The Unincorporated War (33 page)

“Well, don’t keep me waiting, girl,” pouted Amanda.

Neela allowed her in and cut the connection. Seconds later Amanda was in the spa room.

“Day off, huh?” asked Amanda, removing her jacket and tossing it nonchalantly over the nearest chaise lounge.

“I guess.”

“Heard you canceled all your appointments.”

Neela didn’t respond.

“Figured you could use a day of shopping,” Amanda said, flashing two orport tickets. “How does Madrid sound?”

Neela smiled meekly but shook her head. “Thanks, Amanda, but I think what I really need is to spend the day right here. I don’t suppose you’d want to join me instead?” Neela asked for courtesy’s sake, not really expecting Amanda to upend her plans.

Amanda looked contemplative for a moment and then smiled mischievously. “Why not? It’s been ages since I’ve had a bubble bath.” She then proceeded to strip off her clothes without a care in the world.

Neela’s mind immediately went to work, analyzing her friend’s every move. Amanda Snow was not more beautiful than other women, though Neela had to admit the long white hair was startling. Her body was well proportioned but when looked at clinically was not particularly special. But Amanda had somehow made the act of getting undressed and into the tub seem like a ballet of ease and grace. There was a self-assuredness about her that made even the simplest actions compelling. It only took Amanda a moment to settle into her side of the large tub and have it configure itself to her body. Her sigh of plea sure was loud and contagious.

“Oh, you are as intelligent as Hektor says,” cooed Amanda. “This is a much better way to spend a day.”

Neela blanched. “Hektor thinks I’m intelligent?”

“He thinks you may be the smartest woman he’s ever met, but I don’t feel like talking about Hektor; do you?”

“Uh, no, of course not … I mean not really.”

“Well then, what is it, girl? You have such a cloud over you I am afraid we’ll get electrocuted by a random lightning strike.”

Neela remained silent, not meeting her friend’s eyes.

“I was once so sure of what was right,” she finally uttered. A long silence followed before Amanda spoke.

“And now?”

“Now I’m just confused.” She then turned to her friend, face drawn, eye’s sullen. “I even ran diagnostics on some of my fluid samples to see if I’d been drugged.”

Amanda arched an eyebrow. “I’m impressed. How’d you manage that?”

“Not as hard as you’d think. The clinic has portables lying around and it wasn’t difficult to grab one.”

Amanda leaned forward conspiratorially. “So is the bastard drugging you?”

“No,” Neela said with obvious disappointment.

“Not to put too fine a point on it, Neela, but do you think you could have been, well, you know …”

Neela was amused to see the normally confident Amanda Snow tiptoeing around a subject.

“… psyche-audited? No. I used to think it might be possible, but all the cases I’ve read about and observed showed immediate and obvious changes in behavior and attitude. By their very nature psyche audits are a radical and brutal form of therapy that are the equivalent of sending a herd of elephants through the brain. Also, in all the cases I know of, the patients are aware of the change in their personality, though they’re usually accepting of it. Trust me, I’ve looked for any radical change, but all the change in my thinking has been gradual and affected by what I’ve had to deal with and accept. Truth is, a psyche audit would be the easy way out to explain what I’ve been feeling of late. You know, Amanda, I almost wish he had. It would make what I’m feeling easier to comprehend.”

“Well, then what
are
you dealing with, dear?” asked Amanda, her playfulness now replaced by concern.

“Guilt.”

Amanda’s face twisted in confusion. “What do
you
have to feel guilty about?”

Neela thought for a moment before deciding to answer. She had to assume the room was bugged, that her life was bugged. If she were to confess to Amanda she might as well be confessing to the world. And it was at that moment that something snapped—she knew she no longer cared because there was no longer
anything left to hide except her vanity. And with that exposed and got rid of she could be herself again. She could help rather than hurt.

“Amanda,” Neela said in mea sured breaths, “I helped start the Alliance. I advised Justin in many delicate negotiations during its inception. Did you know that Jupiter almost didn’t join? That alone might have ended the war before it got started. I helped keep it alive. In oh so many ways I’m seeing the result of my actions, Amanda. And I’ve come to the conclusion that what ever problems we’ve had with incorporation, they shouldn’t have to be solved with bloodshed.”

There was another long silence.

“And that,” continued Neela, “is why I’m feeling guilty.”

“Neela, it’s not like you were a President or an admiral. You were a medic—just trying to help.”

“Tell that to the people in the ward, Amanda. Tell that to the parents who won’t ever see their children again. Tell them I was only ‘trying to help.’”

Amanda leaned forward and grabbed Neela’s hand. “Neela, honey, it was a confusing time, and I must tell you that you weren’t alone in being confused.”

A faint smile emerged from the corners of Neela’s mouth. “Amanda Snow, are you actually going to confide in me?”

“Well, only if you promise not to tell anyone else—especially Hektor.”

Neela looked around the room and indicated through eye movement what she felt Amanda must surely know.

“Don’t be silly, girl. He wouldn’t bother.”

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t need to. Who are you going to talk to besides me and a few other people? Trust me, dear, he’s got a lot more on his plate to deal with than little old you.”

Neela found it hard to argue with Amanda’s logic, then chided herself for her narcissism. Plus, it was Amanda who was doing the confessing.

“In that case, do tell.”

Amanda leaned back, smiling conspiratorially. “When the rebellion first started I gave some thought to heading for Ceres.” Amanda looked at Neela’s dubious expression. “Oh, don’t look so skeptical. There was a lot about the Alliance that seemed good. There
are
problems with our civilization; anyone can see that. I didn’t like how Earth-centric everything was, and the thought of being in a place that new and raw was kind of exciting.”

“What changed your mind?” Neela asked earnestly.

“A combination of things, really. I wasn’t comfortable with the news coming out of the Alliance. When I realized that Hektor was going to become a real leader in the Confederation … sorry … the UHF—that’s going to take some
getting used to—I knew he’d make changes for the better. And I almost hate to admit it,” she said with a sheepish grin.

“It was the shopping, wasn’t it?” asked Neela, shaking her head reprovingly.

“Neela Harper,” gasped Amanda, “that is an awful thing to say!”

Neela’s face registered surprise. She was about to apologize when Amanda interrupted.

“Of course, it doesn’t help that it’s true, but it’s still an awful thing to say.”

The two women fell into a fit of hysterical laughter.

“Thank you for trying to cheer me up,” Neela finally said, “but I still feel that I have to make up for what I’ve done.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Dr. Gillette is going to Mars for the creation of the combat trauma reanimation center. He offered me a post as a resident.”

“And?”

Neela exhaled and allowed herself to sink into the tub so that her neck and shoulders were now covered by the water and bubbles. Her eyes widened as her lips formed into a self-satisfied grin.

“I’m going to accept. I’m going to Mars.”

Bridge of the AWS War Prize

J. D. Black reviewed the battle. Her teeth bit down tightly on her bottom lip. Thanks to the work crews she’d managed to get her fleet strength back up to forty. The remaining four ships had been stripped for parts and were being refitted with enough new components from the shipyard to make them mobile for the trip home. She was also pleased by the discovery of sixty ship hulls freshly manufactured at the great Trans Luna ship foundry. They’d been sent to Mars for fitting out. The actual making of large hulls was the hardest and most manufacturing-intensive part of ship construction, and so this would save the Alliance a fortune in time and credits. Those hulls would eventually form the basis of an even larger Alliance fleet that J.D. would have given just about anything to have. But she didn’t have the months and years it would take to complete the task. She had what she had.

“Lieutenant Nitelowsen, please prepare for a fleetwide broadcast.”

“Yes, sir.”

Marilynn enabled a “flood” protocol that would fill every holo-tank and every DijAssist in the fleet with J.D.’s image and ensure that her words would be broadcast from every sound system where imaging was impractical.

“Ready, Admiral.”

J.D. nodded and then faced the mediabot floating in front of her. “I’d like nothing better than to tell you that what we’re about to embark on will be a surface job.” J.D. had used the miner slang for the application of resources directly onto the surface of a moon or asteroid, no drilling, blasting, or nano dissolving required. “I would … but that would be a lie. We’ll be flying into the teeth of their defenses. They have a fleet filled with trained spacers and are led well. Their orbats have some of the biggest guns in the system. But we can end the war here. If we take that orbit and control Mars, by the time the Federation, UHF, or what ever the damn corporate enslavers want to call themselves, can mount a counterattack, Mars will ours. The only way they’ll ever get it back is to acknowledge what we already know. We are free of them. Free of them now and forever. It doesn’t matter the battles or the speeches. We are free. I’m proud of you—the best damn spacers anyone has ever seen. Let’s end this thing.”

VICTORY!

Today Irma Sobbelgé, Secretary of Information for the new President, has announced what can only be called the greatest victory the newly named UHF has had in this war so far. In what was described as a bloody and sustained engagement, the Alliance forces led by Admiral J. D. Black, the traitorous former V.P. of Legal at GCI, were repulsed. The announcement gave few new details except to say that the President had left for Mars two days ago, in a move that was kept secret while the security of Mars was in doubt. The President is pleased by the news and has called for a day of market closure and celebration. He will make a prepared announcement by the end of business New York time.

This battle has been the most viewed of any in the war so far, as it took place at the orbit of Mars with its huge satellite communications network and vast number of habitats. What was not caught directly on video we have been able to re-create digitally, thanks to the ser vices of Lucas Re-creations.

The battle was initiated by the foolishly aggressive tactics of J. D. Black. Her simplistic plan was to hide behind a shield of large asteroids that had been set on a course toward the orbital defenses of Mars. Most of the asteroids were pulverized by the time the ships could get into range. By that time the Alliance had five ships lost or severely damaged, including the flagship of the Alliance fleet, the
War Prize
. It is not known if the traitor is dead or alive, but after the flagship was damaged, the fleet retreated. During the retreat seven more ships were destroyed and others were heavily damaged. Unfortunately, the
War Prize
was able to escape the fate she so richly deserved, but experts assure this publication that she is so badly damaged as to only be useful as salvage and scrap.

It is hoped that the newly promoted Admiral Diep, victor of the second Battle
of the Martian Gates, will sally forth and destroy the remnants of the Alliance fleet and end this war once and for all.

N.N.N.

Medical recovery bay of the Alliance Medical Ship (AMS) Salk

J.D. came slowly back to awareness. The last thing she remembered was ordering her main batteries to fire on the orbital gun platform that was just coming into effective range. In a blaze the asteroid in front of the
War Prize
seemed to dissolve and her amazing and beautiful ship shuddered under a hail of multiple explosions. Before she could give an order, the holo-tank in the center of her bridge flashed and disintegrated.

J.D. saw that Marilynn Nitelowsen, Christina Sadma, and Omad Hassan were all standing around her bed.

“What happened?” she asked.

“We got our asses handed to us,” answered Omad. “That’s what happened.”

“How bad?”

“We lost twelve ships,” answered Marilynn. “Of the twenty-eight that survived, maybe eight are able to fight. Some are so bad it may be easier to scrap them and start over. I’m afraid the
War Prize
is one of those. We’ve fallen back to the shipyard and are covering the salvage operation.”