Flames of Rebellion

by Jay Allan

  “I can’t overstate what you have done for the cause, Doctor. The federals will rue the day they sent you to prison.”

  Holcomb didn’t respond. He just looked back at her . . . and an unmistakable smile slipped onto his lips.

  CHAPTER 35

  ARMY OF HAVEN HQ

  DOVER VILLAGE

  FEDERAL COLONY ALPHA-2 (HAVEN)

  EPSILON ERIDANI II

  “Colonel Morgan calling General Ward. Do you read?”

  Damian rushed into the building, moving toward the comm unit, not entirely sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

  “Colonel Morgan calling General Ward. Do you read?”

  “This is Ward.” He grabbed the headset, putting it on as he spoke. “I can’t tell you how it feels to hear your voice, Colonel.”

  “Your comm should be clear, General. The mission has been a complete success. We have secured the station, sir, and disengaged the jamming setup. The federal squadron attempted to land shock troops, but Dr. Holcomb was able to gain control over the station AI and activate the defense system. One frigate was destroyed, and the others withdrew.”

  Damian was stunned. He’d considered the whole thing the craziest of desperate maneuvers, a near-suicide mission to gain control of the station for just long enough to destroy the jamming setup. But what Morgan had described went far beyond that.

  “Colonel, I’m speechless. Well done!”

  “Thank you, sir. And when you’re ready to address the planet, we can transmit from here. You’ll be loud and clear on every frequency.”

  “Congratulations, Colonel . . . to you and all your people. I can’t even express what your great victory means for all of us, and for the rebellion itself.”

  “Thank you, General. I will pass your words on to the men and women. But Dr. Holcomb is the true hero. He got the defense systems online and drove away the federal squadron. If he hadn’t managed that, we’d all be dead now.”

  “Please relay my heartfelt thanks to the doctor.”

  “General . . .”

  “Yes, Colonel?”

  “I am reluctant to say too much over an open channel, but it will be some time before we can develop an encryption routine.”

  “What is it, Colonel? Speak freely.”

  “General, Dr. Holcomb has revised the jamming system, and we may be able to make use of it ourselves. We don’t have adequate power for planetwide coverage, but we believe we can jam all federal communications in and around Landfall.”

  “Are you saying we can do this now, Colonel?”

  “Yes, sir. Dr. Holcomb is just finishing the final setup.”

  “That is extraordinary, Luci . . . just extraordinary. You can start jamming them as soon as . . .” He hesitated. “No, wait. Not yet. Wait until I make my broadcast—let them hear what I have to say. And then cut them off as soon as I’m done.”

  “Yes, sir. And, Damian . . . with the weapons system active and the satellites hooked into the defense network, we can intercept any ship approaching Haven. The federals don’t know it yet, but they’re under siege. My people will hold the station at all costs . . . and we won’t let anything through, not a delivery of food, not a load of ammo. Nothing.”

  “You do that, Luci. Hold the line up there . . . and we just might score a massive victory.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Damian cut the line. Morgan’s report was still sinking in, its staggering implications difficult to comprehend.

  It was time.

  Time to steal a march on the federals.

  Time to rouse the planet.

  Time to drive the enemy off Haven.

  “I don’t care what you have to do. I want communications with the station restored.” Stanton’s voice was angry, raw. Semmes’s troops had taken back the spaceport . . . but then the orbital platform had gone silent. She’d put the troops in Landfall on full alert, but the rebels hadn’t budged from the woods around Dover. Then she got the report. The jamming net was down.

  “We have tried, Your Excellency.” The aide spoke nervously. “We have attempted contact on all frequencies. They do not respond.”

  “Then try again.” Stanton glared at the junior officer. “Now.”

  She turned toward Wells. “Everett, what is going on? Do you have any guesses?”

  Wells took a breath and exhaled. “It seems clear to me that the rebels used the smuggler’s vessel to dock with the station . . . and that they somehow managed to gain control and destroy the jamming equipment.”

  “That’s just not possible . . .”

  “Asha, I’ve tried to get you to listen to me since you got here. Again and again you have underestimated the colonists. They are not like citizens on Earth, cowed, accustomed to doing as they are told. They don’t live their lives under constant surveillance. You know Federal America’s policies, the people they send out to the colonies. Criminals, political agitators, men and women who resist authority. Troublemakers. Everyone they want off Earth. Yet you expect them to behave like a mob in Washington. You imagined rebellion could be defeated with no more effort than calling in a flight of gunships to break up a food riot.”

  “But the station was defended by regular military as well as colonial forces. How could the colonists possibly have taken control?”

  “Colonists? What do you think that means? These people have tamed a world, built cities, farms, factories where there was nothing before. And Colonel Semmes’s clumsy, heavy-handed attempt to bully the veterans drove almost all of them into the rebel camp, Damian Ward among them.” He stared at Stanton. “Before you arrived, I had Lieutenant Ward helping me discourage rebellion. Now he is General Ward, the commander of the rebel army. And they are an army. Capable of much, much more than you give them credit for, obviously.”

  “What do we do?” And for the first time since he’d met her, there was no confidence in her words.

  Unfortunately, Wells didn’t know what to say. He was about to try to answer when the doors opened and Semmes came running in. Wells had never seen the officer without an arrogant smirk on his face. Until now.

  “We just received a communiqué from Captain Jacobs, the commander of the frigate Condor. He confirms the rebels have control of the orbital platform. The blockading squadron attempted to land shock troops to retake the facility . . .” Semmes paused.

  “What is it, Colonel?” Stanton took a step toward Semmes. “What happened?”

  “The rebels have apparently accessed the station’s defensive grid. They fired upon the frigates as they approached.” Semmes looked around the room, every trace of his former arrogance gone. “Emmerich was destroyed. Commodore Quintel is dead. Captain Jacobs has provisionally assumed command of the squadron. He advises that he does not have sufficient firepower to engage the station. The ships have withdrawn beyond weapons range.”

  Stanton stared at Semmes for a few seconds. Then she turned toward Wells. “That means they control access to the planet . . .”

  Wells nodded, a somber expression on his face. “It means we’re trapped, cut off. No reinforcements, no ammunition resupply.” He shook his head. “No food. We’d better put together a plan to forage in the countryside, because if we dig in here in Landfall, we’re going to starve sooner or later.”

  “No.” Stanton was almost in a state of shock. “No . . . it’s not possible. Federal America will send naval forces, they will retake the station.”

  “That will take months, Your Excellency.” Semmes stood, looking frozen in place. “Far longer than our supplies will last.”

  The room fell silent for perhaps half a minute. Then the display on the wall lit up, the speakers crackling to life.

  “What the hell—”

  “Attention citizens of Haven . . . this is General Damian Ward, commander in chief of the army of Haven. For weeks now, you have been unable to send or receive any transmissions, but we have now restored communications to the entire planet. For those of you unaware of what has happened around Landfall du
ring this time, know that your neighbors and fellow Havenites have risen up in righteous rebellion, that they have fought two battles against the federal forces and taken control of the orbital platform. We have dealt them a powerful blow, and now it’s time for all of you to join us, to strike an even greater blow for Haven’s freedom!”

  Wells listened to the transmission, knowing he was hearing about the defeat of the federal forces on Haven even before it happened.

  The rebels have won the first round. The senate will now have to respond by sending more forces, by cracking down even harder. But that would take months, perhaps a year.

  And we’ll all be dead long before then . . .

  “. . . rise up, gather together, take control of your homes, your cities. Follow your neighbors with military experience, and benefit from their knowledge. Secure the future . . . for your children. And for their children. Today is Haven’s Independence Day . . . and if you are willing to fight for your future, the victory is ours.”

  Damian Ward turned and walked away from the camera. “So, what did you think?”

  John Danforth nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. “You were perfect, my friend. For a man who has come late to rebellion, you have become a true fire breather.”

  “I should have supported you much sooner. I was held up by the past, though. I remembered battles I fought, soldiers who served at my side. I thought of a flag, and of the men and women who struggled—who died—fighting under it. But a flag is just cloth, and outstanding men and women have fought for poor causes throughout history. Federal America is—was—my nation . . . but it is unjust, controlled by men and women who see themselves superior to those they rule. Haven is different. The people that have come to this place have made it something special. And Federal America is looking to destroy that. They seek to turn our home into another version of Earth. And we can’t let that happen. No matter what it takes.”

  Danforth reached out and put his hand on Damian’s shoulder. “We’ll have that future, Damian. And you can’t beat yourself up. You did join us. And not only did you join us, you saved us. You pulled our revolution from the brink of defeat. You gave—no, give—us hope.”

  Damian shook his head. “We won a victory, my friend, and we won it together, all of us. But real independence remains a dream. No matter what happens in the coming weeks, we have a long way to go. And a lot of suffering still to come.”

  “I’m well aware of that. But allow yourself a moment of satisfaction, Damian. You have done well, far better than we could have hoped. Savor it. There will be time to face tomorrow’s trials tomorrow. For today, at least, we’re free.”

  Damian just nodded, offering his friend a smile. But his thoughts were darker. They dwelt on the realities that lay ahead, on the crushing burdens of command.––

  But there was no point in giving too much time to those thoughts. Whatever his doubts, the rebellion was his life now, his sacred responsibility. And Damian Ward wasn’t a man who ran from his duties.

  “Well, John, before we start worrying about how big a victory we’ve won, we have a lot of work to do.”

  “Just tell me what to do, Damian. You’re in charge now.”

  “First, we should be hearing from some of the rebel groups anytime now . . . and we’ve got to get them organized. And we need the ones close to Landfall to march here, join us. We had a good day, but the federals could still strike; indeed, that’s what I would do if I was them. They can put together a timeline as easily as I, and it’s only a matter of time before they start feeling the pinch on their supply chain. Once they figure that out, they’ll come after ours. So while we wait for our reinforcements, the second thing we need to do is double all patrols.”

  “I’ll see to the patrols, Damian . . . I mean, General.” Danforth smiled at his friend. “Then I’ll come back . . . and we can start rallying more support. I’ve got a list of groups, other chapters of the Guardians of Liberty to begin with. It’s time to build a real army.”

  Damian watched his friend walk out the door. Then he turned toward the two officers sitting at the comm units. He could hear the queries already coming in—resistance groups, even individual colonists, calling, seeking to join the rebellion.

  It had begun.

  CHAPTER 36

  REBEL SIEGE LINES

  JUST OUTSIDE LANDFALL CITY

  FEDERAL COLONY ALPHA-2 (HAVEN)

  EPSILON ERIDANI II

  “Are you sure about this, Damian? They wouldn’t have dealt with us so mercifully.” Luci Morgan had been a reluctant rebel who’d only joined the fight when Damian himself had called on her. But she’d become a firebrand in recent weeks, one of the most aggressive hawks among his officers. “What about the wounded they massacred? The innocent people they arrested and imprisoned?”

  “Vengeance will serve no purpose, Luci. And for every federal atrocity, I could counter you with one of ours. I’ll remind you of the rumors of what the rangers did in the woods near Vincennes.”

  Damian used the word rumors, but he knew exactly how Killian’s people had behaved. He’d spoken with the commander of the rangers about it . . . and told Killian in no uncertain terms that if it ever happened again, he would hang for it. It had been a tense meeting, but Killian was a veteran, however extreme and brutal he’d become, and he accepted Damian’s position as army commander. The two had managed to work together since then. More or less.

  “If you think the federals will take your mercy into consideration . . . or honor any agreement they make here, you’re mistaken, Damian. You know that, right?”

  “Colonel, I have made a decision, one driven by my own sense of decency, not an idea of what the federals or anyone else will do. But if you need more than that, consider what happens next. You and I both know the federals will send an expeditionary force, larger and far more powerful than the glorified security guards we’ve faced until this point. Do you think it is wise to give them a rallying cry? How would we have reacted if we were sent someplace that had murdered hundreds of captive soldiers? What would have been in your mind as we landed?”

  He paused, staring back at Morgan, who had fallen silent.

  “Also, consider an honest assessment of the losses we would take assaulting Landfall, not to mention the civilian casualties and the damage to the city. We outnumber them five to one; there is no doubt in my mind we could prevail. But most of our forces are untrained, unblooded. How many would blunder into enemy fire? How many would panic and run at the first shot, spreading disorder among the ranks? Our victory here would be neither quick nor bloodless, I’m afraid.” He paused. “No, if there is an opportunity to gain time—time to train these enthusiastic but disorganized recruits—we have to take it.

  “I hate what they did to our people, Luci. But whatever savagery lies ahead, whatever atrocities or barbarism, it will not start with us. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A trooper stuck his head in the tent. The man had two stripes on his sleeves, the insignia a makeshift affair, clearly cut from another garment, but the meaning was clear enough. “Sorry to disturb you, General, but Governor Wells and Observer Stanton are here.”

  “I will be right there, Corporal.” He turned toward Morgan. “You see, Colonel? They were both willing to come here under flag of truce, accepting my word that would be respected and they would not be harmed. That is something, is it not? I do not expect the senate back in Washington to act honorably, but such dealings do have their place, even if we cannot expect reciprocity. Our actions define us, Luci. You know that. Besides, what do we do? Assault and trigger a holocaust? How many babies do you want to starve to death to compel the federals to surrender? And what of the prisoners, the civilians, in the detention camps? Would you let them die, too?”

  “You’re right, Damian. I’m sorry.” Morgan’s voice was soft, apologetic. “It’s just hard to accept so much loss and not want to strike back. I guess I had too much time up there with nothing to do but think.
” Morgan had spent the past two months on the orbital platform her people had taken. She’d just returned the past week, after rebel forces retook the spaceport. Since then, Vagabond had made half a dozen trips back and forth, returning the strike teams and ferrying reinforcements to the platform, as well as engineers, technicians, communications specialists. The fortress was now strongly held, its batteries active and barring the way of any supply vessel seeking to reach the federal garrison.

  “I understand, Luci. Don’t think I don’t have the same thoughts. But we must be who we are, who we choose to be—not a poor copy of our enemies.” He turned and walked out of the tent, Morgan following behind.

  They walked across the camp. He turned and looked at Landfall. The city was less than two kilometers away, and there were works as far as the eye could see, the fortified positions of the rebel army besieging Haven’s capital.

  No, a mob. Not an army. Not yet.

  Volunteers had poured into the rebel camp since Damian’s broadcast, and groups had risen in every other city on the planet, sweeping away the token federal garrisons and taking control. The main rebel army around Landfall was now ten thousand strong, though many of them were still barely organized groups serving under local commanders. The process of organizing the entire mass into a true army was an ongoing project, one that had taken his every waking hour and then some.

  Damian was grateful for the response to his call, but concerned as well. Organizing the army was only one problem. Another was that there was no real government on most of Haven now, and more than a dozen revolutionary tribunals had sprung up in the vacuum. Some of them were reasonable enough, just local citizens seeking to fill the void and keep basic services running. But others were more radical, more aggressive. Many answered to something called the Society of the Red Flag. As Damian learned more about them, he’d become suspicious of their motives. And their still-secretive nature. He’d heard accounts of federal officials being shot, even of loyalist Havenites harassed, killed.