The Unincorporated Future (6 page)

But for the rest of their lives, the spacers of “the Fleet,” as it was now considered even by their enemies, would remember that moment. A moment when they used skill, experience, and faith to brave the fury of the solar system and the cruelty of time—all for the merest hope of victory.

As the fleet entered the asteroid swarm, impact after impact struck the ice shield of the plow. The surviving crew would later describe these myriad collisions with a combination of awe and dread. It was as if the asteroids were not inanimate rocks flying through space but rather the enraged antibodies of a solar system deeply offended by what humanity had done to its formerly undisturbed and eternal movements. Over drinks at bars not yet created, told to spacers not yet born, the lauded veterans would swear that the asteroids
knew
the plow was the cause of the solar system’s consternation and had attacked the hated offender with glee. Then they would laugh and pretend they were joking. But the shadow of the memory would stay in their eyes even as their voices denied it. Behind a wall of ice, they’d braved the fury of space—and it did not come without a price.

Ceres
Near the Cerean Sea
Hour 31

Rabbi waited patiently, scratching his foot at the now hardened sand of Tabor Beach. He was dressed in his best Sabbath garb, which consisted of a black, calf-length silk jacket tied neatly at the waist by a black, buckle-less belt. He also wore a traditional fur-rimmed hat known as a
shtreimel.
Sergeant Holke and Agent Agnes Goldstein were also in attendance, having taken up positions near him, turning from time to time to scan the various horizons. And lastly, Holke’s TDCs. Rabbi had always found the Cerean Sea to be a strange duck. He’d spent the overwhelming majority of his life on the seven small asteroids of Aish Hatorah and never saw a body of water bigger than a lake. To see an actual sea with all that water had been both exhilarating and terrifying. But what he’d cast his eyes upon now was out of a dream, or a nightmare.

The Cerean Sea was frozen solid. It had been done, as with all large open sources of water, to prepare for the battle. Instead of the warm, almost tropical ocean with the inviting sandy beaches, groves of trees, and verdant flower beds Rabbi was used to seeing, all that lay before him was a frost layer spreading out for miles, and all he felt was the cold. The air was filled with tiny glittering ice particles dancing around large multifaceted chunks of floating sea jarred loose by the recent bombardments. The blocks would detach from the frozen sea, hang in the air for a few seconds, and then, by force of Ceres’s natural gravity, be pulled toward its center, mountainous region at ever-increasing speeds. Once blocks hit the mountain range, they’d explode into thousands of smaller shards, creating a short-lived plume of ice crystals. It was oddly wondrous, thought Rabbi, how something so oneiric could come from so much devastation. And it also made perfect sense why the site had been chosen for a wedding that Rabbi was soon to officiate.

Taffy and Claude were part of a hundred-person-strong unit of assault miners from the
Spirit of America
. They’d been detached from Omad’s flotilla after three months of active combat to refit and integrate new members to replace combat losses. Much to their annoyance, they missed the opportunity to join the main fleet and were bumped from rejoining Omad’s flotilla when he had to take a hundred mystery passengers aboard the
Spartacus
at the last moment. In order to make room, Omad had been forced to transfer a hundred of his assault miners to the
Spirit of America,
which resulted in the leaving behind of a highly decorated and experienced combat battalion with no one to fight and nothing to do.

That didn’t stop Captain Claude Brodessor from keeping his Unicorns busy. They’d received the nickname from their fellow assault miners because of the little square boxes the men in the mostly male unit wore on their heads while praying. As the moniker had been chosen with as much respect as jest, the name soon stuck and the captain’s unit wore it proudly. Brodesser was one of those people who viewed every setback as an opportunity, and he seemed to love the opportunity to train his unit in the varied environments of Ceres. They learned how to move in forests, both temperate and frozen. They learned urban combat in the warrens of Ceres and waterborne combat until the seas froze. And if by some small chance some of his assault miners got bored, he’d make one round in five hundred live. After a couple of his assault miners had to have their limbs regrown, the rest learned to take the exercises quite seriously indeed. Even with the regrowth ability, the agony of having an arm or leg blown off was not something any of them ever wished to repeat.

In the midst of the combat training, it was decided that Claude and Taffy, the medic he’d been seeing of late, should admit what the rest of the unit already knew and tie the knot. As it turned out, the impromptu wedding was becoming a focal point of sorts. The punctilious captain was very cautious about things like fraternization, and though he loved Taffy, he’d decided to make that love official only
after
the war. But with the very real possibility that they’d all be dead in the next few days, Claude’s concerns seemed less important. Besides, Taffy could be very demanding—a fact Rabbi discovered when she barged into his busy office and demanded to see him. Rabbi had her wait, but was not so foolish as to make her wait longer than necessary. In fact, he’d sooner have gotten between a UHF cruiser and its target than get in the way of a bride seeking her groom. But after her impassioned plea that Rabbi talk with her “stubborn mule of a man,” Rabbi acquiesced and so, in the end, had the captain.

That had been six hours ago. The compromise had been that the ceremony not interfere with the Unicorns’ training schedule and so had been set during one of the unit’s brief fifteen-minute downtimes. Rabbi turned around when he heard the company jogging over a frozen dune. He also heard the captain’s thunderous voice shouting the words, “C’mon, you laggards, I will not be late for my own wedding!” The team, with Taffy in the lead shooting arrows with her eyes to her six-hour fiancé, flew over the hill and within a minute parked their gear near Rabbi. Rabbi raised his brow slightly and tapped on his empty wrist with an accusatory look toward Captain Brodesser. The captain, tapping on his wrist—covered in battle armor—returned Rabbi’s look with one of his own, indicating that it was Rabbi who was holding things up. Private joke completed, they both smiled broadly and then embraced.

Sergeant Holke knew everyone because he’d taken advantage of having a fully experienced combat unit on Ceres to train with his TDCs. It had meant that the thirty members of the President’s protection squad had to give up all their free time to train in groups of ten with the combat unit, but there had not been even the hint of a complaint. In fact, it had been more along the lines of a growl of pleasure. But if the training had been hard—and between the captain and Holke, it had been exceedingly so—the two units did not seem to have left any grudges behind. Though the TDCs had not been allowed to socialize with the Unicorns, both the captain and the sergeant turned a blind eye to some of the fraternization that naturally resulted from good camaraderie.

Rabbi viewed with concern some of the sidelong glances thrown by the Unicorn women toward the ten TDCs in attendance.
I wonder how the TDCs feel about conversion?

Some religious articles were procured from a rucksack and a line quickly formed with crossed assault rail guns for the bride and groom to walk under. At the end of the line, four of the assault miners created a tentlike structure by holding up the four corners of a traditional Jewish prayer shawl with the tips of their rail guns. The unit’s gear was left in place; however, it had been set up for a defensive operation. To the captain, the ceremony had been all business, notable by the way he inspected everyone’s stance—to Taffy, it was anything but. That much was evident by the large smile plastered across her face, letting everyone know she’d gotten what she wanted—even if at the end of a grueling hike and a less-than-romantic ceremony.

Rabbi took his official position beneath the impromptu tent, otherwise known as the chuppah.

The sounds of klezmer music wafted over the frozen seas as Claude and Taffy, donned in full combat armor, came down the column of heavily armed soldiers. Taffy was wearing a veil that she’d borrowed from a Muslim comrade who’d bought it as a gift for his niece. Rabbi took great joy in performing this ceremony. Lately, he’d been a Cabinet secretary of the Outer Alliance far more than a Rabbi of the Jewish people, and even when performing duties as the latter, they tended more often than not to be funerals. This wedding was tonic for a burdened soul, and even the normally taciturn captain seemed to finally relax, cracking a blissful smile as his bride circled around him seven times. Taffy was being “guided” by Rivka Dyan, the unit’s explosives expert. Rabbi held a silver chalice filled with wine from his personal stock, actually grown from grapes he’d planted himself. He said the traditional prayers, made the abridged traditional speech, and then bade both the captain and his bride to take a sip from the wine. Once satisfied that the two had been wed according the letter of the law, Rabbi took a small glass from his pocket, put it in a cloth napkin, and placed it on the ground. “Though today is a day of joy, we must never forget the destruction of the Temple in our holy city of Jerusalem and the destruction of faith in the fires of the Grand Collapse.” Rabbi tipped his head toward Claude, who promptly brought his combat boot down on the napkin. The sound of the shattered glass echoed across the Cerean Sea, followed by the much louder sound of a hundred happy, healthy voices shouting, “Mazel tov!”

What followed then was an explosion of shouting, singing, and spontaneous dancing as the vibrant sounds of klezmer music burst forth from a hundred DijAssists. It was a wonderful celebration—that lasted only thirty seconds.

“Quiet!” screamed Rivka. The crowd went from celebration to alertness in a matter of seconds. An act consistent with that of any battle-hardened combat unit. Rivka was staring disbelievingly at her field scanner. “Captain,” she said, looking over to the newly minted groom, “I’m getting readings on this thing that says UHF combat personnel have been detected on the surface.”

“Not unexpected,” he answered tersely. Then, under his breath, “Though the timing coulda been better.” Those close by laughed sympathetically.

“I know, sir,” she answered, “but this thing’s picking them at what should be eight times its maximum range. And before you ask, I
have
run a diagnostic check. It’s not damaged—it’s just giving me data it shouldn’t be able to.”

Brodesser nodded stiffly. “How many enemy does this miracle scanner detect?”

“Ten, Captain,” she answered. “It says they have heavy weapons.”

Claude very much wanted to ignore what seemed to be an obvious equipment malfunction. His unit and his bride had earned whatever moments of pleasure they could use. But to ignore a combat scanner, even one that was probably malfunctioning, was not something he wished to do or have his unit see him do. He was saved from the choice by Sergeant Holke.

“Rivka, send me the data,” Holke said. “You Unicorns enjoy the wedding. I’ll take the TDCs out to have a look.” Holke saw the captain was about to protest and cut him off. “Please, you’ll be doing us a favor. We don’t know how to dance, and now we have more time to get you a wedding present.”

Claude laughed. “We’ll count this as your wedding present, and in case I forget to send a card, thanks.”

As the music started up again, Sergeant Holke led his ten TDCs out on a simple observe-and-report jaunt. He fully expected to be back at the party within minutes. However, five minutes after Holke left, he was forced to make a priority call.

Once again, the party came to a precision stop. Claude answered the call, and as he did, the entire wedding party could clearly hear emanating from their captain’s DijAssist the sounds of assault rail gun fire and the explosion of plasma grenades in the background.

INVASION!!!

Outer Alliance personnel with any combat training at all are to alert central command. Over five thousand UHF assault marines have used the cover of their fleet’s bombardment of civilian targets to launch covert attacks. They must be stopped at the upper levels before they can set atomic explosions deep in the crust. For the survival of your families and homes, we must repel the invader.

REMEMBER THE JOVIANS!

They did it and so can we!

—Broadcast on all Cerean Neuro sites

UHFS
Liddel
Off Ceres
Hour 32

“The operation is blown, sir,” said Marine General Fred Harker.

The veins on Trang’s temples began to bulge. “What happened, Fred?” There seemed more curiousity in the question than disapointment.