The Unincorporated War (4 page)

But then something amazing happened to the oft-ignored settlement. A man appeared on Earth and spoke the truth. Something that the Plutonians, Erisians, Ixionians, Varunians, Orcans, and others had been whispering to one another in the warm bastions of their distant outposts. But that man had said it out loud. “We must be free.” Tyler Sadma had listened to every one of Justin Cord’s speeches and thought that Cord was talking to him and him alone. That phenomenal man from
Earth’s tragic past gave the last best part of humanity the courage to speak. He gave Tyler Sadma the courage to speak, and speak he did—specifically about the evil of incorporation. Tyler had started the Liberty Party in Eris and via that platform had swept the local elections. He roared with triumph as the corporate world tried over and over again to trap and enslave Justin Cord only to fail time and again. Cord had been too smart, too brave, and his message too important. Freedom for the human race. Freedom for Tyler Sadma, his wife, Annabel, and their nine children—who any outer colonist would tell you were the true lights against darkness.

And then another miracle—Cord appeared in Ceres and called for a revolution. He asked Tyler Sadma and Eris and all the outer colonies to join him, and join him they did. For the rest of his life Tyler would remember storming the warrens where the corporations had their headquarters. He’d freed the prisoners in detention awaiting psyche auditing and then afterwards addressed the large, adoring crowds. He could still hear all those people cheering for him and Justin and freedom as he read the proclamation of independence. There was even talk of making him governor—that is until he became the defense attorney for the very men he had thrown out of power. The Erisians had wanted blood, but Tyler believed that
all
men deserved a fair trial or none would have one. He suspected that Justin Cord would have supported him in this, and it gave him courage. He won his case and got the sentences commuted to expulsion. But after the trial talk of making him governor dissipated. He bore his fellow colonists no ill will. Tyler was a man of his convictions and that, above all, came first. The new governor, his cousin Lemusa Sadma, decided it would be best to have him go away—far away—and made him the head of the Erisian delegation to Ceres and the Alliance congress. Tyler had been glad for the opportunity but missed his wife and children terribly. Like many in the outer colonies, when the time lag got too great he found writing the preferred method of communication. As a result a long-lost art had come back into its own at the edge of humanity’s domain. At times it seemed as if his wife were still with him, so comforting were her letters. But Tyler knew where he, as opposed to his heart, needed to be. He was determined to get these idiot rock dwellers to see what the real issue of the war was. But he was also worried that he might find himself in conflict with the very man who gave him hope for mankind’s future in the first place.

Of immediate concern was the revolution—it had stalled. But how could a revolution just stop? The Alliance had done the hard part as far as Tyler and all the Erisians could tell. They’d declared their independence and formed a government—one that stretched from the Oort Cloud to the asteroid belt. They’d created a fleet; they’d unified that government and then unified that fleet. They’d made Justin Cord provisional and finally actual President of the Alliance, but
yet they still could not or would not declare against the heart of the issue. They would not declare against incorporation. It was clear to Tyler and all Erisians that incorporation was a festering corpse tied around the neck of man and must be cut away if the human race was to survive. If those idiots on the core worlds wanted to let their dreams fester and their souls rot, that was their concern, but the Alliance should know better. He’d already given speech after impassioned speech in all the preliminary meetings on Ceres. On Eris it might have gotten him elected governor if the election were held again, but here, he thought sadly, they only yawned; some even got angry. Angry! Today in Congress when he’d proposed a law declaring incorporation be abolished he could barely get it seconded by anyone outside of the TNOs, and then the rather sizeable Shareholder faction had the matter easily tabled. The only bright spot had been that at the end of the day he’d received the invitation he’d been trying to get for the past four months—a chance to meet the great man himself.

So now Tyler Sadma paced.

“Mr. Sadma, I presume.”

Tyler swung quickly around and was shocked to see Justin Cord standing alone in the doorway, hand extended. Tyler had half-expected to be shuttled through a series of ante chambers, eventually to end up in the august quarters of the living legend himself. Instead, this. That Cord, unaccompanied, had come out to greet him personally had taken Tyler completely by surprise.

The President’s extended hand was the new form of greeting that had already gained wide acceptance—not only on Earth but also and especially in the outer colonies. His handshake, noted Tyler, was firm and his eyes, though tired, were trained intently on Tyler. Justin led him into a side room with a small conference table. There were no personnel, congressmen, reporters, or mediabots. Tyler was both honored and miffed. Honored to have this man all to himself, miffed that the meeting would be off-the-record.

Rather than sit at the table, Justin led Tyler through the room and out onto a veranda and invited him to take a seat at the edge of a small table. Drinks and food were laid out, including, Tyler saw, Erisian ale—a rare and expensive commodity in these parts. Tyler could also see from a small holodisplay that the privacy shield had been activated. They could see out, but no one could see in. It was the last straw.

“Am I so odious, sir, that you don’t want to be seen with me?”

“Not at all, Mr. Sadma,” answered Justin calmly. “It’s
me
who prefers not to be seen. I once made the mistake of walking out onto a veranda with the shield off and within minutes was surrounded by a wall of mediabots so high they blotted
out the cliffs above. Fortunately,” laughed Justin, “I was clothed at the time. Anyhow, all my verandas are now permanently set to ‘shield.’ However, if you don’t believe me we can open this one up right now.”

Tyler thought about how the exposure would help his Political career and for a second actually entertained the notion. But he also realized that Justin was a man he’d need favors from and if he was lucky the opposite would also prove true. Best not to act rashly.

“My apologies, Mr. President. Shielded is fine.”

Justin nodded respectfully and once again invited Tyler to sit.

“With regards to you personally,” said Justin as he took a seat, “I must confess to quite a bit of admiration. Especially with regards to your spirited defense and victory for the corporate execs. That took real chutzpa.”

“Sir?” asked Sadma as he too sat down.

“Sorry, I do that sometimes. ‘Balls.’”

Understanding registered on Sadma’s face.

“I did not do it to earn your respect.”

“Nevertheless, Mr. Sadma, you have it. That’s why we must talk.”

“I’m all ears, Mr. President.”

Justin tipped his head but waited a few moments before speaking.

“I respect you, Mr. Sadma, but you should realize that I also fear you.”

“Sir?”

“Question. Would your respect for me and this office stop you from doing what you felt was right?”

“I’d regret being in opposition to your wishes, sir,” Sadma answered without hesitation. “Deeply regret it, but no, it would not stop me.”

“That makes you a dangerous man.”

“Mr. President,” Tyler answered, face somewhat flushed. “You have nothing to fear from me. Without you my colony and family would still be under the yoke of the corporate oppressor. Despite my surliness, I promise you I feel nothing but gratitude for what you’ve given us—all of us, Outer Alliance included. It’s only the enemies of freedom that need fear me.”

“And who would those enemies be, Mr. Sadma? It would seem by your actions that at least half the Outer Alliance would fall under your criteria.”

Tyler paused. “Not my enemies, Mr. President. More like confused allies.”

Justin laughed at the equivocation.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” continued Tyler, “why aren’t you leading this fight? You have to know that if you want the forces of history and justice on our side you must declare against incorporation.”

Justin sighed. “Mr. Sadma, I’d love to have history and justice on my side, but right now I need Ceres, which is why I’d settle for your support.”

“I will not stop preaching what I believe just for expediency’s sake. If I’m wrong, prove me wrong, but don’t ask me to call wrong right and embrace it.”

“Mr. Sadma,” answered Justin, eyes narrowing slightly, “it is not your convictions I question, only your timing.”

Tyler met Justin’s glare with his own. “Truth is truth, Mr. President. Regardless of when you say it.”

Justin didn’t answer at first but rather sat quietly regarding his opponent.

“Mr. Sadma, I’d love to have your job. Unfortunately, I can’t. You see, in mine I don’t have the luxury of being right when I want. I can only be right when Ican.”

“Well put, Mr. President,” conceded Tyler. “I certainly don’t envy you your position.”

“Surely, Mr. Sadma, you must realize that if you continue to push this unincorporation issue, the Alliance could very well split, and then we’ll have nothing, sir, nothing but our convictions. And sadly, not even those after a psyche audit.”

Justin then reached for the glass of Erisian ale. As was the custom, he made sure to spill a little out onto the floor first before he took a sip.

“Excellent, as usual,” he said.

Tyler nodded, his expression, pained.

“Sir,” he finally proffered in a barely audible tone, “please do not ask me to speak out for incorporation.”

Justin returned the glass to the table and waved off a drone that had swooped in to top it off. “Mr. Sadma,” he said, his voice now more sympathetic. “I’m not asking you to support incorporation; what I am asking for is your help. Eris may be ready to throw off the chains of incorporation. And for that I applaud both you and your colony. But understand that most of the Alliance, as you’ve been reminded of daily, is not. They’ve lived with incorporation their entire lives and are content with it if modified. They view Hektor Sambianco and his ilk as an aberration, not a cancer. If we force them to give up too much too quickly they’ll rebel against the Alliance and then, I can assure you, all will be lost.”

Tyler sat motionless and then finally nodded, acceding to Cord’s argument. “Eris may already have pushed it too far, sir. My colony will be declaring disincorportation shortly. It will be immediate and uncompensated. Though I am here as a representative, I am powerless to stop it. Nor, as you may have garnered, am I so inclined. But revolution and realpolitik, I’m beginning to learn, are quite different animals.”

Justin flashed a knowing smile.

“Mr. Sadma, as you’re well aware, there are powerful Jovian and Saturnian Shareholders who’d feel cheated if that disincorporation took place.”

“They do not have a right to people.”

“Agreed, Mr. Sadma, but it won’t matter when a corporate core battle cruiser is reducing both Eris and Ceres to rubble. However, I think I have a solution that both of us may be able to live with.”

Tyler’s left eyebrow notched up slightly. “I’m listening.”

“If after Eris declares disincorporation the Alliance demands an investigation concerning compensation for any Alliance citizens that lost income, could you keep Eris from rejecting that demand out of hand?”

Tyler didn’t answer at first. He put his fingers to his chin, then rubbed.

“Yes?” asked Justin.

“What good would it do? We’d never pay.”

“Honestly,” answered the President with a short laugh, “who cares? They’d send a commission. You’ll review and then reject the commission’s report. Then I’ll request another commission. If they absolutely insist on payment, I’ll pull the credits out of the orbital fees of abandoned claims. By the time the issue gets sorted out it won’t matter.”

Tyler didn’t like what he was being asked to do, or more specifically, what he’d been asked
not
to do, but he had to grudgingly admit that Cord hadn’t asked him to violate any of his beliefs. Now it was Tyler’s turn to laugh.

“I like the way you operate, sir. Very well, Mr. President, I’ll do as you ask. The Shareholders can poke around Eris till their eyes explode if it’ll make you happy.”

Justin picked up the glass of Erisian ale and bowed his head slightly to his newfound ally. “Thank you, Mr. Sadma.”

They spent their remaining few minutes together with small talk of rocket ball and the best place to get a good pizza in the outer orbits.

“Mr. President,” said Tyler, “I’ll have a pie from Galarzo’s on Eris flash frozen and sent to you. It’s the best in the system.”

Tyler of course knew that that claim had been made on every planet and rock in the Outer Alliance and, as a result, the President probably had a few hundred flash frozen pizzas to get through before he’d ever make it to the Erisians. But that didn’t stop Tyler from making the offer nor the President from accepting it.

As Justin saw the congressman from Eris out the door, he allowed himself a moment to decompress. He knew that a crisis just as bad as this one was probably just another day away. This one wasn’t quite as bad as what had occurred between a Sednian and a Jovian battle cruiser only three days earlier, but it ranked up there.
One day at a time,
he had to keep reminding himself.
One day at a time.
He would not fail his new country. He’d lead them to safety and a better future—no matter the price.