He gave information to his targets that they could use against their enemies. But the end result always favored Aykers. Often Aykers’ gift of information about an enemy served to inform the recipient of Aykers’ keen ability to brutally harm anyone’s image at any time.
Lige's third advisor was Lincoln. Lincoln had built a stable of professional killers and was able to arrange assassinations that served the specific purpose of his clients. Lige knew Lincoln really didn't belong in the category of advisor as he rarely voiced his opinion on anything. However, Lincoln had a wicked intelligence and a clarity that Lige admired. He could be relied on to always see the shortest path between points A and B.
Lige swiveled his chair and nodded, “That's acceptable, Grant. Start working now on ways to discredit or get the real feeds off the air. I'm not as confident as you concerning the feeds not making it on air. We do have good friends among the censors and the top news producers, but my distance from Earth seems to fool them into thinking ‘out of sight, out of mind’. Lincoln, I want you to send out some of your hunters to find the mutiny ship.”
Lincoln lifted the glass of water in front of him and took a slow drink before replying, “As soon as they have found it I will forward the location to you and you can decide your next step.”
“Excellent. I want it done in less than ten days. “
Lincoln nodded.
Lige looked annoyed as he questioned Jaret. “So is this mutiny an isolated incident or endemic problem I need to address further?”
Jaret looked at Lige and said nothing.
“You are at liberty to speak freely.”
Jaret blew a breath out. “Were you willing to sacrifice hundreds or even thousands of soldiers to have a slim chance at getting those lodge ships? That's the question the soldiers are asking themselves. You were out there on this one. I suspect I know what you where thinking. We had all of the single lodge ship tribes in one spot, if you could take them all it would cripple the AC. The men sensed they were going to be the fodder. Unfortunately, we do not have the type of fanatics the AC does. Most of our men are here to do three years and then enjoy life in the private sector. They are not the self-sacrificing types.”
Lige smiled a bit to let Jaret know he had not overstepped his bounds. “I guess I'm too used to working with you.”
Jaret was surprised by Lige's compliment.
“What would you suggest?” Lige asked.
“I would tell the troops you were in error. You got over zealous with the prize so close in sight. You will use them as a weapon and not a blood sacrifice next time.”
Aykers and Grant burst out laughing. Such a blunt statement of truth with no trap being laid was an alien, repulsive concept to the two of them.
Grant spoke. “OK, honestly, we need to put some agents out to plan another mutiny. Then see which troops respond and dragnet them.”
Lige steepled his fingers. “Yes, lets do that.”
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