Stark's Command (17 page)

He stole another glance, intrigued despite himself by the view. Many times he'd been out on the surface and seen the few Colony towers built of excavated lunar rock, but he'd never been inside one. "Why are we here?"

Stacey Yurivan gestured toward the closed door. "I found a shuttle commander willing to talk, but only in a nice place near the spaceport."

"A shuttle pilot'll talk to us? Is he corporate or government?"

"Neither. Our former bosses wanted our former officers back so bad they hired some foreign shipping to help on the pickups this time."

"What's he got to say?" Reynolds wondered. She stood near a corner, even farther from the window than Stark. "The officers from the first exchange should be home by now, and they were probably debriefed all the way back."

"You can bet on it," Stark agreed. "Most of the senior officers went on that first exchange. I wish I coulda been a fly on the wall when they were being talked to. This second is mostly junior officers, right?"

"Mostly. And like Stacey says, there's more shuttles in this one. We'll still need a third shuttle exchange to get everybody back, though, counting the Third Division survivors who want off this rock. What does this guy know, Stace?"

Yurivan shrugged elaborately. "Stuff about the situation on the World. I figured you'd find it interesting."

"Can't wait," Stark agreed dryly. "Did you invite any of the civs?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, you have to. Just a couple, though. Campbell and his chief aide."

Vic nodded in agreement. "They deserve to be here. Those two made this exchange happen." As Yurivan made the calls, Vic turned to Stark. "What do you think they've been saying about us? Back home?"

"We'll know in a few minutes. I'm sure it ain't good."

Reynolds screwed her face up thoughtfully. "They'll probably try to make us out as renegade scum. I imagine they'll paint you as a beer swilling, insubordinate warlord-wanna-be." She squinted at Stark. "Which won't take too much work."

"Very funny. What'll they paint you as, Whore-Empress of the Moon?"

"You think? I always wanted to be a Whore-Empress. Maybe they'll enhance my figure when they fake the vid."

"Your figure don't need any enhancing."

"Says you," she laughed. "You been admiring me in my battle armor all this time, Ethan Stark?"

"Yeah. That's it. The battle armor. I got a thing for women shaped like over muscled gorillas with really big heads. The civs on their way, Stace?"

"Yup." Yurivan strode over to a nearby duffel bag, fishing inside for a moment before she emerged with a bottle filled with dark liquid.

"What," Stark demanded, "is that?"

His Security Officer smiled back. "A bribe. Also a way to keep our shuttle commander's lips flapping."

"Rum," Reynolds observed. "Good stuff. Where'd you get this, Stace?"

"The Officer's Club stocks."

"I didn't know you had access to the Officer's Club stocks. Sergeant Gordasa never mentioned it."

Yurivan shrugged. "Ah, well, I haven't bothered Gordy about it. He's pretty busy, you know."

"Uh-huh," Vic agreed with a sardonic smile. "He's going to be a little busier now, running an inventory on those stocks."

"Whatever." Stacey carefully set up the bottle and a shot glass on a small table next to a seat at one end of the room. "Your civs should be here by now. I'll get them and the shuttle guy."

A few minutes later, Licensed Shuttle Commander James Plant leaned back in his chair and took an appreciative sip of the rum, smiling as he did so. "This is excellent, though I suppose its virtue is enhanced by its rarity, eh? Not many people have drunk rum that has journeyed this far from the Caribbean. From the Commanding General's private stock, I imagine?"

Stark shook his head. "Officers' Club stock. I guess they kept this stuff for the Generals, though."

"I can see why." Plant took another taste. "What is it you want to know?"

"What makes you think we want to know something?"

"I am not a fool. I also am not privy to any secrets, but I have no loyalty to your superiors. I am only a temporary hire. And my time here is limited. So, if you have questions, you should speak them without further games."

Stacey Yurivan nodded nonchalantly. "What are they telling you? About things up here?"

Plant sipped again, face thoughtful. "Not much, really. Certainly not enough to satisfy those curious about the situation, which is almost everyone. Initially, there were claims of security clampdowns associated with enemy action. Then statements that technical problems associated with sunspot activity had halted communications with this Colony. No one believed it, naturally. Finally, official American sources declared a breakdown of law and order here, attributed to unnamed criminal elements in the pay of foreign powers." Plant smiled again. "Though not, of course,
my
particular foreign power."

"Of course not. What're they saying about Stark and the rest of the leaders?"

"Very little." Commander Plant spread his hands. "The official story is that anarchy reigns. For a brief time, it was stated that Colony Manager Campbell had died at the hands of a mob. All other lawful authority is in hiding, it is claimed, fearing a similar fate."

"You look pretty good for a dead guy," Stark observed to Campbell.

Campbell smiled back as Plant continued. "However, Mr. Campbell's continued existence apparently became obvious during the negotiations for this exchange of prisoners, so your government has shifted their tack and now decided he is not dead after all."

"That's good to hear," Campbell noted sarcastically.

"Thank you. Unfortunately, I must inform you they are now claiming the stress of the lunar environment has rendered you mentally unstable."

"I see. Then it's sort of a good news/bad news thing."

Plant nodded, took another sip of rum, then reached into the thigh pocket of his coverall. "I have a recording here which might be of interest to you." Extending the screen of his hand unit, the Shuttle Commander turned it so his audience could see. "This is a copy of a vid released by your government. It has become somewhat valuable for reasons I will disclose in a moment." He tapped the terminal, bringing the vid replay to life. On-screen, a small group of men and women in dirty, torn military uniforms were shown brandishing weapons and firing randomly, pausing only to drink from variously shaped and colored bottles. The perspective jerked repeatedly as if the operator of the vid cam were shaking in fear.

"Looks like none of those soldiers have shaved or bathed in weeks," Yurivan observed facetiously. "They get these guys from the Ranger Battalion?"

Stopping before a doorway, one of the men kicked viciously, causing the portal to slam open. Ducking inside, he quickly reemerged with a screaming, crying woman. "What is this supposed to be?" Stark wondered.

"You," Plant stated. "Or rather, the soldiers up here. According to the back-story for this vid, an unidentified but deranged renegade has set himself up as the nominal leader of otherwise out-of-control, mutinous soldiers. This," he added with a wave toward the screen, "is allegedly a covertly filmed incident in which his minions are seizing civilian women for a slave harem."

"You're kidding," Vic chuckled. "Well, Ethan, it looks like you've finally figured out how to get women."

"Very funny," Stark observed. "At least Campbell and I can be 'mentally unbalanced' and 'deranged' together."

On the vid, the scruffy soldiers were shoving the woman around with their rifle butts. Suddenly, a small figure darted from the open doorway, obviously a child rushing to cling to her mother. With a wicked smile, one of the soldiers kicked the child away, then raised her rifle. "Hey," Vic began, her laughter dying. Before she could say anything else, the rapid bark of automatic fire came from the vid screen and the child was tossed back to lie motionless in the street.

"This ain't funny, anymore," Stacey Yurivan growled. "That's just sick. Am I the only one who's noticed these apes are moving like they're in Earth gravity?"

"No." Stark stared at the now-blank screen, his eyes hard. "Even if those plug-ugly so-called soldiers weren't a giveaway, the normal G would be. I'd like to get my hands on whoever faked this vid. I'd show them a damn atrocity."

"Not to worry," Commander Plant advised, replacing the unit in his pocket. "A good number of people on Earth noticed the gravity problem, too. Quite a stupid mistake, apparently the result of rushing to create the vid within a short time. Your government quickly shifted from saying it was real footage to claiming it was a reenactment of actual events, but any credibility it might have had was long gone by that point. It has since attempted to reclaim every copy of the vid in existence, a task remarkable for its scope and futility."

"You'd think our government would have at least learned how to lie right by now," Reynolds observed angrily. "Commander Plant, there hasn't been any effort to publicly identify the leaders up here? None at all?" Plant shook his head. "It's odd they haven't named us so they'd have someone to demonize."

"Not really," Plant lectured. "If you consider, any leader can be a focal point for either hatred or admiration. I believe there is a great fear that the public would come to admire the leaders up here if they were identified and given faces and personality."

"They think we're that great?" Stark laughed shortly.

"No, I believe they realize how weak they measure as leaders against you. Bold action, risking life and fortune for fellow humans, no deception or half-measures masquerading as sacrifice for the welfare of others. You see? The moral opposite of your country's current leadership on Earth. One need not be a giant to stand tall beside dwarfs."

Stark looked down, plainly uncomfortable at Plant's words, then glanced over in relief as Campbell began speaking. "What else is happening? Have events up here had any other impact?"

"Ah. Impact." Commander Plant seemed to find the word amusing. "Let us see. The loss of revenue from lunar investments caused the profit projections for a number of large corporations to fall significantly. There is also fear they might have to completely write off those investments. Their stocks have fallen as a result. Those stocks have dragged down the general market. The average citizen, I am told, is worried, and since so much of the American economy is based on services, which are not necessities, people are not spending money on such services."

Sarafina closed her eyes briefly. "We're triggering a recession?"

"Apparently. Your government has instituted a number of measures to increase confidence, but a government lacking in credibility cannot easily generate confidence, eh?"

Campbell nodded, eyeing the pilot narrowly. "What about other countries, such as yours? What do they think?"

"What do they think?" Plant pondered the question for a moment. "They wait. America is too powerful. What will become of you here? Can you withstand the pressure from your home, as well as that from the coalition that has fought you all these years?"

Stark smiled in a manner that had nothing to do with humor, the barest curling of the corners of his mouth. "That coalition got a nasty bloody nose and several black eyes when they tried us. They've been a lot quieter since."

"I see. There have been rumors, of course, but actual information has been censored. Yours is not the only government which seeks to control what its citizens know." Plant glanced at his wrist as the chronometer there chirped rapidly. "I fear my time here is up. I must return to my ship to prepare for liftoff." He glanced at the bottle of rum regretfully. "Alas, since our ships are in hire to your government they are being monitored by your customs inspectors. We have been told any contraband will be seized."

"Booze isn't contraband," Yurivan observed.

Plant shrugged. "As far as your government is concerned, any item from the Colony is contraband until the situation is resolved."

"Is that right?" Stacey grinned at her companions. "Then it's all worth a lot more than usual, huh?"

"That is so. I see you have a merchant's eye for markets."

"We'll be getting shuttles in again, you know. The blockade's not perfect. Potential profits will be . . . pretty large."

"I imagine so. I will keep this in mind and ensure my own superiors are aware of the opportunity this offers." Commander Plant rose, nodding to everyone else present as they stood in turn. "I thank you for the hospitality."

They watched him leave, escorted out by Stacey Yurivan, then sat silent for a few moments, digesting the information. Vic finally turned to Stark, shaking her head. "Ethan Stark, you have kicked over one helluva lot of dominoes."

"All I did," he protested, "was try to stop something stupid, try to do the right thing, and save people's lives."

"Like I said." Vic walked toward the door, waving toward Campbell, Sarafina, and Stark. "If you all will excuse me, I need to get a little rest before I get as deranged as our leaders."

"I believe," Campbell stated with exaggerated dignity, "that I personally have been characterized as 'mentally unbalanced,' not 'deranged.' "

"True. My apologies. Ethan, I think you've got another meeting scheduled in less than an hour."

"A meeting?" Stark groused. "Which one?"

"Personal business. Remember?"

He grimaced. "Oh, yeah. I remember. Guess I better get going."

Grant Stein stood at the main sentry station leading into the headquarters area, smiling as usual as Stark walked up. "Here early, huh? Come on." Letting the younger man follow slightly behind, Stark headed for his quarters, then changed his mind.
I need neutral ground. And someplace quiet, where we won't be interrupted. I know just the place.
He continued on, past his room, until he reached the wood paneled, double-wide door which led into the former Commanding General's suite.

Stein looked around eagerly as they entered. "Fancy digs. I bet you enjoy it here."

"I don't get much free time," Stark answered cautiously. "Sit down. You want anything? Coffee or something?"