The Unincorporated Future (29 page)

Timian’s shoulders sagged as he watched his planet’s supposedly impenetrable wall disappear under a barrage of the impossible.

“Damsah’s balls.”

“Orders, sir?”

But at that moment, Timian Ross could think of none to give. Mars in Outer Alliance hands. The capital of the UHF under the Outer Alliance flag. He knew his defeat would have a higher price than any other in the long and storied history of the Unincorporated War and that his name would go down in the history of the UHF as the man who lost the capital. He knew it and in a moment of odd clarity, accepted it. His name might go down in history as the man who lost Mars, but damned if it wouldn’t be without a fight. He quickly began to issue orders, salvaging what little he could.

AWS
Warprize II
Approaching Martian southern hemisphere

J. D. Black and Marilynn Nitelowsen had been the only two in the fleet who knew about Kenji’s last surprise. As they watched the plan unfold, they looked at each other across the command sphere and exchanged convivial grins.

“Their fleet is running,” broke in Suchitra from the AWS
Otter.

“Yes,” said J.D., viewing the sensor data, “apparently, they are.”

“Which means whoever’s in charge is not stupid. Permission to—”

“Not yet, Admiral. We’ll make sure to bag those fishes soon enough. First we need to finish off the southern orbats, second we’ll need to take out the following list of planet-based defensive fortifications, which you should be getting right about—” J.D. pressed her finger to one of the consoles. “—now.”

“Got it.”

“Good. Because I want Mars laid bare before the UHF figures out how to negate the weapon. According to our intelligence officer”—J.D. turned her head slightly toward Marilynn, listening in—“they’ll be able to scramble the micro beacon signals in under an hour, which doesn’t give us much time.”

“Understood, sir.”

“This is our last trick, Suchitra. The bag’s empty after this. Let’s make it count.”

*   *   *

Because of a military-imposed news blackout, the Martians had little idea of the unfolding disaster. But it was impossible to hide that something had gone horribly wrong, especially when all one needed was a standard telescope or a friend living in orbit to describe what they were seeing out their viewport. However, when a series of meteors suddenly began raining down onto the planet, destroying military installations near major cities as well as other obvious strategic sites, the truth of the situation became manifest: The enemy was no longer at the gates; they were past them.

*   *   *

J.D. stood in her quarters, hands clasped behind her back, looking into a viewscreen onto a world she now owned. Triumph coursed through her veins and it felt good—seductively so.
Remember,
she thought. Instinctively, she lifted her hand to the scarred half of her face and delicately ran her fingers along the ridges of the hardened flesh.
Good. Before you let this feeling go to your head, remember those who never made it home from your last assault on this wretched planet: the twelve destroyed ships and the seventy-five hundred spacers who died—permanently—assaulting these orbats. And remember what that feeling of triumph, that seduction of power has wrought—especially by those ruling below: that you can enslave an entire people and justify it; that to preserve that slavery, you can murder with impunity, impose psyche audits; that ultimately it is you who are God and so don’t have to answer to anyone. Hundreds of millions are now dead because of that seduction. Justin saw it coming before any of us. Sandra, more than most, seems to know what it will take to end it. So just do your job, Janet. Do your job and help Sandra do hers.

J.D. turned away from the planet below and walked back to her desk. She ordered a secure line to Suchitra on the
Otter.

When the admiral appeared in the holo-screen, J.D. said, “The UHF detachment that broke orbit after our attack could prove to be a problem.”

“What do I have to work with?”

“I’m giving you Park, Paladin, Cho, and Waterman. You’ll be getting all the frigates and most of the cruisers.”

“What about the battle cruisers?”

“They’re staying here.”

Suchitra’s face stiffened. “There’s only one reason you would need sixty heavy ships in orbit … sir.”

“I assure you, Admiral, there are more than one.”

“Then you’re not going to destroy the planet?”

“I will do what’s necessary,” J.D. answered coolly.

“Admiral, please forgive me for speaking out of place, but this does go to the core of why I do what I do, why I have chosen to fight for the Outer Alliance. And if I feel we’re becoming another Gupta … well…”

“We’re not anywhere near becoming a Gupta, Admiral.”

“But most of the people on Mars are innocent.”

“Actually, no. These supposedly ‘innocent’ people voted for, and have overwhelmingly supported, a regime that has murdered hundreds of millions of our citizens around Jupiter and the Belt. The UHF citizens are every bit as ‘innocent’ as the Germans, Austrians, Poles, and Ukrainians who supported the Nazis in the Second World War and the Confederates who supported the enslavement of their fellow man. Whatever the Martians deserve, I very much doubt it’s mercy.”

“But the children? Should they die because of the sins of their parents?”

“The short answer is no, of course not. The more nuanced answer, sadly, is yes. Their parents have acted irresponsibly to the point of reckless endangerment. They have voted into power and have kept in power a President and legislative body that have consistently chosen to use unconscionable violence—Alhambra—and depravity—more rigorous psyche audits—as means of achieving their ends. Are we to do nothing? Our very survival demands we act to preserve our people, our values, our very existence! As such, it is those parents who’ve acted irresponsibly, Suchitra, those parents who’ve endangered the lives of their children. And we’re not even talking about the moral consequences of propping up such a regime. I still remember a quote from a book I read sometime back in which the child of a German citizen was asked, some forty years after the Holocaust, if he thought his parents were complicit. His response stays with me to this day: ‘Our parents claimed they didn’t know what was going on, but we don’t believe them.’ I feel for the children, Suchitra, but it is not up to me to save them. It is up to those charged with raising them.”

A long moment hung on her words. “I understand what you’re saying, Admiral, but I need to let you know how much this weighs on me. For Damsah’s sake, your own daughter is living testament to the depravity of this war.”

J.D. finally allowed a small smile. “And I’m well aware of that. Rest assured, the needs of the war decree that Mars will not be totally destroyed. However, if we are to preserve the freedom that Justin promised us and stop the machine that keeps churning out bodies and machines dedicated to the destruction of that dream, then Mars needs to be rendered ineffective as a base of operations.”

Suchitra nodded respectfully and with a heavy sigh answered, “I understand.”

J.D. though, wasn’t quite done. “Do you, though? If in the future, victory requires the total destruction of Mars or Luna or Earth itself, I will have to make that decision. And if one day you’re to command this fleet, you might have to make that same decision. As officers of the fleet, we’re sworn to victory—not victory that makes us feel good, or a victory where the vulnerable are spared.”

“But, Admiral, if we win under the rules of Fleet Order 8645, what difference does it make who wins?”

“It makes a big difference, Suchitra. Both the Allied forces and the Nazis destroyed large swaths of population centers. Both used the weapons of war to bring terror down from the sky. Both were, in the end, responsible for the deaths of millions. But in the end—warts and all—was it ever really a question as to who would make a better steward of humanity? You had the Nazis with their racial supremacy, SS death squads, and concentration camps; and you had the Americans with their Bill of Rights and their belief in the sanctity of freedom. I’m not saying they were perfect, mind you, nor that they didn’t hop into bed with questionable regimes. What I am saying is that at some point, you’ll have to choose, because if you don’t, it’s the Hitlers and Sambiancos who end up running the world. We are at such a crossroads now. So knowing all this,” asked J.D., her voice growing considerably darker, “can you continue to serve?”

In a voice devoid of doubt, Suchitra gave her answer. “Yes, Admiral.”

“Then you have your orders. Pick your ships and destroy as many of the enemy as you can. You have three days. Good hunting, Admiral Gorakhpur.”

“Admiral?”

“Yes, Suchitra.”

“God be with you.” the second-in-command then cut out.

Left unsaid was what J.D. planned on doing with the heavy cruisers.

“Thank
you,
Suchitra,” the fleet admiral answered into the air.

*   *   *

A few minutes later, 212 Alliance ships broke orbit and sped after the fleeing UHF fleet. Though the Alliance Fleet was outnumbered and outgunned, no one on either side of the conflict had any doubt as to the eventual outcome. Shortly after Suchitra’s departure, the remaining seventy-five Alliance ships began the methodic destruction of every facility and installation in orbit around Mars. There was no longer any opposition left to stop them.

UHF fleet HQ
Low orbit of Mars

Timian Ross, newly promoted to admiral, looked at his first and last command at that rank. Fleet HQ had a small number of defensive missile emplacements, but they had been installed with the thought of stopping a surprise attack by one or two small ships. They had never been meant to defend against dozens of battle cruisers. That would have been the job of a UHF fleet. But Timian knew that to have those brand-new ships with those green crews fight would be worse than murder; it would be useless. So he ordered them to run—run as fast and as far as they could in the hopes they could fight again someday, after they’d learned enough to be useful.

He ordered a total evacuation of the HQ and set the missiles to defend the escape pods as they broke for the surface. He was glad he did because he saw that the military escape pods were being targeted by the closest Alliance ships. He should’ve been outraged, but he wasn’t. This was the war that Fleet Order 8645 had created. Some of his pods did manage to make it to the Martian atmosphere with the missile support he gave them. At least the pods from the civilian installations had been allowed to escape unmolested. But considering they were going to a planet without defenses against an enemy that Timian had to admit could be justified in killing the lot of them, he wasn’t sure how lucky the civilians in the escape pods actually were.

Timian checked his command console and saw in stark holography the moment he’d been expecting. The moment of his impending death. It was beautiful in an odd sort of way. The three heavy cruisers and the precision with which they’d slowly made their way past the last of his defenses and had sent an enormous fusillade of rail gun fire heading directly for him. His last thoughts as the high-speed shells tore into their now defenseless target was of his younger sister and how he’d told her the war would be over in a year and he’d be back in time for her graduation from junior tech school; how hardly anyone would be hurt; how it would all blow over. He remembered telling her the so-called Outer Alliance wasn’t a real government and so, not a real threat—harmless, in fact. As the shock wave of the impact began shattering his internal organs, he wished his sister well. The little girl he remembered was now a young woman, an ensign on a ship fleeing for her life from the “harmless” Outer Alliance ships thirsting for revenge.

AWS
Warprize II

J.D. was heading for the command sphere followed by her two closest confidantes, Fatima Awala and Marilynn Nitelowsen.

Fatima was briefing her on the run. “The OA Martian flotilla reports they are now positioned around the planet and are ready to interdict any traffic or bombard any structure on the surface as you see fit.”

“So the blockade’s been announced.”

“Yes, Admiral. Every child, woman, and man on Mars not presently in a coma knows that nothing is allowed to leave or enter the Martian atmosphere without your express say-so.”

“What’s the status of Suchitra’s fleet?”

“The admiral reports that the UHF forces have broken up into individual ships and are fleeing to all points of the compass except back to here. She regrets to report that this will make destruction of the whole of the enemy impossible in the time limit given. But she should be able to destroy or disable nearly two hundred of the enemy ships. She wishes to know what your orders are concerning escape pods.”

Still testing me, are you?
thought J.D. “Inform Admiral Gorakhpur that all correct procedures will be followed concerning the treatment of prisoners of war and those at our mercy.”