The Unincorporated War (37 page)

Trang turned his back on the miners and headed back into his shuttle. Once the Alliance miners were suspended he would have to meet with the politicians and assure them he was not going to arrest everyone or psyche audit the kittens.
In fact, if any psyche audit chambers were left on Eros his first public act would be to destroy them. He’d make sure to leave all civilian personnel exactly where they were and only replace the Alliance staff with his own. He wanted the occupation to be seamless. He knew how tricky it was going to be and he was prepared to go to great lengths to ensure that his men and women did not react to provocation. One bar fight could turn into a rebellion.

But if he could keep a lid on it long enough for the credits and ships to start flowing from the core again, Eros would be flowing in wealth and that would do more than anything else to turn the pop u lar asteroid from an occupied Alliance settlement to an integrated UHF settlement. After all, would Eros really care who filled her sex clubs and bars and who bought her commodities?

Victory in the belt! Eros falls to bold Federation assault!

Minimal casualties in bold and daring attack.

Loss of second-largest settlement in the belt devastating loss to Alliance.

—“Profit and Projections”
Business Daily

Ceres

If Justin Cord was shocked by the loss of Eros, he was even more disturbed by the reports coming in to him about Neela. He’d hoped Eleanor was wrong, but everything she’d predicted was coming true. Neela, it had been reported, was working for the UHF, was becoming friends with Hektor’s mistress and confidante, and although given complete freedom of movement had made no attempt whatsoever to contact the Alliance or escape. Further, she was going to Mars not as a prisoner but as a resident in the new trauma center being erected. The Neela Justin knew may have done some of these things, but not all of them and not so quickly. He was watching the woman he loved slowly fade away, and there was nothing he could do about it.

But he didn’t have the luxury to mourn. The Alliance was in trouble and he had a job to do. He sat in the secure room wondering if it had been the same one in which he’d had his inauspicious discussion with Eleanor. He’d been in all the rooms so often lately they were starting to blend together. He used to be able to tell them apart by their subtle cues. Now he no longer bothered to look for them. He just walked into whichever room the meeting had been assigned to and got down to brass tacks. Present in the current one were Kirk Olmstead, Janet Delgado Black, Joshua Sinclair, Mosh Mackenzie, and finally Tyler Sadma, as head of the committee on the prosecution of the war. They were all standing, politicians on one side and military on the other. Justin noted that no one was talking
to Kirk. He also saw that Janet had not bothered to fully heal and remove the scars on her face and hand. Somehow it hadn’t detracted from her appearance but, rather, had accentuated what was left of the cold beauty that remained. When he sat down the rest of the group followed.

Justin looked to Kirk. “I had a report from you saying that we had a year of clear sailing. Two weeks later we lose the second-largest settlement in the belt. Care to explain?”

“Mr. President,” proffered Kirk, “near as we can tell, it was a fluke. It looks like the squadron on picket duty just up and decided to violate orders.”

“Oh, so we have nothing to worry about then?”

“You can worry, Justin,” said Janet.

“Kinda scares the crap out of me too,” added Sinclair. “We got back full reports from Eros before the surrender. It was a brilliant attack. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve sworn J.D. or Christina had planned it.” Even given the grim circumstances, Justin saw that Tyler Sadma beamed at the mention of his niece’s name in such a positive light.

Janet continued where Sinclair had left off. “That commodore had minimal resources, no real marine force to speak of, and the worst ships in the war. And in less than a half hour he won. Bastard’s good.”

“OK,” said Justin, coming to grips with the situation, “the UHF finally got someone who knows how to fight. We were hoping for more time, but it had to happen eventually.”

Kirk spoke up again. “He’s barely a commodore, sir. More like a captain with delusions of grandeur. I have some basic biographical data here.” Kirk made copies of his report available to everyone’s console. They spent the next minute reading. Justin took note of Trang’s infamous report to the Terran Confederation assembly and resolved to review it later. But what he did manage to read did not make him feel secure. This guy, he realized, might be another Janet, and he’d very much liked having the only one.

Justin looked up from the console. “What will this loss do to us, Politically, militarily, and economically?”

“Mr. President,” answered Mosh, “Politically it’s not good. This is the first real loss of Alliance territory. We’ve been trying to prepare ourselves for the fact that we cannot defend all of the territory we have against the resources of the UHF, but the truth is, we’ve done exactly that for nearly two years. A lot of people are scared. If it can happen to Eros, it can happen to anyplace in the belt and beyond. Economically the impact will be limited. Eros was the major settlement on the far side of the belt, but others will be able to fill in the gap in terms of basic ser vices and support. The war effort will definitely take a hit. Eros was developing into a base for major rail gun construction, and let’s be honest, it was a hell
of a good place to go for R & R or S & R, as the Erosians like to say. But I suppose the fleshpots of Ceres will have to pick up the slack.”

“We should put aside such frivolities until the crisis is passed,” said Sadma.

“I don’t know about you, Mr. Sadma,” warned J.D., “but my spacers have earned the right to such ‘frivolities’ and I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell them that they’ve been removed for the good of the revolution.”

“What are the military consequences?” asked Justin, getting the topic back on track.

“Well, we’re not totally screwed,” answered Sinclair. A holographic projection of the entire belt floated above the table. “The belt is almost organic in how commerce and personnel flow around the circle in both directions. Many voyagers used to jump the core before the war, but not everyone. Often trade and people bump and stop along the great circle, much like neurons firing in the brain. Since the war, though, all trade, knowledge, and military activity has to go around the circle.”

Sinclair highlighted the part of the belt that contained Eros. “If the Federation is dumb, they’ll start grabbing parts of the belt closest to the core. Annoying for us, but as long as the ring is intact we can deal with it. But if the bastards use Eros as they should and push out across the belt, they can cut off the flow of the ring. And that, my friends, will play holy hell with the economy of the Alliance, not to mention morale.”

“How so?” asked Justin.

“Well, put it this way,” said Sinclair, making the holodisplay zoom into two small asteroid settlements within a few thousand miles of each other. “If the ring gets cut off, then getting to your next-door supply depot will mean that instead of traveling in a 20-degree arc …” The image now widened out to show the entire belt. “… you’ll have to do a 340… kinda like scratching your left ear with your right hand.”

“Helluva long way to go for sushi,” groused Mosh.

“Sorry, no sushi’s
that
good,” added Janet.

“Exactly,” said Sinclair, “though I know a little place on—” He stopped himself when he saw the look of impatience on Justin’s face.

Justin acknowledged Sinclair and then added another question: “What’s the morale like now, Tyler?”

“About what you’d expect, Mr. President. Each Belter settlement of more than ten thousand is demanding J. D. Black come to their rock and bring the fleet to protect them and only them. The Erosians are screaming that we need to drop everything and liberate them from the despicable occupation. Though from what we can tell, the Federation is actually behaving quite well. Hate to say it, but it would be better for us if they didn’t. I’ve been trying not to remind the
Erosian delegation that it was their request which replaced the combat officer with the cop.”

“Malcolm Strummer is a good assault miner,” said Janet. “It’s my fault for letting him be put in a situation he wasn’t trained for.”

“You don’t get that one, Janet,” said Justin. “You never trained to be an admiral, I never trained to be president, and Tyler never trained to be a congressman. We all do the best we can. Was Captain Strummer ordered to go?”

“He volunteered,” said Sinclair.

“Then it was his choice,” Justin said flatly. “The truth is we’re stretched everywhere and can’t defend all our space. If we try, we’ll end up defending none of it. Still, best not to rub the Erosians’ noses in the past. We need some workable options. Get together and give me some.” Justin stood to go and the rest of the room stood and waited for him to leave before dealing with the unenviable task of having too much space and too little of everything else.

Eros

Trang had been right. The ships had contained more orbital batteries, ten more to be exact. The only reason they hadn’t been assembled and placed in position as soon as they arrived was that the Erosian council did not want to assign the work crews without having the compensation clearly worked out in advance. Trang thought he would’ve shot them if they tried that crap with him, but not two hours later his order to assemble the batteries had been met with a request to discuss the compensation of the work crews. Instead of shooting the bastards like they deserved, he did the next best thing. He paid them and charged Fleet Command. He even paid double since they’d have to wait for payment. But he figured it was worth it both for the fit it would cause those penny-pinching bastards in appropriations and the fact that soon he’d have fourteen orbital batteries. Besides, for the first time in his career he could do what he wanted. It was true that he was only acting commodore pending further review by the promotion board, but as far as the public was concerned he could do no wrong. For himself he found he really didn’t give a damn. It was nice for the cover it gave him from his own higher-ups, but he knew how fickle public acclaim could be in war. He’d treat it like a sunny day in winter. Enjoyable, but not expecting it to last.

He was happy about the effect it was having on his long-suffering wife. The poor woman had spent de cades dealing with family and friends who told her she’d married down. But she’d stuck with him anyway. For her he’d put up with the public adoration while it lasted. But he knew the Alliance was not going to take his occupation lying down.

Fleet Command had sent him twenty thousand marines to secure Eros and the surrounding suburbs, but so far they hadn’t sent him any more ships. According to them, the tactical situation hadn’t changed. The main Alliance fleet was at Ceres, a full 180 degrees from Eros. If they decided to send their ships to retake Eros, the UHF would have plenty of time to send reinforcements. Trang hated to admit it, but they were probably right. But what the fledgling commodore could not get through command’s head was that he didn’t want the ships for the defense of Eros. He wanted them for attack. With fifty ships he could take and hold a swath of the belt that would split it down the middle. The Alliance was vulnerable and he knew it, but no one was listening. All new ships, he was curtly informed, were being sent to Mars to deal with a rumored new attack on the capital by the Alliance.

The only bright spot in the spate of timorousness he’d had to deal with was the news that his wife might be allowed to visit. Fleet seemed to think it would make good press back home. Trang couldn’t help thinking a bold offensive that cut the Alliance in half would make good press too.

Ceres

Justin realized if he needed to butter up a politician or a VIP, they became more amenable to suggestions when on the famous terrace where he’d given so many of his speeches. A picture of himself and the visitor had become practically de rigueur. The whole veranda thing hadn’t been his idea. It had been Neela’s, and damned if it didn’t work like a charm. While he’d already removed her picture from his desk, he wasn’t prepared to remove her good ideas, even if they brought forth a flood of painful memories.

He now found himself sitting across from Janet. He was wearing a casual V-neck jumpsuit and flip-flops and was leaning back on a small couch. Janet sat stiffly across from him. She was poised, almost prim, thought Justin. But she hadn’t been invited onto the veranda for mollification. She not only didn’t need it, but she also would’ve viewed it as a ridiculous waste of time. No, the reason Justin had asked her into the hallowed space was because he was worried about her.

“How you feelin’?” he finally asked.

“Meaning no disrespect, sir, but please do us both a favor and cut to the chase.”

Justin’s smile was one of concern. “We can’t win the war without you, Janet. Plus, I made a promise to Manny that I’d look after you.”

Janet winced and shifted uncomfortably at the sound of her long-lost lover’s name.

“I ordered my people into battle, Justin. A battle they had little chance of winning.”

“You also could’ve won the war, Janet, right then and there. What if the enemy panicked or the batteries hadn’t been operational? You
had
to fight that battle.”