The bridge was silent, the technicians quietly going about their duties, waiting for the Federation ship to arrive. Finally, with a blinding blue flash, the last Federation Starcruiser appeared, holding position on the fringes of the system, just as had been agreed before they’d left Earth. Mike looked at Ortiz, who turned to his sensor technician.
“Full analysis, Mister, and make it quick!” he barked.
“Working, sir,” the crewman replied. “She’s at station keeping, with her defensive systems operational but no power to her offensive systems. Two launch tubes open, and I’m picking up a pair of fighters ready to launch.” Looking up at his commander, he added, “She’s complying with the agreement down to the last detail, sir.”
“Very good,” Mike said, turning back to the communications panel. “Spaceman, send a signal to that ship. Tell them…,” he paused, grimaced, and continued, “Welcome to Titan.”
Chapter 10
Curtis tugged at his dress uniform, Saxon standing next to him, waiting for the shuttle to land. The Federation starship had skipped through the bulk of the formalities, but enough delegates had insisted on putting on a proper show that he’d reluctantly acquiesced. All around him, cameras recorded every moment for posterity, and although the attention irritated him, he could see the point. This was the most important moment of the century, and doubtless people would be watching it over and over for years to come.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Saxon whispered.
“How the hell did you find out about that?” he asked, his voice low.
“You should know by now that I have spies everywhere, Teddy. Relax, I haven’t told anyone, and I made sure that nobody could find out the way I did. Tell them to consider Elizabeth if it’s a girl. That should make them both nice and paranoid.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.” He looked up at the monitor, watched as the heavy shuttle smoothly dropped into position on the landing pad, the docking tunnel snaking its way across the ground to link up with its airlock. No spacesuit transfer for the Federation party. They’d be able to walk inside in their shirtsleeves. “Game face on, Major. Let’s make this good.”
In the background, the anthem of the resistance played, a stirring old ballad whose name Curtis couldn’t recall for the moment, and a hastily-designed flag flew from the ceiling, carefully positioned fans giving it the illusion of drifting in a breeze. He glanced up at the symbol, and frowned. It didn’t mean a thing. Nor did the Federation flag next to it. Just pieces of cloth. Not worth fighting for, and certainly not worth dying for.
“Honor guard,” he said, as the airlock began to cycle. “Attention!” Ten men snapped into place. None of them had felt particularly honored by his request, and it had taken a direct order to secure sufficient personnel for the parade. Curtis felt that it was important, though, and not just because of the cameras watching their every move. Maybe it was a trace of vestigial respect for the Chairman, one of the few combat veterans of the revolution that had birthed the Federation half a century ago, or maybe it was a changing of the guard, the old order passing to the new. It had to look good, if only to bolster the delegates, armor them against the verbal weapons wielded by their foes.
The hatch swung open, and Chairman Nakamura walked in, wearing the dress uniform of the Federation Fleet Lieutenant he had once been, Admiral Hancock following, still wearing a sling as a mark of the battle he had recently lost. Curtis scanned the old veteran’s face, finding no trace of antipathy, and nodded at him, before stepping forward, hand extended.
“On behalf of the Free Peoples of the Galaxy,” he said, struggling with his long-rehearsed lines, “I formally welcome you to the Independent Titanian Republic.”
“Thank you, Commodore,” Nakamura replied, shaking the proffered hand with a firm grip. “It is my earnest hope that our deliberations today will yield a result that all of us can live with, and pave the way for a brighter future for humanity. We have come together as one, and I believe that we can forge a new nation, better, stronger and fairer than the one that came before us, just as I and my comrades overthrew the tyranny of the Commonwealth, half a century ago.”
Curtis paused for a moment, surprised that Nakamura had gone so blatantly off-script. He glanced at Commodore McKinnon, standing in the corner with her own cluster of people around her, and saw her glaring at him, the implied insult not lost on them.
“Thank you for your words, Chairman,” Curtis replied, hoping to salvage something from the situation. “We have prepared quarters for you and your delegation, to allow you time to prepare for the opening of the negotiations tomorrow morning. Secure communications links have been established to allow you to consult with your people back on Earth...”
“All, I am sure, tightly monitored by your people,” Nakamura said, raising a hand. “Peace, Commodore. I would do exactly the same in your place, and for the same reasons. We dare not trust each other too much, though for the sake of all of our people, we must try.” Turning to his entourage, he added, “Would it be possible for us to talk alone for a moment, without billions of eyes watching our every move?”
“Of course,” Curtis replied, gesturing towards the emergency airlock. He led the way, Nakamura ducking his head to fit into the cramped space, then tapped a control to seal the inner hatch, turning a key to prevent anyone deciding to remove the leadership of two governments with the touch of a single button.
“You believe me to be nothing more than a politician, yes?” Nakamura asked, a smile crossing his face. “There is perhaps an element of truth to that belief, I confess. Certainly it has been many years since I was permitted to leave Earth, cursed to perpetually wander between Stockholm and Hong Kong in the service of my people.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “Not all of us were as corrupt as the rest of them, Commodore. Some of us truly believed that the Federation was the best possible government for humanity. Some of us still do.”
“Do you?”
“In an ideal world, yes. We’d hoped for reform, to change the system from within and make it better, stronger, just as I said, but perhaps that was never a realistic outcome, not with the dead hand of corruption weighing us down, too many people believing that they deserved their status in life because of the actions of their parents, their grandparents.” Shaking his head, he continued, “I fought alongside many of them, and I am only thankful that they did not live to see what became of their dependents. There are times I have wondered whether our revolution was worthwhile.”
“I fought for the Federation for two decades, before I left the service. This didn’t come easily, Chairman...”
“Lieutenant,” he replied with a crooked smile. “I’ll settle for that. I may well not even have that title for much longer. Most of my comrades in the Central Committee wished to fight to the end. Convincing them that such a struggle was futile was far from straightforward, though I venture it was worth the effort. Five million lives at stake. And far more besides.”
“None of us want chaos. I know how fragile our civilization is, but I also know that it could never continue as it had. Too many people were suffering, the systems breaking down more and more, a day at a time. Most of the rebels didn’t think they had a choice.”
“Perhaps they did not,” he replied. “We’d been keeping track of them, of course, though I will confess that your presence was something of a shock. We’d not expected the rebellion to be able to acquire the services of a seasoned starship commander. Still less two, in the form of your son. Our fleet commanders were never able to pin you down, though they thought they had you at Hyperborea. Even then, you were playing them all along.”
“It was a tough fight. And far too many people died, on both sides.”
“That is true, and well said.” Taking a deep breath, he looked up at Curtis with weary eyes, and said, “You understand, I think. You understand what is truly at stake, probably more than anyo
ne else on this lonely world does. Unless we can come to some agreement that all can live with, the wars will never end. They will rage endlessly through space until nothing is left. Life on Earth is sustainable only through the use of off-world resources. Already we’re experiencing problems, shortages, and it’s only going to get worse. That’s the only reason I was able to convince the others that I should meet with you. As usual, they’re out for their own skin, first and foremost.”
“And you think I should concede to their rule?” Curtis asked. “You know what sort of creatures sit on that Committee, and that you were a willing part of it for so long makes you either complicit or an idiot.”
“Try and idealist,” the old man said with a long sigh. “I truly believed in what we had set out to do, and still thought that it was possible to accomplish. Yes, the system was corrupt, but it could be repaired. Strengthened. Even if it took an internal coup to accomplish.” With a thin smile, he continued, “My hands are far from clean, Commodore. I can tell myself that I blooded them in the service of my people, but that would simply be an attempt to rest easily at night. Sleep is hard to come by, these days. Perhaps when this is all over I will be able to find it again.”
“They’re going to be out for blood when the conference starts. You realize that.” He looked at the hatch, and added, “They put me in charge of this circus against my explicit instructions, and there will be nothing I can do to help you. Nothing at all. You’re going to have to offer concession after concession.” He paused, then asked, “What do you want out of this meeting?”
“Our talk? I rather think that we have the same idea, and I wanted to make certain of my beliefs. We both what interstellar civilization to continue, and to find some way to keep humanity united through all of this. For as few people to die as possible. I’ve already heard talk of fighting on some of the colony worlds. Most of them have infrastructures that could never survive an extended conflict.” He looked through the window at the desolate world beyond, and said, “I’m an old, old man, Commodore. But my imagination is still good. I can see empty cities all through human space, their occupants dead in the streets, children murdered in the cradle. I can see ignorant barbarians on a few of the worlds living in the ruins of our civilization. That fate awaits humanity unless we can save it.”
He sighed again, looked up at Curtis, and said, “You don’t trust me. I can’t blame you. You have no reason to take my word. Nevertheless, I will do everything I can to see that we reach an agreement, and quickly. Our people shouldn’t have to live in fear any longer than they can help. We may spend the rest of our lives cleaning the mess we have made, but we can make a good beginning here, build a foundation for the future.”
“I certainly hope so, sir.”
Nodding, Nakamura said, “I think I had better go to my quarters. People will be wondering what we talked about.” Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “What will you tell them?”
“The truth.”
“If more men such as you had been in our upper ranks, there would have been no need for your rebellion, and all of this could have been prevented.” He pulled the release key, opening the inner door, and stepped out to join the rest of the delegation, the only one not festooned with unearned medals and decorations, as Saxon came into the airlock, glancing at the departing politician.
“You can’t trust him, Teddy,” she said. “He’s been in the top echelons for decades, and you don’t stay up there without being willing to do whatever it takes to stay there. He’s lied, cheated, schemed and murdered just like the rest of them.”
“Haven’t we all,” he replied. “I’d like to trust him, though. And I think he knows what is at stake, perhaps more than the rest of them. Maybe we might be able to come to some sort of an agreement after all. I don’t have to like him, and I certainly don’t have to trust him, but I think we can work together.”
“That’s exactly what he wants you to think.”
“I’m aware of that,” he said. “And I also know that I have you watching my back to make sure I don’t make any mistakes. What’s the plan for tonight?”
“Tonight,” she replied, “you are in closed conference with senior advisers.” She handed him a ticket, and said, “That’s your room at the Titan Hilton. With guards on either side, just in case. You’re going there now, with dinner waiting for you, and breakfast served at oh-six-hundred. Get some sleep. That’s an order.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile. “And thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Chapter 11
The waitress brought the two bottles over to the table, flashing a smile at Kani and Kowalski as they poured them into their glasses, the latter watching her as she walked back to the bar. Kani smiled, shaking his head as he took a drink of his beer. The bar was quiet at this time of the night, as quite as any on Titan in the current circumstances.
“Hey, I thought you were married,” Kani said.
“So did I. On my last leave, I found out my wife had other ideas.” Raising his glass, he said, “C’est la vie.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
With a shrug, he replied, “How could you? You’ve been busy fighting the Federation for the last six months.” Cracking a smile, he added, “We’d only been together a few years, and we’d turned into roommates rather than lovers a long time ago. More of a relief that it was over, to be honest.” Taking a deep drink, he added, “Congratulations on your promotion, by the way.”
“Likewise.” He paused, then said, “Josef, I know...”
“Let’s just admit that we were both evil bastards back on Khiva, and let it rest there. We’ve got bigger problems than reopening old wounds right now. I do, anyway.” He grimaced, and added, “I’m on the Commonwealth delegation. I won the crew vote. I didn’t realize they hated me quite that much.” Gesturing at Kani, he continued, “I figured you’d end up with it.”
Shaking his head again, Kani replied, “I managed to convince Commodore McKinnon that I shouldn’t be involved. I’m surprised they allowed free elections, anyway.”
“Didn’t have a choice. Too many people are worried they’re going to be sold out at this conference. There were some suggestions that the lower decks might mutiny if they don’t get what they want.” Looking at a group of off-duty technicians from Regulus in a corner, he added, “You might have some of that trouble on the rebel ships if the dice don’t drop your way.”
“You think they might overthrow the Commodore? I can’t see that happening.”
“Why not?” Kowalski replied. “All of them already mutinied once to join the rebellion. Becomes a habit after a while, maybe. I’m not saying they will, and I’m not saying that they don’t trust either of the Commodores Curtis, but I’m telling you to be careful, and to watch your back. That’s all I’m saying.” With a scowl, he added, “I haven’t got any idea what I’m supposed to do at this damned conference. You seen the schedule for the first day? Every delegate gets twenty minutes to present their argument. Think I could get away with bringing in something to read?”
“If you do, I doubt you’ll be the only one. What are you going to say?”
“Probably just try them on a few verses of the Happy Spaceman’s Ballad and tell them a few tall stories of my space adventures. Might wake someone up.” Reaching into his pocket at Kani’s expression, he added, “McKinnon gave me something her staff made up for me. Looks vaguely credible and doesn’t actually say anything, so I guess I’ll just use that. I’m not a politician. How would I know what to say?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something better than this,” Kani said, skimming through the text. “Damn it, I’m falling asleep just reading it. You’ll have to come up with something else.” He paused, and asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why did you put on the uniform?”
He paused,
then said, “My mother used to tell me stories about Earth when I was a kid, about the places she’d known when she was a kid. I want to see those places. I want to go home.”
“That should do nicely,” Kani replied. “Nice and short, and I think you’re probably speaking for almost everyone in the Commonwealth Fleet. I know you speak for me, if that’s any consolation.”
“I can’t...I mean, I’m supposed to speak for twenty minutes.”
“And if you do, you’ll say less than you did in less than one. Just go with the heart, Joe. I reckon the other delegates will thank you for it, anyway. One less boring windbag to listen to.”
“You might have a point,” he replied with a smile, draining the rest of his beer. “What time is it?”
Glancing at his watch, Kani replied, “Twenty-Three-Fifty. You’ve got a big day tomorrow, buddy. Might want to be up and ready for it.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” the pilot said, lurching to his feet, almost knocking over the table in his haste. “Wow, that’s strong stuff.”
Frowning, Kani asked, “Not that strong. You feel alright?”
“Just a little woozy,” he replied, a smile on his face. “I guess I’m not used to getting this drunk anymore. You mind giving a burned-out rocket jockey an assist to his bunk?”
“Always happy to be of assistance to a brother pilot,” Kani quipped, holding him up as the two of them walked out of the bar, tossing a hundred-credit chit onto the table to cover their tab. They stumbled onto the street, the crowds still celebrating their newly-found freedom, screaming noises in the night as the non-stop parties continued through the gloom. The people of Titan had their first taste of freedom for decades, and they seemed determined to savor every bite.
Kani looked across at Kowalski, frowning as he saw the fellow pilot’s face turning ashen, pale, trembling running through his body as he struggled to take a step. Finally, the inevitable happened, and he crashed to the ground, the contents of his stomach vomiting out onto the road. Kani knelt down beside him, fumbling in his pocket for anything he could find, finally pressing some anti-sickness pills into his friend’s mouth, keeping his hand clamped in place for long enough to be certain he’d swallowed them.
Starcruiser Polaris: He Never Died Page 7