Stark's Crusade (36 page)

"A few of us slip through the cracks, Sergeant." Lieutenant Colonel Hayes saluted again, the sergeants returning the gesture, then he and Major Kutusov left with Lieutenant Conroy.

"Looks like we did the right thing," Bev Manley announced.

"Yeah. Maybe we did." That night, for the first time in memory, no dreams of lost battles haunted Stark's sleep.

"You
are
one for grand gestures." Colony Manager Campbell was leaning back in his chair as Stark entered his office the day after the battle to save the Colony and the follow-on battle to save Second Division's Brigade. "It's all over the vid. Here and back home. How you broke the robotic combatants who were supposed to break you and then went on to save the official American force when their own alleged allies turned on them. Anyone who doubted your earlier promises not to attack the U.S. has to be convinced now. Are you interested in running for president, by any chance?"

"Hell, no. I'm a soldier. I don't get involved in politics."

"Too bad. You'd be a shoe in right now."

"I thought felons couldn't run for president. I'm charged with a lot of crimes."

"Convicted
felons, Sergeant. You're still okay on that count." Campbell checked his display hopefully, then shrugged. "There still hasn't been any official reaction to what happened up here yet, but I'll let you know anything we find out."

"Same here."

The reaction, when it came, had Stark and Campbell calling each other simultaneously. "Did you hear?" Campbell asked first.

"I heard the Pentagon's ordered the disarming and confinement of every soldier from Second Division that we saved. They claim the soldiers are unreliable now."

"For their purposes, they may be right."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the government has declared a state of national emergency. In light of which, the national elections have been postponed indefinitely."

"What?" Stark felt his jaw literally drop at the news. "They can't do that. Can they?"

"No. They can't. Even during the American Civil War, national elections were held on schedule." Campbell sagged in his chair, suddenly looking worn out. "This is a naked power grab, Sergeant Stark. The people in power are afraid to relinquish it, and since they know they have zero chance of winning the elections, they're taking the only action which would protect them from having to relinquish power."

"They won't get away with it."

"Who's going to stop them, Sergeant?"

"I don't know. Yet. But I do know something I can do."

Campbell perked up, eyeing Stark. "What would that be?"

"The troops we saved up here have been disarmed, so they can't participate in the defense of the U.S. Some parties on Earth may figure this would be a good time to take the country out. I want everyone to know that if someone tries that, my troops will be there to stop them."

Campbell didn't hide his startlement. "You'd send some of your forces to help defend the country? Some of
our
forces?"

"Uh, yessir. I assume that wouldn't be a problem with the civil authorities in the Colony?"

"Speaking on their behalf, I can't imagine how we could turn you down. But how would you get soldiers back down there? They'd have to get through the blockade and past strategic defenses on Earth."

"I'd find a way."

"I'm sure you would." Campbell nodded. "Don't worry, Sergeant. We have a lot of ways of getting information down to Earth, ways which can't be blocked. I'll make sure what you just told me is known to every human on Earth within twenty-four hours."

"Thanks." Stark clenched his hands. "I wish we could do something about this election garbage, too, but we can't."

"No, you can't. But, Sergeant, there are people who can. We just have to encourage them."

A week later, the demonstrations in American cities had grown so huge that large segments of the cities were shut down. Stark and his staff watched vid from back home, marveling at the size of the crowds. "How long can this go on?" Sergeant Gordasa wondered.

"More to the point," Bev Manley asked, "what will the government do? They can't put the demonstrations down by force. They haven't got the force available. Besides, they couldn't justify that because the demonstrators aren't using force themselves, except for the fringe cases throwing rocks. Everybody else is just marching."

Vic nodded. "True. Stacey, do you have anything new about the situation back home?"

Yurivan smiled. "The economy's shutting down. How's that? Heard from your friend Jones again lately, Stark?"

"Not a word. Why?"

"Oh, just that the corporate bottom lines are getting nuked right now. It's all about profits, Stark, and I bet there's a lot of corporate boardrooms talking about how to get the country working again fast."

"Turning over the Colony here wouldn't help that," Manley objected.

"That's not what I'm talking about. Corporate loyalty is to the bottom line. If they have to jettison a few old friends, friends who happen to hold political office but are fast becoming major liabilities, they just might make an offer for our help. At the very least, they won't stand in the way of anybody who tries to toss those guys out of office the hard way."

Stark shook his head. "I haven't gotten any offers like that, and I won't take them if I do. None of our soldiers are going to Washington, D.C., to act against the government."

"But sending troops there might be the right thing," Vic suggested.

"Vic, we don't change governments at bayonet point. We never have, and I won't be the one to set a precedent. Period. This isn't a military issue."

Yurivan smiled again. "I understand we're planning on sending troops down to help defend the border, though. Have you worked out the movement plan for that?"

Stark glowered at her. "No, Stace. Hopefully we won't have to do it."

"Well, foreign militaries have staged a few exercises and provocations in the last couple of days, but they're being real careful. No one wants to be the first to find out if the American eagle has really had its wings clipped." Yurivan gazed upward as if contemplating the stars beyond the metal ceiling over them. "I do have some contacts in the strategic defense forces, Stark. They've let me know that if we do send people in to defend the country, the strategic defenses are likely to suffer some critical system failures if they're ordered to fire on us."

"Do tell. We'd still have to get through the blockade near the Moon, though, and survive the trip back to the World." Stark shifted his glower to the table surface, unable to sort through conflicting emotions. "I hate to say it, but I don't think there's anything else we can do right now. Nothing but wait on events. It's out of our hands."

"Whose hands is it in, then?"

"The ones who should've been deciding things all along. Stark pointed to the vid, where masses of demonstrators clogged the streets of a city. "Those people. They didn't vote better or often enough in the past, because they figured it didn't matter what they did. Now they want to vote, and I don't think they're gonna let anyone prevent them from doin' it."

Several hours later, Stark was roused from another quick nap by his comm unit. He'd been unable to sleep through the night the last few days and had to grab snatches of sleep whenever possible. "Stark here."

"Ethan, this is Vic. I need you in the command center, immediately."

"On my way." It took only seconds to straighten his appearance then Stark was out of his room. Vic stood waiting for him in the command center, her entire attitude uncertain. "What is it? An attack or something?"

"No " She turned to face the secure communications module, a small room off one side of the command center whose walls were lined with devices designed to ensure no human eavesdropper could hear conversations inside it, no matter how sophisticated the technology that eavesdropper might employ. For reasons lost in the mists of history, soldiers normally referred to it facetiously as the Cone of Silence. Reynolds nodded toward the module. "You have a call waiting in there."

"A call? The only people who have access to the gear needed to call into that room are official U.S. forces. It's for tight-beam, sealed communications, right? Are you saying the Pentagon's calling me?"

"No." Vic shook her head, then pointed to Sergeant Manley standing nearby. "You tell him, Bev."

Manley cleared her throat, then also indicated the module. "It's a Marine."

"A what?"

"A Marine," Manley repeated. "A United States Marine.

You've heard of them, right?" .

"Well, yeah." Many a late night vid had featured Marines. Stark had never forgotten one in particular, with an old star named John Wayne charging across beaches. "But I thought they were gone. Downsized out of existence a long time ago."

"Almost. The Marines are Naval infantry, and the Army brass never liked the idea of the Navy having infantry. So, when push came to shove at some point, it came down to the Navy choosing between paying for a space fleet or paying for the Marines. Guess what the Navy chose? The National Defense Reform and Readjustment Act basically put them out of business."

"If they were all that great, how come they got downsized so much?"

Manley shrugged. "From what I heard, the Marines were too focused on mission accomplishment. Getting the job done, you know? So while they were busy putting out little wars all over the place the leaders of the other armed services outmaneuvered them in the budget battles. The politicians only kept one company active. They're stationed in downtown Washington."

"D.C.? Why there?"

"Protection. Marine guards are special, so the Congress and the brass in the Pentagon kept a few to guard their precious little behinds. That's all there's been for some time, but they're still Marines. The one waiting to talk to you is a Sergeant Major Morrison."

"Sergeant Major?" Stark questioned. "The enlisted ranks were 'rationalized' a long time ago. All the different grades of sergeants were consolidated. How can this Marine be a Sergeant Major?"

Bev smiled. "Marines do things their own way, Ethan. It's one of the things that makes them Marines."

"What else makes them Marines?"

Manley took a moment to answer this time. "They're different. They look like grunts, but they're different. Don't forget that when you're talking to this guy. Marines aren't like soldiers. They're more like some sort of cult."

"So what's this cult been doing for the last few decades? Besides ignoring the rules about enlisted ranks, that is."

"Guarding D.C., like I said. Putting on ceremonies for the tourists and the Very Self-important Persons. You know the drill."

"Yeah. So these Marines are just show troops? Guys who know how to look pretty but can't fight?"

Manley shook her head. "I don't think so. I've met a few. They'd been kept in Washington, they'd never seen combat as a result of that, but they weren't show troops."

"Okay. Thanks for the info and the assessment. Guess I better see what this guy wants." Stark strode into the secure communications module, seating himself gingerly in a seat that would have been well-padded on Earth but was ridiculously overstaffed for lunar gravity. After studying the panel for a moment, Stark hit the control accepting the transmission.

A hard face stared back at him from the vid screen. Well-groomed, in an immaculate uniform, but something about him didn't strike Stark as being typical of show troops.
Manley's right. Whatever the politicians have tried to do to these Marines, they've stayed professionals. At least the one I'm looking at has stayed a professional.
"This is Sergeant Stark. I understand you want to talk with me."

A few seconds elapsed as the light-speed transmission made its way across the distance separating the Earth from the Moon. Then the hard-faced Marine shifted slightly, his eyes looking directly at where Stark's eyes had been a few seconds previous. "That's right. I'm a Marine, Stark. You probably never met one of us, so I'm going to tell you what that means. Our motto is Semper Fidelis. Always Faithful, it means. We've fought everywhere on Earth, and we've kicked butt in all those places. We're Marines. You can kill us, but you can't defeat us. Understand?"

"Yeah. I understand. That sounded like a threat."

A few more seconds. "What if it is?"

It felt odd, exchanging macho threat talk with someone who took seconds to reply.
Maybe it's not that odd, after all,
Stark reflected.
There's been many a time in bars that both me and the guy I'm talking to have been so drunk we took a while to think up responses.
He looked over the Marine's image again, taking in every aspect of Morrison's bearing.
Yeah. He's real. So I'll treat him like a fellow soldier.
"I'd take it seriously. The only place I want to fight Marines is in a bar."

"If you get into a bar brawl with us you better have the odds on your side, soldier. Heavily on your side. But you might end up fighting us for real, Stark, depending on what you do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The word is your troops are planning to come down here. That right?"

Stark pondered his reply for a moment, trying to guess at the Marine's motivations. "What if it is?"

"We're here to defend the country, Stark. The Constitution. We won't sit back and let anyone take over. Anyone."

"I won't discuss operational plans, but I will tell you there's only two reasons I'd send troops down there. The first is to help defend the borders of the U.S. If anybody tries to come over those borders, we'll help hold 'em."

Morrison nodded. "Fine. What's the other reason?"

"The Constitution. That's what you said. We took the oath to protect it, too. You know what's going on. The national state of emergency crap. The big demonstrations. If a bunch of civs decide to march on the Capitol and toss out some politicians who are trying to tear up the Constitution, then my soldiers will defend those civs from anyone trying to stop 'em."

Morrison's eyes narrowed, his face hard as granite now. "Spell it out. What exactly are you saying?"