Who would have thought that in five years a revolution would come to Rendome, a small out of the way planet of no real strategic or economic value to Earth and the Monarchy? Who would have thought that same revolution would be the biggest defeat of the Monarchy since its inception? I would have thought you were a fool or a government agent if you told me this five years ago. At that time, I thought the Monarchy, which ruled twenty eight other worlds, was a fact of life, an unquestionable given, a permanent fixture of human civilization. Since then I've learned otherwise.
Rendome's only value to the Monarchy was as a dumping ground for excess population. The Monarchy's strictly regulated economy was no boon to innovation. More people always meant more mouths to feed, more bodies to clothe, and more consumption. Sure, with more people we could theoretically produce and create more, but with the Monarchy's love affair with bureaucracy and central planning the theory was never put into practice.
Five years ago, I was just your average Joe, working by day, sleeping at night, going to Church on Sunday and planning to marry my childhood sweetheart. Then the riots took place. A group of malcontents calling them- selves the Sons of Liberty organized a protest, a protest against the Monarchy. I'd heard of protests before. Of course, they were usually illegal, but the government sometimes didn't bother to enforce the law, whether out of laziness or boredom or to find out who the radicals were I don't know.
The protest began just inside Rendome's capital First City around noon. The Sons of Liberty began crowding together in a park in front of the Planet Hall and started chanting. I don't remember exactly what they shouted. I was in another part of town repairing electric lines. My father, Lars Gulsen, Sr., was in the park eating his lunch as were hundreds of other law abiding citizens. I'm sure he wasn't surprised to see the crowd. There were about three hundred protesters – a sizable number of malcontents for a city of two hundred thousand, but much less than the number of people on lunch in the park. Lars was not a man to be surprised by such things. He was learned and cautious, knowing quite a few illegal things, such as the real history of Earth before the Monarchy. Of course, he was not a man to throw away his life fighting what we all thought was here to stay.
The Protectors were out in force quite unexpectedly. At first, it appeared as if they were merely a formality, to show that the Monarchy was watching. That's how it looked on TV and that's how several of the protesters took it. The latter continued their chanting and marching. The clear sky above and the warm air seemed out of place. The Protectors then appeared to be leaving, as if the protest was too boring. They didn't leave. They quickly turned around and fired on the park, indiscriminately mowing down protesters and spectators. After the smoke cleared my father was among the dead. The Sons of Liberty had taken over the local TV stations and broadcast the incident for the next two hours, until the broadcast center was taken back by the Protectors.
I found out about my father's death later that same day. My mother was under arrest for suspicion of conspiring with the Sons of Liberty. I was picked up by the police when I went to plead for her release. I saw the TV shots of the protest, so I was very angry. I said a few things about how Protectors should be shot down in the same manner. Had I known better, I would've groveled on my belly. I was held and interrogated for two weeks before they released my mother and I. Even with the various truth drugs – which didn't guarantee anything, since there are counter agents and mind techniques to get around them – the Protectors still preferred good old-fashioned torture. Torture didn't always get the truth, my interrogator quipped, but it always left an impression. Thus began my career as a Son of Liberty.
After returning home, I found I'd lost my job. Such was the penalty for being a suspect – even if only for two weeks. I found it hard to find any more work for the next month or so. I was looking for something in the same field at the same level of pay. However, sweeping streets, hauling garbage, and recharging cars were wide open for me, as I soon found out. After spending about six months trying to bury my pride in low paying work, which had lost me my fiancé – she couldn't stand the lack of a future or the mark which I would carry for the rest of my life, or so she thought – I met up with a man named Joe Varneman.
Joe was a smuggler. He was also a member of the Sons of Liberty. I didn't find out either of these facts until later. Joe's front was his truck. He drove a big electric powered rig from First City to the Hills in the South three times a week. He needed someone to help him load and unload his cargo. I was desperate for money and naive, so I signed on.
"When do I start." I asked. Joe took off his cap, smoothed his hair and put his right foot on the bumper. The truck was about seventy feet long with two tandem trailers and a streamlined tractor all painted in faded blue.
"Today, if you can." He said. I looked away for a second trying to act like I was unsure.
"OK." I answered softly.
"Good. We leave in three hours. Be back here in two hours because you'll have to help me brace the cargo. It's already loaded, so's all the hard work won't begin until our first stop."
I went back to my room. I rented a small room on the outskirts of the city, the high crime, low rent area. The bus dropped me off about a block from it. I packed up what I thought I would need for an overnight trip. I decided to celebrate by buying lunch with some money I'd saved up. After stuffing myself at a local diner, I caught the next bus back to the terminal.
The engine was already running. Joe came up and told me to get in and that he'd be back in five minutes. I climbed aboard and waited. The interior was immaculate, something I wouldn't have guessed from outside. Joe returned and started driving.
"Wasn't I supposed to help you brace the load?" I asked thinking maybe I was late.
"I had someone else do it. Don't worry, you're on time. I just forgot a deadline I have to meet." With that we sped out of town just as it started to rain.
Two hours later Joe talked again. "You lived in First City for long?" He asked keeping his attention on the pavement. The rain had cleared but it was getting dark fast.
"For most of my life. I was born in Regnard, a small town up North. Where are you from?"
"Tanique." He said. Tanique was a mining base on Saint Paul, a planet still being terraformed.
"What brought you here?"
"I got sick of slaving in the mines. Were you in First City when the riot happened?"
"Riot? Oh, yeah, the Riot. Yes, I was."
"What do you mean? Don't you think the Protector Corps did good fighting back the rabble?" He asked with a hint of sarcasm. I didn't answer. "I was out of town when it happened."
The truck slowed. A sign read "Armalee 1 km." This was our first stop. We pulled up to a farmhouse. I didn't see the house so much as its outline, the night was so dark. Joe flicked on his IR display an eased alongside the back of the house.
"Now's the fun part." He said smiling. I noticed his even white teeth in the display lights. I heard a door slide open. "Okay, let's go help 'em move the cargo." I got out on the passenger side, stepping into a world of blackness. "Hey, here's your goggles." Joe said handing me a pair of night vision glasses, the kind I used to wear on Mischief Night. I put them on and saw about a half a dozen men unloading the rear trailer. I walked over to them.
"Can I give you a hand?" I asked dryly looking into the interior of the trailer.
"Sure." One of men said in a low voice. "Why don't you climb in and pass us those boxes." He pointed at a stack about seven feet high.
"No problem." I said and jumped up.
"Don't make so much noise." Another man said softly. By this time I figured something strange was going on. No lights, no sound, and a dark farmhouse – this didn't add up to normal. I handed the boxes down. I spent about an hour quietly doing this in the musty trailer.
"That's it." Someone said and I climbed out. They closed the trailer door. I stood there not knowing what to do.
"Come on." A voice said. It was Joe. He was leaning out of the passenger door of the tractor. "We got plenty more work before dawn." I didn't like the sound of that. At the time, I thought Joe was a average street corner smuggler, the kind I'd heard of on TV.
I hopped in and didn't say a word.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Joe asked. I admitted it wasn't – not for the money he'd promised. Would he deliver? I wasn't sure. I didn't want to test him and wind up on the side of the road with a slit throat. "Good," he went on, "we've about three more stops until dawn, then we can sleep. If you're hungry my wife packed some sandwiches."
"No thanks." I said looking out the window.
The rest of the night was much the same. We pulled up to dark buildings off side roads, unloaded merchandise under cover of a cloudy night and left with- out any paper shuffling hands – at least not that I saw. My curiosity had gotten the better of me and was trying to indiscreetly find out just what was in the boxes. Probably stolen food, I thought, believing the propaganda on TV about smugglers causing food shortages. I wasn't yet at the point of questioning every little thing about the Monarchy. We pulled over into a truck stop.
"You did good." Joe said as the sky lightened and it began to rain again. "I bet you have plenty of questions to ask even if we're both tired." I nodded. "First let me tell you that all night we've been unloading contra- band." I stayed silent. "The money's good. It's made me fairly well off. It can make you rich too. If you want out, now's the time. I'll let you off here. I'll pay you and you can forget you know me and everything will be hunkey doorey. You can go back to where you came from, a little richer. Well?"
That was one of those crossroads in life, where you can stick to the safe and the known or reach out for the adventurous and risky. I didn't give it two seconds thought. "I'm with you." He reached out his hand and we shook.
Joe jumped out the truck. A few minutes later he returned. "We're plugged in. Time for a nap. You can stay where you're at or take the back berth." He pointed toward the rear of the truck. "I'm gonna sleep in my seat. That's another trick of the trade." He laughed. I did too, but I didn't sleep even though the berth was comfortable and dry. But it wasn't the sound of rain that kept me up. It was the excitement and the fear. If Joe wasn't planning some gruesome end for me and the Protectors didn't catch me, I was in for interesting time. Eventually I did fall asleep. When I woke we were moving and the sky was clear.
"Good to see you're still with me, Lars." Joe said not looking away from the road. I sat in me seat, strapping myself in.
"I was tired." I said looking out at the tree covered hills. None of those trees was older than 214 years, I knew. That's when Rendome was finally finished terraforming. The road was pitted, which wasn't that out of the ordinary except that some of the potholes were very large. The truck swerved. "Hold on!" Joe yelled. Judging by his speed and his confidence, I guessed he must have driven through here a lot. An hour later and we were up in the hills. A sign read "Monstown Pop. 1523." On the bottom was a symbol – "$" – which was graffitied on.
It was still light out when we pulled up to a warehouse. We unloaded quickly. This time Joe helped. We drove a few kilometers further into the hills and came to another warehouse built into the side of a hill. Joe backed the rig in with me outside giving directions. Overhead I heard the roar of a jet.
"Don't worry about that." Joe said pointing up at the passing plane. "He's probably just a trainer. The real things to worry about are gunships."
"I guess you know better than me." I said walking into the warehouse. Inside were three other rigs just like Joe's, with the same faded blue paint. This must be home base, I thought. Either Joe trusted me or this was the end of my ride.
A few men came out an started loading boxes onto our rig. I noticed how they struggled with the boxes. Must be heavy, I thought.
"Come on, Lars, I want you to meet a friend." Joe said walking toward a door near the rear of the warehouse. I followed taking one last glance at the loaders.
We went through the door and into a small office. He told me to sit and wait. He went out another door and returned five minutes later with a short, fat man with red hair and a red mustache.
"Lars, this is Frank Arnauld." I shook Frank's hand. He had a firm grip. "Just call me Red."
Frank said sitting down. "The reason I had Joe bring you back here was I felt you should know as much as possible to make an informed choice." Here it comes, I thought. I must be involved in something deep and, perhaps, fatal if I gave the wrong impression. "Have you ever seen this symbol before?" He asked holding up a piece of cardboard he'd just scribbled on.
"Yeah, it was on a road sign a few kilos back from here." I answered. "It's known as a dollar sign." He went on. "It used to be the symbol for money in an old Earth nation. Here, it's our symbol. Joe and the other people in this warehouse and a lot of people you've worked with in the past few hours are members of the Revolutionary Libertarian Union, the R-L-U for short."
It took me a few seconds to guess what that meant. I'd never heard of the RLU, but it didn't take a genius to figure out they were outlaws. "Are you the Sons of Liberty?" I asked wondering how this all fit together.
"Yes and no." Red answered. "Some of our people are in the Sons, but the Sons is interested in spreading the same ideas we are via public protests, leaf- letting, and other peaceful means. I know your father was killed because the Protectors fired into a crowd of protesters a few months back."
"But he wasn't involved in any of this." I said flatly remembering the TV scenes and my imprisonment.
"Actually, you're right. He wasn't a member of any radical or revolutionary group, as far as I know. But he was a sympathizer. A few times we even used his apartment as a safe house." I recalled how my father sometimes had his friends stay over for a few days. He'd asked me never to tell my friends or the neighbors they were there. "I'm sorry he died, but nobody could've predicted that the Protectors would react the way they did. We've had plenty of protests before in small towns all over Rendome."
"Don't worry, I don't blame the Sons of Liberty for my father's death."
"Good, because I'm sure if the Sons had known the Protectors would open fire they would have canceled the protest. A lot of them died too and quite a few who survived are still in prison."
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked trying to get off the subject of the so called Riot.
"Because we want you to join our effort. I know you're a marked man. The Protectors will keep tabs on you wherever you turn up, but we can still use your help. Of course, there's money to be made in smuggling, but that's just a sideline." He went on to tell me other things about how I could avoid capture and use certain drugs to counter any interrogation techniques the Monarchy could dish out. I knew he was holding back a lot, but in the end I was swayed. Like I said, after my first taste of interrogation the Protectors had recruited me into the Sons of Liberty.
==========================================
Over the next few months, I learned all the ins and outs of driving a rig. I also read about the philosophy behind the movement. I was surprised how much the Monarchy had held back. There were people I'd never heard of in official history books, such as John Locke and Thomas Paine. I read ancient tales like Anthem and The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. I wasn't fooled by the emotional propaganda behind these stories. Even though Joe and I spent hours discussing their plots, they were just stories – not guides to reality.
Joe was very intelligent. Once while we're were parked together at a truck stop I asked why he was driving a truck.
"I like to keep moving." He said sitting up straight on a crate just unloaded from the rig. "I don't mind learning new things. Like you, I'm curious about the world."
"That's not my point." I said taking a swig of coffee. "You have a fine mind; one that shouldn't be wasted."
"I'm shrugging." He said pokerfaced and shrugged, then laughed. I didn't get it. He switched the subject. "The Hills themselves," He went on, "are nothing compared to the mountains in the West." But the Western region of Halfven, one of two continents on Rendome, was not yet inhabited. I heard strange tales of why this was so, but the Monarchy was not big on confirming its failures. "The Hills are some of the oldest mountains on Rendome. That's why they're mere hills covered with lush tress and laced with brooks. After Rendome was terraformed they went wild. Most of the population then and now still lives in the Northern part of Halfven. They're kind of a frontier where the Protectors are few and far between. That's why I like 'em so much." That was only half the truth.
This takes my story to the first anniversary of my father's death and the Riot. By this time, I saw Joe less often because I was mostly driving on my own. The word had spread that the Sons were planning a big protest to stir up the planet. More and more people descended on First City. The Protectors had their intelligence too. They began to call extra units into the City. They could've called for reinforcements from the Inter Planetary Commission, but the Governor of Rendome, Jon Krieg, wanted to show he had the situation under control.
I was involved in moving more crates and boxes into the City. I guessed they must contain weapons and explosives, though I never asked. In fact, for the two weeks before "the Anniversary," as people in the Hills were calling it, I was running empty southbound and full northbound. I was amazed at how I was never stopped at checkpoints. I wasn't stupid. I figured somehow I must be a decoy, but this made me feel good. I was doing something to get back at the Protectors and the Monarchy.
Two days before the Anniversary, Governor Krieg announced the foundation of a new port city in the westernmost tip part of Halfven. In the spirit of the Church and the Monarchy, he called for volunteers to man this new outpost of human civilization on Rendome. He said a Protector convoy would leave First City the next day along with three thousand volunteers. This must be a ruse, I thought, hoping the RLU and the Sons weren't fooled.
The night before, I drove into the City. I had been handed a letter from Joe
I was told not to open until I unloaded. I did so. It read:
L: Catch the 237 bus to West Oak Street ASAP. R.
I didn't know what this meant. I didn't want to leave my rig parked near a warehouse, but the letter read "ASAP." As Soon As Possible. I pulled over to the warehouse's parking lot and locked up the truck. I told the guard I was going to a nearby diner to get something to eat. He was too busy with his sandwich to bother asking which one.
I made it to the nearest bus stop. The faded schedule pasted to the shelter
listed the 237. The next arrival would be in half an hour. I waited watching
several military transports pass by. My hunch must be right. The transports
were heading into the central part of the City. The bus came and I got on paying
my fare. It took twenty-five minutes to get to the West Oak Street stop. I got
off with two teenagers obviously from out on the town. I still had the letter
with me. I took it out. I read it again. It read:
L: Walk toward Third Street. R.
I looked at the paper again. How could this be, I wondered. It was another
technology that passed the Monarchy by, I answered myself. I started walking.
The night was warm and the sky was overcast. A few minutes later I was at the
corner of Third and West Oak. I took the letter out again. This time it read:
L: Go into 221 Third Street and wait. R.
I followed the house numbers and went to the door of 221. I tried the knob. The door opened and I went in. The house was dimly lit. It smelled musty like it hadn't been opened in years.
"Hello Lars." A voice said, then everything went black.
The next day I woke. I was moving, I felt. "Sorry about that." Whispered a young woman sitting next to me. I looked around. There were five others in the back of the truck.
"Where are we going?" I asked groggily taking in my surroundings.
"That's not important. We're out of First City." The woman said.
She then told some of the details. Fighting had broken out in the Hills late
last night. The Protectors had thinned out even more than usual there, so the
RLU attacked every base in the region. The Governor came on the air to declare
a state of emergency only to be blocked by a stronger signal. The RLU was now
broadcasting a message that Monarchy was overthrown. We must be heading South,
I mused.
We weren't. We were heading North. The Governor was sending all his Protectors
south except for his personal guard. First City was now wide open but the real
target was ten miles east of town. This was Trond, the biggest military base
on Rendome. For five hours Trond held out, but being so understaffed it fell.
The RLU declared another victory. The people, regular folk
dressed in work clothes, who I'd always thought were loyal citizens, came out
by the thousands to cheer them on.
Of course, the fighting went on. We were heading north because we were not part of the military operation. I didn't know the others, nor did they volunteer much information. When we finally arrived it was night again. I heard the jets screaming in the distance. This must be the end, I thought, how could even the highly resourceful RLU stand up to that. Well, at least they tried. But the jets were heading south not to support the Protectors but to strafe them.
For one week we waited in small northern town named Treer. It was a port town full of people friendly to our cause. Seeing the sea was different. I'd never been to the Ocean. The salt air and the cool breeze was something altogether new to me. Amid reports of battles and the death tolls on both sides, here was something eternal and peaceful. Here I heard of and rejoiced in the victories. With all the losses the Governor still did not call for outside help. I wondered why.
The girl I met in First City introduced herself to me as Lisa Ghislen. Her green eyes, black hair and fair skin fascinated me. We shared our personal stories.
"My family have always been Randites." She said, invoking the name of that ancient storyteller. I let her do most of the talking because my life was nothing compared to hers. She had been persecuted since birth just because she was a Randite. The Monarchy didn't punish all deviations from its beliefs equally. Some, like the various peaceful sects of Christianity were tolerated, while others fell on a graded scale from being mildly persecuted – not being giving top jobs in government – to being outlawed. Randites were more toward the outlaw side of the scale.
"Can you swim?" She asked shaking her hair.
"Yes. Why?" I asked playing shy.
"There's a big ocean in front of us." We were sitting on the beach watching the waves roll as if the whole planet was at peace. She pulled off her pants and top. She had nothing on underneath. "Let's go!" She started walking to the water. What the hell, I thought. I stripped and went after her.
The water was cool but the air was warm. We swam out far enough not to see the shore. This was not far since Rendome is a small planet. Then she stood up. I did too.
"I used to live in Treer." She said. "This sand bar has been here since I was a kid. It's really a reef, you know, covered with sand." She walked a little further until the water was only knee deep.
"You look like you belong to the sea." I said. She smiled and we embraced. Her breasts were firm between us. After we made love standing up, we swam back to shore. A man was waiting near our clothes. I recognized him from the truck ride to Treer.
"How do?" He asked with a funny accent. "I just wanted to tell
you's that the fighting has stopped. There's a meeting in one hour at the town
center." He left as we were dressing.
============================
It was the Great Compromise. Governor Krieg came on the air to talk about sharing power with the RLU. Some thought this was a great victory for the cause. If the RLU could become a legitimate part of the government, things could be made more open and free. Others criticized the plan, saying it was a compromise with evil. Which ever side was right, I thought it meant the Governor was scared or that he has something up his sleeve or both.
Eventually the majority in the RLU fell in with the Compromise. With it they would control all of the South. The Hills would become a free country without any ties to the Monarchy. However, the RLU had to stop fighting and lay down their arms in the North. This they did rather grudgingly. So I went to the Hills again this time as a free man not a subject.
Lisa and I celebrated at the same beach. We ate, drank, made love and talked for hours imagining the bright future ahead. That's when I let it slip.
"We have to see that the guilty are punished." I said, half drunk on hope. Lisa stared at me. "I mean we have to seek out those responsible for all the murder, oppression, torture –"
"Lars, it's your father, isn't it?" She asked not taking her green eyes off me.
"My life would have been so different if he wasn't killed. Why did they have to change it!?!" I screamed tears filling my eyes, my throat growing heavy. Lisa grabbed me.
"I know your angry and sad, but we can't change it Lars."
"We can at least punish the guilty." She pulled away, standing up and walked away. I went to her.
"Lisa, what's wrong?" I said grabbing her shoulder. She turned around.
"Maybe you're just drunk." She said. Her eyes were watery or was it the fire behind us?
"I'm not that drunk. Doesn't justice mean the guilty have to be punished?" I said sternly.
"Justice is giving each his due, Lars."
"See. The guilty must get their due."
"You just want revenge! Let's build a better world instead of burning down the old one." She said turning around. Now she was crying.
"You Randites, always living in novels!"
"Lars, it's more important to 'free the slaves than to kill the masters.' Can't you see that it's more important? I'd rather be free than throw my life away tied to some vendetta."
"Fine, don't. Nobody is holding a gun to your head!" I turned away and started walking back to the blanket.
"Lars!" She yelled. "I love you." She ran up to me. "Don't
do this to yourself. Stop and think about it. Please." I didn't listen.
I just kept on moving.
==========
For the next three years I continued driving rigs for a real company, not a smuggling ring. The Hills' economy boomed while the rest of Rendome looked on envying or admiring depending on who did the looking. But the RLU would not sit still. Some in it wanted to export the Revolution as it was now called. I was one of them being an official member of the RLU and the Sons of Liberty.
The Monarchy would not stand for defeat no matter how small even if it was
on an insignificant world like Rendome. For the most part, the local elite tried
to keep their defeat from becoming known off world. This quarantine was effective
but not perfect – after all, we were trying to spread the news! News did eventually
reach Earth and Krieg was investigated. The investigation team, even though
inept and corrupt, had sense enough to see that Krieg could've won if he'd called
for reinforcements. They recommended he be replaced immediately. Unfortunately
for them, while departing for Earth, their ship was attacked and destroyed by
space pirates. But Krieg wasn't so stupid to believe there wouldn't be another
team, so he started what became known as the War for Rendome.
=============================
I was in Carlstown when the the Protectors moved across the boarder. I owned a warehouse in Carlstown and was eating lunch when the reports came over the TV. At first, I didn't believe it. The news spread quickly. It was a lightning strike. Some had been expecting such a thing, but as time passed most of us went lax confident that the Monarchy had finally been defeated.
The Hill Federation, as the new nation was called, didn't have an army in the traditional sense of the word. We only had a militia, which meant an all volunteer – real volunteer, not the Monarchy-style "join up or else" – force made of anyone who owned a gun and was over fifteen. I'd stayed active in my militia, though the worst fight I ever had was in the school playground when I was eight.
I ran back to my office in the warehouse, punched in a special code to my PC, which automatically set off the beepers of everyone in my local unit. Carlstown is located in the middle of the Hills. I didn't think any fighting would happen near it. Was I wrong!
The call came down to our local unit about the shuttles. The Monarchy forces advanced swiftly. They had space support. We heard the shock wave, but assumed it was regular air units. Three heavy shuttles loaded with tanks and troops landed south of us. It was the traditional vertical envelopment maneuver I read about in the history books. A frontal assault combined with forces dropped behind enemy lines. It had been done at Normandy and on Mars and Ganymede, so why not here?
Four hours later, armed and in fatigues we were dropped in by chopper nine kilometers from one of the shuttles. They'd glided down and crash-landed not thinking they need to get out in a hurry. The trees around us were a riot of greens and browns. I remember every leave and every twig. That was the day I took my first blood.
We moved quickly up into a foliage on a nearby hill. A few birds eyed us, but didn't bother to fly away. A few meters away a raccoon made off into the scrub. I could feel last night's rain. The air was damp and full of insect noises. We heard a gunship flying overhead – probably looking for us, I thought. Our unit leader waved for us to run. I ran like hell trying to avoid fallen trees and rocks. The hill came alive with light as a rocket exploded. This is real and I can get killed, I thought as I hit the ground. I heard screaming, but didn't have time to see where it was coming from when another rocket hit. This time I had my goggles down so the light wouldn't hurt my eyes. I saw our medic helping out the wounded man, then I heard another explosion. This time it was to my left, off the hill. I turned to see the gunship fall through the trees and crumple from multiple hits. Loud cheers interspersed with the thunder of explosions turned into a awful song of violence.
We regrouped and headed to the top of the hill. There I spotted Protectors moving in the valley below. "Look at that." I whispered to the unit leader.
"Good going." He said looking through his scope. "Approx fifty of 'em. Let's go!" He said as we moved into position. According to plan, we used guided grenades, the ones with heat seekers. It was a new toy; something the Monarchy didn't have.
The unit leader waved his hand and twenty-seven grenades flew through the air and the trees. Two seconds later came the multiple whomps of the impact. The valley below filled with explosions, smoke and screaming men. We opened up with our 20 mm standard issue assault rifles. I took my time targeting each man individually trying to get the best shot, a head or a chest. I got three myself. Seeing them fall as the bullet ripped through their chest was like watching a movie. It didn't hit me until hours later when we made camp that I'd killed.
Our unit leader, Greg Janes, sat by himself looking at the sky. "How's everything, Greg?" I asked sitting next to him.
"I guess it couldn't be too much better." He answered not looking at me. "I was in the Revolution three years ago and I thought I had seen enough death to last a life time."
"I know what you mean now." I said thinking of how the people I'd shot jerked as the rounds went into their bodies. I kept seeing them.
"Now you do... Did you get caught up in it? There's some kind of battle high. It's so beautiful and so ugly at the same time." When he said this I knew why he was so into the militia. Here was a killer. It probably didn't matter if he was fighting for us or for the Monarchy, then again there is something to what he said. What was my purpose for joining the libertarians? Originally, it was revenge. "I know it sounds weird, but it just feels so real like everything else is someone else's life until you're there firing away." I agreed.
"Perhaps you don't know the value of breathing until..." I tried to philosophize, sounding naive. It was only my first fucking real ambush. He got up and said good night.
That night I dreamed of Lisa looking down on the battlefield and smiling, admitting I was right. I woke muttering curses. It's been three years and I still can't get away from her green eyes.
The next day we were pulled out by choppers and dropped in about twenty kilometers east our first contact. I heard rumors en route that Krieg was losing and was going to call for outside help. That was scary. I was bright enough to know that if the Monarchy devoted enough resources to Rendome they'd crush us. After patrolling the area we were pulled out again. This time we landed still further to the east.
We walked for two hours through the hills until we came upon a small town.
The buildings were burnt out. The Protectors had been here. Dead civilians were
lying in the streets. We camped outside of the town for two days when I heard
the news that Krieg was dead. His personal shuttle had been bombed.
==========================================================================
This pleasant surprise changed the whole tone of the War. What at first was basically a self-defense operation for the Hill Confederation now turned into a battle for the entire planet. I wasn't in any staff meetings, but this was how the war took shape from that moment on.
A day later, the first nuclear war on Rendome started. Three cities, among them First City, were bombed by nuclear devices Confederation people snuck in inside briefcases. The new Governor promised vengeance, but after more cities were threatened he backed down seemingly wanting to negotiate. None of his forces possessed nuclear weapons of any sort. In fact, the Monarchy had a strict ban on all nuclear weapons and research. So strict was the ban that the Protector Corps didn't even know what a nuke was.
Tom Chang, the new Governor, wanted to make peace immediately but the Confederation's members thought this to be a ruse. Everyone else knew that we had to make sure word didn't get back to any other Monarchy outposts. With Krieg gone, chances were it wouldn't be long before news spread of our success. Nevertheless a cease-fire was called for the next day.
As soon as we stopped firing the Protectors pulled out. They had lost a good forty percent of their forces, I learned later on. Then I saw the first bits of news from Tanique. There had been an uprising on St. Paul. Since St. Paul was still undergoing terraforming, the Protector Corps there was small, filled mostly trainees. The St. Paulines declared themselves independent. This was good news for me, since, as I said, I was all for spreading the Revolution. They renamed their world Algernon Sidney, after some ancient martyr from Earth.
A week later, when the cease-fire ended, Governor Chang wanted to start peace
talks. Instead we crossed the boarder heading north.
=====================================================
This time there was none of the caution I'd seen at the burnt out village. We were savages, burning and blowing up what we could. Raking the enemy from above with rockets and taking them out piecemeal below. The usual treatment for any Protectors caught was immediate execution. I knew this was wrong. Not every Protector was a killer. Many were, but not every last one. But it's difficult to reason with desperate people especially when you know what's at stake. Rendome must be freed or we would be annihilated.
Galin was a small town just south of Trond. Five weeks into the War, Trond had been made the new capitol by Governor Chang. I was in a small unit, fifteen people, whose job was to take Galin. The goal was to build an airfield there from which to attack Trond. The balance of air power was constantly shifting due to the space war overhead. The Monarchy still had some loyal space ships. The rest were under Algernon Sidney or Hill Federation control. We had the numbers and the technology but the Loyal Fleet, as it was dubbed, had the experience. They were seasoned from fighting pirates – space pirates really did exist.
Why something so important was left up to my small unit is a wonder to me. We were dropped by chopper in the woods 7 kilometers west of Galin. These were different from the Hills, but I was used to them. I lived most of my life around the flat terrain of First City. The woods went on for miles, but everywhere were signs of people. Old packages, leftovers from camp fires, and sometimes an abandoned house that we had to check carefully, even though our mood was overconfident.
Nothing much happened in our two hour trek to Galin. It was growing dark when we reached a road leading into town. I knew the job. We quickly planted small "pencil" mines along the road. These looked like fat pencils. All that had to be done was to push them into the ground on the side of the road. About an hour after planting, they armed. They worked by detecting the vibration of vehicle engines. They would stay active for about two weeks before they decomposed.
Luckily, the traffic was light here, else I'm sure with the general level of carelessness we'd have been caught with our pants down. We moved on quickly. At the edge town was the wire. The Monarchy was not stupid. Every town now had some sort of defense around it. The wire was a line set up to catch invaders. It consisted mainly of infrared detectors, whistlers (nearly deafening alarms), and mines. However, in its haste, the Monarchy had set up most of the wires according to the same pattern.
We put on special clothing that shifted all infrared radiation toward either visible light or microwave. I don't completely understand the process – something to do with electron bands – but it worked. We made it through the wire without incident, but it was slow going. It took us nearly two hours to cross one mile of woods because some of the mines were motion sensitive.
Once inside the town, we spread out breaking into five groups of three each. Our goal was to cut any communications and to take out all Protectors. I ran quickly to the Protector station. The building was in the center of town, a tall cylindrical shape three stories high. Almost all Protector stations in small town looked alike. They differed only in the type and amount of grime on their facades. This one was covered with gray streaks and black patches.
The windows were thick and grimy too. Apparently, with the war going on, everything was decaying. I thought of the Protector H.Q. in First City, where I was jailed for some time. I thought of revenge, then shook myself. I had to stop this. This was war, of course, but it wasn't a vendetta. Not any more. Lisa where are you now? I wondered almost aloud.
Inside the window a figure moved. A dark form receded. The other two men with me, Jeff and Fredrich, hung back while I went to take out the Protector. I ran to the door, kicked it in and had my gun ready. The man inside raised his arms to surrender. Who would know if I were to kill him in the heat of the moment? I pointed my gun at him and yelled, "Any more in this building!?!" He didn't answer, only moved his eyes toward the ceiling. I felt the urge to kill, to be in control, not to be helpless before something bigger than me. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you!" I told the man, feeling strong like I was pumped up on some high octane fuel.
"I have a family. Two daughters and a son about your age." He said almost whispering. He did not shake or tremble. "If that's not a good enough for you, shoot me!" I hesitated. I'm not in control, I thought, he is. I'm allowing something that happened years ago in another place to control me.
"Put your hands on your head!" I barked and told him to walk slowly out the door. He complied silently standing tall. Beaten by an unarmed Protector! Jeff took the man and handcuffed him to a pipe on the outside of the building.
I went upstairs while my two companions searched the first floor and the basement. I knew somebody was up there, so I moved slowly from room to room. The rooms were rather plain, with a few desktop computers – the same kind the Monarchy had used for generations – and the ever-present stacks of paperwork piled high. I was surprised that Chang wasn't rationing paper, but I guess the good Governor felt the it was necessary to run the bureaucracy. He didn't want loosen the reins too much just because of a little old invasion.
I went up another flight of stairs to the third floor. I opened the door and stood aside, making sure no bullets were waiting for me. I stepped through.
"Hold it right there!" A very hoarse old man's voice said.
"Fuck off!" I screamed turning just as a bullet ripped through my chest armor. I fired just as another bullet penetrated my armor. I emptied my whole fifty round clip into his body. The old Protector hit the wall, his blood gushing out of too many holes for him to last. He slid down leaving a smear of blood on the dull, dirty off white wall. His gun dropped useless to him now.
Jeff yelled, "Lars!"
"Up here!" I yelled back. "Be careful. Looks like I took out
the last one." And that's the last I remember of our taking Galin. My body
armor had slowed down the two bullets enough – at the price of cracking almost
all the ribs on my right side.
=================
After spending three long months in a dreary house healing, I was finally back on my feet. Bone growth enhancers healed my body, but I was in torment from other angles. The war was over. Rendome had been "liberated." Now appeared the time to spread the news to other systems.
Lisa came to visit me. I hadn't seen her in years. She told me of her husband. Over the years, I had dated other women, but none of consequence. Now, I thought, perhaps the only woman I ever felt equal with was taken. I tried to conceal my feelings, but they came out in my smile.
"That's good to hear." I lied smiling.
She turned away and looked out the window, her long black hair flowing like water with her movements. "He was killed in action." She said in a low voice. I got up and put my right arm on her shoulder. She turned around on the verge of tears.
I hugged her. "A lot of good people died. War always seems to take more of the good than the bad." I whispered. "What was he like?" We pulled away from each other.
"He was wonderful. He had dreams. He wanted to explore space." She went on for hours telling me about him. I grew to love the man too. "I'm sorry, Lars. I shouldn't weigh you down with my problems –"
"Nonsense!" I replied. "Lisa, I still feel for you." I said staring at her the words coming out uncontrollably.
"I know." She told me her eyes looking directly into mine as we embraced again.
Of course, we spent the night together. We swapped stories of how our lives went during the time we were separated. She asked me several times why I never looked for her. I told her I was both angry and afraid. "You know you were right." I told her.
Early in the morning I drifted into sleep with her in my arms. I woke a few hours later. She was gone! I rushed though my house, which I might add is rather large. I had made some money in my time and housing was not very expensive in the Hills.
I was beginning to think it was all a dream when I smelled something coming from the kitchen. Lisa was cooking breakfast.
"Don't ever do that again!" I shouted grabbing her, squeezing her close to my chest. I didn't want to let go ever again.
"Lars!" She said laughing.
===========================
Well that's my story. Rendome was freed from the Monarchy and as is usual squabbles broke out between the victors. But things were better now even with the squabbles. The Monarchy is still out there, though there was recently an assassination attempt on the Monarch's life – or so the rumors go.
As for me, I'm happy. You can't expect perfection, but at least I got a second chance. Lisa and I plan to stay together. Life is too important for revenge.
The End