Cluster Command: Crisis of Empire II Read online

  Glaring at Merikur, she deliberately pulled the body-stocking below the curve of her hips and then began to step out of it, one shapely leg at a time. “That would be absurd, would it not?”

  Merikur nibbled his lower lip. “Ah,” he said. “No one needs to—”

  And caught himself. Of course they would know, the Kona Tatsu and their political masters. He and Bethany might as well be the lead turn in a dockside floorshow . . .

  No. There were some things—

  “Oh, come on, General,” the woman said. A slick gloss of indifference covered her expression and whatever her real emotions might me. “It needn’t take very long. Or are you—”

  Bethany’s eyes widened in real horror. “Unless you . . . ? Oh, no, they wouldn’t have married me to a man who—”

  “Nothing of the damned sort!” Merikur said in a tone halfway between fury and disgust. He jerked open the waistband of his uniform trousers a moment before he realized that he should have taken off his shoes first.

  Damn the woman!

  Halfway through the process that followed, Merikur had the suspicion that his wife was no longer thinking only of the needs of the Pact. And by the time the process was over, he rather regretted that it would be the only time this particular duty would be required of him.

  ###

  From that point on, Merikur immersed himself in his work. There was plenty to keep him busy from the moment the ship broke orbit until its arrival in Harmony Cluster.

  First there was his AID to debrief, including a line-by-line reading of his voluminous official orders, and an endless series of intelligence reports on the Harmony Cluster. Lacking any sort of faster-than-ship communication, the material was probably outdated; but it did give him a base line against which to judge more current information when it became available.

  Merikur also put himself through a number of computer-guided refresher courses on military strategy. Officer Training School was a long time ago, and besides, most of his training had been in tactics, not strategy.

  Generals are supposed to plan overall strategy rather than tactics. A lesson some senior officers never learn, to the detriment of their troops and the benefit of their enemies.

  Merikur also formed an elite bodyguard for Windsor and his senior staff. It happened almost by accident and flowed from a desire to learn more about Cernians. “Know thy enemy” is an ancient military dictum and a good one. Merikur had it in mind when he invited Senda to the ship’s gym. When the alien arrived, Merikur was already there. “Hello, Eitor, how’s it going?”

  “Fine, General. Thank you for asking.”

  “Tell me something, Eitor, have you had any training in personal combat?”

  “Yes,” Senda replied, his entire body swiveling as he looked around the gym. “Why are we meeting here?”

  Merikur smiled. He was dressed in marine camos. “Because if we fight in the wardroom, it’ll make a big mess.”

  Senda’s grin was a bit disconcerting because the corners of his mouth turned down instead of up, but it meant the same thing. “Fight? Why should we fight, General? Are we not allies?”

  “Yes, Eitor we are—and that’s one reason why we should fight. Try each other’s mettle. How can we fight side by side if we don’t know each other’s strengths and weaknesses? And by your own admission, not all Cernians share your belief in the Pact. By fighting you, perhaps I’ll learn something which will help me fight them.”

  “There is wisdom in what you say.” As the Cernian spoke, he removed his jacket revealing a thick upper torso crisscrossed with ropy muscle. Merikur took one look and wondered if he’d made a serious mistake. “Will we use weapons or only our bodies?”

  “I think our bodies will be sufficient, Eitor. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to survive this match.”

  “Yes, it is the same with me, General. Please begin.”

  “No rules or anything?”

  “Are there rules in war?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Then rules would be superfluous, would they not?” And with that Senda attacked.

  Merikur had assumed that while the alien might be stronger, a human would have the advantage of leverage due to his additional height, and greater mobility. Not so. Bending powerful legs, Senda launched himself into a forward roll and came out of it inches away from a surprised Merikur. The alien stuck his arms straight up and out. When he brought them together, they hit both sides of Merikur’s head like sledgehammers.

  Had Senda used his full strength Merikur would have died. As it was he fell to his knees, his head ringing like a bell

  Merikur felt rather than saw the alien clasp both hands together and raise them into the air. Butting upwards, Merikur hit Senda low in the abdomen. The Cernian grunted and fell over backwards. Merikur stood, tried to follow up, but found himself too dizzy to move. He was forced to await the next attack. It was quick to come.

  Stunned one moment, the alien was a blur of motion the next, rolling sideways toward Merikur and locking arms and legs around him. Merikur broke one leg free and brought his knee up towards Senda’s genitals. When his knee arrived, the genitals were gone, retracted into the Cernian’s body. For long moments, he pounded again and again at the armored closure, as a red haze slowly built before his eyes.

  Panting helplessly, he relaxed, and the air was squeezed from his body still locked in Senda’s embrace. Then, breathless, he realized he had no means of signaling submission, decided what the hell, and bit into a fleshy ear.

  Senda grunted in pain and brought both of his stumpy legs up and under Merikur’s stomach. With a tremendous shove he launched Merikur towards the nearest bulkhead. The human hit with a loud thump and slid to the floor.

  For a while both sat there, Senda holding his ear, and Merikur, after relearning the art of breathing, dividing his attention between head and stomach. Then Senda’s mouth turned downwards in a grin. “Well human, what did you learn?”

  Merikur thought for a moment. “Never try to knee a Cernian in the balls.”

  They both lapsed into chuckling quiescence. Then, laughing and slapping each other on the back, they stumbled off to get some first aid and a good stiff drink.

  And later, after giving it some more thought, Merikur decided he’d learned something quite important from the encounter. He’d learned to respect stumpy Cernian bodies, and more importantly, the minds which inhabited them.

  So, he thought to himself, what better way to foster equality than to integrate military units? You can’t do something like that overnight of course, and he didn’t have any Cernian troops to integrate with, still there might be a way to get started. Which is the way the Governor’s Hundred came into being.

  Merikur asked some questions and confirmed that yes, there was a small marine contingent aboard, and of course they’d be happy to do whatever he wanted.

  Hey! Nothing like being top dog; if a junior officer had offered the same idea he or she would have been road blocked right away.

  Having secured the necessary marines, Merikur needed some willing Cernians. He approached Eitor Senda and explained his idea. The alien was enthusiastic. Due to his controversial policies, Windsor would need a bodyguard—and what better way to demonstrate his belief in full equality? By placing his life in the hands of aliens, the senator would add to his credibility and his notoriety, both of which mean a great deal to any politician.

  Windsor was also quick to lend his support to the idea. He loved the obvious political benefits, but he also took pleasure in Merikur’s initiative and commitment to alien equality. As Merikur left the wardroom, Windsor turned to Senda and said, “Could it be that we have here a general of more than military intelligence?”

  With the help of their officers and noncoms, Merikur chose fifteen of the ship’s forty marines while Senda rounded up an equal number of Cernians. It turned out that most of the ‘servants’ had served in the Cernian military, choosing to leave when their enlistments were up. They weren’
t in a hurry to put on uniforms again, but the offer of better pay and equal treatment was sufficient to generate fifteen volunteers.

  Merikur made a mental note to recruit more when he reached Harmony Cluster. Under the cover of looking for new recruits, he could also sift the Cernians for spies and saboteurs. After all, what Windsor and Senda didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt them. But it could kill them.

  Equality is one thing, stupidity is another, Merikur mused. It was curious that so many Cernian veterans had elected to settle within the Pact. Given Cernian status on this side, life must be pretty tough yonder.

  When, on the first day of training, Merikur entered the gym, he noticed that most of his volunteers had segregated themselves. There were two exceptions, a marine and a Cernian, who broke off their conversation and drifted back towards their respective groups.

  For a moment, Merikur considered making a speech. He could tell them the guard would be an integrated unit, that humans and Cernians were equal, that they should work together. But he quickly rejected the notion, knowing it would be a waste of energy. They’d have to find out for themselves just as he had. So he called them to attention, a concept familiar to the military of all races, and pointed out the two who’d been talking to each other. “You and you, front and center.”

  Both groaned internally as they broke ranks and marched towards the front. What the hell had they done? Stopping in front of Merikur, they both came to attention, the Cernian veteran every bit as snappily as the marine.

  The Cernian’s version was similar to the marine’s, except he crossed his forearms over his chest. Later Merikur would learn this was due to the design of Cernian battle harness. Crossed arms provided quick access to hand weapons and symbolized personal readiness.

  “About face!”

  Spinning around the two of them faced the rest of the troops. “Names!”

  The Cernian spoke first. “Father, my name is Viko Keedor, Father!” Merikur knew from talking to Senda that Cernian forces were originally organized along family lines. While this was no longer practical, the titles of “Father” and “Mother” were still used depending on the sex of the officer, and were roughly equivalent to “commander.”

  The marine was next. “Sir, my name is Manuel Costas, Sir!”

  Merikur nodded and turned to the troops. “Now listen up. You just met your officers. Who’s got a coin?”

  “Sir.” Costas fished in a pants pocket and produced a coin. He tossed it to Merikur.

  “Thanks. Heads it’s Costas, tails it’s Keedor.”

  Merikur flipped the coin and caught it. “Tails. Viko Keedor now holds the rank of captain in the Elite Guard. Manuel Costas is hereby promoted to lieutenant. Assuming they keep their new ranks, eventually these officers will recommend some of you for promotion. If I agree with their recommendations, those individuals will become NCOs. Until that time, Captain Keedor and Lieutenant Costas may decide to appoint some of you as acting NCOs. All of you will obey their orders pursuant to the rules and regulations of Pact Military Forces. Copies of those rules and regulations will be made available. I recommend that those of you who haven’t read them do so.

  Merikur paused meaningfully. “This will be an elite unit entrusted with the lives of the governor and his staff. You’ll be rewarded if you perform well. You’ll also be punished if you screw up. If you screw up though laziness, dishonesty, or the use of intoxicating substances, you’ll wish your mother had died a virgin. Do you understand?”

  Merikur heard a ragged collection of “yes sirs.”

  “I can’t hear you.”

  “The response was a ragged mix of “yes sirs,” and “yes fathers,” but at least it was louder.

  “That’s better. Now pair off, one Cernian to one human.”

  For a moment, the two groups eyed each other in consternation, surprised at Merikur’s order, and unsure of what to do. Then, after a moment of hesitation, Keedor and Costas took control. Keedor had a voice like a Nugian swamp bull, and he used it to good effect. “All right, you heard Father Merikur. Pair off. One troll to one guwat.”

  It turned out later that “guwat,” roughly translated, meant “tall pile of feces,” and was what Cernians called humans in private.

  There was complete silence for a moment as members of both races took this in and wondered how to react. Then a marine laughed, a Cernian made a strange coughing sound, and everyone else joined in.

  Merikur let out a deep breath. Keedor’s gamble had paid off. It could’ve gone the other way.

  Merikur addressed them again after they’d split up into pairs. “It’s important that you know each other. So we’re going to have a little get-acquainted session. The object of this exercise is to subdue your opponent. There is only one rule. If you put someone in sick bay, you’ll stay in the brig until they’re released. Your objective is to subdue your opponent, not kill him. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir!” Merikur noticed that the Cernians were now using the human response.

  “All right. You may begin.”

  They moved with initial wariness, each waiting to see what the other would do, hoping for some kind of advantage. It was a Cernian who attacked first, launched herself into a forward roll like the one Senda had used against Merikur. Moments later another Cernian followed suit and before long the gym was full of thrashing bodies, grunts of pain, and occasional whoops of victory.

  Merikur saw a pattern start to emerge. The Cernians were quite aggressive, using movements akin to gymnastics, while the humans were on the defensive at first, using a variety of styles that ranged from martial arts to street fighting. As they grew more accustomed to Cernian tactics, they counter-attacked.

  Things were really starting to heat up when Merikur blew his whistle.

  “All right. That’s enough. Form up in alphabetical order.”

  As they sorted themselves into alphabetical order, Merikur noticed that some were hurt, but as far as he could tell, none seriously. For the most part the damage seemed limited to bumps, bruises and pride. Some of both races were a little wobbly, but if he sent them to sick bay now he’d have to send their partners to the brig. Better to wait and let them drop by sick bay on their own—or tough it out if they chose.

  When they had formed up Merikur stepped forward. He swept them with what he hoped was a steely gaze. “Now listen up. That was the only time you’ll ever fight each other outside of carefully designed drills. At least it had better be. I hope you learned what the exercise was designed to teach. This is an integrated unit. You will be treated as equals and you deserve each other’s respect. Anyone who objects, please step forward now. You’ll be released from the Hundred without dishonor. If you stay, be prepared to fight and die with your brothers.” No one moved. Merikur smiled. “Welcome to the Governor’s Hundred.”

  ###

  As Merikur handed over the Hundred to Keedor and Costas for calisthenics, Bethany Windsor watched from the circular track above the gymnasium floor. She usually ran five miles a day, although she found the circular track incredibly boring.

  She’d watched Merikur with an almost morbid fascination. He was her husband after all, and a force to be dealt with. Who was this man with the serious eyes and white hair? She watched the way he commanded their attention, the obvious intelligence in his eyes . . . the quiet strength of his body.

  She caught herself. No, damn it, no! How could she?

  With a little cry of pain, Bethany ran all the way to the sleeping cabin and locked herself up inside.

  ###

  Nola Rankoo sat on the veranda of her villa and looked out over a portion of her property. On paper it took up more than a hundred square miles of prime agricultural land. In reality it was much larger, including a great deal of Augustine, capital planet in the Harmony Cluster, and goodly portions of the Cluster as well. Not directly, since with the exception of her personal estate, it all belonged to the company, but indirectly, because she was the third most powerful person in the Haike
n Maru.

  The prospect before her was indeed a beautiful sight. Starting at the edge of her veranda, the Sweetberry vines grew in rippling purple rows for as far as the eye could see. The blossoms bathed her with perfume.

  This was her favorite time of day, when the light lay soft on the land and the sun was about to set. It was a time to savor and enjoy. Rankoo smiled and sipped Sweetberry wine. And there was much to enjoy.

  For the most part business was good. She had Victor Trent, the outgoing governor, to thank for that. Interested only in completing his term and returning to Terra, Trent had maintained a very low, if personally profitable, profile. As a result Rankoo had been free to run wild along with her profits.

  Yes, things had gone very well indeed, with the possible exception of Teller. The human and Cernian workers there were a constant source of trouble. She’d asked Trent to send some marines, but he’d refused, citing the imminent arrival of a new governor. It was bullshit, of course, but on this one issue the old bastard had been adamant. Afraid of a bad report from his replacement, of course.

  The new governor sounded as though he might be a problem. From all accounts he was a flaming liberal, spouting all sorts of garbage about giving the aliens equality as the only way of preserving the Pact.

  The new governor might side with the very aliens she was trying to subdue. And then there was this general, what’s his name, Merikur. What position would he take?

  The tiny recording device had arrived by high-speed courier only hours before. Although she’d already listened to the message twice, she picked it up and gave a gentle squeeze. It began to play: “Senator Windsor will attempt to bring full equality to the Harmony Cluster. If he succeeds perhaps the Senate will follow.”