by Jay Allan
Augustus Garret finally broke the silence. “The greatest way we can honor the memory of those who were lost is to protect that which they fought so bravely for. Some of you saw this coming.” His eyes fixed on Cain. “However, I did not. I have always considered myself to be aloof from politics, an attitude I now realize has been naïve.”
He scanned the table as he spoke. “I have tended to think of enemies in military terms – fleets and armies to be defeated in battle. But I have seen my beloved navy nearly seized from within by the machinations of those who would be our puppet masters.” Garret’s mouth was slightly clenched. He was trying his best to stay calm, but the thought of Gavin Stark’s scheme still enraged him. “As you, my friends, have seen your own Marine Corps nearly destroyed by treachery.” His eyes moved across the table, pausing for an instant as he faced each of the Marines present. “Indeed, both forces have paid the cost, in suffering and in needless death.”
Garret inhaled and let out a soft sigh. “Let us never forget that those responsible for much of what has happened are still alive…still in power and likely plotting even now. Gavin Stark is still the head of Alliance Intelligence, and Rafael Samuels is now openly a member of the Directorate.” Garret was restraining his anger with very limited success. “The realities of the current situation do not afford us the chance to pursue justice or a meaningful resolution, at least not now. Though we are here to celebrate the peace, let us never forget that it is but a brief truce. Let us remain vigilant and ready, for our enemies shall strike us again one day.” He stared out over the table, but his eyes were looking past all those present. “And, by God, we will be ready.”
Terrance Compton stood up and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Your words are wise, Augustus, and I believe everyone here agrees completely.” He swallowed hard, not anxious to say what he intended to say. “Perhaps the worst thing our enemies have done to us is to compel us to become more like them.” Everyone was looking at Compton, unsure where he was going with his comments. “We must rebuild the navy and the Marine Corps, and when we do we must never forget that both organizations were infiltrated by our enemies.”
Compton paused. “As we move forward we must purge our forces of anyone who is suspect.” He could feel the reaction in the room. They didn’t want to agree with him, but they all did. “We need not fear the enemy who launches himself against our defended gates, but rather the one who would sneak in and poison our soup. We must never be so easily and totally infiltrated again.”
Cain sat and listened. He agreed totally. He was unquestionably the most paranoid person in the room, though since his abduction, Admiral Garret was sounding an awful lot like Erik Cain when he spoke. Cain knew this was only a brief respite in a struggle that would never end. But it was a step forward, and if he…and those in this room…pushed boldly forward into the future, maybe that future would be a fit place to live. As long as they never let their guard down.
“You are right, Terrance.” Garret spoke up. “We must be vigilant, now and always. Let us never forget. Let us never let each other forget.” Garret paused for a moment and then let a smile creep onto his face. “But for now, my friends, drink with me to our new Colonial Confederation.” He held his glass over the table and watched as his friends and comrades did the same. “We shall make it something we can be proud of.”
They spoke as they had fought and struggled…as one. “To the Confederation.”
It was deep into the Armstrong night, and two lovers were out for a stroll. The riverwalk through the center of Astria wasn’t finished yet, but the parts that were open were very picturesque, perfect for romantic interludes.
Erik looked up at the night sky, the darkness mitigated by the glowing light of Armstrong’s moons. “Three moons…what more could you want for a seduction scene. And they are all almost full. They must have some local name for that…when the moons are all full.”
Sarah Linden stood next to Erik, her hands lightly grasping his arm. “You don’t need any moons at all, you silly Marine. And you know that.” She glanced up and gave him a smile before her eyes panned over the river, watching the ghostly white moonlight dancing slowly on the calm water.
Sarah had been distraught when Erik went to Earth, certain she’d never see him again. She’d almost burst into tears when General Holm arrived on Columbia and told her he was just fine. She was disappointed he was on Arcadia, but thrilled he had made it off of Earth.
She’d almost had a stroke when she saw the state of his shoulder, which had never been properly treated between his rapid series of battles and adventures. She barely allowed time for a hug and a few kisses before she dragged him to the hospital and had him in surgery. Courtship rituals vary considerably, especially when you’re dating the best trauma surgeon in the Marine Corps.
This was another of their brief moments, their time together between the wars and disasters that separated them, sometimes for years. They had a relationship few people could have endured, but they had only grown closer with the passing years.
“You know this isn’t going to last forever.” Erik put his hand to Sarah’s head, stroking her long, blond hair as he spoke. “I was ready to leave the Corps before all of this happened.” He hesitated, clearly having trouble with what he wanted to say. “Maybe we should resign now. We deserve some peace, some real time together.”
She smiled, but she was silent for a moment, fighting the urge to agree with him. Nothing would make her happier than the two of them spending the rest of their lives walking the beaches and forests of Atlantia or some other pleasant world. But that wasn’t their destiny, and they both knew it.
“You know we can’t do that.” There was sadness in her voice, but also contentment. She might have lived her life truly alone if a CAC nuke hadn’t send a shattered Erik Cain to her hospital. She and Cain both carried deep scars, and they complimented each other perfectly. They healed each other’s wounds when everyone else tore them open. Everything she hid from others she shared with him. “Could you be happy knowing we abandoned our friends when they needed us? That we stepped aside when we finally had the chance to build a better future?”
He looked at her and smiled. “No, you know I couldn’t. No more than you could.” He pulled her closer, hugging her tightly. “But let’s make sure we build a place for ourselves in that new future.”
She tightened her arms, feeling his warmth against her. “That, my love, is a promise.”
Chapter 33
Independence Square
Arcadia (City)
Arcadia – Wolf 359 III
Kara sat on the cool grass holding little William as she gazed at the statue. It was a beautiful day under Arcadia’s red sun, and there was a calm and a joyfulness in the air that had been absent for far too long.
She felt the calm, but while she loved her son and was grateful to have him, she couldn’t feel the joy. The loss was still too fresh, too raw, and she felt an emptiness she wasn’t sure would ever go away.
The Assembly had declared it a day of Thanksgiving. Henceforth, this date would be the most solemn one on the Arcadian calendar. Not a rousing, celebratory event with fireworks and bands…the Arcadians had paid heavily for their freedom, and this day would henceforth be dedicated to remembering those whose sacrifices had made it possible.
She looked up at the statue. It was a remarkable likeness, even she had to admit. She wiped a tear from her cheek and wondered if she would ever be able to come here without crying. The dedication ceremony had been the hardest; she still didn’t know how she’d gotten through it. Kyle Warren and the rest of the Marine vets gave a moving tribute to their fallen leader, one that tore away her veneer of strength and left her quietly sobbing as she sat and listened.
She watched William crawling around, laughing. My God, she thought, he is already starting to look just like Will. “Your father was a great man, little one. You never got to meet him; he never got to hold you in his arms. When he was your age he l
ived in a terrible place, and he gave all he had so you could grow up somewhere better.” She sniffled, unsuccessfully fighting to hold back her tears. “He never even knew he was going to have a son.” She could feel the wetness on her cheeks, the tears streaming down her face. “His name will be remembered, and people will come here for generations and sit by this statue and point up and say, ‘there is the hero of the revolution.’ But he was more than that, more than the Arcadians who come here and pay their respects will ever know.”
She pulled William close to her, feeling the warmth of her son against her body. He was the only thing that eased her pain. It helped her to speak to him of his father, though he was too young to understand what she was saying. “Glory is a veneer that reflects the light only from a distance. Up close you can see through it, to bitter price paid in pain and death.” She looked up, past the tufts of William’s blond hair, to the statue. “You will have glory forever, my love, and thousands – millions – of people will have a future of hope because of what you did.” Her throat was raw and her red eyes ached from crying. “You died alone, in the mud of the battlefield, without even my hand on your face for comfort. Forgive me…for not being there, for the years I wasted when we might have been together…for living and going on without you.”
She stood up, scooping William into her arms. “I will come back here on this day…every day until I die. And I will make sure your son never forgets his father. Not just the hero all Arcadians will know, but the grape farmer, the man who wanted nothing more than to settle down and live his life in peace.”
The Assembly had unanimously asked her to assume Will’s seat, but she had said no. She just couldn’t do it. She would come to the constitutional convention; she would be there to insure that all that Will had fought for was codified and enacted…that no new generation of politicians would ever be allowed to usurp the freedoms Will Thompson had fought to preserve. But then she swore she was done with government and politics and war. All she wanted to do was take her son back home to Concordia, to see that he grew up happy and healthy in the world his father had died to create.
Gregory Sanders walked across the grass, still limping along on his cane but otherwise recovered from his wounds. The federals had treated him well, and he’d been released immediately after the truce was signed. Greg had wanted to go to Mars himself as Arcadia’s representative, but in the end he’d sent Kyle Warren instead. He was just too old to make the trip, as much as he tried to ignore the constraints of mortality. Besides, he wasn’t about to leave Kara alone, not after all she’d been through.
He saw Kara sitting, holding little William, and he flashed her a warm smile. The new prime minister of Arcadia paused and looked up at the statue. He, too, felt Will’s loss acutely. “Well, my friend, we did what we set out to do, more or less.” The Confederation Agreement didn’t provide for true colonial independence, but it did guarantee the rights of the colonies to manage their own internal affairs without interference. It was a good result, the best they realistically could have achieved now. “We couldn’t have gotten here without you.”
One day, Sanders thought, still staring up at Thompson’s likeness, they will come again and try to take back what we have gained by blood and sacrifice. If they do, he swore to himself, they will pay a heavy price, at least on Arcadia. He prayed his people would never again live under an oppressive government, though in the back of his mind there were doubts. Would they be able to avoid the mistakes the people of Earth had made? They had their chance at freedom too, and they lost it – some would say they threw it away. Would Arcadians five or ten generations from now appreciate what they inherited? Or would they go down the same path to tyranny? Only the march of time would tell.
For now, Gregory Sanders put his arm around his grand-daughter and his great-grandson, and they all turned and walked slowly across the field, leaving behind the great bronze statue and its simple inscription, stenciled in platinum: General William Thompson, Father of the Republic of Arcadia.
Chapter 34
Willard Hotel
Washbalt Core
Washbalt Metroplex, Earth
Gavin Stark sat on the edge of the bed, the satin sheets, moist with perspiration, clinging to his legs and lower back. His face was grim, his stare focused on nothing really, just an imaginary point in space. His thoughts were dark, blacker even than those that normally dwelt in the sociopathic recesses of his twisted mind. His waking dream was one of vengeance.
Alex Linden was lying partially under the sheet, the rumpled material arranged over her naked body in just the right places, a tool of seduction she employed almost unconsciously. She was silent, her head propped up on the pillow, watching Stark carefully. She reached toward his shoulder but pulled her hand back. He’d been jumpy since Dutton’s death…less predictable, more brutal even than before. She’d never realized just how much he had relied on the old man, and she was worried. It seemed to her that Stark, always tightly wound, was on the verge of truly snapping. What that could mean - for her, for the others in Alliance Intelligence, for God knows who else - she could only guess.
“It is fortuitous that we delayed reuniting you with your long-lost sister. It will prove far more useful to our current needs.” Stark’s voice was calm, but it was different than before. Stark had always been ruthless, unrestrained by typical ethical and moral constraints, but not really sadistic. He didn’t hesitate to use torture, but he didn’t especially enjoy it either. He just wanted results, and he didn’t care how he got them. Now, though, she could hear the rage, the darkness…the madness.
He looked at her, his face slightly contorted despite his efforts to hide his fiery anger. “General Cain will undoubtedly be among the inner circle of the reformed Marine Corps.” She could see his hand, partially hidden by the sheet. It was balled into a tight fist, the veins in his lower arm protruding. “We can now arrange a reunion with your dear sister, putting you in a perfect position to gain intel on their activities.”
Alex just looked at him attentively as he spoke. He was too unpredictable right now; she wasn’t willing to chance offering any real input, not until she knew what he had in mind.
“They think this is over, these rebel vermin.” He’d be damned if he was going to call them Confederates, despite the Confederation Agreement the President had signed. Been forced to sign. “But this is merely an interlude. They will pay, all of them…and those interfering Martians too.” His voice was thick with hatred. “They will pay if I have to exterminate every one of them and repopulate those worlds.”
Alex just listened, nodding slightly whenever Stark looked back over his shoulder at her. She didn’t particularly disagree with what he was saying, though she couldn’t imagine what options they would have…at least for a number of years. It would take a long time to build enough Directorate-controlled military force to take on and defeat the colonies, especially with the navy and the re-organized Marines protecting them. Meanwhile, they were just going to have to undermine the new Colonial Confederation however they could and bide their time.
“We know that your sister is Cain’s lover. Reuniting you with her will give you access to him as well. I want you to use that…I want you to become an expert in their organization, deployments…everything. When the time is right we will be prepared.”
His voice was becoming louder, more brittle. She didn’t particularly relish the idea of spending what could be years among the earnest, and now partially independent, colonials, but she couldn’t argue with the logic of the assignment. She would be well-positioned to get valuable intelligence, and she didn’t doubt there would eventually be a rematch between Alliance Gov and its wayward colonies.
She had mixed feelings about seeing her sister again. Alex had been eight years old the last time she’d seen Sarah – the day the men had come to take her away. Her beautiful older sister had attracted the eye of a powerful politician, and her resistance to his advances brought ruin to the entire family. Alex hated
her for what she had done, now as much as then. If Sarah had gone along, Alex thought, if she’d willingly agreed, the entire family would have benefited. Instead, their mother and father ended up dead, and Alex was left alone to survive in the urban wastelands. She still had nightmares of some of the things she’d had to do to survive back then. She got through it all and clawed her way to power and privilege…all the while thinking her hated older sister was dead. Until the day Gavin Stark told her otherwise.
“It is Cain and his cohorts who are the architects of our misfortune. Had we held control of the navy for six months more we would have crushed the rebellion.” Stark’s voice dripped with searing hatred when he mentioned Cain. “Now we will use him for information…information we will utilize to destroy his new Marine Corps, and the miserable dustball worlds it is so determined to defend.” He paused for a long moment, glaring the entire time at the same imaginary spot.
Finally, he broke the silence. “I know you want the Second Seat.” He twisted his torso so he was facing her. “I want you to complete this mission. And I want you to do one more thing for me before you are finished.” He paused, just for a second. “If you do, I will name you Number Two.”
She’d had her eyes on Dutton’s Seat for as long as she could remember, wanting it, aching for the power and prestige. Alex was a master at controlling herself, but she couldn’t suppress her reaction completely, not for this thing she had wanted for so long. Stark smiled; he knew he had her.
“What is it you want me to do?” Her voice was strong, firm. She wasn’t going to let the Second Seat slip away…not when she’d waited so long for that detestable old fool to die. Not when it put her one very fragile heartbeat away from total power.