“It’s the Peloran afterlife,” she whispered.
“Oh,” he whispered back, returning his gaze to the President. An aide stepped away from her and she had the same dawning look of comprehension on her face that he assumed was on his.
“It’s…that bad?”
“It is, Madam President,” Aneerin answered, looking totally and utterly calm, in complete control of the situation. “The Shang do not surrender. Back them into a corner, and they will kill you or die trying. Leave them an escape route if the battle turns, and they may take it. We might have won at Fort Wichita, we might have lost, but our casualties would have been nearly total, and their attack on Fort London would have been a complete success. The damage to your ships was too severe for them to have fought much longer without catastrophic losses.”
“Why wasn’t I told this?”
Aneerin pursed his lips, looking like he’d just bitten into a sour fruit. “Because your Joint Chiefs have not yet come to terms with what the Shang just did to you. Again. They don’t wish to tell you what happened until they know what happened, and most of them are incapable of understanding the magnitude of it.”
“I will not have you insulting soldiers who have served their country well, especially in front of other soldiers.”
Aneerin took in a deep breath, letting silence rule for a few seconds. “Madam President, you are in your position because the Shang made a tactical and strategic error, assuming their goals are complete domination of your world of course, when they bombarded DC. They killed a large number of federal bureaucrats and politicians and news reporters who would have hampered your war effort. Some of them because they did not believe in war, some because they did not believe in your country, and some through no greater fault than their own incompetence. They did not similarly cull the stupidest of your military high commanders. If you seek to kick their asses across the universe, you will need to do the culling, Madam President.”
She glared at him for several seconds, her lips pursed. “You suggest that some of the representatives of this country were traitors?” she said in a cold voice.
“No,” Aneerin answered, lips pressed thin. “I state it without reservation.”
The President continued to glare at him. “Can you prove these allegations?”
Aneerin sighed. “Not to the satisfaction of your legal system. Your courts would throw out much of the evidence due to means of acquisition.”
Jack could have sworn he saw a smile on the President’s face for a moment. “So you got it illegally, did you?”
Aneerin cocked his head to the side. “Many traitors hide their activities by making the methods of proving their nature illegal. I believe you know what I speak of. You were not…joyously welcomed by many in your party when you were elected as I recall.”
This time Jack knew without a doubt that the President smiled. “True. Although I’m not certain I would call anyone who died that day a traitor.” Jack suppressed a scowl at the obvious political speak.
“Perhaps you would not,” Aneerin answered. “And in fact most were not. But some were. The Shang killed them all, both the guilty and the innocent.”
A thoughtful expression came to the President’s face. “Do you think they cared?”
Aneerin pursed her lips, seeming to think about his answer for several seconds. “I think they care about a great many things, and they don’t care about a great many things. What they care about in this case I will not guess.”
The President’s gaze turned calculating. “You didn’t actually answer my question.”
Aneerin returned her gaze for several moments. “Indeed.” She continued to stare at him and he sighed. “I think they care about every victim they can place a name to, as well as those they cannot. The amount they care is what I do not know. I can say that they saw many in DC on that day as a threat that had to be removed. What exactly the threat was and who they were I do not know. Furthermore, indications I have received suggest that they greatly preferred the designated survivor in Los Angeles to you. I believe they considered him more…reasonable than you. It seems the Shang did not plan the fall of Yosemite and they are most displeased that you ended up as the highest-ranking survivor of the government. They are certainly displeased that you are now President.”
Jack gasped as a thought came to mind, catching the disapproving attention of the President. He froze when her gaze hit him. But Aneerin just chuckled.
“I believe our young pilot has a question he wishes to ask,” Aneerin said with a smile.
The President looked at Aneerin in confusion, then back to Jack with her calculating gaze back. He felt like she was measuring him from head to toe and coming up with a giant question mark as to whether he was worthy of the measuring. “Ask,” she finally ordered.
Jack cleared his throat, feeling like he wanted to be any place but right where he was. “I was just wondering,” he finally said, real slowly and carefully. “How accidental it was that you got sick the day before the rest of the government was killed.”
The President leaned back in her seat and let out a long breath. He watched as the War President disappeared from her body language, replaced by a woman rubbing her eyebrows. She looked up at Aneerin and nodded. “That is a good question, isn’t it?”
Aneerin looked at Jack like a proud grandfather. “Indeed. It is a very good question. I hope he continues to ask such questions in the future. It is always helpful to have a healthy distrust of those in power.”
Her expression hardened and Jack saw the War President return. “You didn’t answer the question. Why was I sick that day? Did you know what was going to happen that day? Could you have stopped thirty million Americans from dying?” she asked in a harsh voice.
Aneerin froze and swallowed, then looked for a chair and sat down in it, hard. Jack followed his every move watching the cool and collected Peloran fall in favor of a troubled and sorrowful man. Aneerin shook his head after nearly half a minute. “I had no idea,” he said with a frankness that Jack recognized for its rarity. Peloran could not lie, but they were very good at double speak when they got rolling. “My sources said they had something planned,” he added, sorrow in his voice. “I passed my concerns on to your people. But I had no idea at all about the sheer scale of it all. I underestimated them and you paid the price. For that I apologize.”
The President smiled at him. “I accept your apology, Admiral. Though that does still leave the nature of my illness in question.” She looked at Jack and Charles, as well as Betty and Dorothy, disapproval back in her face. “But such issues should not be spoken of here I think.”
Aneerin returned to his feet with a smile on his face. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. They are trustworthy or I would not have invited them here. In fact, I believe they have the metal to make good squadron commanders in the future.”
Jack swallowed as the President measured him again. “Interesting,” she said slowly, looking as if she were putting a great amount of thought to the idea. “So you are willing to tell me who would be good military commanders for me?”
Aneerin smiled. “I am willing to give you my input, Madam President. The final decision is of course yours.”
The President chuckled. “Of course. I suppose you have names for the military commanders you think I should…cull as well?”
Aneerin nodded and turned to Hal. “Hal, please send her the file.”
“You…have one ready?” she asked.
“Indeed.” He raised his hand. “Wait. Remove Admiral Warcheski’s entry before transmission.”
Hal smiled. “File is edited. File is sent.” He looked at the President. “You should have it on your personal pad now.”
The President looked down, scanned the file, and her face went white. “You…you would have me remove this many people?”
Aneerin sighed. “Madam President. We both know that ranks that high are only given to those who have the political allies to get them that rank. Your predecessors valued the
ability to talk well, not kill well. You need a new Sherman, a new MacArthur, a new Richardson. You know as well as I do that those on that list would not stand well in such company.”
The President turned her gaze back to Jack and Charles, frowning. “We are talking of their commanders.”
It was Aneerin’s turn to sigh. “Please understand me, Madam President. We held the line, and we did not lose our ships. It will be another three months before the nearest Peloran Battle Fleet arrives. How many ships can you build in those three months?”
“Without Yosemite…” The President shook her head.
“Exactly. The Shang dealt you a mortal blow. That your people still stand at all is admirable. I am pleased that I judged you rightly. Now I have pledged you all the aid I can give you, and I will hold to that pledge. But the first and most important mission we all have is to preserve what fleet we have left until reinforcements arrive. We must buy time. I just bought you some today, and we did not lose every ship in the Terran system buying it. Now it is your turn to help us buy time by promoting your competent officers and giving them the commands that they are ready to perform. Give me allied commanders who can fight at something beyond a squadron level, who can fight with me and not against me, and we will drive the Shang screaming before us. I have fought the Shang before. You have not. Please listen to my advice.”
Aneerin paused, took a deep breath, and shook his head as if he didn’t want to say something. “Please.” He shook his head again and set his jaw. “I was created to stand with the Albion. It was a great honor to fight in their defense, but they are dead now. They are dead because they were too arrogant to listen to our advice. They created the entire Peloran race to fight for them and then they thought they knew war better than us. They didn’t. We could have saved them, if only they would have listened.” He stopped, closed his eyes, and took in several deep breaths. Jack watched the calm Peloran mask return and he wondered just how hard Aneerin had to work to maintain it. Finally Aneerin opened his eyes again, the epitome of Peloran calm. “Madam President. I pray that you listen. I cannot, and never will, demand it. But I ask you to please listen to my advice. I watched the Albion die. I do not wish to see your people fall under the rule of the Shang.”
“I…see.” The President took a long breath before continuing. “Thank you for your candor, Admiral.” She grimaced. “And thank you for your advice.”
“You are welcome, Madam President.” Aneerin glanced at Jack and Charles. “May I make one more request?”
The President followed his glance before returning her gaze to the Admiral. “Yes. Of course, Admiral.”
“Thank you. My losses in crew and equipment have been…I dislike the term catastrophic, but it is close. I have lost over fifty percent of my fighters. While I have the technology to build new ones, I do not have enough people left to pilot them. I can repair my ships, but I do not have enough pilots left to effectively screen my formation. You on the other hand can build new fighters, and train new pilots, and yet lack the facilities to build new ships to fly them off of. We find ourselves in the position of being able to reinforce our respective weaknesses. I request that you assign some of your fighter squadrons to fly off my ships.”
“Of course. I’ll…make certain the orders are sent out as soon as possible, Admiral.”
“Could you…order it…now, Madam President?”
The President glanced at Jack and Charles one more time. “I suppose so. Explain why if you will?”
Aneerin waved a hand towards Jack and Charles. “Your Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 112 saved my ships from taking considerable damage, and then helped me drive the Shang away from both Fort Wichita and Fort London. I would like to make that working arrangement permanent, if you are willing, Madam President.”
Jack’s jaw dropped at the idea, but he somehow pulled it back up when the President turned to examine him and Charles. She returned her eyes to Aneerin. “They are yours for as long as you need them. I’ll tell General Brage…” she trailed off and scanned the list again. “Good, I see he is not on this list.”
“Of course not, Madam President. He is very good at his job.”
“Yes. I’ll tell General Brage to have the appropriate orders written up, but they are yours right now.”
“Thank you, Madam President.”
“Thank you, Admiral.” Her look grew shrewd. “And perhaps you can upgrade their fighters while you are at it. If they are defending your ships, it might be in your best interests to do so of course.”
Aneerin smiled back and rubbed his chin in amusement. “Of course, Madam President,” he finally said. “I think we can arrange for some…modifications in your basic Avenger package. I might even be able to have the modifications sent to your factories so that future production does not need the upgrades.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” the President returned. “Your help will always be accepted. And your advice. Good health to you, now and forever,” she finished in a respectful tone.
“Good health to you, Madam President. Now and forever,” Aneerin answered.
With that, the datalink ended and the Office of the President faded away to be replaced by the living room again.
Jack swallowed and turned to study Aneerin as the Peloran simply stood in place for several long seconds. He finally turned away from where the President had sat and looked at Charles.
“Welcome to your new duty station, Charles.”
Charles and Jack shared a look that said, “What have we just stepped in?” before Charles turned to Aneerin. “Thank you.”
Aneerin turned away from Charles and smiled at Jack, spreading his hands out wide. “So, what do you think now, Jack?”
Jack frowned, wondering if he should truly say what he thought. He grunted, and opened his mouth, determined to say it. The Admiral had asked after all. “I’m thinking playing poker with you might be a mistake,” Jack said in a suspicious tone.
Aneerin’s smile grew wider. “Indeed. Let us hope that the Shang feel the same. I would hate for them to decide to call my bluff and attack us, right now, in force.”
“Yes,” Charles said with a grim smile, drawing the word out as he looked back and forth between them. “That would not be good.”
NEW EARTH
Hello, my name is Jack. I was one of the first Cowboys. We were ten then. We were hundreds by the end of The War. We were the tip of the spear that kicked the Shang’s asses across the universe. We were on recruitment posters, telling the kids to grow up quick so they could be one of us. Kids played Cowboys and Aliens in their backyards with families and friends across America. Coming home to that was a real eye opener, especially when I think about how it all began.
Cowboys and Aliens
Hyperspace’s multicolored hues flowed around the squadron, washing the rebuilt Avenger’s cockpit with a rainbow of colors. Two weeks ago, the Guardian Light had been a ruin; now it flew beside him, gleaming white armor covered in golden runes from stem to stern. Jack looked at the smooth armor, impressed despite himself at just how quickly the Peloran could rebuild when they had to. Of course they’d done the same to his fighter too, much quicker than any American yard could have.
Five more ships held formation with the battleship. The two cruisers and three destroyers appeared as pristine as the Guardian Light, ready for battle after taking damage that would have left an American ship in the yards for months. He’d read that the Peloran ships could rebuild themselves from truly catastrophic damage but never until now realized just how powerful a strategic advantage that could be turned into. Now, flying through hyperspace towards another fight, that realization slammed home hard.
He looked over to where a destroyer sailed at the fore of a long wake cut into the fabric of hyperspace, focused on it, and the canopy zoomed in to show a larger view of the destroyer. The two hundred meter long central spire cut into hyperspace like a knife, slipping between gravity waves far more gracefully than any American ship he’d seen. T
hose usually crashed through the waves through brute force. This destroyer barely even noticed them. He studied the golden runes running across the white hull, looking for the name that had to be there, hidden where he just couldn’t see it. He sighed in frustration. He knew it was the Swift Wing, he just couldn’t read the Peloran script.
“Keep practicing,” a twenty-centimeter tall Betty whispered from the cockpit ledge next to him, half lying down with what had to be twenty-one centimeter long legs crossed at the ankles. “You’ll get it soon.”
“Yeah,” Jack whispered back absentmindedly, still amazed that the destroyer looked as flawless as she did, after the damage she’d taken. The weapons ring that surrounded the central spire had been repaired, and once again two massive gravitic cannons projected from it, ready to deal death on the enemies of the Peloran. “Yeah, I suppose I will, won’t I?” he added with a bemused shake of his head.
Betty cocked her head to the side. “OK. What happened?”
Jack looked at her in confusion. “What?”
Betty crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “At Fort London. Something happened.”
Jack gave her a sly smile. “Well, we almost died, but you pulled us through. Nothing important.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Betty spat back.
Jack’s eyebrows rose at the tone in her voice. “Then what did you mean?” he asked, a little more snippy than he needed to be.
Betty rolled up onto her feet and looked him in the eyes. “When I met you, you never studied anything you didn’t have to. You sailed through life on easy street because that’s all it was to you. Easy. No challenge. No reason to try anything but play.”
Jack cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, I suppose I didn’t, did I?”
Betty jabbed him in the chest with one finger. “No. You didn’t. Now…. What happened at Fort London?”
Jack cleared his throat again and rubbed his temple. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”
Forge of War (Jack of Harts) Page 12