The Fighter King

by John Bowers

  Oliver lowered his eyes and felt a flush creep into his cheeks.

  "Well, sir, I … It was …" He sighed. "I felt I had no choice."

  "Of course you had a choice. You had the choice of finding a safe place and waiting it out. But you didn't. The government of Vega is eternally grateful."

  "Well … You're welcome. I have no regrets about doing it."

  The old man was smiling, nodding sadly.

  "Technically," he said, "the Monarchy of Vega no longer exists." He paused, unable to continue for several seconds. He cleared his throat and tried again. "The Sirians have eliminated the Vegan government. But there are embassies on several neutral worlds, such as this one. We are in contact with one another, and in the absence of direction from our superiors, we continue to maintain the embassies in the hope that one day Vega will again be free."

  Oliver nodded, intrigued. "Sort of a government in exile?"

  "Yes, that is quite accurate."

  Oliver nodded again. What did this have to do with him?

  Kilbo got up and hobbled over to his desk, returned with a small case in his veined hands, and sat down again. Fumbling with the case, he opened it carefully and turned it so Oliver could see.

  Lying on a velvet pad was a small gold medal in the shape of a crown. It was attached to a Royal Blue silk ribbon, and a small silver sword overlaid the crown. It gleamed in the light and seemed to sparkle. Oliver looked at it without comprehension.

  "Sergeant, this medal is called the Sword of Sophia. It's the highest decoration Vega has to offer, and has never been awarded to a non-Vegan."

  Holy shit!

  "Mr. Ambassador …" Oliver protested.

  "Ordinarily this would be presented to you by Queen Ursula herself, accompanied by a great deal of celebration and fanfare. Unfortunately, that is not possible today. But as an official of the Monarchy of Vega in Exile, it is within my authority to bestow this upon you in the name of the Queen herself."

  "Sir, I can't …"

  "Please, Sergeant. I apologize for the humble atmosphere surrounding this presentation, but you must accept it. No one deserves it more. On behalf of Queen Ursula and the Vegan people, please accept this token of our deepest appreciation."

  Oliver stared at him, every muscle and fiber in his being telling him he didn't deserve it. Hell, they had lost the war!

  "Sir, I didn't really do anything to earn this."

  "Yes, son, you did. You gave up two years of your life, and you risked death, all because you understood the difference between right and wrong. And I suspect you gave up yet a great deal more, but only you can measure the cost. This medal, which is awarded for bravery and selfless service, is all we have with which to thank you. Please …"

  The old man's eyes were as sincere as any Oliver had ever seen. With a hand that trembled, he reached out and let Kilbo lay the box in his hand.

  "Thank you, Mr. Ambassador."

  "No, Sergeant — thank you."

  * * *

  Henry Wells sat wearily and listened as senator after senator lined up to trash his military budget proposal. Each senator was allowed to speak for up to ten minutes, and after the first hour their comments blended into a litany of disapproval.

  "Certainly defense is an important consideration," said Senator Dianne Weinstock of South America. "No one can fault the junior senator from North America for his patriotism, but practical reality must rule the day. I find it personally offensive that Senator Wells would accuse the Sirians of hostile intentions against the Federation. I have spent considerable time on Sirius 1, both as Ambassador and as a private citizen, and I assure you that the people of the Confederacy hold the Federation in the highest esteem. To suggest that they have aggressive intentions against us is an insult to their civilization!"

  Ten minutes later, Senator William Boxer of North America took his own shot. He had over thirty years in the Senate and was well known for his dovish views — though hardly his gentle nature.

  "I find it easy to overlook my esteemed colleague's youthful exuberance," Boxer began, beaming a condescending smile in Henry's direction. "I share his grief over Vega's plight, but the Federation is not the policeman of the galaxy. Both Sirius and Vega are sovereign entities; they are big boys out there, and they must learn to take care of themselves.

  "As for defending the Federation, I can tell you that the Federation is doing just fine! We can and will take care of ourselves. There are no enemies on, or over, the horizon, and I simply cannot buy the notion that we will be the next target of what Senator Wells chooses to call 'Sirian aggression'. What Senator Wells is doing is the equivalent of shouting 'fire!' in a crowded auditorium. There is no fire, and until I smell smoke, I won't be stampeded into paying for putting it out!"

  It only got worse after that. Senator Jacques Kennedy of Northern Ireland:

  "Sixty billion terros can feed a billion people for sixty days! It can feed a million people for sixty thousand days — that's 164 years! It can build schools, hospitals, or universities! Sixty billion terros can create jobs in impoverished regions, fund research into food production and medical advances! Sixty billion terros can terraform a planet for expansion of living space!

  "Why should we spend sixty billion terros on military hardware? So Senator Wells can 'bring home the bacon' to his defense-contractor friends? Given the fact that Senator Wells is intimate with the LincEnt Corporation of North America, this smells to me like a conflict of interest! Perhaps we should vote part of that sixty billion to the Ethics Committee to fund an investigation of Senator Wells and his personal business contacts!"

  The temptation to leap out of his seat and drive a fist into Kennedy's smug, alcohol-bloated face was powerful. But Henry had been around the Senate long enough to know that his only recourse was to sit stoically as if he hadn't even heard the man. But his stomach had turned sour, and he had the sinking feeling that the Senate was never going to approve a single terro for Federation defense.

  Denver, CO, North America, Terra

  "Lincoln Enterprises, this is Rosemary."

  "Rosemary?"

  "Yes, this is Rosemary. Can I help you?"

  "Rosemary?"

  Rosemary frowned. Was someone playing a joke? "May I ask who's calling?"

  "Rosemary, this is Oliver. I'm in London. Tell the old man I'll be home tomorrow."

  London, Europe, Terra

  Oliver checked into a hotel for the night. He fed Bradley, bathed him, and after playing with him for an hour, put him down for the night. Since leaving Vega, he was feeling positively domestic.

  Tired but not sleepy, he settled into an easy chair and stared at the ceiling, his mind running back over the events of the past two years. Such thoughts were never far from his mind, and he wondered absently how they would affect his future.

  The hotel AI announced a visitor, and Oliver sat up in surprise. Who the hell knew he was here? He opened the door and stared in surprise.

  "Well, well, well. Look at you!" A smiling Henry Wells stood there, a bottle of scotch in his hand. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

  Oliver threw his arms around the smaller man and almost crushed him with a bear hug. Leading him into the suite, he closed the door and wiped moisture from his eyes.

  "How did you know I was here?" he managed.

  "Your dad called me. He knew we were both in London, so he figured we ought to get together before you head on home. Ollie, why didn't you let us know you were on the way?"

  They settled into easy chairs across a coffee table, Henry uncorking the scotch.

  "I was going to," Oliver told him, "but at the last minute I decided to wait. The past couple of years have been so chaotic that I can never count on anything turning out the way I planned. I figured anything could happen before I got here; I had to go to Sirius first, and until I got clear of there — well, I don't trust those bastards."

  "Don't blame you." Henry poured each of them a shot, and lifted his in the air. "To homecoming,"
he pronounced, and they both drank.

  Oliver took a deep breath and drank in the sight of his friend.

  "There were plenty of times I thought I'd never see you again," he said.

  Henry nodded gravely. "Same here. You look pretty good, though. Lost a little weight …"

  "Forty pounds."

  "We heard you were in the Vegan Guard. What the hell happened?"

  For the next three hours, Oliver told Henry as much as he could bear to tell. Henry asked an occasional question, but mainly just listened, astonished beyond belief at the things he was hearing. When Oliver finally ran out of words, he simply shook his head.

  "Un-fucking-believable!"

  Oliver nodded. "I almost don't believe it myself."

  "Sounds like it was bad."

  "Worst experience of my life, all in all."

  Now Henry began talking, and Oliver learned for the first time that his friend was a Federation senator.

  "I have an appropriations bill on the floor right now," he said. "It'll be coming up for a vote next week, but it's going to be close. I'd like it very much if you'd be willing to tell your story to the Senate."

  Oliver looked skeptical. "I don't know about that …"

  "Ollie, we've got to get a defense program started! Those fuckers won't stop with Vega. In a few years, they're going to look this way."

  "I know that."

  "A lot of pacifists in the Senate think nothing can touch us. We've got to make them see the real danger of Sirian aggression. I can't think of a single soul who can do that better than you can. Please, tell me you'll do it."

  The very thought of sitting before a couple hundred politicians and answering questions about Vega made Oliver quake, but the earnestness in Henry's eyes was powerful persuasion. Finally he nodded.

  "Tell me when and where," he said.

  "Tomorrow's Friday; they'll finish most of the debate before they break for the weekend. Monday morning I'll get to make closing comments and then we'll vote. I want you there beside me. I'll introduce you and you can tell your story."

  "What exactly do I tell them?"

  "As much as you feel comfortable telling. Concentrate on the atrocities. And be prepared to answer some hard questions."

  Oliver rubbed a hand over his face. He really hated this!

  "One more thing," Henry said. "You go home tomorrow, get rested up, but on Saturday I'm going to alert the press that you're back …"

  "Aw, Jesus, Henry!"

  "We need maximum coverage on this thing — the press will go nuts over the weekend; you'll be the lead story on every network. That will make your testimony all the more compelling. We hit 'em while you're hot." Henry judged his expression, then smiled. "Still with me?"

  "I wouldn't do this for anybody else, Henry."

  "Don't do it for me. Do it for Victoria."

  Friday, 25 August, 0197 (PCC) — Denver, CO, North America, Terra

  The next morning, Oliver and his son boarded a supersonic transport bound for Chicago. Three hours later they changed to a smaller aircraft for the final leg, and at a few minutes before daybreak, landed in Denver. As he passed through the gate he was surprised to see his father and Rosemary waiting for him.

  It was an awkward moment. Both Lincoln and Rosemary stared in abject disbelief at the baby in Oliver's arms. For just a moment they stood frozen, then Rosemary stepped forward and touched the baby's cheek.

  "Oh, gosh, Oliver! Where did you get this?"

  "This is Bradley," Oliver told her. "He's my son."

  "Oh, he's beautiful! Can I hold him?"

  Oliver unloaded the baby into her arms, then looked at his dad. Oliver Lincoln II looked at least five years older, he thought. But the relief in his eyes was unmistakable. They shook hands, then Lincoln pulled him into a hug.

  "Goddamn, son! It's good to see you!"

  Oliver nodded, biting his lip. He blinked rapidly, unable to speak.

  "You never called back," his dad said. "I didn't know how to get hold of you."

  "There was nothing to report," Oliver said, his voice husky. "I was in SE custody, so I had to get permission every time I called."

  Lincoln nodded, frowning against his own emotion.

  "Well, son … I'm afraid there's bad news."

  Oliver frowned. Then it hit him.

  "Mom?" he whispered.

  Lincoln nodded somberly. "In January. She was deteriorating for a long time, and it finally caught up to her."

  Oliver closed his eyes as the pain hit him. Would this tragedy never end?

  Oliver claimed his luggage and Lincoln led him out to a hovercar. Rosemary sat in back with the baby while Lincoln piloted them to the mansion. The sun was just rising as they entered the house. Breakfast was waiting, and though Oliver had eaten in London, he sat down again for another meal. His dad brought him up to date on things that had happened over the past two years, but Oliver was too drained to care.

  After breakfast, Lincoln announced that he was going to the office. Rosemary volunteered to stay behind and help with the baby. After Lincoln was gone, Oliver really looked at her for the first time. She looked fabulous in a light summer dress, her dark hair done up in a French braid. Oliver stared at her for a moment, then stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. Without a word, he kissed her, then released her and took a step back. She looked up at him in surprise.

  "Oliver, that's the first time you ever kissed me!"

  He nodded. "I should have done it a long time ago."

  An awkward moment passed.

  "Can I ask you a question?" she said.

  "Ask me anything."

  "Where did you get the baby?"

  He smiled ruefully. "Same place you always get babies."

  "I'm not trying to pry, I'm just curious."

  "I know. I had a one-nighter with a Vegan girl. She was killed a few days later, and the rescue people discovered she was pregnant. I was able to get the embryo — actually just a fertilized egg — and I later found a surrogate mother. That's the short version."

  "I'm sorry about the Vegan girl. It must have been awful."

  He nodded. "Worse than you can imagine."

  She put a hand on his shoulder. "Oliver, I know you've been through some horrible times. I also know you probably don't want to talk about them. But if you ever do, I'm ready to listen."

  His eyes filled unexpectedly. He wanted to thank her, but couldn't speak. He just nodded.

  London, Europe, Terra

  The Senate debate had been tabled the day before. Now it continued.

  First up was Senator Kenneth Kroeker from the Outer Worlds. A miner by trade, he was a rawboned, sinewy man with a permanent sun-squint. His eyes roved the chamber contemptuously as he spoke.

  "For three solid hours yesterday I listened to a parade of Terra-bound wimps insult the junior senator from North America," he began. "You people sit down here in your comfortable cities and plush offices with your liquor and your caviar and you don't have the first damn clue what makes the Solar System function! You feel secure in your gated communities with your electronic sensors and armed guards, so you think nothing can happen to you, or by extension, to the rest of us.

  "Well, I got news for you! Those of us who live on the rim of the system, on Titan or Ganymede or the asteroids, know that dangers do exist out there. We have faced pirate attacks, both foreign and domestic. We have seen and felt sudden death, not always by natural causes. If you want to truly appreciate life, try living on a frontier world. When you have to eke out your living with your bare hands on an airless rock where the rivers flow with liquid methane, you come to a more perfect understanding of what it means to survive.

  "I know from personal experience that what you hold dear can be taken from you without warning. Just because you think you have 'risen above' human nature here on the surface of Terra doesn't mean that others who aren't part of your inner circle have done the same. There is aggression on Sirius. There is aggression on Altair. There i
s aggression on Beta Centauri. And once the Sirians have finished with Vega, there will be aggression on Vega.

  "They may not come after us next. But to assume that they will never come after us is as stupid as it is naive. Senator Boxer seems to think we are ready for whatever comes. He's wrong. We don't have a Space Force, just a police force. If a true threat were to materialize tomorrow, we would all be slaves inside of a week.

  "If you vote against appropriations to improve our defenses, fine. But I will support the measure, because if and when they do come, my home will be on the front lines!"

  Henry heard angry mutterings as Kroeker sat down. Next was Senator Gutierrez from Mexico.

  "Senator Boxer must think we are fools," he began. "Perhaps he thinks we are uneducated villagers from high in Sierra los Altos de Chiapas. By his account, money spent on defense is money wasted, money lost to the economy. How disingenuous is that?

  "Any contract offered by the government creates jobs for the employees of the contractor. Sixty billion terros for defense means tens of thousands of jobs for ordinary citizens who will build the hardware, construct the bases, and design the weapons. It is my experience that those who are paid to work benefit more from government assistance than do those who merely receive a gift of money. A gift of money may be spent on food or shelter, but once spent it is gone. However, when one works for the money, the result is a job completed, a product produced. Not only does the worker benefit, but so does society. Wealth has been created.

  "I am persuaded by the arguments of Senator Wells. Whether or not the Sirians plan to attack the Federation, we are fools to continue without a strong military. Sooner or later, someone will make trouble. It is in our best interest to be ready for whatever may come.

  "Mejico will support the resolution."

  Henry smiled fleetingly, grateful for any support at all. But the day wasn't over. The next dozen senators were all from the Human Liberty Party, normally bitter opponents of Solar Conservatives.

  Senator Vuich from Eastern Europe: "In my estimation, Sirius does not fit into the equation at all. The bottom line is that, in the event of any conflict, we are not prepared!"