A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons (16 page)

“Why, if they thought they’d be destroyed?”  Marie asked.  “We’d give them a defeat no one would be able to ignore.”

“They’d lose nothing by launching an attack,” Mongo said, patiently.  “At worst, the sudden shift in galactic power would be underlined; at best, they would smash us flat before we could build more wonder-weapons.  And as we would be bluffing, Councillor, we’d be smashed.  All we’d do is give them warning that they would be facing advanced weapons.”

Ross sighed, loudly enough to catch their attention.  “Do we authorise an attempt to snatch an alien ship?”

Kevin watched, keeping his face impassive, as the councillors voted.  Steve would have hated it, he knew; a handful of men, all part of a council the population didn't know existed, had just cast a vote for war.  The entire Solar Union would be committed, if the Tokomak realised what had happened to their starship, without ever knowing the decision had been made.  It was an ironic inversion of the ideals his older brother had held ...

... But those ideals were unworkable in the real world.

Kevin had never been as tightly bound to them as either Steve or Mongo.  His rebellion against his own family had taken him into the CIA, where he’d learned that the world was rarely black and white, but covered in shades of gray.  There were times when he’d had to hold his nose and work with people his brothers would have unhesitatingly called terrorists – and they might well have been right.  And yet, working with those terrorists had seemed the only option at the time.  Washington had never shown the willingness to actually stand up and put enough firepower on the ground to earn itself a vote in the post-war world.

And Washington would never have had the nerve to consider trying to meet a threat ahead of time
, he thought. 
Certainly not a threat on this sort of scale
.

“The vote has been taken,” Ross said.  “We will proceed with the operational plan.”

And God help us
, Kevin thought.

“I will brief you on the planned operation when it’s ready,” Mongo said, addressing the council as a whole.  “But we will have to wait for the opportunity to snatch one of their starships.”

“Their squadron en route to Hades might be a good place to start,” Kevin said.

“Indeed,” SPEAKER offered.  “There will definitely be several chances to snatch an enemy ship.”

“Good,” Ross said.  “We will meet again in a week, unless something happens that requires us to meet sooner.”

Kevin frowned.  There was no shortage of people monitoring the Solar Union’s politicians, dissecting their lives and looking for signs they were unsuited to public office.  It was one of the perils of running for office in the Solar Union; there were no privacy laws that applied to politicians.  Given time, someone would notice that several Senators were gathered in the same asteroid, at the same time, along with the President and Mongo.  Hell, it was quite possible someone was even tracking Kevin’s movements outside secure intelligence facilities.  And if they found something, what would they do?  Keep it to themselves or spread the word?

“I understand you had a good time on Varnar,” Mongo said, as they made their way down to the secure coffee room.  “You actually did some work too, I hope, as well as playing James Bond?”

“There was enough unsecured data on the planetary datanet to confirm some of what we learned from our sources,” Kevin said.  It would have horrified Mongo – or Steve – to learn just how much information came from human information brokers, back in the pre-space days.  “But you know how imprecise intelligence work can be.”

“At least you’re smart enough to admit it,” Mongo grunted.  They stepped into the coffee room and sat down at a small plastic table  “What do you think Steve would make of this?”

Kevin hesitated.  He doubted Steve would approve.  Even if he accepted the logic, he was unlikely to be
happy
about it.  And yet, there was no real choice.

“I think he would have accepted it,” he said, not entirely truthfully.  “But he wouldn't have wanted to keep it from people indefinitely.”

Mongo jabbed a finger at him.  “That’s why you never quite fitted in with Steve and me,” he said.  “You could always hair-split an argument until the guilt and sin were cut into nothingness.  Steve and I were always more willing to point the finger and proclaim sin and evil.”

“You and Steve were Marines,” Kevin countered.  “You worked in platoons and companies and regiments, always able to rely on your fellows.  I was an intelligence officer who was sometimes in more danger from my superiors in Washington than I was in the field, directly or indirectly.  Learning how to split hairs was a survival skill.”

Mongo grunted, then looked away.

“You should know the next class of recruits will be graduating in two weeks,” he said, after a moment.  “How many of those young men and women will be dead in five years?”

“I don’t know,” Kevin said, flatly.  He stood and strode over to the coffee pot, then poured them both mugs of strong coffee.  “But I do know that we don’t have a choice.”

“Steve would have understood
that
,” Mongo said.  “But he would have hated committing us to war without asking the people.”

Kevin nodded.  “There’s no choice, though,” he said.  “If they knew we knew, they would take precautions against us acting first.”

“So you say,” Mongo said.  “Or do you think the population would be opposed to war?”

“I wish I knew,” Kevin said.  “There’s no way to know.”

He shook his head.  The Solar Union wasn't America – even the America he remembered from before the Hordesmen had arrived.  Most of the population was politically involved, directly or indirectly.  There was no shortage of information flowing through the system to keep them informed, too.  But, if there was a popular vote, would they vote for war?

“But we don’t dare ask,” he concluded.  “The slightest leak could destroy us all.”

“Sure,” Mongo growled.  “And if we fuck up, we could destroy everything too.”

Chapter Sixteen

Rioting broke out in Cairo following reports of water rationing programs to be instigated by the military government of Egypt.  Water shortages, an ongoing problem caused by over-farming and poor governmental planning, have been growing worse in North Africa for years, despite plans to construct new water purification complexes and pipelines along the coastline.  Sources within the government state that insurgent attacks within Egypt itself have only made the problem worse.

-Solar News Network, Year 52

“Graduation Day,” the Commandant of Sparta said.  “Today marks the day you become true citizens of the Solar Union.”

Martin watched as the Commandant’s gaze flickered over his audience.  “Some of you come from Earth, others from Luna or Mars or one of countless asteroid settlements, but you all have one thing in common,” the Commandant continued.  “You all swore to defend the Solar Union – and the human race – against all enemies, foreign and domestic.  It is that willingness to put your bodies between civilisation and its enemies that separates you from the common herd.

“From this day, many of you will go out to starships, or join military units preparing for a war we hope will never come.  You will join millions of others who have sworn the same oath, undergone the same training and taken the same risks.  And you will be honoured for your willingness to serve, to put the good of society ahead of your own personal good.”

Maybe
, Martin thought,
that’s why there are so many temptations.  The people who pull away from them are the ones with the strength the Solar Union needs.

He kept his face impassive.  The Sergeants had warned them, time and time again, that they were now
Marines
, the best of the best.  They weren't allowed to show any emotions as they graduated, after passing the gruelling week-long final test.  Instead, they had to appear blank and emotionless one final day, before they were sent to their first true units.  Martin honestly couldn't wait.

“This is your day,” the Commandant finished.  “Enjoy it.”

There was a smattering of applause, mainly from the watching audience, as the speech came to an end.  Martin felt a sudden stab of envy – he had no family who would come to watch, but some of his squadmates had family watching their graduation – and then pushed it aside, sharply.  His family were the Solar Marines now – and Yolanda.  He’d looked for her among the starship crewmen, wearing their light-blue uniforms, as they marched into the auditorium, but he hadn't seen her.  They’d exchanged enough messages, though, for him to be sure she was there.

Sergeant Grison cleared his throat.  “Marines,” he said.  “You may advance.”

Martin turned in unison with the others, as they’d rehearsed, and followed the Sergeant up to the dais.  The Commandant smiled, greeted each man by name, and shook their hand firmly before pinning a single silver badge on their collars.  It was the globe-and-starship insignia of the Solar Marines, glittering under the bright lights.  Martin felt a wave of pride, almost as if he were walking on air, as he realised he’d made it.  He was a
Marine
now, not a maggot.  No matter what happened in the future, no one would ever take it from him.

I did this on my own
, he thought. 
No one insisted I had to qualify.  I earned this!

Sergeant Grison led them through a large hatch, then into a smaller compartment.  “You are authorised and encouraged to take the remainder of the day off,” he said.  “Check your implants for your departure times tomorrow, then go spend some time with your friends and families.  If you have neither here, go see who might have turned up from the Retired Jarheads Association.  There are quite a few who are willing to play mentor to a newcomer to the Solar Union.”

He smiled at them all, an open genuine smile.  “For what it’s worth, I am very proud of you all,” he added.  “Well done.”

Martin watched him stride though the door, then joined in the cheering as the recruits realised – finally – that they’d made it.  They were safe and sound, now; they didn’t have to worry about being ejected from the camp for a single mistake.  But then, they
now
had the risk of being shot at and killed for real ... he shook his head, then checked his implants.  He had orders to report onboard the SUS
Freedom
, the following morning.  Until then, his time was his own.

He nodded to the remaining Marines – half of them had already headed off to meet their families – and then stepped through the door, heading down towards the lobby.  Yolanda was waiting for him, looking oddly waif-like in her blue uniform, her dark hair tied back into a bun.  She wore a silver star on her collar, marking her as a qualified starship officer.  It would become a gold star if she ever rose to command rank.

“I’m off to
Freedom
,” he said.  “And you?”

“Snap,” Yolanda said.  “Did you ask for us to serve together?”

Martin shook his head.  He honestly hadn't thought it was possible.  The Solar Union sent its crewmen where it thought it needed them, without taking their personal needs into consideration.  And why should it?  They had signed their rights over to the Navy when they’d sworn the oath.  Martin had expected to go years between meeting Yolanda, if one or both of them wasn't killed on active service.

“No worries,” Yolanda said.  She glanced around, wistfully.  “Is it wrong of me to wish my father was here?”

“Not at all,” Martin said.  “He should be proud of everything you’ve achieved. 
You
should be proud of everything you’ve achieved.”

“Thank you,” Yolanda said.  She looked down at her pale fingers.  “You’ll make a good dad, one day.”

“I hope so,” Martin said.  He was not going to leave his children, whatever happened.  “And you’re not alone.  You have me and all of your crewmates.”

Yolanda nodded, then allowed him to lead her up to the higher levels.  Sparta was huge, easily the largest military installation in the Sol System.  Just about everyone in the military, regardless of their service, spent time on Sparta.  He touched the bronze star on his shoulder as they reached the teleport booth, then stepped inside.  He’d earned that merely for passing the first phase of his training.

“Freedom, an
America
-class cruiser,” Yolanda rattled, as they stepped into the observation dome.  Countless stars glowed overhead, while starships hung in orbit around the asteroid, illuminated only by their running lights.  “Two hundred metres long, designed for both defence and exploration.  One of the newest ships in the fleet.”

“They must think highly of us,” Martin said.  She had always been more interested in the minutia of starship design than himself.  “How many Marines?”

“Forty,” Yolanda said.  “They must think highly of you too.”

“I’m scared,” Martin admitted.  “I barely made it through Boot Camp.”

“But you made it,” Yolanda said.  “I feel the same way too.  Like I shouldn't be here.  Like I'm a fraud.  But they wouldn't have let me get through if they hadn’t felt I could handle it.”

She reached out, then wrapped an arm around him and held him as they looked up at the stars.

***

Yolanda had half-hoped for a shuttle ride to
Freedom
.  It would have allowed her to see the sword-like starship from the outside, before she allowed the ship’s metal hull to swallow her up.  Instead,
Freedom
had docked at Sparta and her new crewmembers – Yolanda, Martin and a dozen others – had been ordered to pass through the airlocks and board the starship without ever seeing her external hull.  She bit down her disappointment and smothered it under her excitement at finally serving on a real starship.  There was no way she would ever go back to Earth now.

Her implants flashed up an alert as the starship’s datanet scanned her ID chips, confirming her identity, before the airlock hissed open.  There was a rush of cool air, smelling faintly of ...
something
... vaguely unpleasant, then they stepped inside.  A tall bald woman wearing a blue uniform was standing there, waiting for them.  Yolanda’s implants identified her as Commander Gregory, the XO.

“Welcome onboard,” the XO said, once they had saluted the flag beside the airlock.  “I am Commander Saundra Gregory, executive officer of this ship.  You will be dispersed to your own departments momentarily, but before then I want a few words with you. 
Freedom
is the best ship in the fleet and we intend to keep it that way.  If you have a problem with that, I advise you to get rid of it.”

She paused, then marched on.  “We have been assigned to a deep space mission, departing in one week,” she continued.  “If any of you don’t fit in by then, you will be put off before we leave.  That will probably mean the end of your career, so I suggest you work hard.  I know adapting to shipboard life isn't easy, but we don’t have time for whiners.

“Private Douglas, you have been assigned to Marine Country.  Your implants will show you the way; report to Major Lockland when you arrive.  Everyone else, with me.”

Yolanda felt a pang as Martin saluted, then walked off down the long corridor, while the XO led the other new officers in the opposite direction.  Her implants updated automatically, showing her the interior design of
Freedom
.  It was relatively simple, she realised, although it would be a pain to navigate without implants.  The bulkheads were completely unmarked, save for a handful of numbers that didn't seem to link together.  It took her several moments to realise that they were production numbers, rather than anything she could use to find her way around the ship.

“These are your cabins,” the XO informed them.  “You will be sleeping two to a cabin, so pair off now.  I don’t give a damn about your sleeping arrangements, as long as they don’t interfere with your duties.  You are supposed to be grown adults, so pick someone you can be comfortable with and open the hatches.”

There was a brief moment of confusion, then Yolanda nodded to Simone, who nodded back and pushed her hand against one of the hatches.  It hissed open, revealing a tiny compartment with a pair of small beds, a small washroom and a pair of drawers under the beds.  There was barely enough room for two people sleeping, let alone standing up.  Yolanda thought wistfully of the barracks, then unslung her knapsack from her shoulder and placed it on the bed.  She could unpack it later, once they had been briefed on their duties and the ship’s rota.

“Good,” the XO said, when they were done.  “If you want to swap roommates later, that’s your problem, not mine.  If I have to get involved, I will be very annoyed.”

She turned and led them up the corridor, through a pair of solid airlocks and past a Marine wearing light combat armour.  The Marine showed no reaction as the XO opened the hatch behind him, or when Yolanda nodded to him in passing.  It had always astonished her just how still Martin could stand, after several weeks of training; now, she thought she understood why. 

Inside, the bridge awaited them.  Yolanda stopped and stared, trying to drink in every detail of the glowing compartment.  Three officers sat at three consoles, linked through their implants into the starship’s command systems, while a fourth sat in the command chair, watching a giant holographic display that showed the entire solar system.  She looked left and saw two more officers, one standing in front of a console and poking at it, the other standing behind him and offering helpful advice.  The entire compartment, the nerve centre of the starship, seemed to glow with activity.

“Captain Singh,” the XO said.  “These are our new officers.”

The command chair rotated until Captain Singh came into view.  He was a tall, brown-skinned man with a neatly-trimmed beard, wearing the white uniform of a starship commander.  A single medal hung above his right breast, signifying active combat service; below it, a line of gold braid informed her that he had served on four different starships before taking command of
Freedom
.  He was an impressive man, she had to admit, as he stood and studied them.  Had he been born in space or was he, like her, a refugee from Earth?

“Welcome onboard,” Captain Singh said.

“Thank you, Captain,” the XO said.  “I should have them ready for active duty within two days, assuming their training files are accurate.”