by Dani Kollin
UHF capital, Mars
Dr. Neela Harper was going about her rounds. She was down to three days a week in her practice. But it wasn’t because she was needed less. Even with a vast expansion in the facilities and the personnel, there was still a bigger backlog than ever. It was not only the larger battles but also the type of warfare. All along the periphery of the belt there were little battles going on. Admiral Trang was prosecuting the war with more energy than all of his predecessors combined. Once he took over he decided on an entirely new strategy; the only way to make the Alliance lose was to make it collapse. The problem was, the Alliance had done a remarkable job of developing a resilient industry and it had a population far better suited for warfare in space than the UHF. They also had all the resources to keep the war going for the next thousand years, with the exception of one: numbers.
Neela sometimes felt guilt that she’d saved the man’s career when he was the cause of so much suffering in the human race, but logically he’d been correct. The only undeniable advantage the UHF had was in their numbers, and they must take full advantage of that resource if they were to have any chance of winning. Until Trang came along the war was a series of brief violent battles, followed by long periods of respite. This played into Alliance strengths. But with Trang’s new microoffensives going on at over a hundred different places around the belt, the Alliance was not getting any respite at all. There was no break in the combat. The Alliance could not be everywhere the UHF could be and would therefore start to break at some point.
But the losses had been untenable. Attacking the Alliance all over at once meant going into a territory where every settlement could and often was made into its own little fortress, where the Alliance knew every rock, every asteroid flow, and every resource and used them to maximum effect. But more important, it was a territory that people lived in and called home and would fight to the permanent death to deny to those they considered invaders. Neela had heard the losses were often four to one against the UHF. But Trang didn’t seem to care. He could take those losses and win. Even at four to one Trang knew the Alliance would eventually lose. But in the six months since the admiral had taken over complete command, the death toll had risen to over twenty million and the number of mentally and physically wounded was over seventy-five million. And, realized Neela, those numbers were only going to rise.
Though there was nothing she could do about that, she’d at least been able to lend her ample skill set to the cause. She was able to help Hektor Sambianco navigate the tricky Political situations that kept cropping up. Meeting the needs of keeping the UHF fighting the war, now well into its fifth year, was a constant struggle and Hektor had come to rely on her insight. She often spent whole days and nights helping him deal with all the problems incumbent on a man responsible for nine-tenths of the human race.
However much Neela’s commitment to Hektor had impinged on her trauma center schedule, it hadn’t stopped her from giving her all when she managed to break away and get back into the office. Today was one such day. She’d gotten in bright and early in an attempt to catch up with the mounting workload. She logged into her secure patient files and scanned for any significant incidents she’d need to be aware of before her group therapy began. Good, she thought. Nothing that stands out. She was always on the lookout for, but rarely seemed to find, rage or anger directed toward the top—at least never toward Trang. Even with all the battle-fatigued patients she’d been seeing, Neela was amazed by how much devotion the man seemed to engender. He might be sending them into a brutal campaign, but he was winning and he seemed to be the only one who’d stand up and fight the Alliance. The bond between the spacers and the admiral who insisted on sending them into a meat grinder was remarkable. When the war was over Neela was determined to do her level best to study the man. If she could develop a real, empirically backed study about his unique relationship with the troops using verifiable research and proven examples it might just be possible to find that sort of person at the beginning of a war. Because that sort of person, she surmised, could win quickly. It seemed folly that the UHF was still using a method that was as old and stupid as mankind itself, the method by which the executive branch kept on trying out warriors over the bodies of loved ones until by bloody trial and error they’d finally find one who could actually fight.
In her mind she was haunted by the notion that if Trang had been the commander at the beginning of the war it might already be over. But that research would have to wait. She wasn’t even going to write her idea as a proposal until the Alliance had been thoroughly destroyed. If someone on the other side got the idea of applying that same research to Janet Delgado Black, who knows what they’d discover? If that half-faced Boudica survived the war, Neela would study her as well and double the potential research pool.
Neela was getting ready to leave for group when her favorite person in the entire solar system dropped by. “Thaddeus!” Neela exclaimed delightedly as Dr. Gillette entered her office. His use of flowery language reminded her so much of Cyrus Anjou. She hoped he’d survive the war so they could resume their friendship when it was all over.
Thaddeus acknowledged her smile with a wide grin of his own. “Hello, my dearest colleague, how goes the life of a woman who has the ear of the President of the entire UHF?”
“Busy, Thaddeus, very, very busy; could you walk with me to my next group?” She was already heading toward the door.
Gillette started walking beside her. “Glad to,” he answered. “Allow me to again say how happy I am that you chose to come to Mars. I cannot imagine what I would’ve done without you.”
Neela grinned knowingly. “Dear Thaddeus, you say that almost every time we meet.”
“Well, that’s because it’s so very true.”
“… and you want something extra from me,” Neela added. “That transparent?”
“Eminently so,” she answered, heading down a hallway with multiple classrooms in full session.
Gillette frowned. “Well, I suppose there may be some little quandary you can help me with.”
Neela waved to a group of patients in a baking class who’d seen her through a window as she was passing by. “If I can manage,” she answered, “I’d be glad to help. What is it?”
Gillette rubbed his chin as he walked. “I have a patient that is absolutely fascinating. She’s not really making any of the markers. She’s the first one from the Alliance we’ve tried to work with in a while.”
“So what’s the problem?” They came to the portal where Neela’s group was meeting.
“If you could see her with an open mind; I should not have even mentioned the bit about her being in the Alliance, but I was hoping it would intrigue you, all those foolish notions of balance and fair play the young have nowadays.”
Neela had one foot in the classroom. “Maybe I can see her after my group,” she said.
“Absolutely. I’ll arrange for her to be in the gardens by the arboretum and escort you there myself.”
Neela frowned. “There was something else, Thaddeus?”
Thaddeus smiled self-consciously. “I’ve trained you too well. Undone, unmasked, uncovered; and by a mere child; oh, the shame, the shame.”
Neela had to suppress a giggle. “Alright, don’t tell me until you want to. I’ll see you later.”
The session went well. Neela had even hoped that some of the men and women would be able to go back to active duty. Though she realized that to do so would once again condemn them to an uncertain fate. Her overriding desire to see the war over meant that even those she cared most about would have to be part of that sacrifice, and so she’d made her peace. Even if her patients couldn’t be sent back to the front, she’d at least try to prepare them for support roles, which were in critical demand given the massive expansion of Trang’s new campaign. Her group had been able to talk about their feeling of fear and hopelessness. The hardest part had been in getting them to admit that to themselves. The brain, she knew, often dealt wit
h fear by abject denial, useful in combat but very dangerous if left to fester.
Neela had become skilled enough to identify early on who would respond to group and who would not. Given the exigency of the war, she was concentrating on patients who could be helped by group and channeling the ones who would need individual care to maintenance camps or even back into suspension until after the war—long after if it kept going like this. But those worries were for the future. As her group broke up she was greeted by Dr. Gillette, patiently waiting for her outside.
“My dear,” he said, “if it were appropriate I’d applaud.”
“You already have me, Thaddeus,” she answered, taking his arm in hers. “You can stop investing now.”
Thaddeus gave her a small squeeze.
“I’ll just have my assistant encode today’s files and then I’m all yours.”
“You have an assistant?”
Neela nodded. “Yeah, a PTSD patient, Lisa Herman—very competent, but she’ll never see combat again.”
“Well,” said Thaddeus with joy in his eyes, “I’m glad you finally took my advice.”
“So does this get added to the reasons you wish to applaud?”
“My dear, it’s possible that I may wax eloquent to achieve certain mutually beneficial ends, but my desire to applaud is, I can assure you, an example of pure admiration.”
“Stop it already,” she chastised. “I feel guilty enough about group as it is. The patients do 99 percent of the work. The truth is I just end up sitting around, honest to Damsah, bored.”
“If I have to hear any more of your boasting I shall simply die of shame as to my own inadequate efforts. At best my patients do 85, maybe 87 percent of the work.”
Neela threw up her hands in mock surrender. “Enough! Let’s go and see this patient of yours.” Neela headed out through the portal, turning left to leave the building. “If this continues you’ll have me made President of the UHF by the end of the week.”
She did not see Dr. Gillette’s clinical gaze as he considered everything she had said and filed it away before putting his jolly expression back on and following her out.
Dr. Gillette continued to talk about the day-to-day running of affairs with his favorite colleague, but his mind was on a problem. Lately there’d been rumors and he didn’t know what to do about them. He was very protective of Neela Harper and was heartbroken when her relationship with Justin Cord proved to be the disaster that a patient-client relationship could only be. He could understand why. Justin Cord had to be one of the most magnetic personalities Dr. Gillette had ever come in contact with. Though for all the doctor’s skill he was still hard-pressed to figure out what it was about the man that made that so. Cord had even gotten four billion human beings to follow him in his fantasies to re-create a time that never was and never could be. For a while even Thaddeus had been drawn by that powerful vision that Justin cast. So who could really blame Neela for her transgressions? Thaddeus didn’t and used his influence and prestige to help in her nearly complete restoration. Her incredible work in the trauma center and saving of Trang had also done much, especially now that Trang had finally been acknowledged as the only one in any position to actually defeat the Alliance. And once Trang managed to defeat the Alliance’s scar-faced admiral, Neela would be completely indemnified of her past in the joy that would come of victory. But these new rumors were too much like the old ones and Thaddeus needed to know.
“Neela,” he said, interrupting her. “My patient is right over this hill, but,” he said, indicating a park bench, “could we sit here and talk?”
“At this conveniently placed bench?”
“Indeed at this conveniently placed bench.” He sat down and Neela joined him. “My dear, I am afraid to ask this without seeming, well … you see, it’s just that … what I am saying—”
“Thaddeus,” interrupted Neela, “you aren’t saying anything. Out with it or your poor patient will be—”
“Are you having an affair with Hektor Sambianco?” Dr. Gillette blurted out. “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry. That was supposed to be done so much more delicately—” He stopped because Neela was holding her hand to her mouth in a vain attempt to stop from laughing out loud. “There is no need to laugh at me,” said Gillette. “I admit it was a poor attempt at discretion.”
“Oh, Thaddeus,” Neela said through paroxysms of laughter and near tears, “I’m so sorry. You were just so cute trying to be … and then you just—” Neela couldn’t help it. She started giggling uncontrollably again.
Dr. Gillette couldn’t help but smile when he saw how much she was enjoying herself. It reminded him of the Neela he saw so very little of. “I suppose it was a little humorous if looked at a certain way,” he admitted.
“Thank you, Thaddeus. I needed a good laugh and you just gave me two.”
“Two?”
“Of course; the way you asked and the question itself. Is that what people are really saying? How long have I been having this torrid affair?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, if it’s been for a while I want to know. After all, shouldn’t Hektor and I be getting married soon?”
“No one said anything about marriage!”
“Thaddeus,” pouted Neela, “are you saying I’m not worth marrying?”
“Of course you’re not; I mean you could. No! What am I saying? Neela, please take this seriously,” he ended up pleading.
Neela took his hands in both of hers. “Thaddeus, how can I? It’s absurd.”
“So you’re not having an affair?” Dr. Gillette asked cautiously, afraid Neela would start again with her antics.
“Eeew,” she said with obvious disgust. “I mean no, no, I am not. I wouldn’t betray Amanda like that, besides the fact that she’d kill me. How could you think that, Thaddeus?”
Dr. Gillette heaved a sigh of relief. It was what he was hoping to hear. “I really couldn’t, but you have been spending so much time over in the executive offices with him and when the rumors started I must admit that your history with powerful men … well, I jumped to the wrong conclusion and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have listened to rumor.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Neela answered, reproaching. Her mood became somber. “I’m there, Thaddeus, because, just like here,” she said, indicating the grounds of the trauma center, “it’s the best way I can atone for what I helped Justin Cord do. I don’t know how I could’ve been so blind to the harm I was causing.”
“Neela, we’ve discussed this. You were in love with a very romantic figure.”
“Yes, yes, I was, and look at what it caused. But now, by my advising Hektor on his cabinet and choice of leading admirals and CEOs I can help him make decisions that keep the UHF fighting. I wish I could tell you the good I’ve done already, but it’s classified four ways from dividend day. The irony is that’s exactly what I used to do for Justin Cord when he had me all turned around. But now I’m using my skills for the good of mankind and that does not … I repeat … not include sleeping with our President, thank you very much.”
“I completely and humbly apologize for doubting even for a second and shall spend the rest of my life quashing those malicious rumors.”
Neela got an impish grin on her face. “Unless you see dirty pictures. If you see any dirty pictures of me and Hektor, you must show them to me. I really don’t have any. You’d think some would have shown up from my college days, but I was such a boring girl.”
Dr. Gillette stood up. “Enough already. I apologized, woman. Let’s see my patient and forget the whole thing.”
Neela stood up and followed her friend. “You mean this patient is real? I was thinking she was only a ruse to confront me about my ‘sinful’ behavior.”
“Oh, I never lie about a patient.” He held up his hand to ward off the retort that Neela was obviously about to give. “I admit,” he continued, “that this patient gave me good excuse to discuss that ‘other’ matter, but she’s real and it’s interestin
g you use the word sinful. In this context it’s actually quite appropriate.” Dr. Gillette spent the rest of the walk filling Neela in on the patient from the Alliance. “Her name is Patricia Sampson, her brother is from Altamont, and she was captured—”
Hektor was working at his desk. He’d just finished yet another cabinet meeting. At least the news was better on the economic front. The war was drawing in such a vast number of recruits that unemployment had all but disappeared. The ravenous demands of supplying, paying, training, and treating the over one and a half billion people directly in the military were amping up the economy. The recycling programs combined with the small but steady stream of commodities coming from the captured parts of the belt and the massive mining operations on Earth and Mars were supplying the UHF with enough raw materials to prosecute the war. The Beanstalk was no longer a piece of obsolete technology but was the main bulk transport out of Earth’s gravity well. It was true that paying for the war would take decades—maybe even more than a century. But, thought Hektor, let the future pay. They didn’t have to do the hard part.
The casualties, reasoned Hektor, were beyond anything anyone could’ve imagined at the beginning of the war, but it wasn’t as if the pennies really had anything better to do with their lives. If they had, well then, they wouldn’t be pennies, would they? All in all, the war would be bloody, it would take years longer than originally predicted, but as long as there were no more surprises he would win.
His ruminations were disturbed by a knock on the door. When he saw it was Neela he let her in, then activated a commblock protocol, which would mean as far as the world was concerned, that section of the executive offices as well as the few adjoining areas were effectively cut off from all forms of communication, both in and out. No Neuro, no handphones, no DijAssistance. It might have been suspicious behavior given who Neela was if not for the fact that there were usually eight to eleven people Hektor always activated the commblock for, including his cabinet, Amada Snow, and of course Admiral Trang. Neela, like the rest, was just an advisor discussing high-priority information with the President, and as such was accorded the secrecy associated with that role.