None of them looked happy, but no one objected. The Fifth Battalion sergeant who’d spoken to Stark stiffened into attention and saluted. “We understand. We do ask that we be consulted on the new leadership for the battalion.”
“New leadership?” Stark shook his head. “Whoever set this up was good enough to keep it hidden from everybody. You guys who didn’t go along with the mutiny can expect to return to the same positions you’ve held, unless I get reports of anything especially negative about any particular individual.” And I know you’ll be trying ten times as hard to do your jobs well to help make up for this mutiny happening under your noses. Motivation was motivation, and Stark had no intention of throwing away people who had every reason to work hard in the future.
Relieved smiles spread across the faces before Stark. “You won’t regret that, Stark. I knew that crap they were trying to tell us about you wasn’t true.”
Vic cleared her throat. “Am I confined to the barracks as well? You said everyone here was to be interviewed.”
Stark gave her a level look. “No. Since you weren’t here when the mutiny started, I guess we can assume you weren’t involved. Now, I’ve gotta get back to the command center to make sure any fallout from this mess is handled right.” He headed out without waiting for her.
Vic caught up before he left the building. “Ethan, I said I was sorry. It was unpardonable of me to berate you in front of the other noncommissioned officers, and inexcusable for me to fail to focus on your proper concern over the possible presence of additional guards.”
“What about thinking I’d gun down fellow soldiers like I was taking a walk in the park? You sorry for thinking that?”
“I already said so. But you are a very hard man when you think you have to be, Ethan Stark.”
Stark had never seen Vic look so contrite. Maybe she’ll feel guilty and cut me a little slack for a while. “That’s okay, I guess.”
“Now what the hell were you doing leading this operation in person?”
That sure didn’t last long. “I had good reasons. But the biggest one was that I wasn’t gonna send people into a fight to maintain my authority without making a last personal effort to shut the mutiny down without a fight. And if it came to a fight, I was damned if I’d let someone else run all the risks.”
“Ethan…” Vic rubbed her forehead, looking pained. “Oh, hell. What can I say? That’s how you are. It’ll probably get you killed some day, and I’ll be there saying damnit-I-told-you-so, and they’ll build a monument to you because you died doing something so flipping noble and self-sacrificing.”
“Don’t you ever let them build a monument to me.”
“It’ll be a big one, Ethan. Fountains and towers and pillars and a huge statue of you gazing up at the heavens—”
“Don’t you dare!” He gave her a smile. “How was it in there? Bad?”
“It wasn’t good. They thought they had you over a barrel. I could tell by the way the guards were acting. There’s something about being locked up under guard, Ethan. Something ugly.”
“I bet. I’m glad you made it out in one piece.”
“Me, too.”
Stark reviewed the last of the paperwork relating to the mutiny. Yurivan’s interrogations had produced plenty of results, but all of them had ultimately led nowhere. Contacts who had encouraged the mutiny turned out to be people who apparently didn’t exist in any record system and couldn’t be found. Kalnick’s name had been used freely, but actual evidence against him simply didn’t exist. Well, we knew the people working against us were professionals. The mutineers had been promised many things, most notably amnesty for themselves for any acts relating to the original rebellion led by Stark, and extensive external support once the mutiny was under way. The external support hadn’t materialized, either because the mutiny had been so limited or because the support had never actually been planned.
The mutineers had been carefully screened, with many of the privates given administrative punishment if their participation had been minimal. That left maybe thirty soldiers in the stockade for charges ranging from leading the mutiny to firing on the force Stark and Conroy had led into the building. What am I going to do with them? I don’t want to hold that many court-martials, but I don’t want them all locked up indefinitely. That wouldn’t be right or legal. Hmmm. I bet there’s still plenty of family members of soldiers up here that we can swap them for, if the authorities back home are still willing to deal. That’ll get them off my hands and get us some more people we do want, which won’t hurt morale any.
His comm unit buzzed. Stark closed out the mutiny records with a sense of relief then keyed his display to receive the incoming call. The screen cleared to show the face of Colony Manager Campbell, looking more than a little bemused. “Sergeant Stark, I assume you’re aware that one of the official shuttles has just arrived for the continuation of our talks, not that we’re expecting any results.”
“Yes, sir. I knew one was coming in. The last I heard it didn’t have any military representatives so I didn’t need any presence at the meeting. But there is something we need to raise.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“That mutiny I dealt with. I’ve got thirty soldiers who were too heavily involved to just let off easy, and I don’t want them stuck in cells up here. Can you guys work another swap like we did with the officers?”
“Certainly, Sergeant Stark. It’s not too late for me to raise that during our talks. Thirty, you said? I’m sure we can get something worked out. But I called you because the official shuttle brought a visitor along. An unexpected visitor.”
Stark raised his eyebrows. “Somebody I need to know about?”
“I assume so, Sergeant. He says he’s your father.”
Thirty minutes later, Stark stood fidgeting at Sentry Post One at the main entrance to the military complex. He’d put on a clean uniform, and Vic had gone over it to make sure he looked decent. “It’s not every day you meet your dad,” she remarked.
“Vic, I haven’t seen my dad since I enlisted in the mil. He was mad as hell at me, told me I was an idiot to join, and we hadn’t even talked after that until about a year ago. Since then it’s only been a couple of pieces of mail.”
“I know, Ethan. So what’s he doing here, on the official shuttle with the latest batch of nonnegotiators?”
“I guess I’ll find out in a few minutes.”
“Do you need me along? Never mind. You wouldn’t know until you meet him. I’ll be in the command center if you want me.”
“Thanks.” Now Stark was waiting for a man he hadn’t seen in person since Stark had been barely out of his teens. A small group of figures appeared down the hallway leading to the sentry post. Stark recognized Cheryl Sarafina first, leading the group. In the back, he saw two Colony security guards who had accompanied Campbell in the past. Finally, as the group got closer, Stark recognized the man they were escorting, holding onto an arm or shoulder whenever he wobbled in the low gravity. The group came to a halt before him, and Stark stood tongue-tied, having completely failed to think up in advance some way of saying hello in person to his long-estranged father.
The silence stretched for a long moment, then Sarafina smiled politely, as if she recognized what was going on. “Sergeant Stark. This is your father.”
The innocuous words broke the ice. Stark reached to shake his father’s hand. “Dad. Good to see you.”
His father took his hand, moving with the exaggerated care of someone new to lunar gravity who mistrusts his every move. “Good to see you, son.”
“You have a good trip?”
“Not bad. I’ve had worse.”
Sarafina seemed to be fighting down another smile. “I can tell this is a very emotional moment for you both. We’ll wait here for your father, Sergeant Stark.”
“Okay. Thanks. I appreciate you bringing him in.” He held out his hand to his father again. “Do you, um, need a hand with balance or anything?”
His father waved the hand away, though his expression was uncertain. “I think I can manage. Try to keep your speed down, though.”
“No problem.” They moved past the sentry post, the sentries on duty snapping to attention and rendering salutes as Stark passed. He returned the salutes with unusual care. “He’s with me,” Stark assured the Sentries.
They went a few paces in silence, then his father spoke. “Why did they do that?”
“Huh?” Stark glanced over at his father, puzzled. “Do what?”
“That jumping up and saluting stuff. Did they do that for you?”
“Sure. That’s standard military courtesy.”
“I see a lot of military people passing each other, and they aren’t doing that.”
“They did that with me because I’m their commander,” Stark explained.
“The boss, you mean. So you’re the boss here? Of how much?”
“Uh, everything.” Stark gestured to take in the hallway. “This place. These people. Everybody and everything military that’s defending the Colony.”
“Everything?” His father looked around, an unreadable expression now on his face. “Well.”
“Yeah.” I gotta get Vic. This is too clumsy. We don’t know how to talk. But, then, we never did. “Let me show you the command center first.”
“Alright.” His father followed obediently through the hallways, occasionally raising his eyebrows as a passing soldier saluted Stark.
Stark palmed the access to the command center, trying to avoid looking at the new metal of the door that remained a painful reminder of the raid on his headquarters that had cost a number of lives. “This is, uh, the command center.”
“So you said.” His father peered around. “Pretty impressive gear. Some of it looks like it’s been damaged, though. Surely it’s not secondhand?”
“Uh, no. There was an attack here. Right here. We had to fight it off behind these consoles. They’ve been repaired since then. Like the door.”
“Oh.” His father seemed momentarily at a loss for words. “I remember, now. We heard about it.”
“Ethan.” Vic came forward. “You have a visitor?”
“Yeah. This is my dad. Dad, this is Vic Reynolds. She’s a real good friend. She’s also second in command here and a real good tactical thinker.”
“A pleasure,” his father beamed, leaning slightly to look at Vic’s shoulders where her stripes were displayed. “You are also an, uh, sergeant?”
“That’s right.”
“But you are my son’s assistant?”
Stark flinched at the term but Vic merely smiled. “You might say that. My main job seems to be trying to keep him out of trouble. It’s an endless task.”
“I imagine so! You and I can probably swap some hair-raising tales about that. You sent Ethan’s mother and I a letter once, didn’t you?”
“I did.” She smiled again, then hooked a thumb toward the door. “Why don’t we go somewhere quiet to talk, Ethan?”
“Sure.” I don’t believe it. Five seconds with him and she’s got my dad talking like he’s an old friend. “After you.”
Vic led the way to the rec room nearest Stark’s quarters, getting coffee as the others sat. His father peered around at the small space and its rock walls. “This is where you work?”
“Sometimes,” Stark admitted. “My room’s just around the corner from here. It’s about the same size.”
“Really? As a boy, you always complained your room was too small. This is smaller than that.”
Stark felt himself flushing at the memory. “I bitched a lot more than I should have. You and Mom did a helluva lot for me. And taught me a lot of important things.”
“I guess we did, though I admit I can’t recall just when we taught you to stage revolutions and overthrow governments.”
Stark winced. “I can’t blame that on you.”
“Don’t look at me,” Vic added. “It’s not my fault.” She turned to Stark’s father, face serious. “I’m sorry, sir, but I must ask you something directly. What brings you here? The government has banned unofficial travel up here, yet you arrived on the shuttle bringing an official negotiating party.”
“I was wondering when someone would ask me that.” He stared at the floor for a moment, his face reflecting anger. “To put it simply, I’m here to try to convince Ethan that he should give up. Surrender. Accept whatever offer he gets from the government before anyone else gets hurt.”
“I see. You don’t appear to be happy with that mission.”
“I’m not. I happen to be very proud of what my son has done. I’ve had to spend my life kissing the butts of people who think they’re better than me. My son has now kicked those butts nice and hard. And from all I’ve been able to tell, he didn’t do it to get anything for himself, but just to help others.”
An awkward silence reigned for a moment. “Hell, Dad,” Stark noted, “you never let people walk on you.”
“Yes, I did! I’m doing it now by coming here! Not that I had much choice. Your mother’s ill. I’m sorry. We hadn’t told you. You have enough to worry about, and you’d probably think it was a government trick anyway. No, she’s in pretty bad shape, but it can be treated successfully. High odds of remission, they say. If the treatment is approved. Do you know who has to approve the treatment, Ethan?”
“Let me guess.”
“Correct. A government official. They’ll do it, they say, but I was told it would certainly expedite any decision if I came up here and begged you to give up.”
“Bastards.” Stark slammed one fist against the wall, oblivious to the blood spotting his knuckles afterward. “I guess Mom’s just one more little guy who doesn’t count, except when the bosses can use them. Well, hell, tell the government you begged me on your knees and I refused to listen at all. I mean it. If they think they can get to me through Mom they might try some other games with her treatment.”
“You’re probably right,” his father sighed, noticing his coffee for the first time and taking a drink, then twitching in involuntary reaction. “This stuff is awful. This is what you have to drink thanks to the blockade?”
“Nah. This is what the government always gives us. Standard military coffee.”
“You ought to try the beer,” Vic suggested. “It makes the coffee taste good by comparison.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Stark’s father took another cautious sip, then shuddered. “Well, I’ve had my say, and I’m sure you want to get rid of me, now.”
“No,” Stark protested. “Dad, I know you’ve only got a little while, but you don’t have to rush off.”
“Thank you.” He glanced around, puzzled. “Is it safe here? We’ve been told you’re under siege, your defenses crumbling. But, none of you seem worried at all.”
“We’re worried. No one knows how things will work out in the end. But we’re not crumbling. No way. We’ve taken everything the government’s thrown at us so far and broken it into little pieces.”
“There was a tremendous explosion on the Moon a few months ago. A lot of people saw it. The government said it was in the Colony, but there’s a lot of people who claim the explosion was outside the Colony.”
“It was. We caused it. Blew up a lot of ammunition the government had sent up here.”
“You did?” His father laughed. “Serves them right. So, you’re safe? You’ve defeated every attack?”
“I don’t want to make it sound too cut and dried. We’ve been lucky a few times,” Stark hedged. “Sometimes it’s been pretty close. And we’ve lost people.”
“Lost them? How?”
It took Stark a moment to realize his father truly didn’t understand what the term ‘lost’ meant in the case of a soldier. “Killed, Dad. They’ve been killed fighting up here.”
“Oh.” Stark’s father ducked his head to hide his embarrassment. “I’m… I’m sorry. I really didn’t—”
“I know. That’s okay.”
“But you stil
l seem confident, if I’m any judge of people. Everyone I’ve seen here seems confident.”
Stark pondered the statement, then shrugged. “Yeah. That’s right. Truth be told, I think we could grab a lot of extra territory if we wanted it.”
“Extra territory?” Stark’s father’s eyebrows rose, then lowered into a frown. “But the military situation up here has been stalemated for years. That’s what the government kept telling us. Were they lying?”
“No. Not about that. It’s just the way we were fighting, the way they were telling us to fight, that kept us from breaking the stalemate. Everything was too rigid, too preplanned all to hell and gone, too much micromanagement of the guys with weapons from people way behind the front line. When we got rid of the people behind the front, and managed to survive long enough, we figured out how to do it better.”
“I’m not sure I understand. You mean you can, what’s the word, command better now?” His father leaned forward, intent on the question.
Stark rubbed his forehead, arranging his thoughts. “Everything’s been top down in the past, Dad. You know, just like in civ, uh, civilian jobs. The big boss tells little bosses who tell littler bosses who tell somebody else until you finally get to the apes who do the actual job, and then they’re expected to do exactly as told. Oh, there’s always talk about letting the guys doing the job have a lot of input, but it never happens much because too few bosses want to share information or authority. It’s been that way since forever, I guess, and maybe it had to work that way because only the big boss could collect all the data and maybe understand what was going down.”
His father frowned again, this time thoughtfully, then nodded. “Of course. Every system I’ve seen functions the same way. They collect information and funnel it to what you call the boss, which is whoever is allowed to make decisions. Then the boss uses the same system in reverse to tell everyone what to do.”
Stark’s Crusade Page 14