by Chris Hechtl
He snorted back.
“Go,” Roger said gruffly. Boomer turned to the kid. “We've got this,” Roger said, hefting his bow. “They came all this way for you. Whatever it is, it must be important.”
“It could be a debrief for all I know,” Boomer growled. “All the way up there to be talked to death.”
“Oh they'll do that anyway,” Riviara said with a grin.
“True.”
“I'll stay,” one of the marine privates said. Riviera gasped slightly, eyes wide as she looked at her soldier. “I've got friends in the area and family. It's why I volunteered. Sarge, I want to stay and help,” he said weakly.
“I better keep him company then,” another private said. Boomer looked at them. They were partners; that much was obvious. How much was a buddy fire team sort and how much was in bed he had no clue. Not that it mattered anyway. Not to him.
“It'll make it easier for you. Smaller team and all that, Sarge,” the first private said.
“You're sure?”
“No.” He snorted. “Yeah, I'm scared. But I need this. I need to do this. And they need to see that we're not going to keep passing through, that eventually we're going to stay and go the distance. They could use the help,” he said.
“All the help we could get actually,” Roger said with a nod of approval.
“Yeah. I see that,” the private said.
Sergeant Riviera blew out a breath and then turned to Boomer. “All righty then. And you?”
“I'll go,” Boomer said as all eyes turned expectantly again to him. “I don't know why, but I'll do it.”
“Right. Now we just have to smuggle you across the border without getting caught by the hordes of droids massing there. What fun,” the sergeant said.
“Wanna stay here too, Sarge?” the privates quipped.
She gave them a one-finger salute in answer. They smiled slightly and made kissing faces. She shook a fist at them. “Seriously, Bronski, Kow, stay safe.”
“Hell with that, Sarge, safe is for pussies. No offense. I'm in it to win it,” Bronski answered.
“Then stack ‘em like cord wood,” the sergeant answered as they geared up. “The rest of you lot, bed down, we've got an early start in the morning.”
<>V<>
Wendy shook her head as she read the report once more, then put it aside. A small secretive smile briefly played over her lips. It was going as planned, which usually was when things tended to go off track. Still, things were looking cautiously optimistic to her long-range plans. The confirmation moved that time table forward by over a decade and put her final end game within tantalizing reach.
Confirmation of her mother's demise was what she had wanted but for her own reasons. It was why she'd pushed for it behind the scenes, despite the risks to Roman's people—not for the emotional closure. She had known all along in her heart that her mother was gone. Risking lives to get it … that had bothered her only slightly. They were abstract; people she'd never met.
No, the confirmation did what her father had put off until now. It had triggered his acceptance of Aurelia's loss and triggered her will to be read and the estate divided in the courts and within the company.
That meant her mother's shares in the company had been equally divided and given to her and her brothers as well as her patents and other things. The personal jewelry and artwork were good; the private messages from their mom a nice touch, but hardly necessary. No, she'd wanted the shares. They weren't enough for what she had in mind, not yet, but if she continued to play her cards right, then she'd get the votes she'd needed for her own end game. If not by the end of this hated war, then sometime after during the reconstruction. Of that she had no doubt.
Chapter 47
July 4, 2206
Jack watched from the upper deck of the newly created congressional hall as the new Terran Federation congress was sworn into session. Just getting them this far, on Island 3, had been hell for some; the debate had been fierce for years on where to have the congress. Mars, the moon, the other colonies … many of the delegates from Earth had wanted it there. Some had wanted it virtually, but with the virus that idea had been nixed. He was gloomily certain the compromise with Island 3 hadn't ended the debate. It would rear its ugly head over and over again once the war was ended.
What they should do is make it virtual, and damn it, rotate it if necessary. A cycle across the solar system. That way everyone was inconvenienced with the commute home at one time or another he thought with a brief twist of his lips in amusement.
There were a lot of empty seats, but he understood that. Those that were getting sworn in had been recently elected on the various space colonies. However, the rest were temporary appointed officials from Earth like Senator Brakin. “The more things change, the more they stay the same,” he murmured, eying the senator as well as the others who had either been in space and on the committee or had come up from Africa.
“Disgusted?” Athena asked in his ear.
He turned away from the photo ops and grinned. “No. Not surprised. Men like him will find a way to remain in power. They are holding the temporary postings, and many will be able to translate that over once there are elections on Earth. But I bet some of the rhetoric will get heated—especially for those who were safe up here making decisions while others fought and died in the trenches with the constituents they were supposed to be representing.”
“Targeted ads will get ugly. I'm glad I'm a registered voter on Mars,” the A.I. quipped.
“Funny.”
He normally didn't have much patience for droning on and antics, but he forced himself to remain awake. He didn't need anyone taking images of “the old man sleeping;” there was enough of that being played up in the tabloids. He was used to being compared to Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, Manual Castiano or others. Let them try to fit him in a mold; he'd break it anyway.
But he didn't like people saying he was too old and that he should retire.
Once the swearing in was finished, the Constitution was read and voted on. It passed with a majority but not a unanimous vote due to the provisions on A.I. and Neo rights.
“You expected better?” Athena asked when Jack growled something dark about hypocrites. “And weren't you the one who just said something about not being surprised not so long ago? This shouldn't shock you.”
“No, I know that,” he said, waving a hand. Others around him looked his way. He ignored the looks.
He smiled in appreciation at one small act of theater he could approve of. Queen Diane was sworn in as President pro-temp despite her age. She would sit in as the executive until star-system-wide elections could be held within four years of Earth's cleansing and liberation. She didn't need support. It had been agreed on and voted out by the constitutional committee, but once she had entered the hall and taken center stage, she had immediately requested a confirmation vote from congress. She got a unanimous vote despite her age.
“I wonder what she'd look like if that had failed?” Athena asked.
“A bit less radiant I bet,” Jack said as the young Queen smiled beautifully for the cameras and graciously took the staff of office. The president of the senate would serve as her vice president until the elections.
“I think this is as much a check on the corporations as it is an attempt to get back to some semblance of proper government and normalcy for the public. And of course the opportunity for some to wipe the slate clean and start over in the way they wish,” Athena observed.
“Probably,” Jack answered.
“Business is going to be tougher to run in space. Anti-corruption laws were one thing written into the constitution. The election process should be interesting.”
“Yeah. It just means some will be more subtle or blatant but make certain there are no ties.”
“Or play a different game. One of extortion, assassination …,” Athena said darkly.
Jack's jaw worked. “Let's hope not.”
“Yes, let’s
.”
“Keeping the players straight is going to be tough,” Jack said as the proceedings concluded for the day. The various parties would begin once the new photo ops were finished. That could take hours. He rose with the others and followed his security detail out. They took the private exit and entrance. He was glad no one accosted him for an autograph or photo. He had been tempted to photo bomb the proceedings.
“They are already running polls and simulations on what people think, including the corporations,” Athena reported. “And your face is at the top of the list. They are trying to tie your expression to portions that were read into law, seeing if you agreed or disagreed with this or that,” she said.
“Funny,” Jack sighed. “Barbie will make the company's position clear. We've been behind this from the beginning,” he said.
“Understood. Still it is apparently of some interest to the public.”
“Let them speculate. We still have a war to win and lives to rebuild,” Jack replied with a shrug.
“Understood.”
The news was broadcast system-wide. It was also transmitted to every station on the ground including the militia groups and partisans fighting behind the lines. The partisans were not thrilled about the idea, not because they were finally getting their collective act together or because they had no say in the process. No, their beef was that the war was taking too long. For five years and eleven months the war had slogged on without relief with no end in sight.
And if current progress was to be believed, it could run another six years. Or more.
<>V<>
The following day he wasn't in such a flippant mood when he got the reports from the first bills that had been voted out of committee rapid fire and were working their way onto the docket.
Apparently a group of senators had decided to put the Titan and Venus terraforming projects on the back burner. All of the government's focus should be on paying for the war effort, rebuilding Earth, and reversing the damage, while also making certain the virus was destroyed. He agreed with that in theory, though he also knew they could reduce the terraforming budget without gutting it completely. But saving money by robbing Peter to pay Paul was a popular idea when they were so in debt. There were enough votes in the senate that it passed easily.
He shook his head, glad his company was out of that game. When he checked the markets, he wasn't surprised to see LGM and some of the other terraformers’ stocks taking a tumble. If he'd had the reserve capital, he would have bought some of them up when they hit bottom to help buttress them and to use as leverage later. Unfortunately, his reserves were all but wiped out funding the damn war.
In the afternoon there was also a vote to put extra solar colonies on hold. That hit much closer to home with him. It was clear from the calls from Lynn Raye, Amin Nutel, and the other CEOs of the mega corporations that they too were not happy.
“We have to take care of our own back yard, our home, before we can go off exploring ladies and gentlemen. Let us put our house in order for those who will come later before we move out of the nest,” Queen and president pro-temp, Diane, stated before the vote was taken. “The stars can wait. They will be there tomorrow or a decade from now.” There was polite applause from the senate when her speech concluded.
A counter bill was set to be voted on right afterward that contradicted the halt to exploration and colonization. That one put forward the idea to remove the restriction on colonies within a thousand light years of Sol, for a price. Corporations or colony groups could purchase the rights to them through an auctioning process yet to be determined. They could purchase the rights to an entire solar system or just the habital worlds. They could also trade or sell portions of each as they saw fit.
One of the things that intrigued the senate was the idea that buyers could use debt from war bonds as a possible payment method. That would allow them to wipe out some of their debt without actually loosing anything, which was a lucrative idea.
Some, however, laughed the idea off, but Pavilion and others seemed very interested so the bill moved forward.
Jack was torn. On the one hand it was a good idea. It would cut transit time and purchasing up massive numbers of solar systems on the cheap, then hanging onto them for a couple decades until things turned around might be a good thing. However, they had no idea what was in some of those star systems. It wasn't right to buy a system that might house intelligent life! He frowned, playing with his lower lip before he kicked the idea to Yorrick, Wendy, and the board to consider.
One thing did annoy him; they were insisting on a cap on war bonds for the auction. No more than 80 percent could be used to make a purchase. And none of it was tax deductable.
When the fourth bill, this one closing long existing loopholes in corporate tax laws, hit the floor for debate, he was pissed. He'd had no warning despite careful monitoring of the situation. Fortunately the bill instantly stalled in debate. But it was troublesome to see it having gotten that far in the first place.
“They are playing with fire,” he murmured softly.
<>V<>
A mass exodus of surviving refugees headed south to the supposed safe zones was triggered by broadcasts. Columns of refugees tried to get south; many were entire communities that had managed to stay together out of mutual survival. Some people fought to the death over food, fuel, riding animals, or vehicles in their frantic bid to get south.
Ares and Skynet used the opportunity to strike at clusters of people that their drones identified. One long strip of highway after another became a highway from hell much like what had happened to the Iraqis in the first Persian Gulf War over two centuries ago. Those who saw the devastation or escaped it learned firsthand all over again that they had to move in small groups and if necessary, on foot or bike.
It was a brutal winnowing; one that the militias and partisans tried to stop. Many failed in the attempt, dying in the process. Boomer's group lost Lieutenant Parker and others while attempting to cover a refugee convoy. Molly and many of the other civilian refugees were chased into a sewer system before Skynet filled it with napalm. Their screams and whimpers echoed briefly before being snuffed out with brutal finality.
<>V<>
Nike noted the distraction along the border. She had spent a lot of effort creating defenses along the California, Arizona, and New Mexico line. Anti-immigration forces had forced the original walls to be built. Now Fortresses dotted the line, but all of their fixed weapons were pointed out to the Mexican side. She considered repositioning half of them, but it wasn't her job. It was her brother's.
Enyalios was reaping large numbers of civilians but was expending large amounts of ammunition and energy in doing so. That was weakening the front there until follow-up logistics could make up the losses.
There were still some slipping past the wall, however, despite the concrete and razor wire. Some sections were not easily defendable due to the terrain. Others apparently had tunnels under them. Locals in the area had reversed the flow of smuggled goods and people; they were now helping the people head south to relative safety.
Ares ordered Nike to attack the Marines with her mobile elements to distract the forces coming up through Central America. The spoiler raid would give him time to ship reinforcements and fresh supplies to Enyalios while giving him some downtime to run maintenance on his units. She wasn't ready and said so, but he gave her no choice. She revised her battle plan, sent copies of it to each of the other A.I., and then began executing it.
<>V<>
Roman visited the Central American front instead of the Russian, India, or China front. It seemed the thing to do, the other fronts were still bogged down.
While touring the front, Nike took the opportunity to launch her Yucatan forces in a lightening series of raids on the logistics of the army.
Explosions lit the night sky, alerting the HQ that something was up. Radio chatter filled the airwaves, but jammers blocked it all out. The buzz of an approaching helicopter quickly followe
d, but it wasn't lit up. The base was dark with a blackout due to standard operating procedures so close to the front, not that it mattered. Nike directed her forces to drop squads of police androids and military droids onto the heat signature clusters to sow maximum disruption and distraction.
Roman came out of his tent as the robots went on a rampage. He saw a tilt rotor craft eclipse the moon briefly as it retreated to a safe distance. Someone with a shoulder mounted SAM took a pot shot at it, but it had active ECM and defenses exploded from its flanks, blinding any who looked it's way. Roman's right hand came up instinctively to shield his eyes from the bright sunbursts.
The missile was fooled into hitting a decoy. Its explosion was another point of light that briefly showed them the craft, a stealthed craft of sharp angles and midnight black.
He didn't have time to count his blessings that the thing had attacked their air defenses and not the base itself. As his arm dropped, he saw a robot firing into a group of running Marines. They were cut down. The robot turned sharply in Roman's direction, forcing him to dive for cover.
A trench was nearby; he fell into it as rounds ripped over his head. He didn't have his shirt on but he had grabbed his pistol. He fired, popping off rounds as his cybernetics steadied his aim and heart rate.
The night-black droid took the rounds like it was walking through a hail storm. Its head jerked as a round hit it on the side of the head. It calmly reloaded and then charged forward. Weapons fires came in on its right flank. It didn't turn, just fired in that direction as it continued to charge Roman.
Roman cursed as the thing leveled its weapon at him. He accessed his implants, and his left arm turned into a plasma weapon. A bolt sizzled out to tear into the robot's torso, tearing it in half.
It was too close, however; the top half fell forward, shooting rounds as it went down. He fended off the rifle, but the robot's free right hand grabbed for his left. Artificial fingers dug into his cybernetic arm, making him stiffen, not in pain but in fear as he felt the thing force itself into his universal jack to hack him.