But the war had to play itself out – there were not enough thinkers thinking like John, like Buffalo, like me.
And play itself out it did. Dozens of Earthians breathed their last each week, and their bodies were returned to their home planet. Dozens of Sirians also died defending their homeworld, and their ashes returned to the soil.
As is the case in war, the killings did not change minds. Earthians continued to believe they had a claim to Sirius 4, and the people of Sirius 4 were more convinced than ever that Earth had no such claim. But as is usually the case in war, those who lived in the disputed territory held the greatest resolve.
It was not a very long time – although it seemed forever to those who lost loved ones – before Earth requested a cease fire and negotiations were hastily resumed. not long after that, the peacekeepers were gathered up and prepared to be shipped back to Earth.
Lt. Joshua True and other dignitaries from Earth made a great showing of how Sirius 4 was now prepared to live on without peacekeepers, and President Badiah Sinclair – now recognized as such by the departing forces – was magnaminous enough to allow them to live the illusion that they were leaving because their job was done.
Badi told me later that as they made their final farewells, True gripped his hand as hard as he could – and he could grip mightily – and said, “This is your choice, Sinclair, but you know we’ll be ready when it all falls apart on you.”
Smiling as politically as he could and wincing in pain, Sinclair replied, “Thanks for the warning. We’ll stay ready to chase you away again.”
True’s eyes narrowed – true be told, he always kept his eyes narrowed – and he strode onto his ship without another word. Without a sound beyond their faint mosquito-like buzz, the imagination-powered ships rose into the sky and were gone, quietly and without fanfare.
They were accompanied by the roar of the crowd that had come to see them off. Badiah took the opportunity to make a speech – he was nothing if not a politician, after all.
It was quite a stirring speech, as you know, with as poignant turns of phrase as had ever been turned on Sirius 4. No longer simply a leader with dreams of a better tomorrow, Badi was now a great planetary hero who had delivered on the promise.
There is much talk about “us” in that speech – We turned back the invaders, and now we will move forward together, that sort of thing – and in all honesty there was only one moment when I winced and wondered if it may all be an illusion.
That was when the “we” turned singular: “Let me tell you about my vision for a free Sirius 4,” he said.
The words of that ancient song whispered through my mind – “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss” – but were drowned out by the crowd’s approving roar.
Entry 68
Showing posts with label Joshua True. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Joshua True. Show all posts
Monday, October 1, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Entry 63. Attempt at appeasement
The war was not going well for either side. Remains were shipped back to Earth on a regular basis, and remains were processed routinely on Sirius 4 as well. Guns and grenades and lasers ended lives and damaged property, but they did little to convince anyone to change their minds about the wisdom of Sirian independence.
Even the bizarre violence of the imaginary grenade failed to extinguish the fire in our hearts. The things would simply cause their targets to collapse without an explosion, quietly and without fanfare.
Seeing them work was a chilling experience, but they did not end the revolution. Our engineers simply went to work figuring out how to replicate the program so we could have imaginary force of our own.
I was alone in my office when Lt. Joshua True sent his message. The fact that it came from True himself piqued my interest enough to enable video.
“Professor Kaliber, it’s an honor to speak with you,” the precise voice said in a military-precise tone. I was sorely tempted to reply, “I wish I could say the same,” but I didn’t want this encounter to descend into tawdry melodrama.
“The only honor you could do me is to leave this planet,” I said. I’d like to say I was angry and defiant, but the truth is I was more than a little nervous and that was the only response I could think to give.
“Heh. Well. It turns out that is the reason I’m calling,” he said, passing a hand over his short gray skullcap hair, as if the precisely cut bristles needed to be brushed into place. “I wanted to express my appreciation for the public statements you have been making, the call to nonviolence.”
This was rich.
“Do you mean the statements where I say you represent a tyrannical regime that deserves to be ignored, not obeyed?”
The precision smile tightened into a precise thin line, but still a smile.
“Heh. Well, I might have a quarrel with your terminology, but we all want a peaceful solution to this.”
“Do we.”
“Of course. No one seems to understand better than you what a waste of lives it is to resist authority this way,” True said. “I thought perhaps together we could convince our brothers and sisters to lay down their arms and reason together.”
“You mean surrender.”
“I mean resume the negotiations.”
“There are no negotiations to resume,” I replied. “You left. We are free.”
“Not so much, I would think,” True said. “We are here now. You need our authority to prevent chaos.”
“Let me make something clear, lieutenant, because you’re not in possession of your senses. Your authority is causing the chaos. There was no chaos here before your thugs landed their ships.”
“If you say so. You’re not seeing it from Earth’s perspective.”
“Earth’s perspective is that Sirius 4 belongs to Earth. One person does not own another. One planet of individuals does not possess another planet of individuals.”
“But individuals must work together.”
“Yes, sometimes they must to achieve common goals. Restoring Earth’s insane hold on the people of Sirius 4 is not a common goal. You’re laboring under a misunderstanding, True.”
“You advocate a nonviolent solution.”
“I advocate active noncooperation with your thuggery,” I shouted. It irritated me that I’d allowed my calm to break first. “Just because I don’t believe you deserve to die doesn’t mean I don’t believe you deserve to leave.” I paused to settle my emotions. “You’ll get no help from me, lieutenant. We won’t be interacting again until you’re off my planet.”
“Perhaps you’ll feel different about this inside a prison cell,” True said evenly.
I chuckled. “A wiser man than I once wrote, ‘the state never intentionally confronts a man’s sense, intellectual or moral, but only his body, his senses. It is not armed with superior wit or honesty, but with superior strength.
“‘I was not born to be forced. I will breathe after my own fashion. Let us see who is the strongest,’” I said, pleased that a lifetime of studying Henry David Thoreau gave me the words to confront the precise thug.
Now it was Lt. True’s turn to let a long pause hang in the air. He did not give me the satisfaction of responding to my anger with an outburst of his own, but I did detect a twitch or two around the edges of his iron expression.
“Heh. Well. Thank you for your time, professor.” The screen went dark.
Entry 64
Even the bizarre violence of the imaginary grenade failed to extinguish the fire in our hearts. The things would simply cause their targets to collapse without an explosion, quietly and without fanfare.
Seeing them work was a chilling experience, but they did not end the revolution. Our engineers simply went to work figuring out how to replicate the program so we could have imaginary force of our own.
I was alone in my office when Lt. Joshua True sent his message. The fact that it came from True himself piqued my interest enough to enable video.
“Professor Kaliber, it’s an honor to speak with you,” the precise voice said in a military-precise tone. I was sorely tempted to reply, “I wish I could say the same,” but I didn’t want this encounter to descend into tawdry melodrama.
“The only honor you could do me is to leave this planet,” I said. I’d like to say I was angry and defiant, but the truth is I was more than a little nervous and that was the only response I could think to give.
“Heh. Well. It turns out that is the reason I’m calling,” he said, passing a hand over his short gray skullcap hair, as if the precisely cut bristles needed to be brushed into place. “I wanted to express my appreciation for the public statements you have been making, the call to nonviolence.”
This was rich.
“Do you mean the statements where I say you represent a tyrannical regime that deserves to be ignored, not obeyed?”
The precision smile tightened into a precise thin line, but still a smile.
“Heh. Well, I might have a quarrel with your terminology, but we all want a peaceful solution to this.”
“Do we.”
“Of course. No one seems to understand better than you what a waste of lives it is to resist authority this way,” True said. “I thought perhaps together we could convince our brothers and sisters to lay down their arms and reason together.”
“You mean surrender.”
“I mean resume the negotiations.”
“There are no negotiations to resume,” I replied. “You left. We are free.”
“Not so much, I would think,” True said. “We are here now. You need our authority to prevent chaos.”
“Let me make something clear, lieutenant, because you’re not in possession of your senses. Your authority is causing the chaos. There was no chaos here before your thugs landed their ships.”
“If you say so. You’re not seeing it from Earth’s perspective.”
“Earth’s perspective is that Sirius 4 belongs to Earth. One person does not own another. One planet of individuals does not possess another planet of individuals.”
“But individuals must work together.”
“Yes, sometimes they must to achieve common goals. Restoring Earth’s insane hold on the people of Sirius 4 is not a common goal. You’re laboring under a misunderstanding, True.”
“You advocate a nonviolent solution.”
“I advocate active noncooperation with your thuggery,” I shouted. It irritated me that I’d allowed my calm to break first. “Just because I don’t believe you deserve to die doesn’t mean I don’t believe you deserve to leave.” I paused to settle my emotions. “You’ll get no help from me, lieutenant. We won’t be interacting again until you’re off my planet.”
“Perhaps you’ll feel different about this inside a prison cell,” True said evenly.
I chuckled. “A wiser man than I once wrote, ‘the state never intentionally confronts a man’s sense, intellectual or moral, but only his body, his senses. It is not armed with superior wit or honesty, but with superior strength.
“‘I was not born to be forced. I will breathe after my own fashion. Let us see who is the strongest,’” I said, pleased that a lifetime of studying Henry David Thoreau gave me the words to confront the precise thug.
Now it was Lt. True’s turn to let a long pause hang in the air. He did not give me the satisfaction of responding to my anger with an outburst of his own, but I did detect a twitch or two around the edges of his iron expression.
“Heh. Well. Thank you for your time, professor.” The screen went dark.
Entry 64
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Entry 58. Sides are chosen
And so it was war. True was not going to sit by and let the natives blow up his troops. Curfews were set and a force was sent after the people considered most likely to have set the bomb. But the force was met by a greater one, and Lt. True lost more personnel – and so did the natives.
The eye-for-an-eye escalated. and it was not long before we had a full-fledged series of battles on our hands, with men, women and children dying and property being destroyed.
By the time my class met for the next time, the idea of noncooperation was well on its way to dying of neglect. Somewhat painful was the identity of the student who led the argument against me.
“What option do we have?” Buffalo Springsteen said, her eyes flashing but her voice betraying an almost apologetic tone. “When the tyrant invades your home, you have to repel him, and people will be hurt.”
“People will die,” another student said – I should have noticed who, but I didn’t.
“Yep, people will die, maybe some of us, maybe even me,” she said. “But that’s the price of freedom. That’s been the price of freedom through the ages.”
I value the right of disagreement, and so I love it when students listen to me carefully and form their own opinions anyway. But the applause that greeted Buffalo stung a little.
“Dying for a cause is a noble thing,” I said. “And defending yourself against a violent attack often requires a return of force. But going so far as to take lives is a very serious proposition.”
“What else are we supposed to do?” cried Carson McGillicudy. “They started this thing.”
“And with every death their will to finish it becomes more secure,” I said. “You may convince them to leave eventually, but they die and they fly away more convinced than ever that Sirius 4 should be an Earthian possession. And we have maintained the precedent that killing for a noble cause is acceptable. When does the cycle of violence stop?”
“‘When it’s kill or be killed, there must be a third alternative,’” Buffalo quoted me. “You said the alternative would present itself when the time comes. Well, time’s up, they’re killing people, they’re coming for us – what’s the third way?”
“I’ve told you – noncooperation. They can’t force a whole planet of individuals to recognize their authority if we choose not to.”
“What, just ignore them?” Carson said. “What do you do when a soldier sticks the barrel of a gun in your face and tells you to obey?”
“You refuse. You push the barrel aside and tell him no. You defend yourself if you must, but you stop short of killing him,” I said. “If he dies, he dies believing you were wrong, and his survivors will believe the same even more, and they’ll be back to punish you, and then your survivors will punish them and on and on. The only way to stop the cycle is to make your case without killing.”
“You have a great theory and maybe someday humanity will be ready for it, but this is not that day,” Buffalo Springsteen said, and her eyes had softened. “There’s a time for theories, and there’s a time for taking up arms. I’m taking up arms.”
I presume there was another burst of applause and more conversation before the class broke up, but my memory of that day ends there for the most part. When the flames of war are rising, the Great Cause is seen as more important than the concerns of a young couple, but that rarely softens the pain of separation. And in this case, I didn’t see how she and I could ever be the same.
Entry 59
The eye-for-an-eye escalated. and it was not long before we had a full-fledged series of battles on our hands, with men, women and children dying and property being destroyed.
By the time my class met for the next time, the idea of noncooperation was well on its way to dying of neglect. Somewhat painful was the identity of the student who led the argument against me.
“What option do we have?” Buffalo Springsteen said, her eyes flashing but her voice betraying an almost apologetic tone. “When the tyrant invades your home, you have to repel him, and people will be hurt.”
“People will die,” another student said – I should have noticed who, but I didn’t.
“Yep, people will die, maybe some of us, maybe even me,” she said. “But that’s the price of freedom. That’s been the price of freedom through the ages.”
I value the right of disagreement, and so I love it when students listen to me carefully and form their own opinions anyway. But the applause that greeted Buffalo stung a little.
“Dying for a cause is a noble thing,” I said. “And defending yourself against a violent attack often requires a return of force. But going so far as to take lives is a very serious proposition.”
“What else are we supposed to do?” cried Carson McGillicudy. “They started this thing.”
“And with every death their will to finish it becomes more secure,” I said. “You may convince them to leave eventually, but they die and they fly away more convinced than ever that Sirius 4 should be an Earthian possession. And we have maintained the precedent that killing for a noble cause is acceptable. When does the cycle of violence stop?”
“‘When it’s kill or be killed, there must be a third alternative,’” Buffalo quoted me. “You said the alternative would present itself when the time comes. Well, time’s up, they’re killing people, they’re coming for us – what’s the third way?”
“I’ve told you – noncooperation. They can’t force a whole planet of individuals to recognize their authority if we choose not to.”
“What, just ignore them?” Carson said. “What do you do when a soldier sticks the barrel of a gun in your face and tells you to obey?”
“You refuse. You push the barrel aside and tell him no. You defend yourself if you must, but you stop short of killing him,” I said. “If he dies, he dies believing you were wrong, and his survivors will believe the same even more, and they’ll be back to punish you, and then your survivors will punish them and on and on. The only way to stop the cycle is to make your case without killing.”
“You have a great theory and maybe someday humanity will be ready for it, but this is not that day,” Buffalo Springsteen said, and her eyes had softened. “There’s a time for theories, and there’s a time for taking up arms. I’m taking up arms.”
I presume there was another burst of applause and more conversation before the class broke up, but my memory of that day ends there for the most part. When the flames of war are rising, the Great Cause is seen as more important than the concerns of a young couple, but that rarely softens the pain of separation. And in this case, I didn’t see how she and I could ever be the same.
Entry 59
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Entry 49. Like hell
Two years later, Jim Simmons’ terse response to the inspector became a planetary battle cry.
Earth sent troops to forcefully quell what until then had been a peaceful transition to independence. Lt. Joshua True announced that Earth was back in charge of Sirius 4.
“Like hell,” the people muttered, echoing the stiff-necked farmer from small-town Fillmore.
True closed the Imaginary Structures plant at Ganges Pass and reversed President Sinclair’s declaration that ImagCorp licenses need not be paid. Companies that use imaginary technology must reimburse the corporation that had created the technology two centuries earlier, plus the concomitant taxes that applied, True announced.
“Like hell,” the people said out loud.
The president of Sirius 4 was the president of the Earthian government, and Badiah Sinclair may perhaps be the leader of the Sirian Senate, but he was a senator, not a president, True declared.
“Like hell!” the people shouted.
I continued my call for passive-aggressive resistance. I said the employees of Imaginary Structures should simply show up for work as if True’s pronouncement had never been made. If troops ordered them to cease and desist from their daily tasks, they should carry on as if they didn’t hear the order. If the troops moved to arrest or remove them, they should keep working until literally dragged from their stations.
“With absolute noncooperation, their power is nil,” I argued. “What are they going to do, arrest all of us?”
In their anger, people had the same answer for me that they had for Lt. Rodney True.
Counter the attempt to halt Sirius 4’s march to independence by force with nonviolent civil disobedience?
“Like hell!” the people screamed.
One morning about a dozen troopers were driving along a quiet street in Ganges Pass, not far from the Imaginary Structures plant, when their vehicle drove over a homemade bomb. Three people were killed instantly; those who survived were dismembered by laser fire when they climbed out of the wreckage.
As the vehicle burned and the troopers died in the street, someone took the time to paint a brief message on the wall of a nearby building.
“LIKE HELL”
Entry 50
Earth sent troops to forcefully quell what until then had been a peaceful transition to independence. Lt. Joshua True announced that Earth was back in charge of Sirius 4.
“Like hell,” the people muttered, echoing the stiff-necked farmer from small-town Fillmore.
True closed the Imaginary Structures plant at Ganges Pass and reversed President Sinclair’s declaration that ImagCorp licenses need not be paid. Companies that use imaginary technology must reimburse the corporation that had created the technology two centuries earlier, plus the concomitant taxes that applied, True announced.
“Like hell,” the people said out loud.
The president of Sirius 4 was the president of the Earthian government, and Badiah Sinclair may perhaps be the leader of the Sirian Senate, but he was a senator, not a president, True declared.
“Like hell!” the people shouted.
I continued my call for passive-aggressive resistance. I said the employees of Imaginary Structures should simply show up for work as if True’s pronouncement had never been made. If troops ordered them to cease and desist from their daily tasks, they should carry on as if they didn’t hear the order. If the troops moved to arrest or remove them, they should keep working until literally dragged from their stations.
“With absolute noncooperation, their power is nil,” I argued. “What are they going to do, arrest all of us?”
In their anger, people had the same answer for me that they had for Lt. Rodney True.
Counter the attempt to halt Sirius 4’s march to independence by force with nonviolent civil disobedience?
“Like hell!” the people screamed.
One morning about a dozen troopers were driving along a quiet street in Ganges Pass, not far from the Imaginary Structures plant, when their vehicle drove over a homemade bomb. Three people were killed instantly; those who survived were dismembered by laser fire when they climbed out of the wreckage.
As the vehicle burned and the troopers died in the street, someone took the time to paint a brief message on the wall of a nearby building.
“LIKE HELL”
Entry 50
Monday, July 9, 2012
Entry 32. Hard choices
One of the advantages of the president being your childhood chum is that you have the president’s ear occasionally. I had spent my entire academic career specializing in the study of nonviolent civil disobedience, and a small handful of movers and shakers had begun to notice my work before Lt. True and his occupation force arrived.
When newly independent Sirius 4 found itself invaded by its former ruling world, naturally free people bristled. Even those who were not so certain independence was a good idea found themselves insulted by the thought that Mama Earth was going to bring her errant child back in the fold unilaterally.
The call for armed resistance arose within hours of True’s announcement, and the war would have flamed up even sooner if the good lieutenant had not had the good sense to release “Senator” Sinclair into his own custody after a day of house arrest – with strict instructions to behave himself and not go off leading an armed insurrection or anything of that sort, which Badiah of course clearly intended anyway.
“We are playing into True’s hands if we meet this with violence,” I said at the first opportunity when Badi accepted my request to visit him. “The first peacekeeper who’s killed or wounded will be their excuse to crack down even harder, and independence will be that much more elusive.”
“Either that, or Earth won’t have the stomach for their sons and daughters being killed in a meaningless war light years away,” Badiah replied. “What do you suggest, hugging them into submission?”
I laughed. I had to, he was right, responding to armed occupiers with love and forgiveness was a hard sell with people. But I had something in mind less passive than that.
“We can choose noncooperation,” I offered. “Just don’t accept their authority. Ignore it. Go about our lives as if they aren’t there and haven’t laid down their stupid laws. What are they going to do, arrest us all? There’s not enough room in the jails for all of us.”
“They can hurt us. They can kill us,” President Sinclair replied softly. “I’m not going to allow that. If they’re ready to use lethal force, and they are, then we strike first.”
“Kill them because they’re prepared to kill us – even though they actually haven’t tried yet?”
“Yet, Ray – they haven’t killed anyone yet, not since Jim Simmons – but they will, unless we submit to their tyranny again. It’s us or them.”
“There’s always a third way!” I cried. He knew what I meant.
But we didn’t choose the third way, not Badiah, not most of the rest of us. Sirians fought against tyranny the old-fashioned way: Guns, knives, lasers, and when all else failed, bare hands.
And in the end, this time Badiah Sinclair was right. Earth would have no stomach for filled body bags coming home from Sirius 4. I knew he wouldn’t take my advice, but I had to try, because I also was fairly certain what would happen next.
Entry 33. The resisters
When newly independent Sirius 4 found itself invaded by its former ruling world, naturally free people bristled. Even those who were not so certain independence was a good idea found themselves insulted by the thought that Mama Earth was going to bring her errant child back in the fold unilaterally.
The call for armed resistance arose within hours of True’s announcement, and the war would have flamed up even sooner if the good lieutenant had not had the good sense to release “Senator” Sinclair into his own custody after a day of house arrest – with strict instructions to behave himself and not go off leading an armed insurrection or anything of that sort, which Badiah of course clearly intended anyway.
“We are playing into True’s hands if we meet this with violence,” I said at the first opportunity when Badi accepted my request to visit him. “The first peacekeeper who’s killed or wounded will be their excuse to crack down even harder, and independence will be that much more elusive.”
“Either that, or Earth won’t have the stomach for their sons and daughters being killed in a meaningless war light years away,” Badiah replied. “What do you suggest, hugging them into submission?”
I laughed. I had to, he was right, responding to armed occupiers with love and forgiveness was a hard sell with people. But I had something in mind less passive than that.
“We can choose noncooperation,” I offered. “Just don’t accept their authority. Ignore it. Go about our lives as if they aren’t there and haven’t laid down their stupid laws. What are they going to do, arrest us all? There’s not enough room in the jails for all of us.”
“They can hurt us. They can kill us,” President Sinclair replied softly. “I’m not going to allow that. If they’re ready to use lethal force, and they are, then we strike first.”
“Kill them because they’re prepared to kill us – even though they actually haven’t tried yet?”
“Yet, Ray – they haven’t killed anyone yet, not since Jim Simmons – but they will, unless we submit to their tyranny again. It’s us or them.”
“There’s always a third way!” I cried. He knew what I meant.
But we didn’t choose the third way, not Badiah, not most of the rest of us. Sirians fought against tyranny the old-fashioned way: Guns, knives, lasers, and when all else failed, bare hands.
And in the end, this time Badiah Sinclair was right. Earth would have no stomach for filled body bags coming home from Sirius 4. I knew he wouldn’t take my advice, but I had to try, because I also was fairly certain what would happen next.
Entry 33. The resisters
Monday, July 2, 2012
Entry 26. The peacekeepers settle in
The ImagDrive enabled the colonization of Sirius 4 by making the voyage last not much longer than a summer day trip. You load up the kids and the car, drive for a few hours, and it seems like you’re in a whole different world. Same concept, only literally true.
Unfortunately, it also proved very convenient for sending an occupational force: Pack up the troops, the guns and enough ImagPro to manufacture a few meals, and you’ll be on Sirius 4 before the least patient soldier starts wondering, “Are we there yet?” From a tactical point of view, it’s the closest thing you can get to an element of surprise in this era of instant communication.
The people of Sirius 4 were caught completely off guard by the arrival of peacekeepers from Earth. I’m told President Badiah Sinclair stood proud and defiant as the command ship eased into its landing bay at the Sirius 4 airport.
And he stood in the way of the tall, compactly built soldier with steel-colored hair who was first to emerge from the ship.
“What is the meaning of this?” Badiah said with all of the outrage he could muster – and my old friend could muster quite a lot of outrage. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
“Lt. Joshua True,” the tall, compactly built soldier said by way of introduction. His eyes pierced Sinclair’s matching intensity with intensity. “We are here to keep the peace. And I am here, specifically, to place you under arrest, Senator Sinclair.”
“His title is President Sinclair,” an aide blustered behind Badiah.
“There are no presidents here; the president of Sirius 4 is safe on Earth,” True snapped. “Your little game of independence is at an end.”
The steely voice matched the silver hair. True had been a cruelly efficient but anonymous Special Forces lieutenant who got the job done quietly and without fanfare. Now he was the well-known leader of the squad that had failed to stop the terrorists in time to save the moon from being dissolved.
That experience had made the man even more ruthless. At first we wondered why someone who had failed so spectacularly would immediately be put to work leading the occupation. We did not wonder long.
Lt. True would address the planet later that evening. Earth wished it had other alternatives than to send a military presence, but people were just not being reasonable these days. Light years away from Earth, from the roots of civilization, human beings needed a link to the traditional authority on which we depended to maintain order. The alternative was anarchy and chaos. This was not the American Wild West of Earth history; this was an outpost of humanity.
And from that moment on, Sirius 4 would resume its place as a proud outpost of the Earthian government.
At least, that was the plan.
Entry 27. Buffalo on the beach
Unfortunately, it also proved very convenient for sending an occupational force: Pack up the troops, the guns and enough ImagPro to manufacture a few meals, and you’ll be on Sirius 4 before the least patient soldier starts wondering, “Are we there yet?” From a tactical point of view, it’s the closest thing you can get to an element of surprise in this era of instant communication.
The people of Sirius 4 were caught completely off guard by the arrival of peacekeepers from Earth. I’m told President Badiah Sinclair stood proud and defiant as the command ship eased into its landing bay at the Sirius 4 airport.
And he stood in the way of the tall, compactly built soldier with steel-colored hair who was first to emerge from the ship.
“What is the meaning of this?” Badiah said with all of the outrage he could muster – and my old friend could muster quite a lot of outrage. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
“Lt. Joshua True,” the tall, compactly built soldier said by way of introduction. His eyes pierced Sinclair’s matching intensity with intensity. “We are here to keep the peace. And I am here, specifically, to place you under arrest, Senator Sinclair.”
“His title is President Sinclair,” an aide blustered behind Badiah.
“There are no presidents here; the president of Sirius 4 is safe on Earth,” True snapped. “Your little game of independence is at an end.”
The steely voice matched the silver hair. True had been a cruelly efficient but anonymous Special Forces lieutenant who got the job done quietly and without fanfare. Now he was the well-known leader of the squad that had failed to stop the terrorists in time to save the moon from being dissolved.
That experience had made the man even more ruthless. At first we wondered why someone who had failed so spectacularly would immediately be put to work leading the occupation. We did not wonder long.
Lt. True would address the planet later that evening. Earth wished it had other alternatives than to send a military presence, but people were just not being reasonable these days. Light years away from Earth, from the roots of civilization, human beings needed a link to the traditional authority on which we depended to maintain order. The alternative was anarchy and chaos. This was not the American Wild West of Earth history; this was an outpost of humanity.
And from that moment on, Sirius 4 would resume its place as a proud outpost of the Earthian government.
At least, that was the plan.
Entry 27. Buffalo on the beach
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