Hawk Genesis: War (Flight of the Hawk)

by Robert Little

  They ascended to the fifth floor and entered an office, where John found a federal judge. Five minutes later he was sworn in as the Federal Commissioner for Grenoble.

  Along with the new status, he acquired an aide, a modestly dressed young woman who had an accent that John assumed meant she was a local, although to be accurate, it was John who had the accent.

  After everyone left he sat down and looked at the fairly attractive aide. She looked back. So, not much for gossip. He took a deep breath, conscious that this would be his first official act in the role of the single most powerful man on the planet, “Miss, since I seem to be sitting at the mayor’s desk, the actual mayor has been relocated. Would you please comm him and make an appointment to see him?” She said, “Sir, I cannot comm the mayor – he has refused any contact with the federal government.” John grinned, “Are those the phrases used by locals?” She somberly shook her head. He prodded, “And, the actual term is?” She flushed a little, “I can’t sir.” John grinned winningly at her, “Give it a day or so. I bet you’ll be able to swear at me like a trooper. Not that I would condone such a thing, mind you.” She finally cracked a small smile.

  John stood, “So, do we know where he hangs his hat, or, I don’t know, his plow?” She said, “Yes sir, his new offices are close by.” John pointed to the door and started walking, “Lets borrow a cup of sugar.” She seemed puzzled by the reference, but followed. As they descended the stairs she got on her comm unit and began rapidly talking.

  They stepped out into a small lobby and John approached the double entrance, guarded by two young army privates. They leaped to their feet and came to attention. Behind John he heard the unmistakable sound of military equipment jangling as a number of men came running toward him.

  A young lieutenant skidded to a stop and said, “Sir, give us a moment to secure the area.” John smiled nicely at the shiny new uniform and said, “Lieutenant, it seems to be a nice day for a walk, so I think I’ll pass on the escort, but thank you nonetheless. Please return to your former duties, and if I require assistance, I’ll have my aide comm you.”

  He turned away from the earnest officer and pushed against the door, which didn’t move. He looked at the privates and said, “Private?” The private most directly in his line of sight squirmed and looked out of the side of his eyes at the lieutenant. John’s very short fuse burned out, “Door. Now!” The private once again looked sideways. The lieutenant said to the side of John’s face, “Sir, my orders are to escort you. They come directly from General Chin.” John nodded and looked closely at the door. It appeared to have an electronically actuated mechanical lock. John took one step forward and kicked the lock. The door flew open. He said, “General Chin works for me.” John walked out into the weak sunshine of a mild autumn afternoon. His aide followed him and pointed to his left.

  They began walking and she said, “Sir, what are you doing?” John asked, “How many federal officials walking in downtown Orleans have been violently and fatally assaulted? Before she could answer he did, “Exactly. None. I think we’ll be fine.”

  They were passing a small restaurant, although the sign said ‘Bistro’. John stopped and peered inside. He asked, “Have you eaten here?” She said, “No sir.” John opened the door and said, “Now you have.”

  Inside John found a moderate amount of small tables, no customers. He chose one at random and sat. Moments later a menu appeared on the table, facing him. He chose tea – they didn’t seem to have any more coffee than Maya – and a croissant. As soon as he made his selection, the menu turned to face his aide. She duplicated his order.

  Five minutes later a teenaged girl appeared and quickly placed their orders on the table. John thanked her and asked, “Miss, if you have a moment, may I ask you a few questions?” She was already turning away, but looked back, “Are you a federal?” John recognized her accent as matching his aide, and answered, “Yes miss, my name is John Chamberlin and I have just arrived.” She finished her turn and said as she walked away, “I have no time to talk to you.” Before she disappeared into the back John asked, “Miss, may I speak to the manager?” She didn’t answer.

  A few minutes later, a couple appeared and walked up to John. The man asked, “Do you have a complaint?” John stood politely, “No sir, not at all. As I said to your waitress, my name is John Chamberlin, and I am the newly arrived Federal Commissioner to your planet. If you have a few moments to spare, I wish to ask you one or two questions.”

  The man said, using almost the same exact language as his waitress, “I have no time for you.” John was still standing, “Sir, no doubt as a result of the federal presence just three doors away, your restaurant is empty of customers, surely you could spare me just a few moments?”

  The woman spoke for the first time, “We don’t like federals in our restaurant.” John nodded, “I understand your attitude, and I assume that most of the citizens of your fine planet feel exactly as you do; unfortunately, the federals are here, and as they seem to have ruined the business of what is obviously a very fine restaurant, perhaps you would find just a moment or two?”

  John waited as the two looked at each other. The husband shook his head slightly, but the wife simply asked, “What?” John had counted on their curiosity, “My term of service is one year; however, I believe that just as soon as a final peace treaty is negotiated, the civilian federal government will assume jurisdiction of Grenoble from the military. As you may guess, the feelings you have expressed against federals here on Grenoble are mirrored on earth, and my guess is that I will be replaced with a commissioner who will better represent the anger and grief felt by most citizens of the federation. If that does happen, my plans to aid Grenoble to recover and reenter the economic life of the union will most probably be replaced with a policy of punishment.”

  John reached down, took a bite out of his roll, swallowed a gulp of tea and asked, “Do you have any questions?” The two looked at each other, probably a little confused. The woman asked, “Why are you telling us this? We own a tiny restaurant.” John answered, “Yes, and judging by its location, you normally have a good business. You know a lot of people, and if one or more of your friends and acquaintances happens to stop by my office, I’d be happy to talk about the weather. Or, whatever.”

  John thumbed his wallet, transferring money to the restaurant, and turned away with a polite smile and walked outside. He turned left and resumed his walk. He noticed two army soldiers about fifty feet ahead of them, two more across the street, and assumed there would be more behind. Pedestrians avoided them, and John thought, with good reason.

  His aide caught up to him and asked, “Sir, why did you go in that restaurant?” John asked, “I’ve been stuck on a ship for most of five years. May I ask you a questions?”

  She said, “Of course.” John asked, “Who appointed you to be my aide?” She showed a little emotion, but he couldn’t tell what it meant, “Coronel Martinez appointed me sir.” John asked, “And who do you work for?” She flushed, “You sir.” John said, speaking quietly yet forcefully, “I have no doubt that your orders are to report back to Coronel Martinez. I’ll throw you in the brig if you ever say a word to him, or anyone else. I guarantee that I’ll know.” She flushed with a combination of anger and something else – shame. She nodded, “If I don’t report back, I’ll be reassigned.” He grinned, “What is your rank?” she said, “Is it that obvious? I’m a lieutenant, army intelligence.” John grinned and resumed walking, “Lieutenant, you’ve made but the one serious mistake.” She asked, “Sir?” He said, “Army.”

  After a moment she said, “My husband said the same thing. He was a navy fighter pilot.” John muttered, “Small world.” She hesitated, then added, “Sir, he served with you.”

  John stopped in his tracks and looked at her. She finished, “He was killed at the battle of Elyse.” John finally asked, “What is your name?” She said, “Schwartz.” John said, “I wrote a lot of letters after that battle, but none to anyone na
med Schwartz.” She said, “Dumas. His name was Dumas. We had just married, and I hadn’t yet changed my name.” John sighed, “Jean Dumas. He was an excellent pilot, just the kind of man you’d want at your back, which is where he was when he was killed. I am sorry for your loss. Did you receive my letter?” She nodded. He said, “We’ll talk later.”

  They resumed their walk. Three blocks later she pointed to an entrance and John pushed the manual door open. Inside the small lobby he found three reasonably large and fit men wearing cheap suits. He addressed the oldest, “Good afternoon, my name is John Chamberlin. I am the Federal Commissioner for Grenoble and I’d like a few moments with the mayor.”

  The man looked back at John with dead eyes and said, “The mayor is busy.” John smiled nicely and added, “Tell the mayor that if he wishes to move back into City Hall, he should speak to me. It’s been a pleasure to meet you gentlemen.”

  John turned and walked back out onto the sidewalk and began walking back the way they’d come. His aide asked, again, “Sir, what are you doing?” John smiled, looking around at the city, “I like Grenoble. The sun’s a weird color, but the air smells nice, like…hay, and the people are quite polite. We’ll talk in a bit.”

  Once they were back in the former mayor’s office John said, “I figure anyone with a restaurant virtually next door to the mayor’s office is going to get a lot of government officials, business people and industrial types, just the people I need to talk to if I’m going to accomplish anything.” She asked, “You said that you might get replaced. Is that true?” He nodded, “Most probably. Earth is in no mood to turn the other cheek, but Admiral Grigorivich believes we have to do everything possible to resuscitate the economies of the former rebel worlds and reintegrate them back into the federation. He believes, and so do I, that my replacement will be out for blood. If that happens, the insurrection now winding down may turn out to be just the first insurrection. Now that everyone has nuclear weapons, the next one will be far, far worse.”

  She hesitated, and then said, “Sir, my name is Rachel.” John shook her hand, “How did you meet Jean?” She smiled, “We grew up together sir. St. Germaine.” John asked, “St. Germaine, here on Grenoble?” She said, “It’s a small town – village actually – outside of Orleans. I’m fourth generation Grenobian, and to answer your next question, my mother is a professor, my father a high school teacher. I learned to love science from him, and I gained a love of history, and the federation, from her.” John asked, “And, now?” She said, “My parents lost their positions, and nearly all their friends.” John asked, “How have they managed?” She said, “I help them.” John knew roughly how much she earned, which was very little, but said nothing. He simply said, “I’m very happy to know you, and I hope that I don’t disappoint. Tomorrow, we need to find new offices.” She said, “Downtown has suffered badly, and it shouldn’t be difficult to find a suitable building.”

  John stayed in a hospice and early the next morning his aide picked him up and they walked around the city center, looking at prospective headquarters. Late that morning they inspected an older building, four stories plus basement, made out of locally available materials, meaning stone on the first two floors, fired brick on the top two, with steel reinforcements. It was vacant and fairly rough, but it was sturdy, and it was cheap. John made a verbal commitment with the thrilled owner and called General Chin’s office. He spoke to a Coronel and explained his needs. The coronel promptly said, “Sir, General Chin has arranged office space for you in city hall.” John thanked her and hung up.

  Moments after John arrived in the city, he began mentally preparing for the eventuality that the army would drag its feet at every opportunity, and obstruct him all the rest of the time. John had five years of experience in the subject, and could recognize passive-aggressive at a hundred paces. General Chin would have made a poor poker player – his face revealed his feelings about having to take orders from a naval officer who was, or had been, several grades down the ladder.

  He walked to city hall and requested to speak to General Chin. He was told that the general was not available. John politely thanked the young lieutenant who was squirming and fidgeting in front of him, and walked up two flights of stairs to the offices the general had kindly arranged for him. Using communications gear he found in the office, equipment he assumed to be wildly insecure to both Grenobians and the army, he placed a call to Lieutenant Commander Komanski, commanding officer of the detachment that maintained the naval quarantine of Grenoble, and incidentally supplied the federal army with one hundred percent of its supplies, including most of its food.

  Four hours later a navy shuttle landed at the same port John had so recently utilized, and offloaded a personnel carrier along with twelve Marines, who entered the vehicle and sat in discomfort as it trundled into town. It pulled up to the entrance of city hall, where six of the heavily armed Marines trotted through the entrance, in the process failing to even take notice of the army privates. They ascended the stairs and out of sight.

  Marine sergeant Mischkovic entered John’s temporary office and came to attention, “Sir, Marine Gunnery Sergeant Mischkovic, with a complement of twelve, reporting for TDA.” John stepped around the desk and positioned himself in front of the man who had repeatedly humbled him in the Adams gym. John slowly looked him over, vainly looking for the slightest defect in his combat gear, and also wondering how the man had managed to transfer, and why.

  John finally asked, “Sergeant – you did say you were a sergeant did you not? When I contacted the Volcan, I explained that I had a severe security situation, and required a Marine detachment. Instead, I get you. Do you have anything to say?”

  Sergeant Mischkovic replied, “Sir! Now that I properly understand the situation here on the ground, I shall immediately instruct six of my men to return to their ship!” John burst into laughter, startling his aide, who had been looking on with increasing dismay.

  The two shook hands, and after a long thirty seconds, they released each other and Sergeant Mischkovic said, “Sir, permission to speak?” John nodded, and the sergeant said, “Have you just escaped from captivity, or possibly, just been released from hospital?” John grinned, “No sergeant, why do you ask?” The sergeant replied, “Sir, your handgrip; it’s weaker than usual.” John sighed, “Sergeant, I am the most powerful man on this planet, I can break anyone I wish. In fact, I could just shoot the first person to come in this office, and, since I would be both the judge and the jury, I would escape any possible retribution.” The sergeant said, “Sir, I seriously doubt there would ever be a trial – I’ve seen you on the shooting range.” John grinned and said, “I qualified as a marksman.” The sergeant grinned, “My grandmother could outshoot you, and she’s eighty.” John finally laughed, “She was probably a Marine. And not your grandmother.”

  John turned to his highly curious aide and said, “Rachel, it is my great pleasure to introduce Marine Gunnery Sergeant Karl Mischkovic, who I have had the great pleasure of serving with for the last two plus years. Sergeant, Lieutenant Rachel Schwartz, on temporary detached assignment from Army Intelligence. Rachel, this sorry excuse of a Marine served on the DeKlerk.”

  Sergeant Mischkovic turned to Rachel and smiled brilliantly – she was attractive and she wasn’t wearing a uniform - and said, “Miss Schwartz, it is a great pleasure to meet you.” She stepped forward and held out her hand, “Sergeant, were you present at the battle of Elyse? I…my husband was a fighter pilot on the DeKlerk – he was killed at Elyse. His name was Lieutenant Dumas.”

  Karl nodded, no longer smiling, “I remember him Miss. He was an excellent officer and superb pilot, but more importantly, he was a good man who looked out for his people. I mourned his death, we all did.” She teared up and thanked him before turning away.

  John pointed to a chair and she sat down. John looked at the Marine and sighed, “Sergeant, I order you to sit.”

  Once everyone was settled John said, “Sergeant, we have a situation,
which is why you and your people are here. It seems that there is a highly aggressive force on the planet that is conspiring to destroy any possibility of peace. Unfortunately, it’s not the locals, it’s the federal army.” Karl said, “Sir, I’ll send for reinforcements, I can have twelve additional troops within six hours.” John laughed, “Overkill sergeant, overkill.”

  John succinctly discussed the situation and summed it up by saying, “Sergeant, I need you and your men to provide my office with transportation and, ahem, a little independence from the army. First on my agenda is the acquisition of a suitable locale, otherwise known as headquarters. Did you bring the warrant I requested?”

  Sergeant Mischkovic reached inside his combat vest and produced a wallet. He handed it to John and said, “Sir, Lt. Commander Komanski sends his regards, and asked me to pass on to you the information that he has input the exact locations of every army base on the planet. He added that he believed that Congress would look the other way if a few thousand personnel went missing.” John grinned, “Suggestion noted. I have missed you, but now that you’re here, I can’t remember why.”

  John stood and said, “Sergeant, if you have recovered from those stairs, I have business to conduct.”