The Unincorporated War (56 page)

“I’ll drink to that.” And Omad did.

“Fine,” said Justin heading for the door. “But when I get back this nonsense ends.” He tapped an icon on his desk’s holodisplay and was immediately met at the door by his escort, the always-present Sergeant Holke.

A few minutes later Justin marched back in, subdued. He went to his desk, sat down, and looked disdainfully at his friend.

“Well,” asked Omad, “do I call in the mediabots?”

“You set that up.”

“Audit my soul and call me what you will, I swear I did not.”

“You know what happened, though.”

Omad smiled. “I have a pretty good idea. How far did you get before the first one?”

“Not twenty feet.”

“How many total?”

“Lost count.”

“And finally, my good friend and supreme commander, how did they seem?”

“Overjoyed,” Justin said almost despairing. “It was one big ‘happy lifeday’ party.”

“Don’t take it so hard, Justin. Like I said, we need you to have a lifeday so we can celebrate it. It won’t be official, not this year, but we need national
heroes and national holidays. We don’t have many yet, but this will do for a start.”

“Celebrating a day made up with the roll of some dice is really what the Alliance needs?”

“Great, ain’t it?” said Omad, raising his glass. “Cheers.”

Smith Grand Concourse, Ceres

The gathering had started out as an informal affair, a small memorial to honor a hero by the name of James Seacrest.

But something had happened.

Friends of the fallen soldier had come to the site where he’d loved to picnic with his family. They’d wanted to bury his ashes there. At first a concourse attendant was not sure what to do, so she asked the spacers to wait, which they did. But as more spacers walked by and found out what was going on they joined their comrades in waiting. It didn’t take long for someone to bring them a blanket, some food, and a bottle of wine. As some had to report for duty, they were replaced by others. Within twelve hours the twenty or so original cluster of soldiers had grown into a crowd of hundreds and, shortly after that, thousands.

Some fool had wanted to order all the people to disperse, but a well-placed call to Justin got the dispersal order rescinded. After he got the OK from Sinclair and J.D., a presidential order was issued allowing all military personnel who wished to congregate in the concourse to do so provided it didn’t interfere with their duties. Justin immediately sent down all the fine foods and alcohols he’d been sent as gratuities from people around the Alliance. It wasn’t nearly enough to cover the crowd, but it was enough that word got out. Furthermore, Justin announced that a formal internment ceremony would be held in two days’ time for Captain Seacrest.

The crowd of thousands swelled to tens of thousands, all of whom had come to the concourse to talk and grieve, if not for the captain, then for someone else they knew who’d died in the war, and they all mourned for someone. Seacrest had unwittingly become the ethereal embodiment of the suddenness and absolute finality of permanent death. The seemingly spontaneous outpouring of grief had been explained to Justin by the Alliance’s leading cognitive psychologist, Dr. Ayon Nesor. “Justin,” she’d said, “the phenomenon of permanent death on this scale is foreign to both the Alliance and the UHF. While I’m not sure how the UHF is dealing with it, given the repressive nature of their regime, I do know that such grief
must
find an outlet. But more important, it must find a community within which to share that grief.” Justin had avoided going down to the park until the hour of the actual internment. He knew that if he went too early
the gathering would end up being about him and he felt there’d been enough of him. The people who gathered in the park needed time on their own.

When it was finally time to enter the fray he did it without his typical entourage. He simply went by himself; or at least he appeared to be by himself. Sergeant Holke had seeded Justin’s path to the dais with over a hundred undercover operatives whose job it was to be suspicious of any unusual twitch or movement. But such was the spell of the occasion that Justin had not been mobbed or stared at from afar. For one brief moment it was understood that he was simply one sad person among many. Only once on his way to the dais did he almost break. A young couple approached him. He saw she was a helmsman and he was a comm officer. The woman was holding a newborn child.

“Her name is Neela,” the woman had said, “and we wanted to thank you, Mr. President. We both have majority, but she’s free. It’s different, isn’t it … the way you feel all the time? Is that how she’ll feel?” Justin was not able to trust his voice, but he managed a nod. They left without saying a word and Justin never even got their names.

At one point he saw Janet not too far off. She was also wading through the crowd and seemed to have a word or comment for every group or individual that approached. Seeing her move effortlessly in the throng and sensing the complete devotion she commanded, Justin was once again grateful she didn’t have dictatorial ambitions. Their paths finally crossed and everyone, by an un-spoken understanding, gave them a wide berth.

“I hope this isn’t too difficult for you, Justin,” offered Janet.

“I was going to express the same concern for you.”

“What happened to me was hard,” she answered, making her way past a security detail and into a cordoned-off area, “but I’ll see Manny again in some way and he’ll be the man I love. What Hektor did to you was worse … far worse.”

“You don’t think I’ll get Neela back as she was.”

“Certainly not in this universe.”

“And here I thought God could do anything,” Justin said with a friendly jibe.

“My understanding of the Lord is limited, Justin. I’m but a simple spacer.”

“Maybe not so simple,” he answered, inviting her to take the seat next to his while they waited. “Reminds me of an old song called ‘Unanswered Prayers.’”

Janet looked at him quizzically.

“In essence, just because God can, does not mean that he will or should.”

Of all the transformations that had occurred over the past two years, Janet’s becoming a full-fledged believer had been difficult for him to follow. It was not that she adhered to any particular faith, but it was certainly undeniable that she had it. Justin, being an American of the old school, knew that he had all the prejudices and virtues of that fallen civilization. He had a ruthless respect for the
idea that others could believe what they wished, combined with a deep suspicion of anyone who actually did.

“I’ve had similar conversations with your friend Fawa.” Justin noted that the only time Janet was not the fearsome, wholly competent war mistress of the fleet was when she was thinking about or with her religious mentor. Fawa was very much like a favorite aunt Janet desperately wanted to be proud of her.

An emissary approached the two leaders and informed them that the ceremony would begin shortly if they could only “be patient.” They smiled amiably and continued their conversation.

“She’s informed me,” J.D. said quite seriously, “that you’re resisting all her attempts to convert you to the true path.” On Justin’s momentary look of alarm Janet burst into laughter. “You don’t need to worry, Justin; she’s not trying to convert you or anyone. Actually, she says you’re doing the work of Allah by freeing the human race … and she’s right. Personally, I think you’d find comfort if you believed in God, but we’re all comforted by the knowledge that Adonai believes in you.”

“Why do you do that?”

“I do many things, Justin; which ‘that’ are you referring to?”

“That name thing. Fawa’s a devout Muslim, so I’d think you’d lean in that direction. Yet you refer to God as the grand watchmaker, Allah, God, Adonai. I’ve even heard you say the great spiri, or the great mother. Can’t make up your mind?”

“Ah,
that
that,” said Janet, pausing for a moment. “I have many different beliefs and I have never formally chosen one and now I don’t think it’s advisable that I do so. Fawa feels it would not serve the will of …” Janet paused again. “… the big guy in the sky.” Her lips formed into an impish grin. “As you know, there was a religious conclave of all the surviving faiths nearly two years ago and many things were decided. We’re very mindful of the reprehensible things done in God’s name and the price paid by humanity for that evil. I cannot tell you the revulsion we feel when we study about the abomination of calling for a believer to be killed for the reason that his or her belief in the Lord is different from your own. Frankly, they deserved near extinction.”

“But it’s not extinct, Janet. It’s become nearly universal in the fleet and is growing very quickly in the Alliance.”

“Yes, and that’s why I cannot now or I think ever will have a chosen faith. There should be no pressure for the path one takes. Oh, it’s no secret that Islam has more of an appeal to me than the others, but Allah understands this as he understands all things. The notion of faith is, I believe, far more important than the choice of a particular one.”

“And what of the unfaithful?” asked Justin.

“What of them? If they have faith, I believe they’ll have greater understanding of things; if not, I can’t order someone to believe. It would be stupid to try and evil to force someone to pretend. As if God wants frightened adherents bowing on trembling knees. The harm all those fanatics did before the Grand Collapse,” she said with true rancor, “those idiots I’d shoot, if I had the ability.”

“
You
sound perfectly reasonable, but what of the person who replaces you … and Fawa? That’s where I see the problem. These things always start out beneficently and ultimately get distorted by the selfish and megalomaniacal.”

“Yes, yes.” Janet nodded. “Don’t think I’m not aware of it. But also know that Fawa is as well and there will be a conclave soon to discuss that very issue. Namely, how to navigate the rebirth of faith with an eye toward the eradication of fanaticism.”

Justin laughed. “That’s a tall order, Janet … even for someone like you.”

“Well, thankfully,” she answered, tapping her copious array of medallions, “my task is more defined.”

Justin nodded, a tepid smile working the corners of his mouth. “Though I must say, I’m surprised by how quickly religion has returned. When I was first awakened I thought it had simply faded away, and now we have places of worship, chaplains, and theology schools all over. I can’t get my head around it.”

“Why are you surprised that a thirsty man drinks deeply?”

At that moment a bell rang and Justin saw that it was time. He and Janet got up out of the chairs and then made their way over to a shallow trench where a newly planted sapling of an elm tree had been placed.

The first speaker was a short, lean man. He was in the hooded robes of the order of the Hospitallers with a chaplain’s insignia glinting from his collar. In space, chaplains used regular uniforms, but with Janet’s influence their traditional garb became their dress uniforms. The man stood straighter and pulled down his cowl.

“My name is Sampson,” he began. “I am a brother in the Order of Saint John, liaison to the abbot, and as such had the honor of meeting James Seacrest. I will admit that my first meeting with the man was, how shall I put it? … Less than holy.” This brought a whoop from some of the crowd who obviously knew the details of that particular meeting. “Of course the captain wanted to meet with me in a less than sanctified setting—in order to test my tolerance, I suppose. Thankfully the good Lord will excuse a lot. But I could tell from the start that the captain was a good man. I am now allowed to tell the following story for the first time, and trust me, it deserves to be told.”

The crowd quieted down.

“Until recently,” he continued, “we were in danger of losing this war. It had nothing to do with lack of will or lack of power. Although our population is small
and our capacity underdeveloped, we’ve been ably led in both the civilian and military sector and our efforts have kept the deluded, controlled, and numerically superior enemy at bay. But all of it was for naught due to an extreme lack of that most rare resource, uranium, all of whose major supplies lay within the core. And what little there was in the Outer Alliance was mined centuries ago. That deficit was kept secret until now for fear of alerting the enemy to our weakness.

“So, where to get this most precious resource? Enter Captain Seacrest. The captain had surveyed resources on the planet Venus, still only in the earliest stages of terraformation and as hellish a planet as our Lord has seen fit to place in this solar system. Still that planet had something our Alliance so desperately needed: an ample supply of uranium. The captain noticed something else as well. Uranium was closely guarded on Earth but practically ignored on Venus. And why wouldn’t it be? Venus is deep in UHF territory and a planet that poses extreme risks even with the most advanced technology under the best of conditions. Only a madman would contemplate trying to get uranium from Venus during a war. It was a desperate plan, but we were desperate.”

Brother Sampson paused for a moment, exhaled deeply, and then went on.

“I still remember how the captain explained it all to me. It was simple, he’d said. All we had to do was pretend to be UHF marines, sneak onto their side of the lines by the belt, from there get shipped back to Eros with the wounded, then sneak out of the UHF hospital and arrange transport to Venus, grab some old surveying ships parked in orbit, modify them so they could do actual mining work, dig enough uranium to provide for the entire Alliance for however much longer the war would last,” Sampson took a breath, “then steal a cargo hauler, transport this vast amount of uranium mined from the surface to the stolen vessel, and then get that incredibly precious cargo out of the core through some of the most monitored and well-defended space in human history … back to the Alliance.” He took another breath. “Yeah … simple.”