Winds of Vengeance (3 page)

As with so many heroes, his greatness walked hand in hand with tragedy. He found new love, a solace that was to last far too brief a time. He died just short of reaching Earth Two, just as the deadly threat of the First Imperium was defeated. He never walked the hills of this green and lush world. He never knew the calm of peace. He never saw his son.

But I choose to remember another side of the great admiral, that of Terrance Compton, my friend. The greatest poker player the Alliance navy has ever known…and a man who found solace playing cards with his officers. The man I came to rely upon when fear and uncertainty threatened to overwhelm me. My father died at the Slaughter Pen when I was at the Academy…but life granted me a second chance, a man I would come to look upon as a second father.

So, as we celebrate our survival, and all we have accomplished during the past thirty years, let us always remember those who sacrificed all so that we could have this second chance. And as we struggle with our own issues, and the divisions that plague our society, I call upon all of you to remember that the fleet included forces from nine different nations, and that many who served together, who died together, had once been enemies. Let us all use this as an inspiration…and a way to see past the issues that divide us. For we are more alike than different, and the future of this young world is in our hands. It is up to us to decide if we are to pass down to our descendants a happy and prosperous world…or one divided and plagued by the scourge of war, even as Earth itself was.

I pledge to do all I can to see that our new world, our home, becomes all that Earth was not. United rather than divided. Prosperous rather than poor. Free rather than choking under the rule of totalitarianism and brutal oligarchies. And I ask each of you, Natural Borns and Tanks, Mules and Earthers, Pilgrims and Next Gens…let us come together…let us recapture the spirit that built this world, the united strength of one people, together, boldly facing the future.

Presidential Residence

Victory City, Earth Two

Earth Two Date 10.14.30

“I didn’t realize you were awake.” Max Harmon’s voice was hoarse. He hadn’t been asleep for hours, and now he was sitting up on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. He’d tried to be quiet, not wanting to disturb Mariko, but then he felt her hand on his back.

She leaned in and kissed him on the side of the neck. “Who could sleep when you start thrashing around like
that
?”

He turned and looked back at her. “That bad?”

She smiled and nodded. “I’ve been losing sleep to your thrashing and your nightmares for thirty years, my love, but I’d put last night in the top five.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry, Mar. Things are…well, they’re just…” His voice trailed off.

“That bad? Really?”

He nodded. “I think so. We’ve had problems before, but I have to call an election soon—they’re already calling me ‘tyrant’ and ‘king.’ But I’m not sure I can win this time. That’s why I’ve waited so long.”

“Would losing be such a bad thing?” Mariko looked up at him. “You’ve certainly done your part…and I wouldn’t mind having my husband all to myself for a while.” She paused. “We’ve always talked about building a place on the coast. We never did it when the girls were still kids, but maybe we should think about it again. Leave the politics behind. You were always a naval officer at heart anyway, not a politician.”

Mariko’s voice cracked when she mentioned their children. Greta and Camille were great kids, and Harmon knew his wife loved them unconditionally, as he did. But they were only two…and on a world where increasing the population was virtually a religion, that was abnormally low. Not quite sociopathic, perhaps, but it had been a political handicap if nothing else. Mariko had been a fighter pilot, indeed she’d commanded the fighter corps after Greta Hurley had been killed, and she’d been exposed to massive doses of radiation taking her birds in on close attack runs. The two kids they’d managed to have were almost medical miracles, and Harmon was glad and grateful for them. But he knew Mariko had suffered terribly with the half-dozen miscarriages she’d had…and she felt guilty she hadn’t been able to have any more children. And he knew he was partly at fault there…it was his government that had promoted large families, turned reproduction into a virtual civic duty.

He paused, putting his hand on her cheek. “I love you…you know that?” He sighed softly. “But you know I can’t just quit. If I step down, all hell will break loose. Every faction will fight for the presidency…and the one that wins will impose its agenda on the others. It could lead to civil war.”

“It can’t be that bad…and you can’t be the only person who can stop it. It’s not fair. You’ve done enough…it’s time for you to relax, enjoy your life. Get to know your daughters. They’ve grown up to be very successful young women, you know.”

Harmon felt the jab…and he suspected his wife would have chosen her words with more care if she’d realized just how deeply her thrust cut at him. He’d grown up the son of a Marine hero and one of the navy’s up and coming admirals. He’d loved both his parents, but he could also count the few times they were together as a family for more than the length of carefully scheduled leaves. He had always regretted that he hadn’t come to know his father better before the officer was killed in action. He still remembered calling him ‘colonel,’ not the warmest father-son dynamic for a young boy. And his relationship with his mother had always been fraught with a level of background tension he wished hadn’t been there.

And now you’ve done the same thing to your children. They love you…but how many times were you too busy to spend time with them? How many years did you talk of stepping down and building that beach house? Since Greta was five? Six? Now it’s too late. Those years are gone. And still, here you are, trapped, wanting out but not seeing any path for escape…

“Mariko…I would like nothing more than that. But you know I can’t. I owe it to…”

“Admiral Compton. Yes, I know.”

“I can’t let things fall apart, Mariko. Not after all he sacrificed to give us this chance.”

“That sounds great, Mr. President, but don’t forget, I
know
you. And I knew Terrance too. The last thing he would have wanted was for you to become trapped like this.” She paused. “Like he was.” She put her hand on his cheek and turned his face toward her. “If he was here, he’d be the first one to give you a first class dressing down.”

Harmon nodded. “I know…everything you say is true. But things are bad now, Mariko. If we’re not careful, our budding young civilization could fracture. We could create our own nightmare, one that will take more than a beach house to escape. What about the girls, about their futures? How can I turn away now and risk leaving nothing to them but the prospect of war and death? You know what Earth was like, the constant war, the battles over colony worlds. It took the threat of the First Imperium to force mankind to stop fighting itself. And with that threat gone, we are back on that self-destructive trajectory. Is that what you want for them? For their children?”

Mariko sighed softly. “No, of course not. You really think things are that bad?”

Harmon paused, looking out across the room. The dawn light was just beginning to stream through the windows, illuminating the plush furnishings. Max Harmon had been the president of the Republic of Earth Two since it had been founded. He had initially opposed the idea of a state-owned residence for any government officials. He had seen what political power did to those who wielded it on Earth, and he was determined to resist the encroachment of privilege and preference for those who purported to serve the people. But, he’d found it increasingly difficult to hold that line, and those who governed Earth Two eventually gained the same kinds of perks politicians in the Superpowers had enjoyed, if far more restrained versions. It was just too difficult to fight off the efforts of the others in the government to vote themselves privileges, especially when he needed their support on more important matters. And the shadow of hypocrisy hovered in the back of his mind, as he was reelected term after term, becoming just the sort of entrenched politician he had always despised.

“Yes.” His voice was grim. “I do think things are that bad.” He stared into his wife’s eyes. “In fact, I’m very afraid they’re worse than I know.”

*    *    *

“I mean no disrespect, Father, but we must act now. The government is in disarray…if we move immediately, we may be able to create a…more favorable administration.”

Hieronymus Cutter looked up from his desk, pushing aside irritation at the manner of address. He’d told Achilles a hundred times to stop calling him ‘father,’ but to no avail. The man—and to Cutter’s point of view, Achilles
was
a man, just like any other—stood nearly two meters tall, looking almost like a marble statue. Achilles—and the rest of the Mules—shared many of the same extraordinary traits, including nearly-perfect physiques and formidable intellects, even by Cutter’s own extraordinary standards in that last department.

Cutter had created the Mules, employing the science of the First Imperium to combine selected human DNA with reconstituted genetic material from the ancient race that had first colonized Earth Two. The alien technology was far beyond anything Earth science had mastered, and Cutter had employed it to maximize strengths…and virtually eliminate weaknesses. His creations, though he also hated using that word to describe them, represented a massive step forward for humanity, at least in his scientifically-based opinion.

Others had different points of view, and the term Mules had originated as a derogatory one, poking at the single genetic failing of his creations…their inability to reproduce naturally. He knew they had long since adopted its use themselves, at first a way to lash back, he supposed, to declare that their critics were unable to hurt them with their childish words. Now, it had been used for so long, he doubted anyone thought much of the name’s origin.

“Achilles, we’ve discussed this before. President Harmon is a good man, and he deserves our support. The Prohibition has…”

“Again, Father, with all due respect, the Prohibition has been in place for twenty-five years. Whatever the president’s motivations in maintaining it for so long, the end result is indisputable. He has chosen the NBs over us. He has indulged their baseless fears…and stolen our future in the process. He has made us less than them, and denied us the most basic of rights…to continue to exist as a people.”

Cutter held back a sigh. His loyalty to Harmon was rock solid, but he wasn’t sure what to say to Achilles. Especially since the Mule was right, at least about much of what he had said. Cutter knew Harmon hadn’t had a choice. The fear of the Mules had been running amok, even while they were still children. There had been attempted acts of violence against them, and Harmon had acted out of desperation, to protect the young prodigies as much as anything else. But he couldn’t fault Achilles and the others for feeling targeted…and for being angry.

The Mules had matured rapidly, reaching full adulthood by age eleven or twelve. But long before that, it had become apparent they were truly special. They excelled in every field of athletic endeavor, but it was their analytical capability that had surprised even Cutter. He’d tried to measure it, but IQ and other existing systems proved woefully inadequate. The Mules weren’t just smart. They were something else entirely…something
different
.

Cutter remained silent, the words simply not coming. He believed the Prohibition
was
unjust, the result of fear and jealousy and not a reaction to any real threat, at least not one that had existed at the time. He wondered, though, if it hadn’t created the very danger it had been intended to thwart. The Mules had become increasingly resentful in recent years, and the restriction against creating more of their kind only increased the angst they felt at not being able to reproduce naturally. There were only one hundred sixteen of them, but he shuddered to imagine what they could do it they were united. And angry.

“Achilles, President Harmon has no prejudices against you and your brethren. He is a fair man.” Cutter knew his words were empty. But he had nothing else.

“And yet, he has presided over a quarter century of restrictions against us. In a society given over to populating a world as rapidly as possible, we alone are barred from adding to our numbers.” Achilles stared at Cutter. “It is little short of controlled genocide.”

Cutter exhaled hard. “It is far short of that, Achilles…and never let me hear those words from you again. You are of this world, created here. This is what you know, where you grew to adulthood. I am from another place, one that is no stranger to such terrors as genocide. Have you seen piles of bodies, unburied bloated and baked under the hot sun? Have you smelled the stench of mass death, heard the screams of those being led off to death chambers? You are intelligent, far more than I am, yet you speak now like an ignorant fool.”

“Apologies, Father. Of course you are correct. Yet, is there not something of what I speak of in the effort to restrict our numbers? The other populations grow, and we shrink further into irrelevancy. We are too few to wield political power…and if we cannot protect ourselves through the ballot box, then what are we to do? What choices will be left to us?”

“We are not different populations, Achilles. We are one. We survived the journey to this planet as one. We defeated the Regent as one. And we shall remain one…whatever it takes.”

“Forgive me, Father, but you speak naively. I cannot believe that is your true judgment. One cannot ignore the actions of others, nor can one change such through his own actions. If we are all one, why have my brethren and I been singled out for such harsh restrictions? We have unlocked the knowledge of the First Imperium. We have provided the people of Earth Two with the technology to grow and prosper. Without us, the NBs and the Tanks would still be clawing at the ancient databases, as apes learning to dig with sharpened sticks.”