NINE
On Kyros Prime, the calendar is broken into an eight-month year, with each month broken into eight eight-day weeks. Our training schedule is one week on, a half-week off. That gives me six more days of training and then three days to myself before the hearing.
The training time flies by. I honestly enjoy it, except for all the times Commander Dorr sticks me with Grun — which is every day. I’m starting to think the commander hates me. My time off the field, which I spend prepping for my big speech, crawls. It doesn’t matter whether I’m studying math on Earth or Alliance politics on a planet on the other side of the galaxy; homework is boring.
Boring and confusing because I don’t even really know where to start building my case. I can only appeal to their (for lack of a better term) humanity so much; I’ll need to present some sound arguments against military action against Earth, arguments based in logic and on facts, and pray the Council of Generals doesn’t hold debates the way humans do on Facebook.
On my first day off, Erisia, Mells, and Pardo-En insist on helping me to prepare. “Your fight is our fight,” Erisia says, which almost moves me to tears. These people barely know me, but they’re ready to put their own lives on hold for me. That alone helps. It helps a lot.
Erisia calls in Zqurrl, figuring a little extra nerd power couldn’t hurt. Smart move. Things finally start to come together when Zqurrl regales us with a not-so-brief history of the Kyros Alliance. The hyper-compressed data stream session left a lot of blanks I wasn’t aware of until Zqurrl tells me about some of the Alliance’s dealings with newly discovered nonmember worlds. Turns out that Earth is hardly the first “primitive” planet to receive an unexpected visit from the Alliance and get caught up in its political machine, so there are a lot of object lessons to learn from. By the end of my second day of prep, I’m half-convinced I might actually pull this off.
I spend the third day running through my address, by which I mean I spend the entire third day pacing around my quarters rehearsing my speech. Erisia pokes hyer head in at one point and convinces me to step outside long enough to get lunch with the gang and clear my head a little. It ends up as a working lunch. I try out my speech on my friends, get some feedback, and head right back to my quarters to fine-tune it.
It’s almost midnight when I decide I’ve pushed myself far enough, and I should turn in. I could have the 21st Century equivalent of the Gettysburg Address locked and loaded, and it wouldn’t do me a lick of good if I’m too exhausted to put some conviction behind it.
That I manage to get in a good night’s sleep is nothing short of a full-blown Biblical miracle.
Commander Do is at my door at eight hours round — basically, eight in the morning (Kyros Prime uses something like military time, so it’s not eight o’clock AM here, it’s eight hours round — round as in double zeroes). She steps in as I finish dressing and futzing with my hair.
“What says formal and respectful to the council?” I ask. “Hair down? Ponytail? Hair up?”
“I don’t think they’ll care at all about your hairstyle,” she says.
“Blasphemy.”
She chuckles. “Loose ponytail. It balances formality and approachability.”
“All right.” I tie my hair back and check myself out in the bathroom mirror. Unfortunately, I don’t see a strong, confident defender of Earth staring back. All I see is a terrified girl who is, once again, in way over her head. That’s going to end up on the special skills part of my résumé. Knows HTML, can break the sound barrier, proficient at recklessly diving into the deep end. “Sara, make sure to keep my notes handy in case I need them.”
“Will do,” my VA says in Sara’s voice. It’s comforting to know that, even in simulated form, Sara has my back.
“Are you ready?” Commander Do asks.
“Not really, but I’ve never let that stop me before.” I take a deep breath, let it out, and for a moment, my head swims so badly I fear I’m about to pass out. Come on, Carrie, get it together. You can do this. You’ve faced far worse than a bunch of bureaucrats. Manticore, Black Betty, the King of Pain, Galt...
I can do this.
“Let’s go,” I said.
***
Jozh skitters out into the foyer. “Cadet? The generals are ready for you,” he says.
“Thanks, Jozh,” I say.
“Follow me, please?”
Oh, hey, check that out, I called Jozh by the right name. I’ll take that as a good omen.
We step inside and take our places at the center of the council chamber. Generals Tis, Torr, Ahm Ahm Re Da, and Rist each nod to me, a neutral welcome. Ezenti barely glances my way, and Gretch greets me with a scowl. Good morning to you too, sunshine.
“Jozh, are you ready to take record of this hearing?” Tis says.
“I am, general,” Jozh says. “You may proceed.”
Tis clears his throat. “This hearing is in regard to the incident on planet UW-51542, colloquial designation Earth, regarding the apprehension of Black End operative and former Vanguardian Galt Bor-Nah, the recovery of the Black End ship the Nightwind, and the events leading to the death of Vanguardian Lieutenant Commander Viree Fast. This morning’s session is convened to accept a formal statement from Cadet Carrie Hauser, the duly designated representative for her homeworld, as per her rights under the Kyros Alliance charter, section seventy-seven, subsection eight, amendment four.”
Tis pauses, taking a moment to look each of the other generals in the eye.
“I would like to remind my fellow generals that there are no formal motions on the table as to how to proceed with this matter,” he says, “and I would advise against rushing to judgment in this session. This is a delicate issue and deserves to be considered fully and carefully.”
Gretch harrumphs under his breath.
“Cadet Hauser,” Tis says. “I trust you understand the gravity of the problem before us.”
“I do, General Tis,” I say. “I understand that as the leaders of the Vanguard, you all feel a sense of ultimate responsibility for every being under your command and take the loss of even one life personally. You naturally want to ensure that the people responsible for Lieutenant Commander Fast’s death are held accountable.”
Torr slips me a tiny smile. I’m off to a good start.
“However, I trust that in pursuing justice, the council takes an appropriately proportionate response that focuses solely on the individuals who killed Fast and not on an entire world that was largely ignorant of the incident in question, as well as the events leading up to it.” I tear my feet loose from the floor and force myself to move around a little. This is what Sara calls taking the stage; I have the space, I have the spotlight, so I might as well use it. “That trust is based on case history. In reviewing the Alliance’s archives, I found more than thirty incidents within the past one hundred solar years in which a Vanguardian was killed in the line of duty on a nonmember world. The Alliance’s response in virtually every case was cautious, measured, and focused. The parties directly responsible were held accountable for their actions, most often by the world in question, acting in good faith on the Alliance’s and the Vanguard’s behalf. A few examples that come to mind are Morzz Center, QY-901, Formeer the Most Perfect Skyjewel...”
Insert dramatic pause here, take aim at General Rist, and drop the bomb.
“...and, if I’m not mistaken, the planet Fohrt in the Aark System — General Rist and Lieutenant Commander Fast’s homeworld.”
Torr grins openly. Boom.
“In fact, if I recall correctly, two Vanguardians were killed on Fohrt in the course of pursuing a fugitive who sought, and was granted, asylum by the Fohrtian High Government. In effect, the entire world stepped up to protect the fugitive. The Vanguard did not respond with force; it responded with diplomacy. Working through the Kyros Alliance, the Vanguard reached out to the Fohrtian High Government in peace and, working together, arranged a fair trial for the fugitive under Fohrtian law. Those events direct
ly led to Fohrt’s induction into the Alliance, and the world has been a highly regarded and respected member ever since.”
“Fohrt was far more advanced technologically than yours,” Gretch says.
“General,” Tis says. “The floor belongs to the cadet. Please refrain from comment until she has concluded her remarks.”
“That’s all right, General Tis, I don’t have much more to say. I believe I’ve made my point here,” I say, returning to the center of the room. “The Kyros Alliance was built on diplomacy, not on military might. Precedent shows quite clearly that incidents similar to the one that occurred on my world were successfully addressed through peaceful means. I see no reason why the council would consider any other approach here.”
“I do,” Gretch says, standing. Looks like I’m not the only one here with a sense of the theatrical. “Since the cadet has apparently finished her remarks...?”
Gretch looks to Tis, who looks to me. I shrug. Tis gestures, clearing Gretch to take over.
“The cadet has, admittedly, displayed some impressive knowledge of Alliance history. Impressive, but incomplete,” Gretch says. “For example, she failed to note that the Fohrtian High Government initially resisted any and all attempts to communicate with the Alliance, and it was not until the Alliance deployed the Vanguard that the government relented and entered into negotiations.
“Further, by her own words, the cadet acknowledges that virtually all incidents involving Vanguard casualties on nonmember worlds have been resolved peacefully. She has conveniently ignored the incidents on Zzyx-Agar, Letisimus, and Tokker Eleven — to name but a few — which required swift Vanguard intervention.”
Gretch spreads his hands, inviting me to refute his claims. He thinks I’m not ready for a challenge. Happy to disappoint you, General Smugface.
(Okay, that was not one of my better burns, but I spent the week working on my testimony, not my zingers.)
“I’d like the general to note that Fohrt had impressive military resources of its own and was fully prepared to meet force with force,” I say. “I think it could be argued that both sides decided to stand down before things got out of hand.”
Rist nods in agreement. Good, he’s seeing things my way. I’ll never get Gretch on Team Carrie, but if I can get the others on my side...
“As for the other worlds you mentioned, I believe there were extenuating circumstances that demanded a military response,” I say.
“Ah, yes. Tokker Eleven. There were most certainly extenuating circumstances there,” Gretch muses. “For the benefit of the record, I’d like to remind the council what those extenuating, very recent, and very familiar-sounding circumstances were.”
I glance over at Commander Do. Her face is tight and pinched, and I suddenly feel like I walked right into a trap.
“Tokker Eleven sits outside Alliance space,” Gretch begins. “There had been cursory contact between the Alliance and Tokker Eleven’s Global Conclave but the world was not under consideration for membership, due to the fact it was considered insufficiently advanced, technologically speaking. At the time they were considered a neutral world; not an ally but not hostile, either.”
Gretch emerges from behind the council table to stroll about the room, his hands folded behind his back. Now, I may be nothing but a simple country lawyer...
“It was approximately one solar year ago that a squadron of our Vanguard pursued a Black End faction to Tokker Eleven. They shot down a Black End warship, the White Horizon, and trusted the Global Conclave to take the necessary steps to safeguard the ship until a recovery crew could be dispatched. Upon the recovery team’s arrival, they learned that the two Vanguardians assigned to guard the ship had been slain, and the ship itself had been gutted for its technology. The Global Conclave maintained that a domestic terrorist nation sympathetic to the Black End’s cause was responsible. What we failed to realize was that the Global Conclave itself was sympathetic to the Black End, and that the Global Conclave itself ordered the White Horizon ransacked!”
“Hold on,” I say. Gretch stops and faces me, a smirk playing on his lips. “Are you implying my world is tight with the Black End?”
“I am simply pointing out to my fellow generals that there is, as you say, precedent,” Gretch says.
“My world didn’t know anything about the Black End. Hell, until a little while ago, we didn’t even know extraterrestrial life actually existed.”
“Oh? But you possess the astrarma. You took them from Lieutenant Yx — a so-called extraterrestrial.”
“I didn’t take them,” I say, simmering, “Yx gave them to me.”
“Ah. I see. So, you meet an extraterrestrial, you see him with your own eyes, yet your race claims ignorance of life beyond your own world?”
“Yeah, because no one else has ever seen an alien before!”
“Cadet,” Commander Do mutters, but her warning slides right off me.
“Oh, we’re aliens now, are we? My, that sounds like such a flattering term,” Gretch says. “You mean to say in the whole of your planet’s history, you are the only member of your entire race to ever encounter an alien?”
“I never said that.”
“So others of your race have encountered off-world life before?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? There are thousands of people who claim they met an ali— I mean an extra— I mean someone from another planet!”
“What is it, cadet? Thousands of people? Or just you?”
“General Gretch,” General Tis says, “you are out of line.”
“Am I? Am I out of line for pointing out the disturbing similarities between Tokker Eleven and the fargirl’s planet Earth? Am I out of line for wanting to take whatever steps are necessary to prevent a repeat of Tokker Eleven?” Gretch rants. “Need I remind you, my fellow generals, that we are at war, and we —”
“And now you want to split your focus between the Black End and Earth?” I say. “Yeah, sure, fighting a war on two fronts, that’s a really sound strategy.”
“As if your primitive little rock of a world has the capacity to fend off the Vanguard.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Oh? How so?”
“You know what a nuclear arsenal is? We have the capacity to turn our own planet to ash a hundred times over — and believe me, the last thing you want is to give humanity a reason to aim it at something other than at each other.”
Gretch gets right in my face and says, “You truly think your world could defeat the Vanguard?”
“I think if you’re dumb enough to screw with my people, you’re going to know you’ve been in a fight. We might go down, but if we do, I guarantee we’ll take as many of you with us as we can.”
Gretch grunts, nods, and backs away. “Perhaps we’ll put that bold boast to the test,” he says. He spins on his heel and marches back to his seat. “Generals, unless our cadet has anything more to offer than her ignorance, arrogance, and contempt, I move we consider the record on this matter closed and entertain formal motions.”
One by one, the generals vote to do just that, but I barely hear it. My blood roars in my ears, my stomach collapses in on itself, and I’m shaking so violently Commander Do has to support me as she leads me out of the chamber.
Once I reach the foyer, I totally lose it. I cut loose with the loudest F-bomb I’ve ever uttered in my life and kick a wall hard enough to put a dent in it. That one brief outburst is enough to burn through my adrenaline high. I sit hard on the floor, utterly exhausted.
Commander Do kneels down. “Cadet...”
“I know, I screwed up.” Dammit, I had this. I had this, and then stupid Gretch lit the stupid fuse on my stupid temper...
“Take heart, cadet. General Gretch does not have the influence on the council he likes to believe, and the others are well aware of his predisposition for extreme responses. His opinions have rarely convinced the council to take unnecessary action.”
“Rarely,” I say.
“T
he council does not want to go to war with your world. They would feel that way even if they were not in the middle of our conflict with the Black End. It isn’t their way.” Do lays her hand over mine. “Have faith. Have faith the council will do the right thing.”
If they do, it’ll be no thanks to me.
***
I spend the rest of the day in my room, fuming and beating myself up and scared to leave in case Commander Do comes by with the bad news — and I’m convinced it’ll be bad news. If any of the generals were on the fence about sending people to Earth, my outburst had to have pushed them over onto Gretch’s side.
I’m an idiot. A stupid, childish idiot.
Someone knocks on my door. I rush over and open it, braced for the sight of Commander Do and her apologetic frown. Instead, I find Erisia, Mells, and Pardo-En clustered together. I grunt and let them in so we can get the whole How did things go? segment of my craptastic day over and done with.
“Commander Do asked us to come check in on you,” Erisia says. “She didn’t share any details but I gather the hearing didn’t go well.”
“That’s an understatement,” I say.
“How much of an understatement?” Pardo-En says.
“I blew up at General Gretch.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.”
“You yelled at Gretch?”
“A lot.”
Pardo-En grins, flashing a mouthful of pointed yellow teeth. “I have never admired and respected anyone as much as I admire and respect you right now. Gretch is a right kkrraskrath.”
“General Gretch is not especially well-liked,” Mells says.
“I think she got that.”
“What happened?” Erisia asks.
“He baited me,” I say. “He baited me, and he was so obviously baiting me, and I fell for it because I’m a moron, and now they’re probably planning to invade Earth and —”
“Carrie, stop,” Erisia says, gently taking me by the shoulders. “Breathe, or whatever it is humans do to calm down.”
Action Figures - Issue Seven: The Black End War Page 9