The Unincorporated Future (34 page)

“Yes, Mosh, it just might end up being nearly a billion human beings
killed.
”

“Murdered!”

“No, we did not murder them. I didn’t look at each person on Mars and decide they should die.” Sandra glanced at everyone at the table. “Nor did anyone here. I decided that the only way to survive this war, a war that Hektor Sambianco has taken every opportunity to make as inhumane as possible, was to take the one real asset the UHF has and turn it into a liability.”

“That’s how you justify murder? I’m sorry,” Mosh said, shaking his head in disgust, “the only thing we’ve done is turn us into them. Does it really matter who wins this damn war now?”

“Yes,” answered Sandra, giving no quarter. “The UHF has murdered nearly three hundred million Belters who in no way were aiding, nor could possibly aid the Alliance anymore. They would have murdered the other eight hundred million had we done nothing to stop them.”

“So that makes what we did right? My billion for yours?”

“Yes, that makes it right. I’m President of the
Outer Alliance
, not of the human race. My every thought is for
our
survival. If I had not ordered what I ordered or if J. D. Black had not followed those orders, we would have been destroyed. Not this month, but soon enough. There was no way we could indefinitely fight Trang, a skilled warrior with an industrial base that is now fifty times larger than ours supporting a population base at best nine times larger than ours. We had to change that dynamic of the war
or die.
Do I regret the necessity? Yes. Do I wish a billion people didn’t have to die for our billions to live? Of course. Would I order it again?” Sandra purposely let the question hang so that she could shoot it out of the air. “In a heartbeat.”

“When does it stop?” asked Ayon. “Really. I’m not asking to bait you, Madam President. I honestly want to know,
need
to know that there’s some kind of end game to this tit-for-tat madness.”

“When, Ayon, they’re willing to let us be,” Sandra answered, and looked back toward Mosh. “You want to know the difference between us and them, Mosh. I’ll tell you. I’ll stop the moment they do. I won’t kill them if they don’t kill us, but here’s the thing: They’ll stop killing us only if I kill enough of them. When they understand our need for freedom is priceless and their need to enslave us is not, this war will end … and not a moment before.”

“Congratulations,” Mosh said bitterly. “Our freedom is about to be purchased with the deaths of a billion souls.”

“And I can only pray that the price does not go up,” said Sandra as she rose to her feet. The meeting was adjourned; the grilling, over.

*   *   *

“I would understand if you’re upset, Joshua.”

“I can understand the need for absolute secrecy, Madam President, but I must ask—” He paused. “—do you wish me to be Secretary of Defense?”

Sandra paused too. “It’s a fair question. I held back information on a vital weapon.”

“I knew about the re-formable asteroids, Madam President. I just didn’t know they were ready. But you not only kept the deployment a secret from me, you also had them installed in the fleet without my knowledge with J.D.’s consent, who I feel compelled to remind you is supposed to be my subordinate.
You
then decided a
military
course of action that you cleared with my subordinate without informing me and had the fleet carry bioweapons of mass ecological destruction, also without my knowledge.” Sinclair sighed. “I know I haven’t exactly been the best admiral, and after my mistakes almost cost us the capital I fully understand your not trusting my judgment, so then why don’t you just accept my resignation and appoint someone whom you do trust?”

“Joshua, please believe me, it’s not that I don’t trust you; it’s that I don’t trust anyone. Only five people knew our last surprise was ready: myself; Secretary Nesor, who oversaw the final development and deployment; J.D., who had to use it; Marilynn Nitelowsen, who would have told J.D.’s successor if something had gone spectacularly wrong; and, of course, Kenji. As far as I was concerned, that was four too many. If it could’ve been used without even my knowing about it, I would have been happier. But that was not the case. I still have secrets that you or J.D. know nothing about because in my judgment that’s what’s best.”

She leaned over and took Josh’s hands in hers. “But, Joshua, my judgment also tells me that you’re almost indispensable as the Secretary of Defense. You say you are not a great battle admiral—so what? The Alliance has not had a shortage of great battle admirals. Maybe it’s the processed water, but we seem to grow them like algae out here. Have you seen the after-battle reports on Suchitra’s destruction of both the Trans-Luna Shipyards and that fleet near Mars? She’s a natural battle leader. But you’re a natural organizer. The fleet respects you, and everyone knows it’s been your dedication to training and equipping this fleet that’s made it the shield and the sword of the Alliance. We need your wisdom and judgment, Joshua. I hope you can stay, knowing that you’ll not always be privy to everything—just most things.”

“The Alliance has my wisdom and judgment, Madam President, regardless of the price I may pay to my career, reputation, or feelings.”

“Thank you, Grand Admiral.”

Admiral Joshua Sinclair got up, saluted, and left the room. He had an urgent meeting to get to with Mosh McKenzie.

*   *   *

They met in the forward room of the AWS
Rumrunner,
a frigate that had suffered so much damage to its main rail gun that it was unable to be repaired until the Saturnians could get the Jovian Shipyards reassembled and working again. It was therefore designated a messenger frigate between Ceres and Saturn and had its superbly trained crew transferred into the fleet only to be replaced with trainees of Sinclair’s choosing.

“I found the beer to be rather good,” said Mosh as the grand admiral sauntered in. Mosh held up a nearly empty mug as proof of the assertion. “But the bar
is
open. I must warn you, the old crew took all the good booze, but you still have generics of all the basics.”

“I thought you said the beer was good.”

“That’s because I had the executive branch cafeteria ship some of it up here. If we’re going to discuss treason, it should be with something worthwhile.”

“We’re not committing treason,” said Sinclair firmly. “
She
is.”

“Then you’ll join me?”

“Do you remember why Justin hired me all those years ago?”

Mosh’s face lit up. “The Spicer ring.”

“I refused to kill the innocent to punish the guilty. Justin said he wanted an officer in charge of his military who would refuse such an order. The reason I took the job is because I knew Justin would never give that order. You remember what he always said?”

“The means are the ends.”

“He was right and always will be, old friend. In three months’ time, that woman will be responsible for the deaths of more innocent people than every monster in human history, including Hektor Sambianco. She went over my head for Mars, and she’ll do it again for whatever’s next on her list, God protect us. You certainly helped illustrate that point today.”

Mosh nodded. “Well, someone had to. Listen, Josh, you’re of course under no obligation to tell me, but I was just curious as to what happened at the meeting afterwards.”

“Ah, that,” answered Josh with a refulgent smile. “I tendered my resignation.”

“No, you didn’t!”

“Swear to God.”

Mosh was about to get upset, when he noticed that his friend was still smiling. He then nodded approvingly. “Good move. If you hadn’t, she would’ve been suspicious.”

“And I woulda been lucky just to take a crap without Holke inspecting it for nanites. But she had to convince me to stay.”

“Which I’m sure you reluctantly agreed to.”

Joshua’s teeth flashed through his broad grin. “We have alot of work to do if we’re to save this Alliance.”

And Joshua Sinclair began to explain to Mosh McKenzie exactly how a military executes a coup in the middle of a war.

*   *   *

Observing the entire conversation, Sebastian smiled for the first time in many months. He too had been trying to figure out how to remove Sandra O’Toole from power. It was obvious that Mosh McKenzie had the will but not really the skill and resources to pull off such a feat. But he remembered the avatar proverb, “It’s easier to predict a quantum particle than it is a human’s actions.” Admiral Sinclair had a plan—and a very good one. Of course, it would never succeed. Dante would discover it long before implementation and tell his brand-new “friend,” Sergeant Holke.

But that was actually a good thing. The more time Holke kept Dante distracted, the easier it would be to cover the conspirators’ trail from anyone in the avatar world. And if the humans proved to be as incompetent in this as Kirk Olmstead had been, Sebastian would step in and make sure the Unincorporated Woman would never be a threat again.

AWS
Warprize II

J. D. Black tried to leave her annoyance at the door. She hated surprises, and Marilynn Nitelowsen had just given her three. First, she’d shut down all computer interfaces on the
Warprize
and run a detailed check using a protocol that was both innovative and bizarre. Then she’d requisitioned the fleet’s fastest frigate, asked for a volunteer crew, and had it take off along the Via routes to Ceres at speeds even the Via’s civil engineers rated as unsafe. While this was going on, Marilynn had requested that J.D. come to her own quarters for a meeting with one of Marilynn’s intelligence staffers. Marilynn had been polite about it, but J.D. knew an order when she heard one. She’d known Marilynn for a number of years, but was well past the point of patience and knew that her intelligence liaison had better have a damn good explanation for all of this or she would be the fleet liaison to Eris. J.D. almost pitied whoever it was Marilynn had sent to her quarters in order to be sacrificed at the altar of the fleet admiral’s wrath.

When she got to her quarters, J.D. was shocked to find her daughter re-creating the Battle of the Needle’s Eye with all the accoutrements—including the bread rolls, socks, new mock-ups, crumpled-up paper, and a few of J.D.’s desk accessories—
in all three dimensions.
Sitting patiently in the small waiting area, intently watching Katy play, was a young lieutenant with close-cropped brown hair, dark brown eyes, light skin, and the traditional uniform of the Outer Alliance intelligence division.

J.D. focused in on the lieutenant. “There had better be a damned good explanation for this,” she said through the floating bread rolls, socks, and spaceships. Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she corrected the positions of two of the model ships situated too near four bread rolls. “You must always leave room for evasive maneuvers, little one,” she said with the patience of Job as she pushed the bread rolls farther away from the giant crumpled paper cruisers and repositioned some frigates more forward of the main fleet. “There, that’s better.”

Katy looked up, thrilled. “Thank you, Mama Bo!”

“Of course, little one. Now you must tell me how you got the grav field to work.”

“Am I in trouble, Mama Bo?”

“Of course not, but did you figure out my password?”

“No, you told me never to.”

“Good girl. Then how?”

Katy pointed to the woman calmly sitting in the small waiting area and smiled. “The angel did it. She’s magic.”

“Uh-huh,” answered J.D., eyeing the visitor warily. “Mama Bo has to have a little discussion with this very nice ‘angel’ and find out just what the … how all of this”—J.D. indicated the floating mass—“got off the ground.”

“Okay, Mama Bo,” answered Katy, and happily returned to her orchestration.

J.D. navigated around the suspended debris and over to the young lieutenant, who jumped up and gave a stiff and overly formal salute.

“Lieutenant Britannia Panil at your service, Admiral.”

J.D. smiled acidly. “Mind telling me what the hell is going on here, Lieutenant?”

“Commodore Nitelowsen sent me.”

“Yes, Lieutenant. And we’ll get to that in a second. I’m talking about”—J.D. indicated with her head the battle going on behind her—“that!” She then noticed something awry in Katy’s setup, held up her forefinger to the young lieutenant, and said, “Hold that thought.” She then turned toward her daughter. “Katy, sweetie?”

Katy pushed aside a small floating display case. “Yes, Mama Bo?”

“Your ships have to be in proper alignment for the phase-shifting missiles to disrupt the maximum amount of enemy ships.”

Katy held up her hands, palms out. J.D. pointed with her forefinger where the three “ships” needed to go.

“Oh, right!” answered Katy, and immediately began readjusting the teddy bear, bra, and snorkel.