The Unincorporated War (22 page)

This was not a reaction limited to the bridge of the
Liberator
. Throughout the Outer Alliance it was as if Mardi Gras had been spontaneously declared. The number of impromptu and very passionate couplings that took place privately and publicly was just one manifestation of the jubilation and was to result in a minor baby boom nine months later. Many of the children would be named Ceres, J.D., or Justin.

In one of the communities of belief a woman sat quietly in a cave and gave thanks unto Allah that she had guessed his will correctly and set his agent on her proper path. Others had less holy views and expressed them accordingly. It was the greatest party anyone had ever been to. Justin wisely gave orders to let it happen. There was nothing the Earth could do to the Alliance in the time it would take to die down, and he knew they would need memories of good times to get them through what lay ahead. It was all Justin and Admiral Sinclair could do to get the fleet back to Ceres and the evacuees from Mars retrieved from space and reanimated. Those who were reanimated first were shocked and then swept up by the cavalcade of celebration. The news of their successful liberation only
added to and reinvigorated the sense of celebration that swept through the Alliance. Throughout it all everyone kept on asking for the hero of the hour, but J. D. Black had upped and vanished. Justin figured finding the hero would have to wait until his return—an event in and of itself.

In a few short days they arrived back home only to find what was left of it in abject disarray. The nearby suburbs were gone; in their place were the emaciated husks of once grand buildings and moorings. The approach to Ceres was such a mess that ships had to approach at a crawl, just at a time when everyone wanted to be at the center of the party. Though Justin was saddened by the destruction, he was filled with unbelievable pride at the site of nineteen state-of-the-art warships docked at the Gedretar shipyards. Omad and Kenji practically jumped the space between the two fleets in their eagerness to get aboard the new ships and begin work. In a sure sign of just how much things had changed, Justin had had to order Omad to go and party for the sake of Omad’s staff, who would’ve followed their cantankerous leader onto the new ships—party or not. Comparing the two fleets made Justin realize just how insane he must have been to pit his jury-rigged cruisers against those docked in port. Then again, he thought, laughing to himself, a sane person wouldn’t have had himself frozen and stuffed inside a mountain either.

He didn’t have time to ponder much, though, as news of the triumphant President’s return caused a huge crowd to gather in the park below the presidential complex. No sooner had his ship docked when he was given an urgent message delivered by hand. Justin read the note, scowled, and then dismissed the orderly. It seemed that J. D. Black, hero of the Battle of the Rocks, darling of the entire Outer Alliance, had been arrested.

Justin was on his shielded balcony watching the celebration below. He wasn’t ready yet. But the people were gathering and had been since news of the victory.
Always gathering,
he thought,
awaiting another Justin speech. Needing to have the story retold. Needing to understand the meaning of it all. Perhaps that’s all I really do. Put things in context.
Smith Thoroughfare was filled with humanity, making, he thought, the initial protest gathering that had started the revolution seem like a family picnic. Every single balcony and window was filled with impromptu parties, singing, people dancing, and, he couldn’t help but notice, no small amount of fornication.

Then the memory of Neela gripped his heart and slowed it to a dull, horrible thud.
She should be here seeing this. I should be making love to her right now on this balcony like we’ve done so many times before
. A sense of abject emptiness not felt since the death of his first wife all those hundreds of years ago soon followed.
If not for the pressing business at hand he might not have been able to go on. News of Neela’s capture was purposely being kept quiet at Justin’s request because he knew it would dampen the spirits of those below. They could find out later, he’d argued, and no one had objected.

The noise outside was deafening, forcing him to activate his seldom-used sound cancellation shield. sebastian informed him that his visitors had arrived. Justin turned around just as Tyler Sadma and Kirk Olmstead walked onto the veranda.

Kirk Olmstead immediately opened his mouth but was halted by Justin’s upheld palm. “Kirk,” the President said evenly, “as far as any orders will read, you did not arrest her. She’s being debriefed.”

“But Mr. President,” protested Kirk, “she’s—”

“—the hero of the hour; hell, the century as far as I’m concerned. We don’t arrest heroes, Mr. Olmstead. Are we clear?”

Kirk swallowed hard. “Perfectly, Mr. President.”

“Where is she now, Kirk?”

“She’s being held—”

“Debriefed.”

“Debriefed,” substituted Kirk, “in a department holding cell. She’s been completely cooperative.”

“You’re lucky, Kirk. If she’d made the slightest protest, my guess is you’d be in a recycler by now. But no harm, no foul. Get her up here as soon as possible.”

“Yes sir, Mr. President.” Kirk couldn’t leave fast enough.

Cyrus Anjou soon joined Tyler and Justin with a stack of forms and attendants with food and drink. He was still absorbing the news of Neela’s capture and not taking it well. Cyrus and Neela had had a genuine bond devoid of Political considerations.

“Mr. President,” offered Cyrus, “I just heard the news about Mrs. Cord and I’m filled with an inconsolable grief. Is there anything I can do?”

“Let’s just keep the news quiet for a while, Cyrus.”

Justin then looked over to Tyler. “I too am very sorry to hear the news about your cousin. Still no body?”

“Not yet, Mr. President,” answered the congressman, “but when the automated probes find him, there’s an excellent chance he can be revived. Space may not be the perfect suspension unit, but as past rescues have shown, it can suffice.”

Justin didn’t like the odds but kept it to himself. Humanity, he was beginning to realize, had a difficult time accepting permanent death, so distant a memory it had become.

“You realize what’s happening here,” he said as he pointed to the vast throng.

“One hell of a party, Mr. President?” answered Tyler.

“Well, yes, it is one hell of a party, Tyler, but it’s also something more. Can you point to the Shareholders out there?”

Tyler and Cyrus shook their heads.

“Who,” continued Justin, “is a NoShare?”

Cyrus shrugged.

“For now do they care?”

“Not right now, Mr. President,” answered Tyler, “but those issues will not go away.”

“Nor should they, Tyler, but I hope this will put them in proper perspective. We have a great victory that will, hopefully, remind us that for all our differences we share a common purpose. Before this we were just an Alliance in name. But if we’re going to survive what’s to come we’ll need to be more than Erisians and Jovians and Belters. We’ll need to become one people, united by a shared vision of freedom and a shared history of having achieved it. This,” said Justin, indicating the crowd gathering below the balcony, “is a start.”

“We will be worthy, Mr. President.”

“Of what?” asked Justin, looking back again at the men gathered.

“Of you, sir.”

“Not me, gentlemen. It’s the other way around, always the other way around.”

“As you wish, Mr. President.” Tyler and Cyrus then excused themselves.

A few minutes later Justin was informed of another visitor. The hero of the Battle of the Rocks, it seemed, had just arrived. As J.D. entered the balcony Justin recognized her immediately. The face had some minor changes to throw off automatic computer recognition, but it was her.

“Hello, Janet,” he said, smiling warmly.

“Hello, Justin,” answered the former vice president of Legal for GCI.

“Manny?” Justin asked with only a shred of hope.

Janet Delgado Black shook her head.

“I didn’t think so,” sighed Justin, “but I had to ask. I mean … after all … you.”

Justin looked at his former adversary closely. There was the same drive and fire in her eyes, but she was somehow changed. There was also, he noticed, an aura of sadness about her, and she seemed somehow less volatile than he remembered. This Janet, he realized, might not have lost to Manny Black in the courtroom.

Justin continued to shake his head. “We all thought you died in the gray bomb.”

“In a way I did, Justin. Are you the same man who went into that sarcophagus in the Colorado mountains?”

“Not even close.”

“That day … I … I tried to get back to Manny,” she began.

Justin could see her trying to hold back the painful memory, but she continued nonetheless.

“… but the Beanstalk would only let me go so far. There was the thick anti-nanite mist everywhere and at some point the building just ejected me for my own safety. The floor fell out from under me and I was dropped into an evac pod. It boosted me to an orbital platform as the nearest safe place and then went back for others. I can only assume it was destroyed or my escape should have been recorded.”

She remained expressionless. Only the fact that she had to occasionally pause indicated to Justin there was a torrent of hurt within. This was, he surmised, probably the first time she’d ever spoken of the incident.

“I got a call from him,” she continued slowly, “his last message. He sent it rather than make it two-way … bastard.” An ominous silence followed on her words.

“He did not die well,” she said disconsolately. “I was on the American Express orbital platform and all was chaos. You cannot understand how panicked everyone was. We all thought that it was just the beginning; gray bombs would be going off all over the place at any moment. It was utter pandemonium.”

Justin nodded, motioning for her to continue.

“I realized then, amidst the chaos, that I wasn’t going home. Suddenly it seemed so…” She paused, searching for the right word. “… pointless.”

She then smiled wistfully. “Such a funny little man.” The smile faded quickly. “I was actually in the perfect place at the perfect time to disappear. My former profession gave me a lot of contacts in areas less than legal, and the platform I was on had all manner of charlatan more than willing to help me change identities and escape to the belt. It certainly helped that I was assumed dead. Within the hour my face had changed, I had new, if shallow, ID and I was on a ship for Eros. After that I lost track.”

“Lost track?”

“Yes. I was found wandering about on Ceres by a woman who took me in and gave me ‘guidance.’ She was, and please don’t laugh because I know I would’ve, from one of the communities of belief.”

Justin’s face remained impassive. He was prepared to listen as long as Janet was prepared to talk, crowd below be damned.

“They didn’t try to question or convert me. They just gave me shelter. If it hadn’t been for the war I don’t think I ever would’ve left.”

Janet paused and, as far as Justin could tell, wasn’t about to continue. Her sagging shoulders and spent body were indicative of the effects of the emotional letting. It was, he felt, an appropriate time to broach a burning question.

“Janet,” he said, “this may seem a strange thing to ask, but, well …”

“Why am I on this side …
your
side?” she finished for him.

“To put it bluntly, yes.”

“It’s a fair question. Short answer: If Manny had lived these are the people he would have liked and supported.” Now the trace of a smile returned. “These people are so quirky and weird. I don’t understand them half the time, but do they ever remind me of him, so very much. In truth there were hardly any Mannys left on Earth. No room there, really. But out here there are Mannys galore. That needs to be saved. I didn’t understand it before, but you were right. I still don’t like you very much, Justin, but you were right. In my old world there will be no Mannys. In yours they’ll be everywhere. I know I won’t get him back, but at least others will.”

She then paused and her face became impassive. “That is,” she added cooly, “unless I’m fired.”

Justin laughed. “Hardly, but hold on a moment.” He took out his DijAssist. “sebastian, could you connect me with Admiral Sinclair?”

“Just one moment,” said the voice of his ever-present avatar. “Here he is, Justin.”

Sinclair’s face appeared above the DijAssist. “So,” asked the admiral, “am I being fired?”

Justin sighed. “What is it about my competent officers that they all insist on being fired?
No,
you’re not being fired, Admiral. You’re getting a promotion.”

“You have a funny way of punishing a guy who got bent over by the corporate core and nearly let us take it from behind.”

“Well, Josh, I helped plan that mission and I was just as bent over as the rest of us. The question is will you let them catch us like that again?”

“Not if I can help it, sir.”

“That’s all I require, Admiral. You’re being made Grand Admiral. You will be posted here. Janet …” Justin paused and corrected himself, “
Captain Black
is being promoted to Fleet Admiral. She’ll be in field command of our main fleet. Any objections?”