The Renegade

by P. M. Johnson

  “Yes, Fleet Commander.”

  “Then fire.”

  Several particle beams lanced out from the Retributions’ aft weapons array. Moments later, two missiles flew out of narrow ports in the battleship’s hull. The particle beams struck the khâl. The hypergate’s antiballistic shield began to glow yellow, then orange, then red as more and more particle beams found their target. It wasn’t long before the shield was overwhelmed and dissipated. All was silent on the battleship’s bridge as the missiles raced toward their target. Each officer focused on his responsibilities, though there were more than a few shared clandestine glances. The order to destroy the khâl was unprecedented and absolutely contrary to Sahiradin tactics, but no one present on the bridge dared challenge Taqir’s order.

  “Missiles have reached their target,” announced the weapons officer.

  The main view screen registered a flash of light in the distance as the missiles ripped the khâl to pieces, sending chunks of metal on an endless journey through the cold vacuum of space.

  Chapter 9

  It is the natural tendency of humanity to seek ever greater levels of mutually beneficial cooperation. With cooperation comes understanding, with understanding comes stability, and with stability comes peace and prosperity. All humane and rational persons seek to propel our species along this path and to resist those who would seek to prevent it.

  - General Secretary Rodolfo Broussard. Opening Remarks to the First Session of the United Earth Council.

  General Secretary Rodolfo Broussard lifted a pen from his desk and held it at each end, gently rolling it back and forth in his fingertips as he studied Ravenwood from under heavy, gray eyebrows. The tall Belgian, attired in a neatly fitting blue suit complete with cufflinks, pocket kerchief, and a lapel pin bearing his family crest, had been quietly listening to Ravenwood’s long list of recommended actions and priorities for meeting the Sahiradin threat now that the United Earth Council had voted in favor of joining the Lycian Alliance. Finally the enigmatic man from North America and humanity’s ambassador to the Dewar paused long enough for Broussard to interject.

  “Ambassador Ravenwood, your plans are quite ambitious, but you speak as though the United Earth Council were an actual, functioning government. It is not. It is a collection of aspirations, a vision of a shining city on a high mountain. But that vision is different for every member state, and I am sad to say there are profound disagreements about fundamental principles which prevent the UEC from being anything more than an international social club.”

  “And yet they have voted to join the Alliance,” said Ravenwood. “In North America and Africa, nations are consolidating armies and embarking on joint training exercises. Surely…”

  “But surely not, Ambassador Ravenwood,” interrupted Broussard. “One need only look at our founding charter, the Treaty of Lille, to see my point. It provides for an upper and lower chamber, but the General Secretary’s powers, which is to say my powers, are extremely limited. Without the necessary enabling legislation, I can do little more than convene and adjourn the assembly and tally votes. And just as there is no executive authority invested in my office, there is no bureaucracy to carry out the business of government. I have seven ministers, selected by the lower chamber and approved by the upper chamber, to help me coordinate finance, military, trade, agriculture, and so on. Yet, they have no staff because the approved budget is hardly sufficient to pay the electric bill.”

  Ravenwood made as if to ask a question but was cut off before he could speak.

  “Why, you ask?” continued Broussard. “Why is there no budget? I will tell you. It is because the member states have not yet voted on the Enabling Act, an agreement that would bind each state to contributing a percentage of its gross domestic product to the UEC. And even then, it will not result in the actual transfer of wealth but merely the right for the UEC to enter into financial agreements to which the member states will act as sureties. Will weapons and supply vendors negotiate with us under such terms? That is unknown. But let’s assume they do, the process of selecting vendors to provide swords, guns, armor, boots, belts, socks, and the countless other items an army needs will be very difficult.”

  “The Lycians will provide our soldiers with what they need,” said Ravenwood.

  “They likely will, yes, but at what cost? Earth has no common currency, and even if we did, the Lycians would not accept payment in it. They are willing to trade in raw materials, ores, etc., but not currency.”

  “The Lycians will pay for everything,” said Ravenwood firmly. “We just need to provide the soldiers.”

  Broussard frowned and shook his head.

  “Tell me, Ambassador Ravenwood, what do you call an army which is armed and supplied entirely by a foreign, or in this case alien, power? It is a mercenary army. Despite the vote you secured to join the Alliance, many nations fear that by blindly accepting Lycian munificence, Earth’s forces would become little more than soldiers for hire with no control over when, where, and how they would fight the enemy.”

  Broussard leaned back in his chair and sighed loudly. “You see? You got your vote to join the Alliance, but how do we execute this decision? This is much more complicated than most people can imagine.”

  “I will speak to Ambassador Pendu Barka,” offered Ravenwood. “I’m sure we can find a solution to these concerns of payment and chain of command.”

  “Yes, Pendu Barka,” said Broussard with a raised eyebrow. “The Lycian Ambassador and Chancellor Penawah’s leading advisor is interesting, to say the least. I have spoken with her several times, and each time I came away with the distinct feeling that she gained much more from the conversation than I did. I feel like an insect under a magnifying glass whenever we speak, to be perfectly honest. Please let me know if you can secure guarantees of Earth’s autonomy in the Lycian Alliance, but I will not be holding my breath.”

  Ravenwood cleared his throat and placed his hands on the General Secretary’s desk. “While I agree that the situation you describe is less than ideal, at least the UEC members are providing soldiers. That is something.”

  “For the defense of Earth, yes. I think we can count on them for that, although there is a small minority of nations still advocating for complete neutrality and disarmament, despite your eloquent words calling for armed resistance.”

  “Well there you have it. We will have an army,” said Ravenwood optimistically. “We can work toward integrating it with the Lycian Alliance over time.”

  “Yes, we will have an army. A happy, multi-national collection of soldiers gaily marching off to fight a common enemy. Hurrah! Unfortunately, unless you can work out an acceptable process by which the Lycians supply and train our troops without becoming our overlords, Earth’s military will have rifles which use different caliber bullets, incompatible communications equipment, dozens of uniforms ranging in color from gray and tan to forest green, and a cornucopia of dialects in fifteen major languages!”

  “The North Americans are well underway in creating a unified Army Corp,” countered Ravenwood. “The Africans are also moving quickly.”

  “That is another thing I wanted to mention,” said Broussard as he tapped the end of his pen against the palm of his hand. “The North Americans have fought the Sahiradin and know what we’re up against. The Africans have emerged from the ruins of the post-Impact world a much more unified force than the nations of other continents. The rest of the world lacks Africa’s focus or North America’s battle experience. Therefore, we are seeing very little progress toward integrating forces in Europe, South America, or Asia.”

  Ravenwood shifted in his seat and knit his brow. “Yes, well, that is discouraging news. But I must say that my long years of laboring with the League of Free Cities to develop uniform policies and operations to meet the threat of the PRA gives me reason to hope the challenges you have recited can be overcome.”

  “The situations are not analogous,” said Broussard. “I am familiar with your story,
Ambassador Ravenwood. You worked for five years before the League took the PRA threat seriously. And it took several more years of intense lobbying before they appropriated sufficient funds to create a joint defense force. And still more years to purchase or manufacture equipment and train an army. All tolled, it took you at least ten years to sufficiently prepare the League for the fight against the PRA. We have months, not years, to do that same work on a global scale.”

  “I understand what you are saying, but complaining will solve nothing, General Secretary. I suggest we settle down to business.”

  Broussard laughed and casually tossed the pen onto the table. “By all means. How do you propose we overcome these obstacles?”

  “I don’t pretend to have all the answers. But I can tell you that reciting a litany of complaints will do nothing to prevent the Sahiradin from coming. And when they do, they will murder every single one of us unless we can stop them. Defeating them begins with finding areas where cooperation can be achieved and building on that.”

  Broussard smoothed his mustache with his index finger and said, “There is no doubt among the great majority of nations that the Sahiradin present an existential threat. However, that does nothing to overcome the challenges I have outlined. We have no time, Ambassador Ravenwood, and no one can agree on what problem to tackle first. We can barely agree on how to march in a straight line.”

  “Then, as I already said, I suggest you begin where there is agreement and go from there.”

  “And where do you see agreement?”

  “You just said it,” replied Ravenwood. “We shall all march in a straight line. Conduct basic maneuvers with whatever forces and equipment are available.”

  Broussard paused to assess the man sitting opposite him. Ravenwood calmly and confidently returned the General Secretary’s gaze.

  “If I may be blunt,” said Broussard. “You have a dual reputation. You are described as being both a genius and a bumbling fool. Which one am I talking with now?”

  “That remains to be seen,” said Ravenwood with a disarming smile. “I know there is hesitation among the world’s leaders about how to proceed. I’ll be in Berlin tomorrow to urge them to quickly comply with the UEC’s vote. Then on to Warsaw, Constantinople, Moscow, Beijing, and Kyoto. Action is the remedy for our woes, Masseur Broussard. Let our deeds unite our minds and soon our spirits, and budgets, will follow.”

  Broussard smiled in a manner that was both understanding and condescending. “A suggestion, Ambassador Ravenwood, before you begin your grand tour of Europe and the Far East.”

  “Yes?” replied Ravenwood, doing his best not to allow the General Secretary’s lack of enthusiasm discourage him.

  “You will save yourself a lot of trouble if you can persuade the leaders of the world to vote in favor of the Enabling Act. That will give the me the authority, and the resources, to do all of the things we both desire. And all of Asia and half of Europe will vote for it if you can win the backing of one man.”

  Ravenwood raised an eyebrow. “You mean Vasiliev.”

  Broussard nodded his head. “Your quest to enforce the vote you miraculously brought to fruition begins and ends with him. If he decides to help you, we can swiftly usher the Enabling Act through UEC and unlock the funding needed for our armies. It will also strengthen our hand in our negotiations with Ambassador Barka and her legions of Brevian bureaucrats.”

  “Vladimir Vasiliev is a tricky customer,” said Ravenwood with a raised eyebrow. “I am not entirely sure I can trust him.”

  Broussard shrugged. “The Russians are a traditional people. They do business on a personal level. If you win him over, you will have a powerful and stalwart friend. His connections run deep in Moscow and beyond.”

  “And if I do not win him over?”

  “Then you should focus on the League and any other nations who are committed to winning this war. Forget the rest.”

  Chapter 10

  The Way of the Blade prepares one for war, yet no Master of the Way seeks war. The question then arises, under what conditions may a Master partake in combat? How does one justify taking the life of another? The answer is there is no rational justification for substituting the death of another for one’s own. The Void, the fundamental force that destroys the self and thereby liberates it, does not favor one life over another. Yet, there are powers at work beyond the bounds of the Void, and one of these is the knowledge of right and wrong, good and evil. All creatures capable of reason are gifted with a conscience, yet many ask what is its purpose? While the answer to this question is a mystery and shall ever remain so, one aspect of the moral conscience is to seek enlightenment, to explore the mystical bonds between ourselves and the universe that surrounds us. This is a sacred journey, and a Master of the Way is a defender of all sacred journeys and may use deadly force to protect the paths to enlightenment.

  - Baku Nestra (The Way of the Blade), Book II.

  Lena slowly stepped forward into the center of the training room, extending her sparring sword directly in front of her. She turned to her left and pushed her free hand along the top of the weapon then rotated it to the side and thrust it forward. Gliding backward, she swiftly moved the sword left and right in the swirling “blue dragon” motion used by Baku sword masters to confuse and frighten their opponents. With her hand once more on top of the blade, she thrust it forward then spun on the ball of her left foot and kicked with her right toward the throat of her imaginary foe. She pulled her sword close to her body then cradled it in the crook of her left elbow as she turned ninety degrees, then slid it upward to obscure the weapon behind her back. She lifted her left foot high then slammed it down on the floor. Spinning to her right, she pulled the blade out from behind her back then leaped high into the air and sliced downward with enough power to split a skull in two.

  As she softly landed on the training room floor, a thought burst into her mind. It was the image of a pack of Sahiradin V-wing fighters chasing down a single, wounded Falcon. She tried to force the thought away, but it kept coming back. In her mind’s eye, she saw the V-wings fire their energy weapons then launch a salvo of missiles. The Falcon fired its aft countermeasures before dipping below a rolling asteroid, but the missiles were not fooled; they dove over the space rock and locked onto the fleeing Falcon…Cap’s Falcon. She halted her training routine and closed her eyes tightly and shook her head to dispel the images.

  Lena had heard about the engagement against the Sahiradin stealth frigate. Everyone on Earth had heard about it. The Falcons had discovered Black Dagger and destroyed it following a protracted, and bloody, running battle. Unfortunately, that was all she knew. Despite repeated attempts to learn more, she didn’t know who still lived and who had died. Not knowing whether Cap still breathed was eating her up inside much more than she would ever have thought possible. She had been slow to realize that she cared for the pilot, but the knot in her gut told her what her brain refused to admit. She cared deeply for Cap. She didn’t know if it was love, but her anxiety over his fate was proof that the seeds of affection had taken root in her heart.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when she detected motion from the corner of her eye. She halted her training routine. Someone was in the room with her.

  “Who’s there?” she asked.

  She looked toward the door and saw a dark, hooded figure gliding through the shadows. At first she thought it was Logan. He had said he might come by to spar with her that evening. She was about to call out his name, but her instincts told her to remain silent. The figure’s movements were all wrong. Logan was big and strong, but rather heavy footed. Whoever had slipped through the door and disappeared into the shadows was nimble and silent as a ghost.

  Lena looked at the blunt sparing sword in her hand then eyed the far wall where her deadly Sahiradin blade hung from a peg. She had chosen to use the sparing sword to perform the “Holding of the Moon” training routine because of its greater weight. It was good for training, but very bad for actual co
mbat. Treading as lightly as possible, she advanced toward the wall where her sword hung but was forced to stop. The intruder stepped out of the shadows and walked toward her. The figure was that of a male dressed all in black. His mouth and nose were covered by a mask, but his eyes blazed intensely. He moved swiftly forward to place himself between Lena and her Sahiradin weapon. Lena considered making a dash for it, but stopped herself when the figure slowly lifted his right arm to reveal a silver blade in his hand.

  “Who are you?” she demanded. “Who sent you?”

  The man did not respond. He simply continued his steady advance.

  Undaunted, Lena lifted her sparring blade and pointed it at her opponent’s chest while turning slightly to the side.

  The stranger charged forward, slicing downward in an S-shaped motion intended to avoid Lena’s extended blade and strike her wrist. Lena anticipated the move and blocked it with the slightest adjustment of her stance. She tried to slip past her opponent in order to reach her Sahiradin blade, but he shifted to his left and blocked her. He swung three more times, but each time Lena adjusted her stance to fend off the attacks. She sought to force her assailant to the left, but he held his ground and once again denied her access to her weapon.

  The figure in black glided forward, thrusting high, then twirled and swung low. His blade grazed Lena’s leather boot, but he was forced to retreat in order to avoid her downward arcing weapon. He spun around and thrust his blade forward, moving the tip right then left in an effort to weave through Lena’s defenses, but the tactic failed and Lena smashed the heel of her free hand into her opponent’s jaw. The man returned the favor with a kick to her ribs that sent her tumbling backward. The assailant pressed his advantage and charged, swinging, thrusting, and slicing in a dizzying combination of attacks that had Lena rapidly backpedaling.

  Finally, the dark figure left himself exposed. Lena brought her weapon down toward his skull, hoping the blunt force of her sword would at least stun him long enough for her to retrieve her black blade. But her foe anticipated the move and grabbed her wrist. He sought to break her grip on her sword, but Lena slammed her knee into his abdomen, forcing him to release her.