March of War

by Bennett R. Coles

  She stood across the floor from him, staring him down. “I suggest you rethink your manner of defense, Commander, as you are on very shaky ground.” She guessed he would try to turn this around, and bring up the court-martial, but she was ready for that. She’d been found not guilty, after all, whereas he’d been demoted and banished. She prepared herself for a quick retort, waiting as he gave the appearance of checking his notes.

  “You declared earlier, Deputy Minister,” he said finally, “that this recent mission was of the highest importance to Terra.” He paused expectantly. Breeze stood in silence, not sure of his new approach.

  “You said,” he continued after the silence, “that this mission was a golden opportunity to end the war in a single stroke. Do you genuinely believe that?”

  She stared at him, feeling the sudden shift of three hundred gazes as they fell onto her. The lights shining down on the floor seemed to burn hotter.

  “This summons is not to discuss military philosophy,” she snapped. “This mission was of paramount importance to Terra, and you failed. Do you deny this?”

  “The mission failed, yes.” He fell silent, and Breeze let his words hang in the Chamber for a long moment. “But had it succeeded,” he added unexpectedly, “seven hundred million people would now be dead, and we’d still be at war.”

  “Don’t presume to tell the Chamber of Parliament whether our decisions are right or wrong,” she said, feeding upon the shock of the members around her. “We rule for the good of the people, and as a servant of the State you must obey.”

  The next voice came from her right.

  “Point of order.”

  She looked over and saw Christopher Sheridan rising from his seat. The leader of the Opposition wore a look of deep concern.

  “I’d like to ask for clarification on the commander’s last statement. There’s nothing in the files that have been provided to us that refers to seven hundred million deaths. What deaths are these?”

  “The details are classified,” Breeze said quickly, before Thomas could speak. “I’ll be happy to brief you on what I can… at a later time.”

  “But is the commander speaking in error? Did the mission you authorized have this sort of destructive potential?”

  “The commander is speaking in hyperbole,” Breeze said dismissively. “I’m not at liberty to openly discuss the mission, as a matter of strategic security.”

  “Hyperbole or not, that is a rather specific—and horrific—figure.”

  “War is horrific, as I know personally,” she barked, using her advantage as a veteran, “and this mission was an attempt to do exactly what you’ve been screeching at the networks for months. ‘Strike at the heart of terror’—isn’t that your favorite saying?”

  “My concern is that you, as Deputy Minister, perhaps did not understand the full implications of the mission you authorized.”

  Breeze felt herself flush. She looked to Minister Taal for support, but his expression was set in stone. Then she recalled his advice about not being intimidated, and realized that this was her first test on the big stage. Sheridan was playing his role to the hilt, and she was expected to rise to the challenge.

  “I remind the honorable leader of the Opposition that I am a decorated veteran with wartime service in Abeona, and that I led the research program into the weapon which was at the center of this mission. I resent the implication that I was unaware of its full potential, and I demand a withdrawal of that last statement.”

  She’d seen this sort of personal attack before. As soon as it was challenged, the insult was withdrawn. Yet Sheridan didn’t adopt the expected pose of withdrawal. Instead, he stepped fully onto the central floor and raised his voice.

  “I am invoking the Privilege of Parliament, to determine the exact details of this mission.” Immediately a new murmur rumbled through the assembly, and Breeze saw the lights go black on every member’s desktop. The air crackled with a faint hum, and every door into the Chamber locked loudly. The Privilege of Parliament cut off the Chamber from all outside information links to create a secure space, in order that classified or otherwise sensitive information could be discussed openly.

  It was rare for a government leader to invoke the privilege, and practically unheard-of for an Opposition leader. The truth was rarely pretty for anyone, and whatever was said could never be repeated outside of the Chamber. Breeze wasn’t sure if she’d surrendered the floor or not. She kept her position, but Sheridan ignored her and stepped forward.

  “Commander Kane,” he said, “you are now protected under the Privilege of Parliament, and you are both permitted and required to answer in full any question or statement put to you, regardless of security clearances. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Explain what you meant by ‘seven hundred million people would now be dead.’”

  “The mission,” Thomas said, looking over at Breeze, “was to detonate a weapon known as the Dark Bomb in the core of the planet Abeona. None of us knew exactly what the results would be. Best case was worldwide earthquakes powerful enough to transform the crust into sludge. Worst case was the singularization of the planet.”

  Silence fell over the Chamber. Sheridan took another step.

  “By singularization,” he said, “you mean destruction? As in the destruction of the entire planet Abeona?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Breeze felt a new surge of energy as she sensed the horror forming in many of the members. Thomas was going to hang himself and save her the trouble.

  Sheridan spun to face her, face twisted in incredulity.

  “And you, Deputy Minister Shah, authorized this mission?”

  His question caught her short, and again she felt all eyes shifting to her.

  “Yes,” she said automatically.

  Sheridan’s eyes were wide, turning away from Breeze to stare at Minister Taal.

  “And you, Mr. Minister?” The sharp tone in his voice was jarring, and Breeze suddenly realized that this was more than just Parliamentary drama. Sheridan’s shock—and, she now saw, growing outrage—was real. Taal rose slowly to his feet, his face bereft of expression.

  “This mission was delegated to Deputy Minister Shah. I knew I lacked the expertise to direct it effectively, and I trusted her specific military experience to provide the correct oversight.” He pursed his lips and exhaled slowly. “It appears I may have been wrong to do so.”

  “More than just wrong,” Sheridan said. “This mission could have threatened all of humanity with its consequences, and destroyed Second Earth.”

  “The responsibility,” Taal insisted, “lies with Deputy Minister Shah.”

  Breeze felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach.

  Why wasn’t he defending her? Where was the support he’d shown just before this session began? He’d told her to stand firm behind this mission. What he meant was to stand up and take the blame for it, she realized with a sickening twist in her heart.

  “We’ll see,” Sheridan said, stepping back out to the center of the floor. “This attempted act, fully authorized by the government, is the most heinous war crime ever conceived. I have no faith in the wisdom of this current leadership, and I call for a vote of no confidence in the ruling coalition of Parliament.”

  Breeze took an involuntary step back.

  “What about the summons?” she said.

  “It will be placed on hold,” Sheridan said. He turned to the guards standing watch over Thomas. “Take the commander to the Parliamentary holding cells until further notice.” Grim-faced, Thomas was led away without another word.

  Minister Taal stepped forward.

  “Before answering the honorable leader of the Opposition’s call for a vote, I propose that we further examine the issue in question.” With no protest from Sheridan, he turned to address the entire Chamber. “The government summons Deputy Minister of Defense Charity Shah.”

  She felt her lips part, but she couldn’t form any words. Sher
idan glared at her expectantly, and Taal motioned her to take position at the podium which Thomas had just vacated.

  * * *

  Jack sat alone at the bar, absently sipping at his beer while the merriment of a Friday evening swirled around him. It was nice to be back in Vancouver, among his tribe, and he leisurely sifted through the electronic chatter of local news and gossip. For a few hours he’d been able to pretend that life was simple, and that he was just a regular Joe among the people.

  There was plenty of chatter about the recent upheaval at Parliament, with the government having suffered an unprecedented vote of no confidence. No one in the media seemed to know what this really meant, and Jack had heard no end of theories being argued by the drunken patrons around him.

  Beneath it all, though, in the cryptic messages flashing between State agencies, Jack sensed that the truth was much more damaging than anyone imagined. The media screens all through the bar were currently lit up on local sports, but in less than five minutes an official announcement would be made.

  A man sat down on the stool next to him, and Jack didn’t even have to turn his head.

  “Honestly, sir, can’t a guy just grieve in peace?”

  Korolev ordered a beer to match Jack’s, and leaned his elbows on the bar, staring up at the nearest screen.

  “Sometimes misery loves company. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “You know exactly how I’m doing,” he spat, fighting off the nightmare memories. “You led the invasion of my brain.”

  “We had no choice, Jack,” Korolev said without a hint of remorse. “An operative was lost in a major Centauri headquarters, with no eye witnesses to confirm what happened. All we have is your mental records—so we needed to be sure. We needed to know whether Katja was alive.”

  “Well, she’s dead.” He tapped his chest. “I felt it right here.” Jack turned back to his beer, taking another swig. Korolev’s unflappable calm was really beginning to annoy him.

  “Yes…”

  He ordered another drink, trying to avoid Korolev’s gaze, but even silent and immobile, the man was impossible to ignore.

  “Sir,” he asked, “is there something I can do for you? If not, I’d really rather be left alone for a while. I appreciate your concern for me, but I just need to get away from everything.”

  “I know you had doubts about the mission,” Korolev said. “That you even questioned whether or not you could carry it out.”

  Jack held his tongue. An operative of questionable loyalty was a useless operative—and a useless operative was a dead operative. Not for a minute did he doubt Korolev’s devotion to that truth.

  “But you did carry out your mission,” Korolev said finally, “despite your doubts. That shows real strength in you, real courage.”

  There was no point in trying to hide anything from this man.

  “I thought we weren’t allowed to have doubts—servants of the State and all that.”

  “Of course we can. Everyone has doubts from time to time, but that’s when your loyalty is most tested.” He nodded toward the screen, where the official State seal had replaced the hockey. “There are more challenges ahead, a new situation which will test us all.”

  The seal dissolved to show nine men and women sitting at a long table, facing the camera. He recognized Christopher Sheridan immediately, and a quick search of the government databases confirmed that the other people were each leaders of a party in Parliament. Five of them were part of the government—no, recent government, he corrected himself—but surprisingly it was Sheridan who spoke for them all.

  “My fellow citizens of Terra, we, the leaders of Parliament, come before you today with good news regarding the war. After considerable discussion with the representatives of various rebel factions, today Terra has generously agreed to a cease fire.” A rush of emotions exploded around Jack, a mixture of cheers, groans, and expletives.

  he shot at Korolev.

 

  “While our many grievances have not yet been resolved,” Sheridan continued, “we wish to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, and we are willing to hold in our current military positions and commence official talks.

  “We are also aware of the rumors floating around the media, indicating a collapse of Parliament, and my colleagues and I are here today to assure you that no such thing has happened. There was a momentary crisis yesterday, when it was revealed that a servant of the State had attempted a rogue action which had imperiled millions of lives. However we in Parliament have put aside any political differences and come together in condemnation of this heinous act. The perpetrator has been identified, and judgement will now be carried out.”

  A new rush of excitement rippled through the crowd in the bar, all eyes on the screens as the view shifted to the familiar sight of an execution chamber. The chair sat ominously in the center of the room, and being led in from the side was a woman of middle height, brown hair falling flat past the shoulders of her orange prison coveralls.

  She was handcuffed and barefoot, and even through the screen Jack could tell that she was heavily sedated. The guards sat her down in the chair and strapped her arms, legs, torso, and head with frightening efficiency. Jack watched closely, trying to make out the face of the woman. Her thick hair was unkempt and strands fell across her features, but even so he recognized her exquisite features.

  he demanded.

  Korolev said.

 

  Korolev gave him a sidelong glance.

 

  A voice boomed from off-screen.

  “For crimes against the State, Charity Brittany Delaine Marie Brisebois-Shah is sentenced to death.” Amid a roar of cheers from everyone around him, Jack watched as the blades shot from the sides of the chair into her torso, and her entire body spasmed against its restraints as electricity coursed through her. Most likely the death was instant, but the execution continued for nearly ten seconds. He lowered his eyes, having already seen enough death to last many lifetimes.

  “Justice is served,” the voice intoned, as it always did. Applause broke out across the bar. Jack closed his eyes, sighing at the sudden revelation which struck him. The world he lived in was a terrible place—and he was an active part of it. Sheridan spoke again on the screen, but Jack couldn’t stomach the political rhetoric.

  “Another loose end tied up,” Korolev said to him.

  He looked over sharply, shocked at the mild words and the neutral expression that stared back.

  “That’s all she was?” he heard himself ask.

  “No, she was also a conniving, manipulative, ambitious monster. None of that is relevant to why she was executed.” Korolev’s smile could have frozen the sun. “But it does take the sting out of it.”

  Jack shook his head.

  “And Thomas Kane?”

  “In jail, being kept quiet.”

  “And me…?”

  Korolev’s smile returned, marginally warmer than before.

  “You’re still very valuable, Jack, and as an operative you’re not responsible for the orders you carried out. You had no official involvement with any of this.”

  “So we just go back to work?”

  “The politicians have a few days of horse-trading now,” Korolev said, “and it looks like Sheridan’s party is going to come out on top. None of that matters to us, though—because nothing changes about what we do. What’s the most important quality in an operative, Jack?”

  “Loyalty, sir.”

  “Loyalty. If the politicians can’t get their act together, remember that we serve the Sta
te, not any individual or party.” He drained the rest of his beer and stepped down from his stool, patting Jack on the shoulder. “Get some rest, son, and I’ll see you soon. We still have a lot of work to do.”

  Korolev slipped away into the crowd.

  Jack tracked him out the doorway and onto the street, idly noting the three other operatives who were positioned around the bar. None of them seemed to notice his probes, and as he listened to their Cloud chatter he detected a pattern he’d never noticed before, about the way operative signals were exchanged. He tucked that tidbit away, knowing he’d spot it again the next time someone was watching him.

  He looked around the bar, watching as the patrons returned to their drinks and conversations. All was well again in their lives. The State had identified the problem and swiftly dealt with it. No one he could see or hear seemed to think it was worthwhile asking any questions, except perhaps to debate whether Terran forces should break the cease fire and surprise the rebels with a crushing assault, or whether they should actually let the talks proceed.

  Either way, the consensus formed around him in dozens of conversations. Terra was still in charge, and all was well.

  Jack Mallory finished his beer, realizing that his time here was done. These weren’t his people anymore, and he could either leave them behind, or drag them along to where he was now going. He glanced around, considering.

  A few networks hacked, a jailbreak, a bit of media manipulation, and a way to stay completely hidden from view. He’d been able to do that sort of thing routinely in the Centauri Cloud. He figured it would be child’s play here in Terra.

  As he walked out of the bar and began shedding all his forms of identification, Jack knew that Korolev was right.