The Unincorporated War (48 page)

“What can I do for you, Neela?” He then seemed to reconsider. “If you wish, I can call you ‘Dr. Cord.’”

“Why the change of heart, Hektor?” she asked.

“I’ve been informed about how much you’ve been helping our wounded, and to be perfectly honest my childish attempts to bait you aren’t worthy of the good you’ve been doing.”

Neela was actually flustered. “It’s … um … it’s up to you, Mr. President,” she finally managed.

“Then I’ll call you Dr. Harper, until and if you give me permission to call you by your first name. He led her to the couch but took a chair on the other side of the coffee table. “You should know that this office is under constant surveillance for security purposes. I just want you to be aware of that before you say anything you may end up regretting.”

“I assumed that was the case, but thank you for telling me anyway.”

There was a moment of awkward silence once the pleasantries were over. It was only then that Hektor noticed Neela fidgeting in her seat.

“OK, Dr. Harper, you didn’t stop by just so I could compliment you and we’re both obviously very busy people … so if you don’t mind …”

Neela scrunched her brow slightly and leaned forward onto her knees, hands clasped.

“You must save Samuel Trang.”

“Excuse me?” said Hektor snapping back farther into his chair, almost as if Neela’s statement had been a physical assault.

“I was talking to Amanda,” said Neela. “I know that Miss Sobbelgé is getting ready to unleash a press campaign against Trang that will destroy his ability to be an officer in the fleet. Hektor,” she pleaded, “I mean, Mr. President—you must stop it.”

Hektor was floored. He’d admitted to himself that what with the events of the past few weeks he hadn’t been able to keep up with his reports concerning Neela. When he’d been informed that she’d been trying to reach him he was thrilled. With everything he’d been dealing with of late, a talk with his favorite prisoner would do him some good. Still, her wanting him to save an incompetent officer was not anywhere within the realm of what Hektor had been expecting. Perhaps a plea to end the war or maybe a desire to go back to Ceres or Earth, but this? Something had gone horribly awry.

“Neela,” he said when he’d finally regained his composure, “I think I should clear something up.
I’m
the one who wants the court-martial made public. Miss Sobbelgé works for me.”

“Yeah, that I figured out on my own,” Neela answered with just enough sarcasm in her voice to make Hektor feel like an idiot. “The question is why?”

“You do realize I’m under no obligation to answer that question, Dr. Harper.”

“Yes, I do. But I’d consider it a great favor if you did.”

Hektor mulled over the offer. There’d be no harm in telling her, and the more chits he could collect the better.

“Sure. If we’re going to win, Doctor, then the military has to realize that there are consequences—severe ones—for losing.”

“Why go to all the trouble?” asked Neela. “You’re the President now. You could always just relieve him of duty.”

“You’re right, Doctor; I could. But it’s still a Political world. A direct order from me could cause all sorts of problems, and I’ve got more than my fair share at the moment. But the truth is that I want every fleet officer to realize that this humiliation, very
public
humiliation in fact, can result from losing battles due to a lack of proper planning and clear thinking. We need all those morons who signed up just to add another line to their résumés to realize that that’ll hurt them more than just getting out of the way. If we can convince some of these idiots to get out of their captains’ chairs and into support roles where they’ll actually do some good, then this trial will save a lot more lives than it will cost.”

Neela nodded and then waited a moment before deciding to speak. “All of that makes perfect sense … but not with Trang. And as long as I’m adding
sauce to the goose I think it may also be a mistake to destroy Gupta, but I’m not sure yet.”

Hektor couldn’t help it and laughed out loud. “Nee …, Dr. Harper, do you have any other suggestions on how I should run the war?”

“Mr. President,” she answered, undaunted, “I know you don’t have any reason to trust me or my opinions, but I have to at least try.”

“Try what?”

“To end this war,” she said, removing a data crystal from her pocket. “My reasons are summarized here.” She then put the crystal on the table. “All I ask is that you read the five-hundred-word file. If you’re not convinced, dump it and I won’t bother you again. But if it makes any sense at all, you’ll find additional files with my sources to back up my ‘crazy’ ideas.”

“I thought you revivalist types did not like the C word?”

“Anyone who wants to be in my line of work has got to be certifiable.” She then stood up.

“Save him,” she said, taking the crystal off the table and putting it into Hektor’s hand. “He can end this war.” And without saying another word she got up and left.

Martian trauma revival center

Neela Harper was watching one of her newest patients sleep. The problem was he wasn’t actually resting. From all the data on the display over his bed he was in the midst of a pretty disruptive nightmare. What made the case so perplexing was that this particular patient couldn’t remember any of his dreams when he was awake. But the lack of rest during sleep had turned him into a virtual zombie. She was going to prescribe a dream inhibiter and have him sleep with an artificial R.E.M. generator until they could get a better handle on it. She wouldn’t normally have prescribed so transitory a solution had not the war forced her hand. In fact, it hadn’t been the first time she’d had to resort to such stopgap mea sures. But her patients were needed back in the fight as soon as she could turn them out.

Many of the men and women she’d begrudgingly released had traumas buried so deep she feared they could snap at any moment. But there were so many who needed help waiting behind those she’d released that she’d had to put her worries aside lest she neglect those under her current care. The only solace she got was that at least some of her more afflicted patients had been assigned to non-combat jobs. Of course, the bad news was that they’d been assigned those jobs in order to free up others to take their place at the front lines. As Neela filled out the release forms for the non-dreaming patient she heard a commotion outside her office.

At first she thought that perhaps Captain Trang had returned. She poked her head outside and once again saw the steady stream of patients heading excitedly down the hall toward the common room. The only difference now, she noted, was the addition of a large contingent of mediabots, security personnel, and securibots. It was only then that she realized who it had to be. She allowed herself to get swept up in the crowd toward the common room, where upon her arrival she saw Hektor Sambianco, President of the UHF, holding court. Like Trang, Sambianco was also going from group to group, shaking hands and thanking patients. Neela noted that although the President had not elicited the same awe as Trang, he’d still been accorded the respect due his office.

As soon as Neela entered the room she saw Hektor look up and in her direction. He’d made no attempt to “accidentally” notice her and, she realized, had obviously been informed the second her entrance had been noted.

“Ah, the good doctor,” Hektor bellowed, pointing to Neela and speaking in a voice loud enough for all to hear. “Actually,” he said, now playing to the media-bots, “Dr. Harper is the reason I’ve come today.” Hektor paused a moment, waiting for the room to quiet down. “As you know,” he continued, “Captain Trang is being held to a court-martial over his alleged failures at Eros.”

This brought a near-deafening howl of protest from the room. But Neela felt a sudden burst of hope that sprang from that remark. She knew a media bite setup when she saw one, and what ever Hektor was up to would make great play on the Neuro. She could only hope that he’d taken her advice. The only part she couldn’t figure out was why he’d chosen to involve her, the deviant wife of the UHF’s greatest enemy.

“But I’m confused,” added Hektor, after the noise had dissipated. “One of the things I’d been told was that Trang was hated by his spacers for all the senseless pain he’d caused—which is why I supported his conviction in the court-martial.”

“What about the assholes at Fleet Command?” howled someone from the crowd.

“Yeah,” screamed another, “the ones who left us on Eros at the butt end of nowhere with shit for support!”

“The only one who saved us was Trang,” yelled another.

Hektor allowed the impassioned defense of those brave enough to be heard to continue, making sure that it was all being caught by the mediabots.

Hektor knew he was going to pay a price with the corporation-backed high command, but he also knew it would be worth it.

After reviewing all of Neela’s notes on Trang and, more important, the psychological
motivations of those determined to destroy him, Hektor had come to the realization that he’d been close to eliminating perhaps the one naval officer in his entire fleet capable of giving J. D. Black a run for her money. He wasn’t so sure he agreed with Neela that Gupta might also be a diamond in the rough, but Hektor had reasoned it would be easier to keep Gupta in the ser vice than out, so he’d decided to make the effort there as well. However, it had been Neela’s insights into the personalities of his Political circle that had proved invaluable. Hektor knew that Neela had performed a similar ser vice for Justin but had dismissed it as the ineffectual palaver of a marginalized wife in need of validation. That, Hektor now realized, had been a wrong assessment. More to the point, she had a skill he could put to good use. But given her still-odious reputation, a constant presence in his office would cause too much of a stink. He’d need to rehabilitate her in the eyes of the public, and so he’d chosen this current setting to do it.

“It was Dr. Harper,” continued Hektor, “who made me aware that a miscarriage of justice may be taking place. Because of her excellent work in helping you brave spacers of the UHF, I was inclined to heed her advice and take a closer look at Captain Trang. And it’s because of her that I will now review the recommendations of the court-martial very closely indeed. Your good doctor, ladies and gentlemen, has assured that Captain Trang will get his day in court.”

The applause for Neela was both immediate and heartfelt. While she’d certainly earned a fair amount of respect for the compassionate oversight of her patients, the fact that she’d gone to bat for their beloved captain had practically accorded her the status of honorary comrade. Neela now stood in the light of the mediabots, speechless and unprepared.

“Dr. Harper doesn’t need to say a thing,” said Hektor, sensing Neela’s discomfort. “Her actions have spoken for her. It’s enough to say that she felt that this miscarriage of justice should not be allowed to happen.”

“No … no, that wasn’t it,” Neela said before she realized the words were out of her mouth. The room came to a standstill. “It wasn’t that … I mean what … President Sambianco said. We need Captain Trang and others like him. You see, I was …” She paused and took a deep breath. “I was wrong. We all were. The war can’t be lost. If the UHF loses, then humanity will be split and it will lead to another war and another after that. We
have
to win. I helped Captain Trang because he can fight, and I am so sorry for what I helped do. I am so sorry.” Neela crumpled to the floor in tears. She was quickly surrounded and embraced by a roomful of recovering patients. All in all it made for very compelling news.

Ceres

Justin watched the feed over and over again, Neela collapsing in pain, and each time he saw her do so his reaction was the same. He wanted to leap into the image and help her. He thought after repeated viewings the feeling would lessen, but it didn’t. What really twisted the knife in his gut was watching the crowd of patients move aside as Hektor Sambianco knelt down by his wife’s side and came to her aid.

Justin hadn’t been aware of someone in his office until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” said Eleanor, voice broken and plaintive.

Justin didn’t say a word, realizing he might explode in a rage capable of destroying everything and everyone he cared about. Conversely he might let the grief swallow him whole and disappear into a depth of depression he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to crawl out of. He let the torrent of emotions wash over him so that he could better steady himself. When his breathing became more mea sured and his thinking more clear the path before him was set. He knew now that he must break his wedding vow of “in sickness and in health,” and in doing so fully accept what he’d once refused to allow—his heart to be sundered by an all encompassing bitterness and rage. But in that moment of knowing knew also that the misplaced passion he’d held on to for Neela could now be set free and redirected. After a few minutes he was finally able to speak. In a voice without remorse and iron in will he recast the crux of the war.

“We must tell the people of the Alliance what has happened to my wife. They need to know that we’re not only fighting to win our freedom. They need to know what will happen if we lose it.”

Altamont Asteroid Belt at the 180