Starshine by G. S. Jennsen
Page 45
By the time she stepped off the transport she was instructing on-scene EASC staff who were ambulatory to meet in the primary conference room in Administration in twenty minutes and generating a queue for the intervening minutes.
She used the limited moments to review the updated list of deceased and missing and set up a routine to customize the condolence notifications. Next she tracked down the head of emergency response and received a personal status report, implemented additional security measures beyond the hastily erected checkpoints, and lastly located Richard and give him a quick, and private, hug.
Now she stood at the front of the conference room and regarded the gathered staff members. Many were covered in dust and debris and several still bore streaks of blood.
She gave the room a genuinely sympathetic smile, an expression most had never seen from her. “I won’t take much of your time. I recognize you have a great many things you want and need to do. I imagine for some of you this includes helping in the rescue efforts—but we have emergency responders from the entire Cascades region on-scene, so I ask you to let them do their jobs and instead focus on helping to restore order.
“For those of you who had offices in the Headquarters building, we will be taking over the 14th–20th floors of the Logistics building for the immediate future. This means most of you will have to double-up. It’s a necessary and hopefully temporary situation. Submit your request to this address—” she sent the new account to the staff “—and you will receive a space assignment.”
She paused, pursing her lips for a breath. “Take what time you need to recover your files and anything else you’re able to salvage, but unfortunately there is still a war going on—and make no mistake, our adversary will be all too happy to take advantage of our distraction in the aftermath of the attack. Therefore, I must ask you to return to your regular duties as soon as you are capable of doing so. We have doubtlessly lost a number of good people and good friends today, but we cannot allow this to make us weak. It’s what the enemy wants. Instead, let it make us stronger.
“Things are bound to be a bit chaotic for the next few days. Route any problems or special requests to the ‘issues’ queue at the same address. Also, please monitor the news updates at the address. Important information, changes and new procedures will be posted there.”
She nodded sharply. “That’s everything for now. Let’s get to work.”
As they began to disperse she grabbed her bottle of water and quickly exited. She did not have the time to entertain questions or desperate inquiries regarding loved ones. The fatalities list was available for everyone to examine and she possessed no further information. Many of them would require comfort and that above all was something she could not provide.
In front of an audience she managed to perform well enough; one-on-one, gazing into broken eyes, however…. In the long run comfort was a hollow, shallow lie, and she simply couldn’t find the will to pretend otherwise.
She headed down the hall toward her next meeting, with the military police commander. It would be followed by meetings with the admin managerial staff, the transport supervisors, preliminary planning with the maintenance and construction chief, another update from the head of emergency response, and the first of what was certain to be numerous press conferences.
She wouldn’t be seeing a bed for quite some time.
Some five hours later she snuck away for a moment of respite in the small gardens between Administration and Logistics. The thermos of coffee warmed her hands and the optic fibers embedded in the pavement lit the path beneath her feet against the late night darkness, though the glare from the enormous floodlights placed by the rescue crews added a sallow glow to the sky.
The death toll already stood at upwards of two thousand and was likely to double by the morning. While rescue efforts continued, the simple fact was the detonations had been scorching and violent. The few who survived the initial blasts had found themselves with no way down or out before the fire or the pervasive smoke reached them.
Even five thousand dead represented a mere blip on the scale of historic disasters. But these were the best, the most dedicated and patriotic of humanity. They were also the people essential to managing the bureaucratic intricacies of fighting a war. An indelicate and unfortunate reality.
Thousands upon thousands of troops needed to be moved around, assigned in a strategic yet orderly fashion and supplied with millions of munitions and foodstuffs and bunks. Important assets needed to be protected while blind spots minimized. Every person and resource needed to be utilized in an efficient and optimized manner.
War was a complicated affair when spread across the galaxy; it always had been. This she knew all too well.
“Director of Logistics for the entire North American Region? Miri, that’s wonderful.”
The moonlight shone through the window to transform his beautiful eyes to liquid silver as he grinned at her. She lay facing him in the bed, snuggled up so close their noses almost touched. “Maybe.”
“With a war on it will be an enormous responsibility and even more work….”
She frowned. “You don’t think I can do it?”
“Naoborot dushen’ka, I think you will be spectacular at it. If I possessed your brilliant mind I might get to stay on Earth in a prestigious job, too.”
“Don’t even start with that, David. They’re not giving you command of a cruiser because of your looks—” his mouth turned down in a playful pout “—they could, of course, but it would make for a poor war strategy.”
She kissed the pout away then rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling. “I’m not sure I’m going to accept. I don’t want to send you out into the middle of the war while I get to remain comfortable and cozy in our home. I should be fighting as well.”
He propped up on an elbow to catch and hold her gaze. “You will be. If you don’t do this job correctly, the whole damn operation falls apart. And besides…it would give me so much peace of mind while I’m out there to know you’re safe.”
“But David—”
“Hush. I realize I’m being overprotective—I don’t care. And you’ll be here for Alex, which will make me very, very happy. She needs you.”
“Perhaps, but she wants you.”
“Miri….”
“I know, I know…I’m glad you’re her favorite, honestly. You’re my favorite, too, so it shows good judgment on her part.”
She exhaled quietly. “Okay. If you’re so certain it’s the right choice, I’ll take the position.” She shifted to face him once more and run a hand through his hair. “But you better come back to me, you understand?”
He smiled against her lips. “I will. I promise.”
He had not kept his promise. But David had been right in at least one respect—she had excelled at the job. Now she oversaw logistics for the entirety of the Alliance military, and it wasn’t her sole responsibility.
But she had just lost a significant percentage of the people who made it happen. She’d give it another full day, then start a recruitment search, keeping the hiring standards as strict as possible but—
Startled, she spun at the sound of approaching footsteps. Richard hurried along the path toward her. Figures…he’d be the only one to know where to find her, after all.
“Richard, you look terrible. You really should get some rest, or at least take a shower. I’m assuming you have let a medic take a look at you.”
“Later.” He reached her and came to a stop, at which point she saw the expression on his face.
“Is something wrong? What happened?”
“We may have a problem. I think you need to see this.”
67
EARTH
London, Earth Alliance Assembly
* * *
Every Alliance news feed and most of the Senecan and independent feeds carried the open session of the Earth Alliance Assembly live. Some fourteen billion people stopped what they were doing to watch, likely sensing an event of i
mport was on the horizon.
The Assembly met in the historic Palace of Westminster. It had been gutted nearly two centuries earlier, its foundation restructured to prevent it from sinking into the Thames then redesigned from the ground up to house a single congressional body and support the essentials of the modern world.
What once had been the Central Hall now formed the core of the Assembly Chamber, an enormous fan-shaped auditorium modeled after the old U.S. Congress—the justification being semicircle seating provided closer vantage points for a greater number of people than the rectangular arrangement of the former British Parliament. Homage had been paid to the original styling in numerous ways, however, from dark oak beams adorning the ceiling to brass accents gilding the doorways and classic fresco paintings decorating the walls.
The Majority Leader of the Assembly, Charles Gagnon, took the podium as the Secretary gaveled the session to order. In other circumstances it might have been the Speaker at the podium, but in the current situation such an act would have appeared unseemly and transparently self-serving.
Gagnon’s gaze moved with deliberate attention across the cavernous chamber. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Senators and honored guests. I come before you now in this dark moment for the Alliance to raise a matter I never wished were required.
“A few short hours ago we experienced a horrific loss in the terroristic bombing of Strategic Command Headquarters. The enemy struck at the very heart of our leadership structure, killing not only the Chairman of Strategic Command and three of its Board members but over 4,500 of our brave fighting men and women. Men and women who had committed their lives to keeping the Alliance and its citizens safe and secure.
“While emergency responders were still pulling the dead and injured out of the rubble, ships from Northwestern Regional Command were ambushed by Senecan forces while on patrol, the victims of cowardly mining of an asteroid field. They suffered devastating losses which could have been—should have been—avoided.”
He paused to sigh with dramatic flair. “The grim but undeniable fact is, Alliance governance now lies in chaos—within the military and within the administration. These latest events confirm something many of us had already begun to recognize. Prime Minister Brennon is not prepared to lead us in a time of war.”
A low rumble rippled through the chamber; he waited for it to subside before continuing.
“An ill-advised Trade Summit led to the tragic assassination of Mangele Santiagar. Anemic defenses on one of our most important Alliance worlds led to the annihilation of the Forward Naval Base on Arcadia. An inexcusable security lapse allowed high-powered explosives to be smuggled into EASC Headquarters, resulting in the death of thousands and the destruction of Strategic Command.
“This morning, the Prime Minister issued an executive order appropriating significant production outlays from a number of large Alliance-friendly corporations. Though it pales in comparison to so much loss of life, this move suggests he views this war fundamentally as an opportunity for a power grab rather than the grave threat it is.
“In these events and more, the Prime Minister has proven himself utterly incapable of responding to the realities of war. Nor can he provide the leadership necessary to drive us to victory over the rebels calling themselves a ‘federation.’”
He nodded, as if he had only now convinced himself of the necessity of his action. “Therefore, I find I have no choice but to call for a vote of no confidence in Prime Minister Brennon and his administration. Let us adopt new leadership while there is still time to ensure the Alliance remains strong and unbowed. Mr. Secretary, I submit Special Assembly Resolution SGR 2322-3174 for an official vote.”
The thin young man in black formal attire nodded and loaded the resolution into the Assembly voting system.
Perhaps cognizant the galaxy was watching, the vote went swiftly for 510 politicians. Four minutes later the vote tally flashed on the oversized screen floating high above the chamber. A low cheer erupted in the chamber, the dissonant contrast of boos echoing beneath it.
SGR 2322-3174:
For: 267
Against: 243
Within seconds the Majority Leader had returned to the podium. “Thank you all for following reason and logic in performing your solemn duties. Per Constitutional mandate, until the next election the Prime Ministership shall pass to Speaker of the Assembly Luis Barrera, a man I have known for many years and in whom I can confidently entrust the safety of the Alliance. Speaker?”
Barrera appeared out of nowhere beside Gagnon at the podium. They exchanged a firm yet collegial handshake; then Barrera stood alone.
“Citizens of the Earth Alliance, of all free space, in service of the future of this great Alliance I humbly accept the position of Prime Minister. Under my leadership and the guidance of a new administration, we will not allow terrorists and insurgents and rebels to threaten our way of life, our freedoms or our safety. We will take the fight to them, we will show them no quarter and we will emerge victorious.”
In an archway along the left wall of the chamber, offstage and off-camera, Marcus Aguirre smiled.
68
SPACE, NORTH-CENTRAL QUADRANT
Border of Senecan Federation Space
* * *
Alex rested her elbows on her knees and a palm at her chin. She felt far, far better this morning. Better than she had expected. Of course, she’d never been shot before so she didn’t exactly have anything to compare it to. She doubted she’d be running a marathon or hiking mountains today, but only a very observant person would notice she was injured at all.
“So what are we going to do once we get to Romane? I mean if we’re truly being hunted, I damn sure want to find out why.”
She felt his hands rest on her shoulders from behind. He began kneading the muscles up to the curve of her neck. “At this point we have to assume we are being hunted. I can’t get a handle on why, though. A number of people are aware of the alien threat now and—”
She frowned and twisted around, ignoring the dull twinge in her side. “You think this is about the aliens and not the war? Why—”
In an instant his expression morphed from thoughtfulness and affection to…horror? Cold hardness and perhaps even fury.
He backed away from the couch in an explosion of movement. “What in the bloody hell is—Jesus!”
“What’s wrong?”
His hand ran violently down his face. “Turn on the news feed….”
“What is—” Her message indicator began flashing angrily, along with an unfamiliar yellow alert. She waved the news feed on as she opened it.
Earth Alliance Military Police Order:
You are requested to report to Military Headquarters in San Francisco for questioning regard—
On the embedded screen, front and center, floated an image of Caleb.
“Caleb Andreas Marano, an agent with the Senecan Federation Division of Intelligence, has been named as the prime suspect in the horrific bombing of EASC Headquarters in Vancouver, Earth yesterday. He should be considered armed and extremely dangerous, so approach with caution.”
Her focus started to shift to him, but froze mid-motion when the image on the screen transitioned—to one of her.
“Mr. Marano was last seen in the company of Alexis Mallory Solovy. Ms. Solovy is the estranged daughter of EASC Director of Operations Admiral Miriam Solovy and the deceased Commander David Solovy, a well-known hero of the First Crux War. Ms. Solovy is being sought for questioning, but is not currently considered a suspect in the bombing itself.”
“’Estranged’? Thanks, Mom….”
Her eVi continued to blink and beep as an avalanche of messages rolled in; she silenced the entire interface to concentrate on him.
He paced in even greater agitation than the previous night, his eyes dark and ominous. She found herself reminded of her very first impression of him: dangerous.
“Caleb, what the hell is happening here?”
His jaw had clenched i
nto a razor-sharp edge. “Apparently since they failed to kill me, they decided to frame me for mass murder instead.”
He sank against the wall and brought his hands up to seize his jaw in a death grip. “Goddammit! This is fucked up beyond all reason.”
“I’m sorry. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have forced you to go to Earth.” She stood to go over to him.
His hands fell away from his jaw. “No.” He met her halfway and grasped both sides of her face. “It was worth it, no matter what happens. And you didn’t force me—I chose to go.”
A smile pulled at her lips, but refused to materialize. “Is it possible EASC is blaming you solely because they have evidence you were there? To put a face on the enemy?”
“Maybe….” He resumed pacing, though it had gained a more methodical, deliberate quality. “The thing is, the information I saw—before I was locked out of Division’s network, as it appears I now am—indicated we had no idea who ordered the bombing. I’m not at all convinced Seneca is responsible.”
“Who else would do it? Terrorists, taking advantage of the war as an opportunity to sow chaos?”
“Conceivably. Still, that scenario doesn’t jibe with the hit on us or Volosk.”
“You think they’re related to the bombing?”
He came to an abrupt stop. “They are now.”
With a deep breath he visibly willed himself in control. More of the barely restrained rage seeped away. “Okay. We already suspected someone or a group was manipulating events to trigger the war. The bombing could easily be part of it. Any reluctance on the part of the Alliance will evaporate if they believe Seneca attacked their military leadership. And killing me would obviously prevent me from proving I didn’t do it. In which case I’m only a pawn, a convenient patsy.”