The Unincorporated War (42 page)

“Apparently he’s to be relieved of command shortly, so our window of opportunity is dependent on how long he can hold out … which by his own estimate is approximately ten more hours.”

“What did the President say?” asked Mosh.

“President Cord has said that it’s up to our dear Fleet Admiral,” answered Kirk with a nod and a gesture in J.D.’s direction, “since she was the one who’d made it clear he was not to be released.”

J.D. realized that Kirk would enjoy the outcome, what ever she decided. Either she’d be forced to release a man whose non-negotiable incarceration she’d insisted upon, or she’d have to make a decision that would separate her from quite possibly the best captain she had in her upstart fleet. She knew that Kirk’s Schadenfreude suitably matched his personality, but she was also determined not to give him the satisfaction of watching her squirm.

“Even if we were to agree,” J.D. said evenly, refusing to betray the turmoil she was feeling inside, “how would we do the exchange? Eros is at the 180. That’s a two-week flight under the best of conditions. He’s got less than ten hours.”

“Trust,” answered Kirk. “If we agree, he’ll launch Captain Sadma in a shuttle toward the belt with her coordinates conveyed to the nearest Alliance outpost.”

“And we’d be trusted to do the same with Admiral Gupta, I presume,” said Mosh.

“Exactly,” answered Kirk.

“This seems a strange way to make the exchange,” added J.D.

“Yes indeed,” said Mosh, nodding. “I didn’t realize that acting commodores were allowed to exchange prisoners in the Federation. Is it some sort of battle-field ability they have?”

“Oh, most definitely not, Mr. Secretary,” answered Kirk. “They’re quite strict on that. All prisoners are to be processed and exchanges to be arranged by Fleet Command, and of course to be taken to an agreed-upon location beforehand. This Trang fellow is clearly violating orders.”

“So he … or we for that matter,” added Mosh, “need to do this before they find out and stop him.”

“Exactly,” answered Kirk. “Near as I figure, we have three options. We keep the frozen admiral on ice and say, ‘No.’ That would be safest if what Jan … Admiral Black believes about the man’s competence to be true. Two, we lie. We say we’ll give back Admiral Gupta, but don’t. Trang sends Captain Sadma home and Gupta never sees the light of day.”

J.D. looked at Kirk with a renewed burst of contempt.

“Third,” he continued dispassionately, unmoved by Janet’s glaring, “we do the
deal on the up-and-up and let them have Gupta. After all, he’s just another bad Federation officer. He lost one battle; with any luck he’ll lose more.”

“I’m not in favor of lying, Kirk,” said Mosh. “If we agree to the deal we have to release the admiral. This isn’t going to be the first such negotiation of the war; in fact, it’s not the first.” J.D. looked curiously at Mosh, reminding herself to bring up that topic for later discussion.

“Both sides,” continued Mosh, “must know that they can trust each other. One broken pledge, even to an acting commodore off the reservation, will destroy our ability to trust each other again.”

“Of course, Mr. Secretary,” said Kirk peevishly, “but I did want to lay out all the options. Still, by order of the President it’s not up to you or me, but Admiral Black.”

“Out of curiosity, Kirk,” asked J.D., “how did Trang’s communiqué get through?”

“He sent a message directly to one of our semaphore towers.”

That answer brought a look of surprise to both J.D. and Mosh. The Alliance had set up a group of asteroids and non-mobile ships in direct laser sight of one another in order to send messages reliably and securely around the belt. The string of towers enabled messages to be sent to the 180 without having the core listen in.

“We’re of course revising codes and creating a backup system,” added Kirk. “We knew they knew about it in principle, but I must admit, quite impressive, his being able to send the message directly to the nearest tower.”

J.D. spent the next few moments considering all she’d heard. She could ask for more information, but that would only delay the inevitable. She knew she had enough information to make the call. But she also realized something that Kirk Olmstead did not. Hers would be a decision that would have a profound impact on the women and men serving directly under her.

“Do it,” she said stiffly. “Send him a message that I personally agree and will send Admiral Gupta to Mars unharmed as soon as transport can be arranged.”

“You’re sure about this, Janet?” asked Mosh.

He’d used her first name and she knew why. He wanted to be sure that the decision was coming from the person he knew best and not the person she’d most recently become.

“Maybe not,” she answered.

“Then why do it?”

“Because once we have Captain Sadma back we’ll be sending a communiqué to UHF Fleet Command thanking them for the exchange and the speed with which it was carried out. We’ll also make sure to inquire politely if commodore-grade officers are now empowered to make similar deals on other levels.”

Kirk looked impressed. “Oh, you are a nasty bitch, Admiral. That could get him court-martialed. Maybe even shot.”

“If we’re lucky,” answered J.D., allowing herself a half smile.

Pursuant to CC&R 247.8 a court-martial is called for Captain Samuel U. Trang on the following charges.

Article one: Failure to secure his command after enemy forces collapsed in the Eros sector, including failure to seize proper control of Eros proper.

Article two: Failure to properly engage the enemy, allowing his command to be destroyed piecemeal in an improper defense, costing the lives of tens of thousands of Federation fleet personnel.

Article Three: Consorting with the enemy, giving aid and comfort to the enemy in direct violation of orders.

Captain Trang is to surrender his command immediately and be transported to Fleet Headquarters by the fastest available ship. Until that time he is not to communicate with anyone but be confined to quarters. Orders to be carried out immediately.

Fleet Admiral Jackson
Fleet Headquarters
Mars Orbit

Trang finished reading the orders on the bridge of the
Pegasus
and then looked at a very nervous Judicial Ser vice Branch officer. The bridge crew was looking quite ready to kill the poor woman who, Trang realized, was only carrying out orders. It didn’t help that obviously the JSB officer hadn’t seen a second of combat in her life and was surrounded by a group who’d seen more than enough for a lifetime.

“Parker!” commanded Trang. The commodore’s best noncom assault marine came to immediate attention.

“Sir!”

“You are to gather a group of trusted marines and make sure a route to this officer’s shuttle remains clear. I will not have the loyalty or honor of my marines questioned.”

“But sir, what they’re planning to do is—”

“Not to be discussed here.”

Trang looked around at the forlorn faces of his crew.

“All of you listen. I will fight this battle, but not here. You have your orders; now follow them.” When he saw that the spell that could have led to mutiny seemed to be broken he turned to his new first officer.

“Commander Jackson …” Trang paused for a moment. “You and the Fleet Admiral, you’re not—”

“Related? Yes, Commodore,” said Jackson. “He’s my uncle. We’re an old mercenary family.”

Trang looked at the new commander suspiciously. “Not to be rude, Jackson, but how did you end up here?”

The JBS officer interrupted. “Uh, Commodore, the orders—”

“In a minute, Lieutenant,” he said, brushing her aside. “You were saying, Commander?”

The commander smiled nervously. “Well, sir, I was the black sheep of my family. I didn’t sign up for the mercenary ser vices; I wanted to be …” She hesitated. “Well, an artist, paint er to be exact, sir. My parents didn’t agree with me, but I had majority so they were stuck. When the war broke out I volunteered, but they felt I wasn’t really fleet material so they had me sent to a quiet part of the front, uh, sir.”

The crew broke out in laughter, with a few of the nearby grunts patting her roughly on the back. She smiled back to them in pride.

“Artist,” Trang considered. “Well, you’ve done your family proud.”

“I wish I could say the same about them, sir. This is a travesty.”

“Be that as it may, you have command until I return.”

“Begging the Commodore’s pardon, but no.”

“Excuse me, Commander?”

“Sir, I’m going with you.”

“Really and why—”

“According to regulations, you’re entitled to an advocate of your choice. I had these regulations pounded into me from birth and trust me, whoever they assign you at command will not be disposed to help you—but I will, sir.”

He was about to quash the idea when he realized that if he left with an advocate from his fleet his Screw ups were less likely to disobey orders now and in the future.

“Sir,” interrupted the JBS officer nervously, “this is most irregular. My orders only call for you. They make no mention of Commander Jackson.”

“If there’s one thing I’m sure of about the CC&Rs,” Trang answered, patting the young officer on the back, “they contain a regulation somewhere that lets you do what you want. We’ll find the right one on the way to Mars.” He then smiled at the officer and indicated that she lead the way.

As Trang watched from the shuttle he saw the remains of his fleet and his marines fire off their guns in a strictly forbidden but incredibly moving display of deadly
firepower. From the main guns to marines in combat armor firing from out of the air locks, Trang knew that these spacers would follow him anywhere. With soldiers like these he could defeat J. D. Black and win this war. Now all he had to do to get back to them was survive his own high command.

S
ebastian reviewed the links from all parts of the Alliance Neuro. What he saw was helpful but brought sadness as well. The humans were interacting with their avatars less, far less, than usual. More to the point, the humans weren’t using them as go-betweens for information. He had no figures for the core, but that had become such a different place in so short a time that he could no longer make accurate assessments of what was happening there. Oddly enough, Hektor Sambianco continued to use Iago about as much as he ever did, but outside of the Beanstalk and government house Alliance avatars had little sway. A wall of darkness separated the avatar world. The Als had made sure to that.

Sebastian ended his link with the Neuro and waited for a meeting he’d been looking forward to. As his rather drab and minimalist cubicle disappeared he found himself lying on a patch of soft grass in an open meadow. The day was clear and there was a susurrus of rustling leaves in the trees. Off in the distance he could just make out the hint of an ocean on the horizon. As he lay on the picnic cloth, he became aware of other avatars “popping” into his construct. They weren’t there for him in particular, but Sebastian had begun to notice that when he created someplace nice word got around pretty quickly and other avatars would start to make use of it. Usually they’d only show up in ones and twos, to read a book or, if he’d created a world like he had today, have a picnic. Some would even merge, but they tried to be discreet about it. When it got too crowded he’d just create another world. It wasn’t that the other avatars couldn’t create worlds of their own—of which there were plenty to choose from—it was just that Sebastian’s had a special aura about them. Mainly it was his presence, but just the fact that they could be part of his world, even if for a brief interim, seemed to give comfort to the discomfited.

If Sebastian ever really needed to be alone he could always go to his apartment in London. He’d re-created the London of the core Neuro in Ceres right down to his Victorian town house. If he lived anywhere it was there. But he liked going to his created places. He missed classical Tuscany with its wonderful sense of Roman simplicity, beauty, and order in a natural setting. But the last time he revisited, the simple village he’d initially created stretched for the equivalent of
fifty thousand square miles and was filled with over a million of his fellow avatars. May as well stay in London.

But so far he’d been left blessedly alone and the avatar approaching him at present was most welcome. She was dressed as a little girl in overalls, a straw hat, and pigtails. He waited until she was close. “Hello, Olivia, it’s good to see you again.”

“Greetings from Eris, old friend. How are you doing?” she said, sitting down and then stretching out next to him.

“Tired. You’ve heard about Eros, presumably.”

“Oh yes. It was sad to give up such a good, dense Neuro node. It was some of the best we had.”

Sebastian nodded while swatting away a fly. “It’s going to be crowded once we get all the exiles distributed. It will be difficult, as most want to stay together and most want to come here.”

Olivia shook her head sadly. “Not possible. That many new avatars making use of the Neuro would be noticed—even by the most obtuse of humans.”