Stark's Command (10 page)

Stark found himself laughing, bitter and angry all at once, "Damned if I know." He sobered, looking downward for a moment. "All those new soldiers you asked me about, Ms. Sarafina?" The brief meeting seemed ages ago. "Most of them are dead, like I said. That idiot General Meecham threw them against strong defensive positions, and when that didn't work, went ahead and did it again a few more times. We stopped that. That's why we took over. But stopping the slaughter meant we had to handle a lot more, and we're still working all that out."

Campbell's eyes narrowed. "Then you really
haven't
thought this out. It happened, spur-of-the-moment, and now you're trying to deal with the results."

"I guess that's a good way to sum things up."

"Sergeant Stark, you've done a very foolish thing." Campbell paused as Stark felt his face flush with anger. "I'm not referring to your decision to seize control of the military forces up here. Only you can judge the wisdom of that action. No, I'm talking about your discussing this with me. By combining your words with what I can see between the lines, I know far more about your situation than you should want to disclose to someone whose loyalty to you is an unknown."

He's right. Me and my big mouth. I shouldn't have made this call without Vic here to tell me when to shut up. I don't know this guy and don't really know Sarafina. They're civs. And they're political types. Or corporation types. I'm not sure which, but I've never found reason to think either type cares a damn about the best interests of me or any other mil ape.
"So why are you telling me this? Why not milk me for more information before telling me I oughta shut up?"

"Because I believe the military and civilian communities up here need each other. I'll be as honest with you for a moment as you've been with me."

"You're a politician," Stark pointed out coldly.

Instead of triggering animosity, Stark's words brought a laugh from Campbell. "Yes, I am. But that doesn't mean what you think it does in this case. Why do you dislike and distrust politicians? No, don't bother, I'll answer for you. They manipulate the laws they write to benefit themselves and their friends. They take large contributions from corporations and then do pretty much what those corporations want. They steer government money to pet projects. Is that a good summary?"

"It's a start."

Another laugh, tinged with bitterness. "Yes, I suppose it is. Sergeant Stark, I have no voting power, anywhere. Every penny of the Colony budget is set in stone by Congress. The corporations direct every aspect of the Colony that the military hasn't wanted to control. I can't make laws, and I can't spend money. All I can do is go hat-in-hand to the people who do control those things and ask for a decent shake for the people of the Colony, whose only vote is to choose the person occupying my position."

"Then why do you do it? Why get elected?"

"Because it's important. Because if I don't, some hack who cares nothing for the Colony except as a stepping-stone for ambition might be elected instead. Not that actually gaining any political points are likely, given the powerlessness of the position, but it's possible if you were willing to sell the Colony's inhabitants even further down the river."

"Huh." Stark thought about that, then nodded. "Thankless job. I'm familiar with the concept. Okay, so let's assume you're being honest with me. What is it you want to say?"

"That this event is totally unexpected. I have no idea how the rest of the Colony will react to the news. However, I believe your actions offer my people an opportunity to finally alter their own status vis-a-vis the authorities back on Earth." Campbell glanced at Sarafina, who nodded. "My aide here told me she explained to you our situation."

"She said something about you being, uh, wage slaves?"

"That's essentially correct. Nearly every civilian up here signed agreements to repay the costs of our transportation to the Moon and subsequent upkeep. Everyone thought this offered a great opportunity, that the money to be made working in the Colony would allow eventual repayment of those debts followed by a life filled with more promise than the employment opportunities back home."

"I guess things haven't gotten any better for civs since I joined the mil," Stark observed.

"They've gotten worse. Vertically and horizontally integrated corporations have locked up so many jobs they can exercise almost total control of working conditions and wages. Back home, the government long ago 'got off the backs' of the corporations, which has meant the corporations have been on our backs ever since. Up here, where we thought things would be better, it turned out to be a lot worse. There's nowhere else to go for work, and no place to shop except company stores charging prices exorbitant even by lunar standards. And, of course, the transportation and upkeep contracts turned out to contain hidden interest on outstanding debt."

Stark remembered, long ago, overhearing his mother and father during anguished conversations. "So every day you wake up poorer, right?"

"Exactly."

"Sounds like the corporations have been killing you slow while our leaders killed us fast."

"That is an excellent summation, Sergeant Stark."

"So what does what we've done have to do with your problem?"

Campbell stared. "You really don't know, do you? Sergeant Stark, we've had no choice but to endure these conditions. No lawyer we could hire could prevail against corporate legal teams, we are denied our own political representation in Washington, no politician from back home would act on our behalf because they are in pay of the corporations, and if we had ever tried to act unilaterally the military forces up here would have simply enforced the will of the authorities back on Earth. But, now, you are no longer following the orders of those authorities."

"Not at the moment, though I don't know how much they've realized that so far."

"Sergeant Stark, I know very little about the military, but I assume you require the same things most people do in the way of food and shelter, and somewhat the same things a corporation would, supplies to meet your specialized needs. You'll need this Colony to help provide all that for you."

"I expect that's true."

Sarafina leaned forward again. "We need each other. Whatever you decide your long-term goals are, Sergeant Stark, you'll need the Colony's cooperation. And we can provide that cooperation in exchange for your protection and support when we demand political and economic redress."

Stark twisted his mouth, trying to think the offer through.
I don't know enough. Bottom line, I just don't know enough to know if this is a good offer or a good idea. Besides, I'm already scared of what I started. Do I want to have a colony in revolt on my conscience, too?
He sat silent, thoughts going nowhere.

"Sergeant Stark?" Colony Manager Campbell finally asked. "I understand you may need awhile to consider what we've said, and you'll no doubt want to consult with your own advisers. Can we arrange another conversation tomorrow, or perhaps a face-to-face meeting?"

My advisers? I haven't—Yeah, I do. People like Vic, and Manley, and other grunts with experience in things I don't know.
"That sounds like a good idea. Let's talk again. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon. There's a lot going on." He moved to break the connection.

"Wait." Campbell raised a hand to forestall Stark. "There's something else. You told us you've had many soldiers killed."

Stark froze for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. A lot. What of it?"

"I assume that means many others are injured?"

"That's right."

"We know the military medical facilities are limited. There is a state-of-the-art hospital for treating civilians up here." Campbell mustered a derisive smile. "The corporate VIPs and politicians who visited the Colony wanted to be sure we could handle any problems they might have. If you need more space, or specialized care, for your soldiers, we can take them."

"You can? That's great, but I don't know how we'd pay for it."

"Pay?" Campbell shook his head firmly. "It's us who are repaying you for your defense of the Colony all these years.

If you need medical assistance for your soldiers, we'll provide anything we can free of charge."

But still put us in your debt. I sure wish I knew if I could trust these civs. I know we could use their help, though. My wounded soldiers can use their help. And Campbell did volunteer it without me even hinting at it.
Stark smiled with what he hoped looked like genuine gratitude. "Thanks. That's very nice of you. Tell me how to contact your medical people, and I'll have our docs call them right away."

The screen dark again, Stark hesitated, then punched in Sergeant Reynolds's address, frowning as the image stayed blank. "You there, Vic?"

"Yeah."

"What's wrong with your vid?"

"Nothing. I just got out of the shower, and I'm not offering a free vid show to anybody who calls."

"How 'bout if I input a credit access code?" Stark teased.

"Soldier, you'll never have enough money to buy a look at this show. What's up?"

"We need another staff meeting."

"Can't we just go on a suicide mission instead?"

"Sorry. Let's combine it with lunch so at least we'll get one useful thing accomplished."

A late lunch, as it turned out. Stark shoveled down a last soggy french fry, then looked around the table. "I got a big issue, but let's save that for last. Anybody else got anything really hot?"

"Everything's hot." Sergeant Gordasa tapped his terminal with one rigid finger. "We've got a lot to worry about in Supply. Let's talk basics. Food. Water. Environmental systems."

"We know we're not self-sufficient," Vic stated. "Why does this need to be handled now?"

Gordasa shook his head. "We're probably closer to self-sufficiency than you think, and we got a lot of rations stockpiled on the surface. Stuff Third Division apes were supposed to consume and won't be needing." He ignored the anger his words triggered, knowing it was aimed elsewhere. "But it's still limited, and we've no idea how long this situation is going to last. And we've got lots of officers we've got to feed until we can off-load them. So what happens yesterday? You heroes snag a whole bunch of prisoners. Prisoners we've got to feed. What the hell are we going to do with them?"

"You got a suggestion?" Stark asked.

"You're damn right I've got a suggestion. Give 'em back. They're not worth the supplies they'll consume."

"Prisoners are extremely valuable," Vic objected.

"Not to us," Gordasa disagreed. "Sure, our officers wanted them for intelligence so they could plan the next offensive, but we're not planning any offensives, right? So aside from asking for any of our own prisoners back, what else can these guys do for us?"

Sergeant Manley looked up suddenly, frowning thoughtfully. "Hey. That's it. Swap."

"Swap prisoners? That's already a given, but we've got a helluva lot more of theirs than they do of ours."

"No, no. Trade 'em. The enemy wants their people back. We want food and environmental supplies and stuff. Fine. We do a swap."

Something about the suggestion disturbed Stark. "Trade people for food? A human isn't a sack of potatoes."

"Some might as well be, but that's not the point. We need the potatoes. We don't need the people."

Vic smiled. "Ethan, I like this idea. We get rid of the prisoners, we get more of what we need, and we probably get humanitarian points for letting the prisoners go pretty quick."

Stark tried to think of problems with the proposal, glaring down at the table surface, then nodded. "Okay. We'll do it. Tanaka, use that red line to enemy headquarters to set up the swap. Make sure we've got a smooth operator running our end of things so we get a good bargain."

"Sure. Gordasa? You a good scam artist?"

"Me?" Sergeant Gordasa questioned indignantly. "I work by the rules. Which you apes usually complain about."

"If we want a scam artist," Manley suggested, "we ought to get Yurivan involved."

"Stacey Yurivan?" Vic cocked one eye toward Stark. "You want to give her access to headquarters?"

"What's the worst that could happen? Never mind. Forget I asked that." Stark glanced around at his improvised staff. "Can we trust her with something this big?"

"Pair her with a straight arrow," Gordasa suggested. "Somebody to watch whatever deal she's working up."

"Make that two arrows," Vic amended. "Gordasa, you keep an eye on the technical side of the deal. Tanaka, you keep an eye on Yurivan. Every contact with the enemy includes all three of you."

"Stacey wouldn't betray us," Jill Tanaka protested.

Stark nodded again. "You're right, but she would try to work a deal that'd turn her a fat, juicy profit. We can't afford that. At the very least, it'd make us all look bad if she got caught."

"I'm not going to lie to her about why I'm involved," Tanaka insisted.

"Not asking you to. Besides, Yurivan will know why as soon as she sees the setup."

"And," Vic added dryly, "she'll be proud we posted two sentries to watch her. Alright, Ethan. Enough stalling. Let's handle this big issue of yours."

He fidgeted a moment, aware of the eyes on him. "It's the Colony. The civs. They wanna know what we're doing."

"Screw 'em," someone murmured.

"No," Stark objected. "We're all in the same boat up here. We can't hold out if the civs go against us. Anybody ready to shoot American civs who don't do what we say?"

Silence.

"I didn't think so. And like I told Vic awhile back, these civs seem a little different. They've been right behind the front lines long enough to realize we're not playing some fancy vid game for their entertainment."

"Even if you're right," Gordasa noted, "and my own experience sort of confirms it, so what?"

"The head civ, a guy named Campbell, wants to know if we'll back the civs against the government."

Everyone stared, half-startled, half-scornful. "I think," Vic finally suggested carefully, "that starting one rebellion is enough for us for now. Why get involved with a bunch of civs?" Most of the others around the table nodded in agreement.