Rich Man's War (38 page)

“But we aren’t a schoolyard bully. We are a sophisticated, modern organization, and we are
the very backbone of the Union. We hold humanity together. And as unpleasant and unfortunate as this might be, we cannot allow a single system to cause such chaos. Whatever their complaints, Archangel’s tactics are unacceptable. We have to resolve this before the damage gets worse. When it’s done, we can resolve whatever political ramifications this has with the Union Assembly and our individual state clients.”

Brekhov snorted. “Better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission.”

“Yes, sir,” Maria nodded.

“That doesn’t answer the question of fleet strength,” noted Jon Weir. “What’s your assessment?”

“I think we listen to our expert,” replied Maria. “We go in with overwhelming force. We pull our fleet from its current engagements in Hashem and elsewhere. We don’t need their full strength in Archangel on a long-term basis, but we certainly need the full strength to open our intervention, hopefully without bloodshed.”

“How long will it take to assemble the force you have in mind,
Hector?” Brekhov asked.

“We can be assembled and ready to hit them within three weeks,” said
Eldridge. “If we do this, we need to assemble and move in as a single continuous operation. If we assemble the fleet and then sit and wait for a go order, that gives Archangel and other parties time to catch wind of our ship movements and put the puzzle pieces together. Additionally, we won’t be able to have all of those ships tied up in this operation for long. Many of them will be needed elsewhere in the long term.”

“But
wait a second,” Weir countered, looking to Brekhov and Pedroso. “Eldridge already said that an engagement will also cost us. If that’s the case, shouldn’t we try to ascertain the minimum force to accomplish this, so we don’t leave ourselves exposed on other fronts any more than absolutely necessary?”

“Jon,” spoke up Brekhov again, “you don’t pull a gun on someone unless you intend to use it. We go in with the intent and expectation of destroying their fleet and occupying their cities.
Don’t worry about covering our losses. We’ll deal with that when it’s time to assess indemnities and reparations. If they are sensible and they stand down before it comes to violence, then so much the better. I hope that is what happens, but hope does not make for good policy.

“
Once we have control of the situation in Archangel, we’ll be able to provide all the confessions and all of the material proof we’ll ever need to show the rest of the Union that Archangel fabricated all of their evidence,” said Brekhov, making clear with his gaze that he didn’t want to have to elaborate on his euphemisms. “Nor will anyone want to press the issue afterward. We will hear far fewer objections to our success than our failure, and so we must not fail. And on that note, we’d best make sure CDC and Lai Wa are on board with us.”

* * *

“Let’s consider the economics here. Archangel has four terraformed planets—four! Michael, Raphael, Gabriel and Uriel, all named for archangels, of course. They also have settlements on another planet, Augustine, and several asteroid mining colonies. All that diversity, all that development, packed into a single star system, with the ninth strongest economy in the Union. And what’s their answer to their debts and economic problems? Default followed by propaganda. Look at the markets! We’re all suffering for it.”

--Union Assemblyman Warren Markinson (Edison), Union Assembly Floor Speech, November 2276

“This is such bullshit. Same fuckin’ food as yesterday and the day before. All they care about is mass production. Look at this, it’s all red beans and rice or assembly-line hamburgers. Or I could have what’s left of the chili and pasta they didn’t shell out yesterday. Great.”

Tanner heard the burly marine’s complaints over the rest of the conversation in the passageway. Half of the available space was taken up by the single-file line of people waiting to get into the galley. Walking past the line, Tanner slowed his stride, taking notice of the man’s volume.

“What, you got the menu open there?” asked another marine.

“Yeah, right here,” said the first, gesturing to the screen projected by the holocom on his wrist. “Oh, wait, I could go vegetarian and have whatever they poured into a muffin tray. Bet’cha the officers in the wardroom are still getting steaks grilled to order, though.”

Tanner stopped and turned around. Talk like that could get a guy in trouble. “Hey, they’re supposed to get the fryers up and running again tomorrow,” he
offered. “The galley had to more than double their output, so right now they’re just trying to keep up, but they’ll hit their stride soon, y’know?”

The marine
glared. Tanner read his uniform tags and insignia quickly: Private First Class DeLeon, fleet marines, fully qualified for zero-g ops and infantry. The guy probably graduated from the same sort of extended basic training Tanner went through. He should be able to handle these sorts of inconveniences. Yet he seemed decidedly aggravated and unfriendly. “Yeah, that’s great, pal. Who asked you? And shouldn’t you have a buddy with you if you’re doing your little walk around the boat looking for people to hassle?”

“
DeLeon, ease up,” said one of the marines. A couple of others looked on with concern.

“
Woah, there’s no hassle.” Tanner held his hands up. He was under arms and therefore had the look of an MA on patrol, given the black beret and the sidearm on his hip. In truth he was simply on his way to relieve the watch in the brig for lunch. Still, as Jacobson had decreed, the MAs were always on duty. “Listen, I get the same menu, too. It’s only been three days. This will get easier, we just need to be patient.”

“You need to get out of my face!”

Something about the marine’s warning seemed too absurd to take seriously. “Or what?” Tanner chuckled. “C’mon, let’s—”

The marine’s uppercut caught Tanner squarely on the jaw, knocking him back until his skull struck the bulkhead behind him. Disoriented and surprised, Tanner slid to the deck with his eyes wide. He recovered his senses
right away, but by then the other marines had DeLeon tied up in a mess of arms and legs.

Another marine leaned in toward Tanner with his hand outstretched. “You okay, buddy?”

“I’m all right.” Tanner opened and closed his mouth to ensure he had all his teeth. He was a bit surprised that such a solid punch didn’t dislocate his jaw. “Okay. I may have escalated there when I didn’t mean to.”

The marines pulled Tanner to his feet. One of them returned his helmet, which had tumbled away off its shoulder mount during his fall. “God dammit,” he sighed, “this is exactly what I
didn’t
want.” With DeLeon largely under control but still swearing up a storm, Tanner pushed into the scrum and set to getting the irate marine in cuffs. “You’re under arrest for assault,” Tanner declared over the raised voices. “Relax, or it becomes resisting arrest. And shut up before you make it into something worse!”

“Relax,
DeLeon!” agreed several other marines. “Relax! Don’t be stupid!”

Within seconds,
DeLeon understood the futility of struggling. Tanner had one wrist cuffed already and had two other guys helping him. Surrendering to the inevitable, DeLeon let his other wrist get cuffed and stood with a dark scowl.

“What’s your unit?” Tanner asked, hoping for the marine’s sake that
DeLeon wouldn’t answer by spitting on him or making some dumb threat. He stepped behind his prisoner and confiscated the marine’s standard-issue survival knife, vac helmet and military-issue holocom, then began the normal pat-down for any hidden weapons or surprises. He found nothing.

Another marine answered for
DeLeon. “Third Platoon, Bravo Company, ship’s detachment.”

Tanner let out a breath. “Shit
.” He’d expected the problems to come from the visiting forces, not the ship’s own. But suddenly it clicked into place: it was the marines who’d already become used to routines on
Los Angeles
who felt the disruptions most acutely.

“We’ll let his platoon leader know,” said a third marine. She and the others looked embarrassed more than anything else, perhaps even ashamed. “You want a couple of us to walk him down to the brig with you?”

Oh God, they feel bad about one of their own picking on a little navy guy
.
Marines. Wow.
“No, I got it. I’m fine,” Tanner said. “We’ll send out the usual notifications, but if you want to tell his sergeant or whoever, that’s fine.” He gave DeLeon a glare. “Are we done?”

“Yeah, whatever,”
DeLeon grumbled.

Tanner took a firm grip on the chain linking the cuffs with his left hand, staying behind
DeLeon but affording himself a good level of control. Standard procedure held that he should call in and wait for back-up before bringing a prisoner to the brig rather than doing it by himself. Tanner’s first inclination was to end the disruption as quickly as possible, and there was no nearby compartment where he could hold DeLeon until the lunch line died down. If the last two days were any indication, that wouldn’t happen for another ninety minutes.

DeLeon
seemed resigned to his fate. Tanner opted to walk him down to the brig on his own. He noted that a couple of the marines fell out of line and followed a short distance, but their motives were obvious. They didn’t want DeLeon making any more trouble.

The route to the brig required some odd detours to avoid crowds, maintenance crews and training ops. Always a busy ship under normal circumstances,
Los Angeles
now hosted a carefully-managed swarm of activity. Much of deck ten’s passageways served as a running circuit. The shuttle bay saw constant use. Outside the ship’s hull, two platoons from the 13
th
conducted zero-g training and certification for newer marines, with
ANS St. George
and a freighter from the AISG providing assistance. The gym, the shooting range and the rec rooms were packed around the clock.

Yesterday, the ship
went through two modified emergency drills for the sake of establishing basic safety procedures while so many people were aboard. Both drills turned into complete fiascos, doing nothing to diminish anyone’s discomfort. Tanner hoped to keep the incident with DeLeon quiet and resolve it quickly, lest the image of marines being hauled off to the brig add to that stress.

They made the trip in silence, and though they encountered a few people on the way, no one held them up. Tanner felt his holocom buzz and noted on the display that the call came from his destination, but by
then he was only seconds away.

Lewis and Baldwin both awaited him at the front desk area, as well as a marine corporal. Lewis came up with Baldwin to take
DeLeon by either arm. The corporal simply gave DeLeon a look of disappointment and stayed out of the way, but Tanner figured that look was the best control method anyone present could use on the big marine.

“You’re supposed to call this in immediately,” Lewis said to Tanner as he guided
DeLeon around a corner behind the desk to one of several open cells. The brig was, fortunately, not a busy place.

“Yeah, sorry,” Tanner replied. “I know. But it was over as soon as it began and he cooperated. I just wanted to get him down here before it became more of a spectacle.”

Lewis didn’t respond right away, concerned first with getting DeLeon settled. The marine followed every instruction, and soon sat on the cell’s bunk with his hands freed from Tanner’s cuffs. The MAs then stepped outside and the transparent fourth wall of the cell slid into place, sealing DeLeon in. Lewis guided his subordinates back around the corner.

“I don’t care if he manages to cuff himself for you and I don’t care if the whole world’s watching. Call it in before you transport. Every time. Got me?” Lewis admonished.

“Aye, aye,” Tanner nodded. “Won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, so on that note, what
did
happen? All I know is this guy knocked you on your ass?”

Tanner frowned. “He was in line for chow while I was on my way here, bitching up a storm about the menu and whatever else. I tried to talk to him all friendly like, I didn’t come down hard or try to shut him down or
give him a dirty look… but he told me to get out of his face, and I didn’t take that seriously. I said, ‘Or what?’ just like I obviously shouldn’t have said, and so he tagged me. Then his buddies jumped in and restrained him and here we are.”

“
’Or what?’
” Baldwin repeated. “You said that?”

“I don’t respond well to threats,” Tanner shrugged defensively. “It was dumb, I know. I feel a little responsible for this. I should’ve known better than to impugn his manly might or whatever. I didn’t think he could be serious.”

Lewis ran one hand over his scalp. “No, you shouldn’t have said that, but he shouldn’t have hit anyone.”

“Well, yeah,” Tanner agreed.

“Baldwin, go ahead and grab chow. No sweat if you’re a little late getting back, ‘cause your relief here has work to do now, anyway. Malone, stow this guy’s stuff and get to work on your report right away. I’ll let Chief Lockwood know what happened. Then I’ll talk to this guy after he’s had time to cool out.”