“Run,” I said, to the kid. He was staring at me in stark terror. I could almost read his thoughts – his protectors and masters had been exposed as frauds and cowards – but I didn’t care. I could have broken his neck with ease and we both knew it. “Just run.”
He ran. I turned back to Jase and his two cronies. The one I’d kicked in the groin was still moaning and I brought the stick down on his head, knocking him out. After the kick, it probably came as something of a relief. The other two wouldn’t present any further problem, but I knocked them out anyway, before relieving them of their possessions. Let the police think that it had just been a mugging, although both they and I knew differently. It hardly mattered.
I strode away from the bodies and walked back into the crowd. I’d learned how to hide when I was very young and by the time I had reached the station I had made a handful of minor changes in my appearance, dumping my jumper and replacing it with a shirt. The cameras wouldn’t recognise me if they saw me, but just to be sure I blended with the crowds until I returned to the orbital tower and returned to orbit.
I would never set foot on Earth again.
Interlude One
From: The Never-Ending War. Stirling, SM. Underground Press, Earth.
To understand the scale of the problems facing the UN, it is necessary to know something of the background to the colonies. Put simply, the vast majority of colonies were founded by groups who were opposed, for various reasons, to the UN’s concept of a single government for humanity. These ranged from nationalist colonies to religious and social groups, all intent on building their own paradise. Although the groups were very different, they found common cause in opposition to the UN.
Very few of the colonies managed to construct their own space-based industry and shipyards before the UN decided to move in and effectively occupy all of the colonies. The net result was that resistance in space was minimal and tended to consist of what the UN was pleased to call piracy. To them, it seemed to signal a certain victory over the forces opposed to them. They were wrong.
To put it simply, and acknowledging in advance that the analogy is a limited one, the UNPF is engaged in a counter-insurgency campaign on a galactic scale. Of three hundred human-settled worlds, over two hundred and thirty have a major UNPF presence, ranging from a small garrison to a considerable fighting force. Despite Earth’s firm commitment to the war, they cannot claim to control more ground than they hold at any one time, and only the absolute control of orbital space surrounding many of the worlds prevents their total defeat. The UN, therefore, is trapped in a classic insurrection problem. They cannot win and they cannot be beaten.
An insurrection can be defeated by making political concessions, or reshaping the defeated nation, or even the complete extermination of the native population. The UN is incapable of using any method, simply because of the goals of the war. It is not enough to take and hold territory, but it must also put the colonies to work on behalf of Earth, a step that the colonists naturally find objectionable. (Not least, it should be added, because even if the UN managed to crush all resistance without further delay, it would only slow the inevitable decline and fall.) There are no political concessions that could be made without undermining the very basis of the war itself. The colonists would want a real say in their affairs, if not complete independence, and the UN would find that unacceptable. There is no hope of a negotiated peace.
Destroying the colonists, or altering their societies, would only ensure that the UN would be unable to exploit them for its own purposes.
This is not fully understood on Earth. The UN Media paints a constantly upbeat view of the war, claiming that vast tracts of land are taken and enemy forces are constantly decimated (a careful analysis would reveal that the UNPF had, according to the media, wiped out the entire colonist population several times over), which makes it difficult to accept that there is a serious problem. The forces garrisoning various worlds are often undermanned and short of supplies, something that the local rebels are very aware of, and frequently find themselves on the verge of defeat. Only orbital bombardment prevents the loss of many worlds to insurgent forces. The logistic problems inherent in servicing as many garrisons as the UN possesses only make the problems much worse. In short, the UN is unable to win and the insurgents are unable to push them off their worlds. The war has stalemated.
[Professor Stirling and a handful of his students were arrested for subversive activities two weeks after the above book was published, tried for spreading hate speech and anti-unionist propaganda and sentenced to a penal colony on Mars.]
Part II: Lieutenant
Chapter Ten
The UN is fond of claiming that it does not want to practice war, either against the colonists or anyone else, but the reality is different. While the vast majority of the UNPF starships are capable of civilian as well as military applications, a handful of starships have no purpose other than the military one. Those starships are generally concealed behind a façade of lies and misrepresentation, all of which conceals the fact that the UN, supposedly peaceful, requires the services of starships capable of destroying whole planets.
-Thomas Anderson. An Unbiased Look at the UNPF. Baen Historical Press, 2500.
UNS Jacques Delors had been beautiful, even to an untrained eye. UNS Devastator was ugly as sin. I found myself staring at her through the docking tube and wondered just what the designer had been thinking. She looked blocky and dark, studded with sensors and weapons, a blunt instrument among shining knives. The designer had been in no doubt what the starship was actually designed to do and, in an unusual burst of honesty, had designed the starship to fit the role. I knew that if I lived on a planet, the last thing I would want to see was Devastator in my skies.
I checked my reflection in the glass and walked the rest of the way down to the airlock. This time, I was determined, there would be no embarrassing mistakes. I was a Lieutenant now, as hard as it was to believe, and I couldn’t afford to alienate my new commanding officer. I wasn't even sure if the Captain would come to meet me personally – it didn’t seem likely, somehow – but when I stepped through the airlock, I came face to face with an attractive blond woman, wearing a uniform like mine. I checked her service pins automatically. She’d been a Lieutenant for three years.
“Welcome onboard the Devastator,” she said, in a surprisingly soft voice. She had an odd accent I didn’t recognise. “Lieutenant Walker?”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” I said. With that length of service, I guessed that she was probably the First Lieutenant and therefore the Captain’s confident and second-in-command. “Permission to come onboard?”
“Granted,” she said. She waited for me to finish saluting the flag before continuing. “I’m Lieutenant Anna Ossipavo, First Lieutenant. The Captain is quite eager to see you, John, so please come with me.”
I doubted that the Captain was really eager to see me, but I followed her through the starship’s passages and corridors anyway, noting how the monitor was considerably larger than my old vessel. Captain Harriman had been able to reach any point on his ship within minutes, but the monitor was much larger; I wondered if the starship actually had intership cars. The starship might even have been large enough to survive hits that could have knocked the Jacques Delors out of commission. It wasn't something I felt inclined to test. If the Senior Chief had been right, the UNPF wasn’t getting starships in anything like the numbers it required.
“That will be your cabin there,” Anna said, pointing to an unmarked door as we entered Officer Country. I wasn't too surprised to see that it was just at the border between Officer Country and the remainder of the ship: I was still a very junior Lieutenant. “We’ll move your possessions there after you’ve spoken with the Captain and he’s welcomed you onboard formally.”
“Thank you,” I said, slightly nervously. I’d heard only a few rumours about Captain Shalenko, but few of them had been good. He might not have been listed among the Captains it was generally sa
fer to commit suicide than to serve under, but that didn’t mean that he was one of the good people. I was tempted to ask Anna about him, but I doubted she’d tell me anything. She was probably loyal to him if she was his First Lieutenant. “I’ve only got this duffel bag.”
“Really?” Anna asked, lightly. “You’re a Lieutenant now. You’re entitled to two duffel bags.”
She smiled to show that it was a joke and pressed her hand against a panel beside a hatch, which lit up at her touch. “Sir, it’s Anna,” she said. “I’ve brought the new Lieutenant.”
“Thank you,” a gravely voice said. The hatch hissed open slowly. “Come on in, the pair of you.”
Captain Shalenko was sitting at his desk, studying a terminal, but he closed it down and swung around to face us as we entered. He was an impressive man – at a guess, he was actually younger than Captain Harriman – with short grey hair and a stern face. It was probably the result of cosmetic surgery, I decided, in a moment of disrespect. I hadn’t seen a chin that strong since the last time I’d watched the video pictures. He was tall, I realised as he stood up, and strong, perhaps even stronger than me. It was quite possible that he, too, trained with the Marines. His blue eyes studied me for a long moment, before flickering over to Anna and dismissing her with a nod. She nodded back and left the cabin, leaving us alone together. I had the uncomfortable sensation that I’d been thrown to the lions.
“So, you’re Percival’s latest find,” Captain Shalenko said, gravely. His voice had the same accent as Anna’s, but I still couldn’t place it. I was so surprised to hear Captain Harriman referred to as Percival that I didn’t have time to think about it. “I understand that I have you to thank for some of the workers on my ship. Without them, we might not have met our departure date in time to join the invasion.”
Invasion? I wondered. I didn’t dare ask. I hadn’t wanted the reminder that I’d captured people whose only crime was refusing to be sent to Earth to help maintain a crumbling society, but I couldn’t say that to him. If they’d worked on the Devastator, my life was in their hands…and it wasn't a particularly reassuring thought. They had good grounds to hate me and the rest of the crew.
The Captain straightened up suddenly. “I am Captain Aleksandr Borisovich Shalenko,” he announced, as if I should know the name. I didn’t. “I am the commanding officer of this starship. There is one rule on this ship and that is that what I say goes, understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I wasn't sure where this was going, but I knew the right answer. It struck me as odd – most Captains reported to their Political Officers, at least for some of their duties – but who was I to question?
“Good,” Captain Shalenko said. “You’ll find that our duties are quite different to those of a common cruiser. You, as the newest Lieutenant, will be trained to operate every one of our systems, just in case we lose another Lieutenant on detached duty. You will also stand watch – under supervision for the first couple of weeks – and handle logistics.”
“Logistics, sir?” I asked, surprised. I’d had some experience on my old ship with logistics, but I hadn’t expected to be placed in charge of them on the Devastator.
“Yes,” Shalenko said. There wasn't an inch of give in his voice. “You will learn to handle logistics so that we are well-supplied for the coming operation. It is something that requires a Lieutenant and my previous logistics officer was promoted at the end of the last cruise. I expect that you will be on my ship for at least two years, John.”
His voice darkened slightly. “These are hard times for the United Nations,” he added. “We will be called upon to serve in whatever capacity we can manage. I expect that you will do your duty to spread peace and civilisation throughout the galaxy. You are an officer in the finest space force in existence and I expect you to live up to it, or I will have your resignation. Do you understand me?”
Captain Shalenko, I realised suddenly, was a fanatic. “Yes, sir,” I said. A resignation onboard ship would be meaningless if we were in the wormhole, but it would be quite possible to eject someone into space if they irritated the Captain too much. “I’ve seen Terra Nova firsthand, sir…”
“They should just scorch that damned planet and start all over again,” Captain Shalenko snapped, angrily. “We have the whip hand and we don’t use it, because of people back home who don’t understand what the real situation is in deep space. They don’t understand and they don’t care and all we can do is pick up the pieces afterwards. No matter what we offered to give them, they will keep fighting until we can pound it into their heads that fighting never gets anyone anywhere.”
He glared at me, daring me to disagree. I didn’t, but I did wonder – would Jase and his friends have learned anything from the beating I gave them, only four days ago? I might even have shown the civilians on the ground that resistance wasn’t futile, although it might not matter in the long run. The state, I was starting to understand, wouldn’t want a grassroots movement for change; hell, they relied upon the scrum of the streets to keep people in their place. If they rose up against the gangs, the police would probably end up stopping them with extreme violence. It wouldn’t do to have people trying to change the way they lived…
“Anna will show you to your cabin and then give you access to the logistics system,” Captain Shalenko concluded, as if he had never spoken at all. “If the data-constipated bureaucrats give you a hard time, refer them to me personally and I’ll deal with them. We need everything we can get and I don’t care how much they whine about the costs, or how badly it will screw up their budgets. We need to be fully provisioned before the main body of the fleet starts working up. We’ve been first ready for a long time and I don’t intend to stop now, even if I have to break in a new logistics officer.”
He raised his voice. “Dismissed!”
I saluted again, turned, and marched with parade ground precision out of the hatch and back into Officer Country. I had barely noticed how large his cabin had been, or how decorated it had been, with a handful of truly disturbing images lining the bulkheads. Anna smiled at me as the hatch slid closed and favoured me with a wink, but I wasn't sure how to respond. It had been too long since I had been with a woman. I hadn’t even visited one of the brothels on Orbit Nine.
Or perhaps she was just being friendly.
“You survived, I see,” she said, with a wink. I nodded in understanding. Captain Shalenko was a very different person to Captain Harriman. He was far more of a tyrant…and a fanatic to boot. “How are you feeling?”
“Enthusiastic,” I said, dryly. She smiled knowingly at me. “He said that I was to become the new logistics officer?”
“You poor bastard,” Anna said, as she turned to lead me down the corridor. “You do know why that’s the junior lieutenant’s billet?” I shook my head. “There’s a fortnight until we are scheduled to depart from this station and you’ll need every second – quite literally – to get what the Captain wants out here. The bastards at the supply dumps have never served on a starship themselves and they will question everything, even including oxygen tanks and spacesuits. We’re supposed to get everything we need, but don’t be too surprised if you end up having to call in the Captain and get him to pull strings.”
She smiled again, rather tightly. “Consider it a rite of passage, John,” she added. “If you can survive the accountants who want to make sure that we don’t take more than we absolutely need, you’ll survive anything, even the Captain in one of his rages.”
“Yes…ah, Anna,” I said, slightly unnerved. I hadn’t counted on becoming the logistics officer so quickly. Hell, I hadn’t counted on it at all. “When will I be on watch?”
“You’re a keen one, aren’t you?” Anna said, dryly. I couldn’t tell if she approved or not, but somehow I doubted it. “The day is divided into eight watches of three hours each and they all require a senior officer on duty. A bit of a waste of time when we’d docked, if you ask me, but the Captain insists on it. You’ll get the 120
0-1500 slot tomorrow, with the Captain or me watching over your shoulder, and then we’ll put you on a regular slot once we’re sure of your ability. The Captain likes to shake things up from time to time so you’ll discover that your slot will keep changing.”
Martial Law 1: Patriotic Treason Page 10