by B. V. Larson
Afterward, I felt better. I told myself sternly that until Earth was liberated there would be no more than a single six pack of beer—and only beer—in my daily ration. This might not seem like a small quantity of alcohol to normal people, but a Star Force marine requires more than others to become intoxicated. The problem was the nanites in our blood, they tended to process the stuff out almost before it hit the brain. Beer was especially problematic, because it took longer to consume and thus made it even more difficult to get drunk.
But that was the point. With no more than a six pack a day, I knew I would be relatively sharp throughout the coming campaign without starting any rumors that I’d sworn off adult beverages completely. As a highly visible leader, it was critical that I keep my people confident in my ability to lead. I had to appear stable and unchanging—I was the rock upon which the rest of my followers relied. I didn’t want people to say I “had a problem”—even if I did. I was determined not to fail them in this regard.
I frowned to myself as I marched down the corridors toward Medical. It was possible my reputation had already suffered somewhat due to my recent indulgences. I decided I would ask Dr. Swanson her opinion on the matter, and have her give me a physical.
There were two good reasons for this action. First, I wanted her to be able to profess that I was in excellent health despite my recent binges. Second, I’d been having private meetings with her lately and I figured it was time to move things along between us.
She and I weren’t romantically involved—not exactly. But she’d made her intentions clear in that regard. I found her attractive and interesting, even fun to be around. Today, however, as I stepped into her office, she was all business.
“I’m glad to see you made it here on time,” she said. “Please put your arm into this sling and I’ll begin the procedure.”
I found her tone rather cold. “What? Am I late for my appointment?”
She glanced at me without smiling. “I’m a person who feels we should all respect and value one another’s time.”
I frowned while she messed around with some weird-looking instruments. A modern doctor’s office didn’t bear much resemblance to the last-century look I’d been accustomed to all my life. The differences were due to the nanites, of course. They’d changed everything. They did most of the healing, and the doctors were only kept around to decide if they were functioning properly and if they needed a little help or prodding. Occasionally, the tiny robots ran into something that they couldn’t handle. Some viruses were very small and hid in the body effectively, for example. Specialized nanites swarms had to be applied in such cases to affected areas.
She wasn’t talking, so I didn’t say anything either. The bright, cheery, determined mood I’d had upon entering her office had vanished for both of us. I racked my brain, trying to think why she might be miffed, or what sort of meeting I’d…
Then I had it. Like the proverbial light bulb going off in my head, I recalled the incident that must have been bothering her. We’d had a date about a week back, I remembered. Something had come up, and I hadn’t made it to her door to pick her up.
I heaved a sigh. I’d stood her up. Worse, I hadn’t even remembered I’d stood her up. I began thinking hard. How could I get out of this one…?
I brightened as I came up with a plan. Right about then, she plunged a needle into my arm and sucked out an alarming amount of blood. She was clearly angry and taking it out on my arm, but I barely winced. All Star Force people are tough when it comes to pain, and I had more improvements than most.
As a delayed reaction, I forced myself to pretend it hurt. “Hey, what are you doing, drilling for oil?”
“Sorry,” she said crisply, her tone indicating she was anything but.
“So what’s that for? Just because I didn’t show up for our date? Is that it?”
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, then lowered back to her work.
“Certainly not,” she said. “That would be highly unprofessional.”
“I had a good reason, you know.”
“I’m listening.”
Bingo, I thought. I’d guessed it. Now that the ground was laid for my excuse, I pressed ahead. It’s best, I’ve found after long years of experience, to place a strong grain of truth in one’s cover-stories. If there is something real at the core of it, the story becomes an embellishment of reality with an emphasis on a particular detail and everyone feels better about swallowing it. Even the liar.
“I somehow became drunk that night. I didn’t want to embarrass myself, so I skipped the date.”
“You could have called.”
She was right, naturally. Even more right than she knew, because I’d gotten drunk with Bjorn Gaines hours after I was supposed to show up to her place. Also, I hadn’t been embarrassed, I’d totally forgotten about her. None of those details were going to help me, so I left them out of the story.
“Yeah, I should have. But you know how it is. I knew I was too far gone to go on the date—hell, I too far gone to call you. So I did the no-show thing.”
“And what about calling and explaining the next day?”
“I had a headache the next day.”
That part was one hundred percent true, but it didn’t seem to make her any happier. After she jabbed the other arm and took some readings, she left me sitting on the table for a few minutes. When she finally returned her expression was one of concern.
“Your blood chemistry is off. The nanites have been working overtime to compensate for toxins. You’ve killed a number of them off. You’ll need a new dose—you really have been drinking heavily, haven’t you?”
I nodded. “I guess I have. Really, it’s been too much.”
She looked at her tablet and tapped at it repeatedly, clucking her tongue and shaking her head. “This would have killed a normal man. You realize that, don’t you?”
I didn’t say anything. I hadn’t known that. I tried to look sheepish, and managed to pull it off.
“I poured it all out,” I told her. “This morning. Everything. I’m done grieving.”
She laughed suddenly. “Drinking yourself blind every night isn’t grieving, that’s avoiding grief.”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to argue with her. For me, a month or so of drinking every night had done wonders. I hadn’t forgotten about Sandra—far from it. I was still angry, in fact, but my state of mind had shifted. I now felt a cold, functional anger rather than the sullen anger I’d been wallowing in, which had bordered on a state of depression. I was now determined to take action rather than crying about the state of the universe.
“I feel better already,” I said. “Let’s go on that date tonight, okay?”
Her eyes were downcast, not meeting mine. She crossed her arms, holding her tablet to her chest. I could tell she wanted to say yes, but didn’t want to get hurt again.
“Maybe you aren’t ready for that yet,” she said at last.
“Yeah, all right,” I said, “some other time, then.”
I started to climb off the table, but she put a hand on my chest. I stopped, even though I could barely feel the pressure she was exerting against me. She pointed to the chair in the corner.
I looked at it with squinting eyes. Every Medical facility in Star Force had one of those metal chairs. They were equipped with leather straps and bolted to the floor. This one had a layer of smart metal poured over the entire unit, making it look smoother and less medieval, but I knew all too well what it was for.
When applying fresh nanites, there was always discomfort involved for the recipient. A refresher dose was never as bad as the first time when most people lost consciousness and raved for hours in agony, but it wasn’t going to be a happy experience, either.
I felt a trickle of sweat run down my back as I eyed the torture chair.
“You’re going to enjoy this, aren’t you?” I asked her.
“I’m selling tickets for the live show and making a vid for later. I’ll clean up.”
I forced a laugh then sat down in the metal chair. It was cold and the clamps were even colder.
“Now,” she said, “I really need you to behave yourself, Colonel. Can you do that? I’m not sure this chair can hold you—if you really wanted to break free.”
I knew that it couldn’t. I also knew that I should be able to control myself well enough to bear the pain without tearing the place apart.
“I’m good to go,” I said.
“Do you want anything? For the pain, I mean?”
I shook my head, but even that simple gesture was a lie. I wanted a stiff drink. Hell, I wanted the whole bottle. But that was in the past now. There weren’t going to be any more easy nights, no more forgetting my problems and blacking out.
The clamps went on and she screwed them down, grunting to get them to lock into place over my arms. Then she prepared the shot, which looked like a glass vial full of mercury. There was a needle at the end of the vial that was as big as a four inch nail.
When she plunged it into my bicep and shot the contents home, I made a hissing sound.
“I should have shown up for that date, right?” I asked.
“That has nothing to do with this necessary medical procedure. Please, just try to relax.”
“Uh-huh.”
* * *
Later that same afternoon I’d scheduled a meeting with my command staff. I staggered out of Medical and down the hallway, heading for my conference room.
Kate was in the hallway behind me, saying something. I didn’t get the words. My head was still ringing and probably full of teeming little buggers that interfered with my nervous system. They did that sometimes. But I figured if I could reach my office chair and sit there for a few minutes, I’d make the meeting.
It wasn’t until I passed an ensign with a shocked look on her face that I looked down at myself and took stock of the situation.
I’d torn up my clothing. Fortunately, it was smart cloth, and it was trying to reassemble itself even now. But there were holes in the suit that had yet to seal and my skin showed through in places.
I smiled at the ensign and gave her a painful nod. “The smart cloth is knitting up. Just had a workout,” I said.
She nodded quickly and scuttled off. I pressed my tunic together here and there, forcing it to make contact with itself. That always sped up the reknitting process.
When I arrived at the conference room, I was glad to see no one was there. I took my seat at the head of the table and slumped down, touching my ear on the desk. A moment later I was dreaming.
I came awake with a start. Kwon loomed over me, and my shoulder hurt a little. I surmised he’d given me a hard whack.
“You missed your calling as a nurse, Kwon,” I said. “You have a natural gentleness to your soul that would comfort anyone in your care.”
Kwon frowned. “You’re drunk again, right?”
“No, not this time.”
I explained about the nanite injection. Kwon commiserated immediately.
“I hate that,” he said. “Especially when you piss out the extra metal later on.”
“Thanks for reminding me. I require the facilities.”
“You going to puke?”
“No, I told you I haven’t been drinking.”
“Right.”
A moment later I found the officer’s head. As I growled at the toilet and urinated glitter, I wondered if all my command staff was in a similarly poor state of morale. Kwon was certain I was drunk at a meeting. Had they been making jokes at my expense for weeks? I hadn’t really noticed…but then I hadn’t been on top of my game lately.
When the rest showed up, my smart cloth suit was in good shape. I had a full pot of black coffee in front of me, and the new nanites in my blood had settled down to a level of activity I could withstand.
Still, despite my forced smile, they all looked at me in concern. None of them spoke as I started the meeting.
“Commodore Miklos,” I said, “would you give me your report on the status of our fleet build up? What do we have that could fly into battle today, should the need arise?”
He began his report, and I paid close attention, asking questions every page or so. He listed every vessel, its position, mission and state of readiness.
“What about the carriers?” I asked. “I want to know how many we can fly right now.”
He gave me a funny look, then cleared his throat. “As you know sir, we’ve diverted all our discretionary industrial output to fleet production for the last seventeen weeks.”
Seventeen weeks? I frowned. Had it been that long? I’d figured it had been a month or so since the Thor campaign, no more. I gave my head a shake and tuned back in.
“Exactly,” I said, as if the timespan wasn’t a shock to me. “What have you got to show for it?”
“Seven carriers, sir.”
I frowned. “Only seven?”
Miklos looked uncomfortable. “We’ve gone over this several times over the last—”
“I don’t care about recent meetings. Just tell me now. We have only seven carriers when it takes no more than a week to produce one. Why?”
“The fighters, sir. And the support vessels. We need more cruisers and destroyers to accompany the bigger ships.”
“Hmm, that doesn’t seem to be what I ordered, but under the circumstances, I’m going to let it go. Seven carriers…all loaded with the latest fighters.”
“The latest? I suppose so. They are the same design that we used in the Thor system.”
I frowned. I’d wanted to make upgrades after flying those little buckets around and shooting up the Macro cruisers.
“We’re going to have to talk about that,” I said. “I think I might have to do a redesign.”
“A redesign? Now? Sir, are you sure that you are in the appropriate state of mind to—”
“Yes,” I said, trying not to become angry. I knew they had good reason to doubt me. I could tell now that during my AWOL period, they’d all taken on responsibilities and made decisions without me. I could forgive them for that. It was my fault. But now, it was time to reassume command with a firm hand.
“Commodore,” I said, “This fleet composition discussion should be for us alone. Everyone else is dismissed, with this last parting order: be ready to fly within a week. It might not happen, but if it does, I don’t want any of you caught with your pants down. I want marine invasion ships, carriers—the works. Everyone is on alert, as of this meeting, which just ended. Dismissed.”
They looked at me in surprise. They all wanted to ask the same question: “Fly where sir?” but I didn’t give them that opportunity.
Only Kwon looked happy. He slammed his hands together making a booming clap.
“Riggs is back!” he said.
I nodded to him and then turned to Miklos who had stayed behind while the rest filed out.
“Nicolai,” I said, using his first name on purpose. His eyes widened further, as I almost never spoke to him informally. “I know I checked out for a few weeks. But that’s over now. I’m done with all that. Let’s get back to business.”
“I’m glad that you’re feeling better, sir,” he said cautiously.
“I’m not. But I’m feeling a lot meaner.”
I told him then what Gaines had told me. I told him that the assassination plots had begun and ended with Kerr, and that I’d been in the dark about it for years.
He listened with his usual attentiveness.
“I understand how this could be viewed as a personal affront, Colonel,” he began when I was finished. “But I’m not sure it qualifies as a good reason to take military action.”
“No,” I said, “it doesn’t. But fortunately, good reasons for military action are not in short supply. Earth is in the grip of Crow, who has become a dictator of the worst stripe. He’s got a worldwide cult of personality going—do you know about that?”
“I’ve read the same reports you have.”
“At first, I held out
hope that after he had a firm grip on the reins of power he’d be satisfied, that he would see Star Force as an ally rather than a threat. I mean, doesn’t it make sense to you? Why attack us? Why not leave us out here as a buffer between Earth and the Macros?”
“There is a certain logic in what you suggest, Colonel. But not if you’re Emperor Crow. As long as you’re out here, you are a threat.”
“You mean we—as in Star Force.”
“Yes, and no. I think he fears you personally. On every occasion in the past when he tried to defeat you, you came out on top. The only reason he’s running Earth now is because you brought the core of your force out here to the Eden System, leaving the home planet undefended.”
I nodded and massaged my punctured arms. The circular spots were already healing, but they itched and burned.
“Yeah,” I said, “I can see how it looks from his point of view. In a way I’m worse than the Macros. People tend to side with me over him, a problem he’s never had to face with the machines. In his eyes I guess I’m the playground bully, and he’s the determined kid who wants to take me down. But I still say this whole thing is insane. He should let me fight the Macros and use me, if nothing else. If I were him, I’d be feeding me supplies and platitudes. I’d even send out shipments of troublemakers from my own armed services as ‘volunteers’ for the front. The situation should be a win all the way around—all he has to do is respect our independence.”
Miklos shook his head. “He can’t do that for any reason. He wants to remain the Emperor of the world and to expand his power. His real goal is to be the absolute ruler of all humanity. You’re not cooperating in that regard.”
“And I never will.”
“Therefore, you must be removed.”
I nodded thinking it over. Miklos’ impression of Crow matched the facts, unfortunately.