Chapter 28
The conference room showed all the signs of the battle that had recently been waged within, only the bodies of the dead removed, bloodstains still on the floor, walls pock-marked with bullet holes. The delegates were taking their seats again, this time with weapons in evidence at their belts, trust even more wanting now than it had been before. The Federation delegation was represented now only by Nakamura and a terrified young aide, nervously looking around as though expecting a sniper to end his life at any moment.
For the Commonwealth, there were two representatives now, a single figure from the previous delegation who had demonstrated his loyalties by taking a leading role in the battle, and Kani, his arm in a sling, his expression resolute. All of the rebels remained, with a few additions drafted from the visiting dignitaries, trying to restore the scope of the meeting to something along the lines of its previous status.
At least, now, the pressure was off. There was no threat from any military forces, because none of them truly existed. The Federation Fleet consisted of a handful of fighters, the Commonwealth Fleet reduced to rubble, and the flagship of the rebel fleet was Hoxha, an auxiliary cruiser that had missed the fighting only by chance, now overloaded with the surviving fighters. Uniformed personnel were everywhere, but unlike the civilian delegates, unarmed, Mike’s order in a bid to provide an element of reassurance to the justifiably concerned politicians.
Outside, the crowd had calmed, the deliberations now broadcast live on huge screens, public interest reaching a fever pitch in the aftermath of the battle. On every world touched by humanity, eyes gazed at screens, desperate to find out what would happen next. Rising from the seat his father had formerly occupied, Mike looked on either side, flanked by Saxon and Petrova, and glanced across at the calm Nakamura, who gave him a quick smile as he began the longest walk of his life, making his way to the podium as the delegates rose as one, offering him a standing ovation before he had even begun to speak.
Taking a deep breath, he waited for them to retake their seats, then looked down at his hastily scribbled notes, knowing that every word he said now mattered, that the future of humanity rested on him now more than it had when he was sitting in the command chair of wrecked Castro. He looked up to the gallery where Ortiz and, astonishingly, Schmidt, looked down at him, the latter dragged from the bridge at the last moment and taken to a shuttle by a loyal crewman, the bandage on her head more for show than anything else. At least he had some friendly faces watching him.
“Twenty years ago,” he began, “I swore an oath that I believe I have kept even to this day. To protect the people of the Federation from all enemies, internal and external. When I said those words, I never dreamed that the enemy of which I spoke was the Federation itself, but over time, that came to pass, and I found myself in the position of being forced to fight the government to which I had sworn allegiance. It was the most difficult decision of my life, but if I had it to do over, I would do it again. Even knowing what it would cost.”
Taking a breath, he continued, “Thousands, hundreds of thousands of people took up arms to fight for the freedom of humanity. Many, perhaps most of them paid the ultimate price for that. Still more died opposing them, and I mourn their loss as much as I mourn my own. They died for this cause as well, many of them believing that they were doing the right thing, that they were doing only what had to be done.”
“Belief is a strange thing, isn’t it. It can drive us to do things we have never thought possible, deeds of wonder, and deeds of horror. Used properly, it is a tool that can be wielded for ultimate good, and it is time that it was done again.” Shaking his head, he continued, “Fifty years ago, under circumstances not that different to the ones we now find ourselves in, someone like me stood up before a collection of delegates and proclaimed that the Oligarchs had been defeated, that a new Federation would rise from the ashes, one that would represent all the peoples of humanity, scattered across the stars. They failed. They failed because, after all, they were just men, and perhaps because even from the start, they had excluded some of the people they were supposed to protect, the peoples of the Commonwealth, exiled to the stars. There was an enemy to fight, right from the beginning, and the external enemy became an internal one, the people themselves.”
“We’re not going to make that mistake. Not again. We have among us representatives of every inhabited world in space, and more from the rebelling peoples of Earth are on their way. Before us lies the greatest challenge in all of history, to form a new government that is wiser than the old, fairer, ad able to deliver the promises we have made to ourselves, to our children, and to those that fell in the pursuit of our victory.”
“Freedom. Justice. Liberty. These are only words in a dictionary. They have no intrinsic meaning in themselves, but we can give these words meaning if we live by them, and that is what I challenge everyone in this room to do. To form a government, to coin a phrase, of the people, by the people, for the people. We’ve tried that before, and we’ve failed. This time we’re going to get it right.” He looked down at his notes, and cleared his throat before looking up again, a gleam in his eye.
“I’m going to conclude with the final words of my father, Commodore Edward Curtis, who died as he had lived, in the defense of the people, who gave his life freely and willingly when he knew there was no other choice. Just before he died, he managed to issue one last command, and it is my honor and privilege to pass it on to you all.”
“Do better next time.”
This time, the delegates and the crowd rose as one, thunderous applause ringing through the room as Mike stepped down from the podium, returning to his seat, his face red with embarrassment from the praise he considered unearned. The crowd continued to cheer, and he looked down at Saxon, who returned his gaze with a smile.
“This is for him, you know,” she said, barely loud enough for him to hear.
“I know,” he replied, taking his seat. “I know.”
Nakamura walked up to the podium as the applause finally quietened down, and looked out at the delegates beyond, beginning, “I don’t see how I can possibly follow that, so I’m not really going to try. Only to say that we will do all we can to follow in the example of Commodore Curtis, and that we will take his words to heart.” Looking up at the ceiling, as though he could see Heaven itself, he continued, “I don’t know if you can hear us, Commodore, but this time, this time we’re going to get it right. I swear.” Turning back to the crowd, he added, “I think now we should adjourn for the day.”
As the delegates began to leave to their rooms, Nakamura walked over to Mike, and said, “That was fine, Commodore.”
“Just Mike, now,” he said, gesturing at his civilian suit. “I don’t think I’ve got a Fleet left to serve in. The rank was only temporary.”
“Then you have taken off your uniform for good?” the politician asked. “There are many who will not be happy to hear that. I know that one of the early recommendations of the Defense Committee is to place you in command of our military.”
Petrova looked at him, and he shook his head, replying, “There’s no military to command, and that’s as it should be. We don’t need one, not any more. It’s a temptation we used for too long, but there are no enemies left to fight. I think it better that we confine our battles to the political sphere, rather than the military.”
“Then perhaps you are considering a political role, after the conclusion of the conference? You have the correct name in any case, and you have the fire within you to go far.” He looked down at him, shook his head, and said, “Do not be so quick to reject my offer, sir. Not until you have given it the consideration it deserves. You may no longer be wearing a uniform, but you still have a role to play in our little game. The people still need you.”
“I would have thought that...”
“I’m tainted, and I know it. My active political life ends with the conclusion of this con
ference.” He smiled, and added, “I doubt that even Earth will remain a unified entity once all of this is over. I’m informed that delegations from the United States of North America and the Pacific Republic are on their way. Names out of the history books, resurrected once more. Perhaps that is for the best. Earth as one being is too powerful as it is.” Looking down at Mike again, he added, “It is time for a new generation to step forward. And after all, I think your father’s last message was meant for you, as much as it was for this conference. You’ve got a job to do.” Glancing at Petrova, he added, “And from what I understand, you have a personal stake in the future now.”
“He’s got a point, Mike,” Petrova said. “Don’t rule it out just yet.”
“I’ll think about it, sir,” Mike replied. “I’ll think about it.”
As Nakamura walked away, he turned to Petrova, and said, “Do we know yet?”
“I was going to tell you tonight, but, you can expect to see a second Edward Curtis turning up in about seven months time,” she replied with a smile.
“That’s a hell of a name for him to live up to,” Saxon warned.
“I’m sure he’ll be up to it,” Petrova replied.
Reaching into her pocket, Saxon pulled out the datarod, and said, “I’ve got this for you. Or for that new Teddy, anyway. You father gave it to me just before…” She paused, and continued, “He told me it had a message for him, when he came of age. I think somehow he knew that he’d need it. I haven’t got the first idea what might be on it.”
“I guess we’ll find out when the time comes,” Mike said, taking the datarod as though it was the most precious possession imaginable. He looked after Nakamura, and said, “Do you think I’m going to be able to get away from all of this without being caught?”
“After that speech?” Petrova asked. “Not a chance. But I’ll be with you all the way, Mike. You can count on that.”
Nodding, Saxon replied, “It’s what your father would have wanted. It’s why he sent me down to the surface, the only argument he could have used that I’d have listened to. All of this is his legacy, his final gift to mankind, and we’ve got to make sure it isn’t spoiled. To make sure that we really do better this time. I’m not sure we could survive a second Federation.”
“It’s going to be tough,” Mike said.
“After what we’ve been through, I’m expecting it to be a rest cure,” Petrova quipped.
“Don’t fool yourselves,” Saxon warned. “What comes next will be a far bigger challenge than you could ever imagine. The only thing I will promise is that, ultimately, it will all be worth it.”
Epilogue
Kani held the precious vial in his hand, looking out across the vast semi-desert of the Karoo, battered vegetation fighting for life in the wilderness. Somehow an appropriate metaphor for the way in which he’d lived his life, the way in which his grandmother had lived hers. He reached down with his trowel, digging a small hole in the ground, then popped open the top of the vial and poured the grains into the soil, smoothing it over again once he had done.
“Goodbye, Gogo,” he said with a sigh. “I told you I’d get you here, one way or another.”
Taking a deep breath, he placed the now-empty vial back in his pocket and walked over to the small cluster of people waiting, a shuttle on standby only half a mile away with a trio of guards watching the landscape. The new African Federation could be a dangerous place at times, though he could say that for almost all the worlds of human space at the moment. He looked down at the unfamiliar uniform he was wearing, that of the Republic Space Defense Force, the four braids of a Group Captain on his sleeve.
It had taken a very persuasive man to talk him back into uniform, even under the circumstances, and he smiled as he walked over to Mike, his now visibly-pregnant wife by his side. He reached out to shake Mike’s proffered hand, then looked back at the desert beyond.
“All finished?” Mike asked.
Nodding, he replied, “That I am, Mr. President.”
“Don’t,” Mike said, holding up his hands. “Just don’t. I’m not used to the idea, and I’m only going to keep the job for a single term. Just long enough to find someone who’s really up to it.”
“I think I’m looking at him right now,” Kani said, a twinkle in his eye. “They’re both watching us, you know. Your father and Major Cordova. They didn’t just die for this day. They lived for it, as well. This is what they dreamed about.”
With a sigh, Mike replied, “I wish their dream had been a little better organized. I’m not looking forward to the first session of the Republic Senate. A hundred representatives, and about the only thing they can all agree on is that they alone know the best way forward. Navigating that minefield is going to be a nightmare.” He paused, then added, “It’s worth it, I guess.”
“You’re wrong about something, though,” Petrova said, looking across at her husband. “They aren’t dead. They’ll never die. Not while the thing they gave their life for endures, and we’re going to make sure that it lives for centuries to come.” With a smile on her face, she added, “You look great in that uniform, by the way.”
“Liar,” he replied. “Who came up with this design, anyway? And who thought it was a smart idea to put me in charge of Fighter Command. What the hell do I know about running an organization that big.”
“It isn’t, right now,” Mike replied. “What, a hundred and ten fighters scattered across a couple of dozen worlds? And it’s going to stay that way for a long time, if I have anything to say about it. We’ve got more important things to do than rebuild the arms industry. New commercial ships first, then exploratory vessels again. There hasn’t been a serious expedition beyond known space in a century. Hell, we’ve only got a vague idea about what’s going on in the Halo Stars, and it’s going to stay that way until we go see it for ourselves.”
“And probably stir up enough trouble in the attempt that we’ll have to build warships again,” Kani said with a sigh. “Sounds like a lot more fun than what we’ve been doing, anyway.” He looked back at the site where his grandmother now lay for eternity, and said, “It’s strange. I’ve been carrying those ashes around so long that it seems strange not to have her with me.”
“She’s with you,” Petrova said. “All the time. Just as Teddy’s going to be with us as well, in spirit, at least. That’s what I meant. The good they did will never die.” Looking at the fighter, she added, “I guess we ought to be thinking about getting back up to orbit. Hoxha’s waiting for us.”
Nodding, Kani replied, “Yeah, I’m with you.” He looked at the desert, then back to the fighter. They’d won the war. Now they had to win the peace. And he couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to fight beside, then and now.
The dead could rest. The living had work to do.
THE END
Thank you for the conclusion of the Starcruiser Polaris series, ‘He Never Died'. For information on future releases, please join the author's Science-Fiction Mailing List at http://eepurl.com/A9MdX for updates. If you enjoyed this book, please review it on the site where you purchased it.
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Starcruiser Polaris: He Never Died Page 19