Tree of Liberty

by Wayne Basta

  Can it be over? Zeric wondered. Really over? With just some words from two people aboard a ship, could the fighting be stopped?

  As if in answer to his question, a wave of communication requests started coming in for him. He accepted the ones from Saracasi and Jairyd, putting the pair onto a conference call.

  “General, you aren’t planning to accept this trick, are you?” Jairyd demanded.

  “Yes, actually, I am. That’s General Ocaitchi you heard. He says the Alliance is prepared to negotiate,” Zeric said crossly.

  Jairyd looked down as if trying to decide what to do but then said, “Zeric, I didn’t want to do this because it would be bad for morale, but I have some information you’ll need to hear.” He gestured off camera, and suddenly Lohcja appeared.

  Surprised to see the Ronid—he had assumed he was still a prisoner, like Maarkean—Zeric smiled. “Lohcja! Glad to see you free.”

  “Zeric, Casi,” Lohcja said, his tone dejected.

  “Colonel, tell them what you told me,” Jairyd said forcefully.

  Lohcja’s antennae drooped and he sighed. “While I was still a prisoner, the Alliance did a number on Maarkean. When I left, he was pretty close to breaking. I did what I could to help him keep up his resolve, but with me gone, I fear they may have broken him. I’m not sure we can trust anything he’s saying.”

  Zeric’s heart dropped. Maarkean as a traitor? Granted, the Alliance had branded him with that title a long time ago, but Zeric had never thought that it fit. Maarkean had always been loyal to his friends. His commitment to the Union had been what had brought Zeric fully into the fold.

  “He may be right,” Saracasi said, a pained look on her face. “Maarkean was never comfortable fighting the Alliance. I was afraid time in Alliance captivity might do this to him. As much as I love my brother, we may not be able to trust him. Admiral Sartori is devious. This may be a trap. If our forces stand down now, they’ll become easy pickings.”

  Jairyd continued to press. “We have momentum right now. Stopping now will cost us everything we’ve gained.”

  Turning to the marine at the communication controls, Zeric said, “Get me a link to the Alliance command ship. Tell them I want to speak to General Ocaitchi.”

  A moment later, Maarkean appeared on the screen. His friend showed signs of numerous wounds still in the process of healing. It had been months since his capture. They couldn’t be from that. Could he have been tortured into doing this?

  “Maark, you’re looking… well,” Zeric said uncomfortably.

  “I’ve been worse,” Maarkean replied with a small smile.

  “Look, I’ll just come right out with it,” Zeric said. “There’s some concern that you may not be fully in control of yourself. That maybe we shouldn’t listen to this stand-down order.”

  Maarkean nodded solemnly. “I can understand that. I’ve been a captive for months now. Who knows what the Alliance could have done to me? I won’t pretend they didn’t mess with my head. But this stand-down is legitimate—Admiral Sartori really has agreed to a cease-fire. She understands that even if she wins here, she will face the Confederacy again, and she can’t afford to fight a war on two fronts with a decimated military. She’s giving up the war against us, Zeric.”

  That all made sense, but it could also just be a ruse that Sartori had told him to use. Despite talking to Maarkean, Zeric wasn’t sure he could dismiss Lohcja’s warning. “Maark, your own sister has some doubts.”

  Surprisingly, Maarkean smiled at that. “I’m sure she does. I never was the most gung-ho rebel. You’re just going to have to make a call here, Zeric.”

  Zeric thought it through. Tempting as it was to just end the war, Jairyd had a point. With the two navies fighting it out, their ground forces had succeeded in gaining ground in most of the cities. If the fighting continued, they would soon win control of Sulas back, even if the fleet lost in orbit. It hurt to hear that Maarkean might have been broken, but Lohcja had been with him in the Alliance prison, so he would know, and Maarkean’s own sister thought it was possible. It would be irresponsible to ignore that.

  But then, Zeric thought, he’d never been very responsible.

  Switching the comm channel back to the others, Zeric said forcefully, “We’re standing down. That’s Maarkean Ocaitchi up there telling us to stop fighting. He started this war. If he says it’s over, then it’s damn well over.”

  Jairyd looked like he was about to argue more, but Saracasi appeared bolstered. She spoke to someone off-screen for a moment. In the meantime, Zeric stared Jairyd down, not giving him the chance to say anything.

  When Saracasi returned, she said, “I’ve ordered our forces to stand down. The Alliance ships are doing the same.”

  “Then it’s over?” Lohcja asked, his tone hopeful.

  “It’s over,” Zeric said and then grinned. “And it looks like we won.”

  Epilogue

  A hot, sand-filled wind blew over Saracasi. Had it been coming from in front of her, instead of behind her, she might have used it as an excuse to turn around. Unfortunately, the planet didn’t oblige her.

  Before her lay a dozen fresh gravestones. They all bore names she recognized. She had worked in the shipyard for several months and had gotten to know many of the workers and marines here. She was only interested in one name, though.

  Positioned on the edge of the row, she found Asirzi Z’ren’s. Tightness filled her chest as she read the name, and fresh tears came to her eyes. It had been a month since the Dotran had raided the shipyard to steal the technical data on the regenerative shield before heading back to Confederate space. Many workers had been killed, including Asirzi. This was Saracasi’s first time here, and seeing the grave finally brought home the reality of the situation.

  She would never again see Asirzi. Before, when she had just thought that their relationship was over, she had felt hurt and sad, but that had been of her own doing, and anything she could do, she could potentially repair. She was an engineer—that’s what she did.

  But there was no repairing this. Asirzi was gone, killed as an afterthought to the war. She had believed in the fight against the Alliance, even if she had never wanted to participate, but she hadn’t died in that fight.

  “I’m sorry we never got to see where things would go,” Saracasi said, speaking to the grave. “If I hadn’t rushed off to fight, maybe you wouldn’t be here, or I might be there beside you. I’ll never know, I guess.”

  After that, she stood there in silence for several minutes, only a few tears escaping her eyes.

  This wasn’t the first loss she had experienced. Her parents and sister-in-law had all died when she was still a teen. If she could get past that, she knew she could get past this.

  But, while that had been tragic, and she still missed her family, it had been different. The tragedy of the loss of Asirzi wasn’t just the loss of a loved one. Though she did love the woman, she now also grieved for the loss of a choice in her future.

  When the war ended, she would have had a choice between leaving the navy and pursuing a life with Asirzi or remaining to help the Union grow as a nation. Now she didn’t feel she had a choice. The universe had chosen. It had taken Asirzi to balance the scales for all the lives Saracasi had taken.

  She knew she could still resign and go back to work strictly as an engineer. What would be the point, though? She liked the navy. There was nothing left for her in the civilian world.

  With one final look at the grave, Saracasi turned and started back toward the shipyard.

  Katerina Sartori surveyed the people gathered around her. People of every species, all dressed in some form of fancy attire, mingled in the room. All the Alliance officers, like her, wore their dress uniforms. The dark green uniforms stood out amongst the crowd, especially next to the white jackets the Union officers had adopted for their dress uniform.

  It had only been three months since she had given the order for the Alliance forces to stand down. The draw-down of her for
ces had gone surprisingly quickly. All the marines had already been retrieved aboard the ships of the MEF. Gathering the army troops would take longer and prove to be a more complicated mess. Many of the soldiers were natives of these planets or had lived here so long as to be indistinguishable. She felt sure a fair number would elect not to return to the Alliance with her fleet.

  Dolan appeared beside her, carrying two glasses of a local alcoholic beverage. He handed one to her, and she took a sip. The bubbles of gas in the liquid reminded her of champagne, but the flavor was far too sweet.

  After a moment of silence, Dolan remarked, “It occurs to me, Admiral, that the entirety of the Union command structure is present in this room. We could easily take them out with one stroke.”

  Katerina nodded. “Technically, yes, but it’s too late for that. They aren’t rebels anymore. You said it yourself, this is the Union.”

  “I’m sure there are those back at command who would disagree with that assessment,” Dolan said quietly.

  “Undoubtedly,” Katerina agreed. “Which is why we’re signing this peace treaty now, before they have a chance to comment. They gave me the authority to address this conflict. So I have.”

  Neither spoke for several minutes. The flood of people moved around her, most avoiding her. Even though she had lost this war in the eyes of many, she still had a fearsome reputation. Now, though, she suspected that many of the Alliance officers avoided her out of fear of the consequences of that association once they returned home.

  “You did see the report I sent about the incident at Kol?” Dolan asked, his voice hinting at something.

  “I did,” Katerina replied, waiting for him to ask the question.

  “The Dotran attacked the Union’s shipyard. They likely have the FX-21 regenerative shield specs and have turned against their former ally. You ended this fight to prevent a war with the Dotran, but it looks like they had already pulled out of their treaty. Did we surrender prematurely?” Dolan said, his tone hesitant.

  Katerina took a long breath. She had known he had wanted to ask that question for a while. It wouldn’t be the last time she had to answer it, and his polite tone would probably be the nicest way it was ever asked.

  “We didn’t surrender,” she said forcefully. “We ended a fight that should never have happened. The Dotran involvement is completely irrelevant to that.

  “But, to answer your actual question, look over there,” she said, gesturing to the blue-scaled Dotran wearing a Confederate officer’s uniform. “Despite the incident at Kol, whatever really happened, the Union and the Confederacy are still pretending to be friends, at least in front of us. Had we not ended the war, that friendship might not have lasted, but it would have been even worse for us. Then we would be fighting a second war against them. Now, their fleet left in disgrace and that means they’ll abide by this treaty. Now was the only time to end the fighting.”

  Dolan seemed satisfied with her answer, as he said no more. She doubted he had really been concerned, as he was smart enough to have seen the situation as she described. But his question would be one discussed by many—first by the politicians and her senior commanders, then by the people of the Alliance. Eventually, it would be left to the historians to decide whether she had done the right thing. They would have the advantage of hindsight.

  Lahkaba felt uncomfortable with the conversation going on around him. The subject matter came far too close to an issue he hoped no one would talk about, but that was an unrealistic hope, he knew.

  “They attacked us!” Valinther said, his voice almost too loud for the party setting. “They shouldn’t be included in this treaty!”

  “Ending hostilities with the Confederacy was the only reason the Alliance agreed to end them with us,” Lionell said, clearly exasperated. “If we force those two to sign a separate peace, they’ll keep fighting and we’ll be caught in the middle. This was the entire point of our alliance with the Dotran. At least Lahkaba seems to understand that.”

  Lahkaba cringed at that. He did agree with Lionell’s assessment, logically. Which was why he hadn’t told anyone of his involvement with the defeat of the Dotran fleet by Admiral Sartori. Aside from it being treasonous, if anyone found out, it would be bad for the Union.

  “We have to put this incident aside,” Faide said, joining the conversation. “None of us have to like it. I was personally affected by the tragedy on Kol with the loss of a good friend. But it was a misunderstanding.”

  Lahkaba didn’t agree with Faide’s assessment of what had happened on Kol. The Dotran had sent a raiding party down to the shipyard, not a diplomatic envoy as they claimed. Dotrans didn’t ask for things.

  Not wanting to be part of this conversation anymore, lest it turn to the Dotrans’ defeat over Ailleroc, Lahkaba turned away from Faide and Valinther. Beside him, he saw Zeric standing with a glass in his hand. Uncharacteristically, the glass was full.

  “Looking forward to finally being able to take that uniform off?” Lahkaba asked.

  At first, Zeric said nothing. Not until Lahkaba said the Terran man’s name did Zeric look up from the stare he was giving the floor. He blinked a few times before saying, “What?”

  “I asked if you were looking forward to being able to get out of uniform. Now that the war’s over, you can resign if you wish,” Lahkaba said, wondering how many drinks Zeric had had so far. Though, the man could hold his liquor, so that might not be it at all.

  “I, uh, probably won’t,” Zeric said, still unfocused. “I have a kid to take care of now. I could use a steady paycheck. By the way, how much does a general make?”

  Lahkaba shrugged. “No idea. That wasn’t something we discussed all that much. We still need to get a permanent government set up. That will be our greatest challenge yet.”

  Zeric looked at him, confusion evident on his face. “I thought we had a government. What have you been doing for the last year?”

  A smile came to Lahkaba’s lips. “Congress was just a temporary meeting of representatives from each planet. We need to form something with greater accountability to the people of each world. What that will look like . . . that will be an interesting fight.”

  “This is one of those metaphorical political fights, right? You don’t need me to go kill Lei-mey, do you? Because I can . . .” Zeric said, though his tone didn’t make it clear how much he was joking.

  “Yes, one of those,” Lahkaba said, feeling relieved that he had stepped away from the other conversation. “Are you looking forward to seeing your daughter again?” He had asked the question hesitantly but was surprised by the look that crossed his friend’s face.

  “Yes, actually. I didn’t think I would be. I don’t know how I’ll be as a father, or if I actually want to be one. But it doesn’t look like I have a lot of choice in the matter. At least she won’t be shooting at me. For a few years, at least.”

  Before Zeric could say any more, their conversation was interrupted by Bryel walking up to them. The blue Dotran moved through the party with ease, since everyone unsubtly stepped away from him as he walked. Despite his hatred for Dotran, Lahkaba couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. The incident at Kol hadn’t been his fault—he had just been the one forced to try to defend his people’s brutality.

  “Delegate Lahkaba, might I have a moment of your time?” Bryel asked deferentially.

  Surprised by the request, Lahkaba merely nodded and allowed himself to be led away from Zeric. The Terran went back to staring at his drink, still not taking a sip.

  They walked to a corner of the room. Unsure what the Dotran wanted, Lahkaba waited, saying nothing. After an uncomfortably long moment, Bryel said, “I wanted to apologize again for the misunderstanding that occurred between our two peoples. I regret the loss of life.”

  “Thank you. But we’ve decided to put the matter behind us,” Lahkaba forced himself to say diplomatically.

  “I would find it hard to do the same thing in your place,” Bryel said. “But since this will pr
obably be the last time we meet, I wanted to make sure you knew that not all of us Dotran agreed with the decision to strike against you.”

  Nodding, Lahkaba said, “I believe that. But why will this be the last time we meet? I assumed you would remain as our ambassador with your people for now.”

  Bryel shook his head. “A formal ambassador will be dispatched, I’m sure. But for now, I’m being recalled. There will be an investigation into how the Alliance managed to learn of our attack on Ailleroc.”

  Lahkaba felt his heartbeat increase and his fur stand on end. He tried to force himself to calm down as he asked, “You don’t think Admiral Sartori was just prepared for it?”

  “No, the timing was too perfect. They knew we were coming and when. The blame will probably fall on me,” Bryel said.

  “Why?” Lahkaba asked.

  “Because I was not supposed to reveal the timing of our assault to your military. Even if the leak didn’t come from my action, I’ll be held accountable,” Bryel said.

  “You weren’t supposed to tell us that? Then why did you?” Lahkaba asked, confused.

  “I thought you would find it useful,” Bryel said, putting a slight emphasis on the word “you.”

  A sudden realization came over Lahkaba. Bryel knew what he had done. Hesitantly, he asked, “How do you think the leak occurred?”

  “An Alliance spy, no doubt,” Bryel said. “It was only a short time after the Alliance learned the location of Irod and attacked the planet. It’s conceivable they left intelligence assets behind. Or another spy in your midst. Kaars Aerinstar probably wasn’t the only one. I don’t think my people will blame you.”

  There was the slight emphasis again, Lahkaba thought. Or was his guilt playing tricks on his hearing? “Commander, I—”

  Bryel cut him off. “This defeat was a major blow to the ruling class. And it came without Kowwok loss of life or rebel insurgence. It will take them a while for them to recover, and it will make their position of power less secure. It will be interesting to see if our people follow your example—Kowwoks and Dotran working together, regardless of class or species.”