MERCS: Crimson Worlds Successors (14 page)

Chapter 10

“I want to thank you all for coming.  I know many of you had long and difficult journeys, but this matter will not wait any longer.”  Catherine Gilson stood at the podium looking out at the assembled representatives of the former Alliance colonies.  She was wearing a perfectly-tailored, though old, uniform.  She had left her medals behind, and her sidearm and sword as well.  The planetary leaders tended to be prickly about anything that gave an impression of intimidation.  They had all been part of the Alliance, lived under the yoke of the oppressive Earth government, but now they were independent, and they guarded that jealously.  She knew part of that was the memory of the Alliance’s heavy-handed tactics, and she understood that completely.  She also suspected some of them were more interested in protecting their own power than in any altruism toward those they governed.  A few of the colonies were beginning to remind her far too much of Alliance Gov.

“It has been ten years since the Fall, and there has been much discussion of what is to happen to the former Alliance colony worlds, how they will govern cooperation between themselves, and the manner in which they will be defended against external threats.  Over that decade, the Marine Corps and the fleet have continued to serve their purposes, providing protection for all of your planets, with limited and extremely sporadic financial support.  We have managed to fund—barely—our needs by selling surplus equipment and licensing technology.  However, we have reached the end of our resources.  Armstrong has long carried many times its share of the cost, and that is a burden its people can no longer sustain.  It is time to forge a long term Confederation to see to the maintenance of the fleet and the Corps…or both services will be compelled to downsize and serve solely as Armstrong’s planetary military force, leaving the rest of you to see to your own defense.”

She looked out over the assembled representatives, most of them politicians and heads of state.  Ten years of relative peace, enforced mostly by a general lack of resources sufficient to fight wars, had dulled their sensibilities to the need for long-term security.  She could see it in their eyes, most of them, at least.  They liked having the Corps and Garret’s fleet out there, but they didn’t want to pay for it.  Their worlds needed investment to grow, and their governments were expanding, turning into rapacious bureaucracies, consuming resources at an ever-expanding rate.

“Before I open the floor to questions and debate, I would like to bring up a man who needs no introduction, a Marine who has been in the forefront of man’s wars for thirty years.  As he has been there whenever there was need, so has he come now, all the way from Atlantia.”  She glanced back to make sure he was ready.  Then she looked out over the audience and said, “Please welcome General Erik Cain.”

The room erupted into applause.  Erik Cain was a genuine celebrity, a bonafide hero everywhere in former Alliance space.  His reputation was more mixed on the colonies of the Corps’ old enemies, but he was universally respected as one of the greatest military commanders of the modern age.

Cain walked up to the podium.  His uniform was of an older style than Gilson’s, and it was a bit snug.  He’d added a few kilos over ten years of inactive status and nine of parenthood, though he was still in excellent shape by any measure.  He moved with a hint of a limp and some stiffness.  He’d had the rejuv treatments and the best medical care available, but he’d been wounded so many times, even cutting edge medical care couldn’t undo everything.  He carried the scars of his wars with him, in the soreness in his body and the sorrow in his mind.

He stared out at those seated before him, planetary presidents and other politicians.  They were men and women who had become accustomed to being treated with exaggerated respect, but Cain was the wrong man for that.  He made no attempt to hide his contempt.  The very existence of this meeting, the need for Gilson to go hat in hand and beg the leaders to attend was proof enough of what he had always believed.  These people didn’t need the Corps now, and they behaved as if funding their own defense was an act of charity. 

He knew when they were again threatened they would look to the Marines to save them, they would expect the armored warriors to come again, as they always had.  They would forget their lack of support, the deaf ear they turned during peaceful times.  What if there was no answer to their call next time?  Cain knew that would be a disaster for humanity, but he couldn’t help but believe that is what they all deserved.

“General Gilson has spoken to you in quite measured tones.  She has respected your positions, and the offices and awards you have largely appointed for yourselves.”  His voice was caustic, an undisguised growl.  “For those familiar with my reputation, you know you will get no such courtesy from me.  You will hear the truth, and if that offends you, please understand this very clearly. 
I do not give a damn.
”

Cain was a massive war hero, but his gruff manner and his unwillingness to pander to those around him had gradually chipped away at his popularity.  The working people of the former Alliance worlds worshipped Cain, and they told and retold stories of his battles.  His old veterans could count on parades in their home towns and free drinks wherever they went.  But Cain was less popular with the emerging new leadership classes, mostly because he was far too willing to call them out for exactly what they were.  Erik Cain did not offer false respect.  If you wanted his admiration, you earned it; you didn’t steal it with lies or crooked elections.

Cain didn’t care what politicians thought of him.  Indeed, the destruction of the Alliance and his subsequent retirement had removed the last needs for him to even pretend.  But when Gilson called, he had come.  Immediately, without question or delay.  Whatever else he might do, however he might spend the rest of his life, he was a Marine.  The Corps had his loyalty.  Always.  When it needed him, he would come.

“I have fought many wars, each one a desperate struggle with millions of lives in the balance.  They were all different, save for one thing.  Each was thought to be the last one.  Every terrible battle, every war fought to the bitter end is believed to be the final struggle, the war that would finally cure mankind of the habit.  And since the dawn of history, this belief has been wrong.  No matter how horrific the struggle, no matter how many lay dead on the field and in blasted, ruined cities, men have found new reasons to fight, grievances to levy against fresh enemies.  And, beyond men’s fondness for killing each other, the memory is still fresh of our first, disastrous encounter with another race.  There is always another war.  The old flags will inevitably be removed from the place they were stowed, unfurled again to answer the renewed call to battle.”

Cain paused and looked out again over his audience.  They were silent, listening to his words, but he knew they weren’t hearing them.  Not really.  As inevitable as the next war had always been, people never expected it.  They ignored or ridiculed those who predicted it, those who warned against complacency.  They convinced themselves peace would last, that they needn’t devote resources to remain vigilant.  When threats arose, they resorted to denial and appeasement before resistance.  Cain knew he owed the words he was speaking to Gilson and to the Corps.  But he also knew they would be ignored.

“The Alliance is gone.  The billions on Earth whose work funded and sustained the Corps and the fleet are gone.  It has fallen to you to take the full responsibility for your defense.  Your economies, which were so heavily based on exports to Earth have suffered massive dislocations.  You have scrambled and struggled to repurpose industry, to adjust to a post-Earth reality.” 

His eyes narrowed, and he brought a balled fist down on the podium.  “Yet none of this changes the basic facts.  If you would be defended against the next threat…one that will surely come…you must commit resources now.  You must do your part.  If you do not, in five years…or ten…or twenty, when the balloon again goes up, when some enemy comes to take what is yours, to enslave and kill your people, you will have no one to blame but yourselves when you stand alone.  It will be a bitter reckoning, and as you fall, as you watch the fires of devastation sweep across your worlds, as they did across the Earth, you will know you allowed it to happen.”

Cain stepped back a meter and allowed Gilson back to the podium.  “Thank you, General Cain.  I am sure our guests will give serious thought to your words, particularly since there are few human beings who have witnessed the reality of war the way you have.”  Her voice had a tone of surprise, as though she hadn’t expected him to be quite so honest.

Cain nodded toward the audience, flashing Gilson a tentative smile before he turned away and walked from the stage. 
They won’t give serious thought to anything I said.  They will say, ‘they are so dramatic, the soldiers.’  Then they will ask to pose for a photo with us, something they will take home and use on their campaign posters.  But they will not commit the funding that is required.  They will shirk their responsibility, until danger comes.  Then they will be whining, begging for help, as if we can manufacture armored Marines and battleships out of thin air.

He could hear Gilson’s voice in the background, through his thoughts.  “So, now let us move to debate.  Who would like to begin?”

*        *        *        *        *

“So, just as I expected.”  Cain’s voice was raw, angry.  He’d expected exactly what happened, but it still hurt to see it.  He was bitter.  How many brave men and women had died protecting these people, defeating the forces that would have enslaved or massacred them all?”

The meeting had ended with all kinds of accolades and expressions of gratitude, but no promises of support.  There had been a litany of excuses, but in the end, only Jarrod Tyler had argued forcefully for the planetary leaders to step up and provide the support the Corps and the fleet needed.  Tyler was the famous commander of Columbia’s planetary military, a man who had assumed temporary dictatorial powers and led his world through the Shadow Legion war before voluntarily resigning that position.  He’d remained the commander of the armed forces over the intervening decade, fighting a gradually deteriorating struggle against the political forces demanding disarmament and the diversion of military spending to social programs.

Tyler’s wife, Lucia, had been Columbia’s longtime president, and she had been forced to remain home because of an election, one she was expected to lose, largely over the same issues.  Columbia was a world with a difficult past, having been invaded multiple times, but in the aftermath of the Shadow War, there was a feeling that a long period of peace would ensue, a theme that had been exploited by Lucia’s political opponents.  It had taken ten years of relentless assaults in the press and elsewhere, but finally they were on the verge of ousting the once enormously popular president.

Tyler had warmly embraced General Gilson, who had led the force twelve years before that liberated Columbia, but he had no power to promise support to the Corps.  He was angry and ashamed of his own people, and he’d left immediately after the meeting, bound for Columbia where he intended to resign his commission right after the election and retire to private life with Lucia.

Cate Gilson sighed, looking across the table.  “Well, we did everything we could at least.”  She glanced over at Cain.  “Even though things didn’t work out, I want to thank you for coming, Erik.”

“You couldn’t have kept me away, Cate.  I’m still a Marine, even if a retired one.  Sarah wanted to come too, but the boys were just too young for so long a trip.”

Gilson nodded.  “I’d have loved to see her, but I understand.  Maybe someday I will get to Atlantia and meet these young Cain men.”  When Erik and Sarah had left Armstrong for Atlantia, they had all promised to travel frequently and see each other often.  But as things usually go, old comrades had drifted apart.  Cain had come to Armstrong to support the Corps, certainly, but he’d also welcomed the chance to see old friends, regardless of the reason.

“I would like that too.” Augustus Garret had been sitting quietly in the corner.  He hadn’t said much.  He didn’t seem surprised by the lack of support offered by the planets.  He wasn’t quite as cynical as Cain, perhaps, but those who knew him well understood he was close.  He had aged considerably in ten years.  The rejuv treatments were a medical marvel, adding decades to a healthy person’s life expectancy, but at a certain age, the effects began to wane quickly, and aging resumed at an accelerated rate.  “It has been a long time since I’ve seen the twins and Sarah.”  Garret had been to Atlantia twice since the Cain’s made it their home, but the last time had been almost seven years before.

Cain smiled.  “You are both welcome anytime…but only if you promise not to try to recruit them.  My life has been my life…but I don’t want it to be theirs.”

Gilson nodded.  “I understand, Erik.  I think I’d feel the same.  The Corps has been my existence.  My friends, my loved ones, almost all the people I’ve truly known have been Marines.  I am proud of what we have done, but if I had children, I would wish something else for them.  An easier life.  One where losing friends wasn’t so commonplace a part of the routine.”

Cain bowed his head slightly.  He knew the Corps was in trouble, and the fleet as well, and his heart was heavy.  “So what are we going to do?”  Cain was on inactive status, but when the future of the Corps was at stake, he intended to be involved.