2 Chapter 2: The Unthinkable Begins

... To be held in perpetuity under the auspices of the Colonization Optimization Act of 2935 and shall be administered by a Governor-General appointed at the discretion of Fleet Command.

- Provision H, Dernhelms Colt Military Charter

"The answer remains no, Mister Pym." Governor-General Grier was a gruff man on his happiest of days, but in his dealings with the diminutive envoy from the Aurigan Provisional Government, who had come here demanding that he commit the world under his command to treason, it took supreme discipline not to shoot the little man on the spot.

The Governor had met the envoy in a small reception lounge just off the gangway where his courier ship had docked at the orbital station, a calculated insult that was not lost on Mr. Pym. The Governor would just as soon have turned him away altogether, having made plain already in communiquŽ's exactly where he stood on the matter of ÒAurigan Independence,Ó but such diplomacy was a necessary component of his office.

"Governor Grier, I appeal once again to your reason and sense of justice." The Envoy was a sweaty little man, with weasel-like eyes that darted to left and right and never looked a man directly back into his own. "The plebiscites held on every other of the fourteen worlds of this sector are quite clear. The people are sick and tired of Terran oppression and mismanagement and are quite ready to stand alone and independent. They are ready to shake off the oppressive tyranny of the Luna oligarchs and stand free and independent. I'm quite sure that if you had had the wherewithal to hold a plebiscite here, as indeed you were instructed, the people of Mayfield would have voiced their approval."

The Envoy, Jacard Pym, had an oleaginous quality about him, and Grier felt that if he punched him in the face just then he'd have to use a strong grease-cutting soap to get the oily gunk off his knuckles.

"The people of this world, Dernhelms Colt, are to the man and woman active or retired Fleet personnel and their families. This is a Chartered world, Mr. Pym, not a dependent colony."

"And who are you to make the decision for all the people of this world?" Pym asked.

"I am the Governor-General and in command of this garrison, Mr. Pym. As Fleet, we are honor-bound. We all took an oath to protect and defend an undivided Humanity."

Pym huffed and he puffed out his thin chest. "History is replete with the story of men who staked their lives and fortunes in the name of freedom. Perhaps your calling has robbed you of the ability to imagine great things of moment and import that will change all of future history."

Grier's face remained impassive, and he folded his arms across his chest. "History is also littered with the corpses of rebels who died needlessly for futile causes. The answer remains no, Mr. Pym. Dernhelms Colt will not be participating in your hokey little rebellion."

Pym huffed again and balled his small hands into tiny fists of fury. "Do you honestly think your garrison with its 6 obsolete destroyers and two war-surplus cruisers can stand against the combined might of 14 other worlds?"

"Counted them all, have you?" Grier smiled for the first time in his encounter with Envoy Pym. "I'm sure there'll be plenty more once Fleet Command has issued orders. You cannot hope to stand against the entire Network, Mr. Pym. Surely you know that?"

Pym deflated just a little. "It's not just us here in Auriga, Governor. Surely you know that. All the fringe sectors will follow our lead. This is your last chance to stand on the right side of history. Will Mayfield stand with us?"

"No."

The Governor stood in the control center of the orbital station and watched on the monitors as Envoy Pym's courier ship sped away. "That went well," he observed.

"It's a shame he couldn't stay to enjoy our hospitality," commented the Stationmaster who stood at the Governor's side. "He's really hightailing it, isn't he?"

"Yes sir," said a tech from the com. "He's making 3g's already. Must be in a real hurry."

The Governor was uneasy. Something about the Envoy's demeanor disturbed him even beyond his general oiliness and weasel-like quality. "I want this station and all ground installations put on alert," he ordered. "All ships are to be provisioned and crewed and kept on patrol until further notice. Have the fastest ready within the hour to courier my advisement down the line to Sol."

"Sir?" asked the Stationmaster. "It will be at least a month of turn-around before these rebels could possibly mount any kind of action against us here."

"Nevertheless, those are my orders."

72 hours later the Envoy's courier ship was nearing the relativistic velocities needed to initiate a hyperspace jump. Before it made the transition to hyperspace, it beamed a coded message outward toward the edge of the stellar system where hundreds of ships had short-jumped several days before and had been silently falling inward toward Dernhelms Colt, waiting for the results of the Envoy's meeting. Once they received the message, the attack was on.

The orbital station was the primary target of the incoming rebel fleet. The first incoming ship that pulse-jumped down the gradient of the system's gravity well hit it with a salvo of missiles as soon as it potentiated out of hyperspace. The giant drum-shaped station the size of a small city was pierced by the salvo with no warning. Giant explosions rent the structure and sent it tumbling, spewing fire and wreckage as the internal atmosphere was blown out. Over 200,000 lives were snuffed out in the first few seconds of the attack. Other incoming ships targeted the communications satellites that knit together the world's communications system, taking them out one by one. Still other ships went into high orbit and poured deadly fire down onto the major cities across the globe. Huge clouds of nuclear fire erupted where those cities had been as they were nuked from orbit one by one.

Then the landings began.