2075 - Space Corps Central Command Office

"Anyone?” Harlow asked again.

That same silence greeted him.

“I’d have thought a room full of generals could do better,” he said. “Every last one of you is more than happy to show off that rank when it’s convenient—don’t think I haven’t seen you attending black-tie functions and hosting private dinners with defense contractors—but when it comes to doing your jobs?” He scanned the table. “Useless.” He practically spat the word.

General Gray scowled. “You’ve gone too far,” he said. “There used to be an expectation of dignity with your position. I’ve held this rank longer than you’ve been alive, and I won’t be lectured on standards by someone who’s little more than a glorified cadet.”

“General Gray, you’ll be respectful, or you’ll be ejected from this meeting,” Harlow said. He received a few smirks at this, but remained unfazed. “Speaking of cadets, though, that’s a very relevant topic. You’ve got a teenage granddaughter, don’t you?”

General Gray frowned. “What of it?”

“From what I understand, she’ll be attending the Academy next year.”

“She already is.”

“She’s currently enrolled?”

“Yes.”

Howard gave an affirmative nod. “Minerva Gray is a freshman this year. We occasionally grant waivers allowing students to enroll at sixteen instead of seventeen, so long as they’ve got parental permission and meet standards, which of course, she did. She’s already one of our top performers.”

“Well, in that case, Howard, answer me this. How many of last years’ graduates have been lost so far, in the past eight months?”

Howard looked down and spoke quietly. “Seven percent.”

“About one in fourteen,” Harlow replied. “General Gray, how do you like those odds? If the worst were to happen, would she be buried beside her father? Because that’s a scenario you may very well need to consider, if things don’t improve.”

“Minerva’s safe,” General Gray said curtly. “I’ll see to it.”

“Really? Was that assurance enough for your son?”

He was met by a scowl. “Of all the disrespectful things—”

“I’m speaking the truth,” Harlow interrupted, “and you don’t want to hear it. Even your own family isn’t safe, but you don’t seem to care. And that goes for the rest of you, too. Conrad, how can you deliver those numbers so casually? How do those figures not turn your stomach, or keep you up at night? Have you never given thought to just how many of Howard’s cadets are going to die within a few years of graduation? We’re spending years training them to be officers, only to send them to their deaths after a few months of service. I may be the least experienced person here, but it sounds to me as if you’re doing it wrong.”

General Everett shot him a patronizing look. “If you don’t mind my saying so, Sir, it seems that you’re too emotionally invested in this conflict. Have you considered stepping down for a while, and taking a break for the sake of your mental health?”

Harlow scowled. “You’re right—my mental health has been rather concerning lately, hasn’t it? But I’d argue yours should be worse, given the state of your command. What’s wrong with you, that you’re able to earn such few gains while accumulating such steep losses, and come away thinking you’ve done a good job?”

Conrad smiled too, and this one wasn’t merely patronizing, but downright infantilizing. “I think we should all strive for a more measured approach, don’t you agree? Those of us with a more robust sense of emotional fortitude are able to interpret the nuances of long-term conflict. There will be gains, and there will be losses, and they’ll come at different times. A lack of emotion reflects an ability to command under pressure—a skill some of us seem to be sorely lacking.”

Harlow frowned. “The issue at hand isn’t that I can’t handle it, but rather that you can. You seem perfectly content with our current state of affairs, and that’s something I can neither understand, nor tolerate. You’re sending our servicemen—brave, skilled, highly trained men and women—on futile missions with a high likelihood of death or permanent injury, and in the event they don’t come back, you just send more. I know you don’t feel the slightest bit of remorse, either, because you’re looking at me with that smile on your face while I discuss the fact that we’ve racked up dozens of casualties, both soldiers and civilians alike, in a single weekend. Aren’t you sick of it? Don’t you grow tired, hearing those numbers? Because I do. I’ve grown very, very tired. So yes, I’m upset, but that’s because you’ll never do a single thing to stop it. None of you will.”

He was met by another round of silence. This time, though, it was broken by a sharp voice from the other side of the table.

“Do you know what really needs to stop?”

Harlow looked at the general who’d spoken.

This one wasn’t smiling at all.

He sighed. “What’s that, General Lin?”

“Stop embarrassing yourself. We’ve all grown very accustomed to it, but this behavior’s aging faster than you are. If you can’t handle the realities of war, then maybe we made a mistake in giving you command.”

Harlow stared at him. “You supported my nomination. If you believed me unfit, why don’t you explain that decision?”

“We selected you for this role because we thought you were competent.”

“No, you made that choice because you thought you could manipulate me. And I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I intend to do my job, so I’ll continue to hold the rest of you accountable while you do yours.”

General Lin clasped his hands together and leaned forward. “Not all of us are willing to abandon an entire region at the first sign of trouble. Either prove yourself useful, or go back upstairs and leave the real work to those who are able to handle it.”

Harlow inhaled sharply. “General Lin, you’re trying my patience.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“Good. It’s about time you learned your role here. You were elected to oversee operations, not win a war.”

“What counts as ‘winning?’ When every living thing in the universe dies?”

Lin smirked. “That’s bold talk, coming from one who knows so little. You promised to defer to experts, remember? Besides, you’re in your twenties. What could you possibly know about commanding a force to victory?”

Harlow shrugged. “Why don’t you ask our front-line fighters? They start at seventeen, but we still send them to die. And you elected me to lead, General Lin, so stop being shocked when I do so.”

Howard scowled in Lin’s direction. “How dare you speak to him that way? He’s your commanding officer, and one you supported, at that. I’d have thought even you would’ve recognized the benefits of allyship. If you can’t conduct yourself professionally, you’re better off saying nothing at all.”

Harlow shrugged. “No, Howard, I’d like him to continue.” He leaned back in his chair and glanced across the table. “I’m very interested in hearing his report from this week.”

“Certainly,” Lin replied. “The expansion campaign in the Thirty-Third is back on track. We’ve experienced a few disruptions, as expected, but the landings have all gone well, and it’s proceeding nicely.”

Harlow stared at him with a shocked expression. “I ordered you to discontinue that campaign. The threats in the region were eliminated, and the Council agreed it was no longer necessary.”

General Lin stared back. “Yes, you did.”

The room fell very quiet.

“Are you admitting you’ve gone rogue, and you’re openly defying orders now?” Harlow asked.

“I’m admitting to doing what’s best for all parties involved, despite the whims of a vapid, inexperienced commander.”

“All parties involved?” Harlow said incredulously. “What about your landing crews? I know there must’ve been casualties, especially if you’re operating without wider support.”

Lin shrugged. “We lost a few.”

“How many?” Harlow asked sharply.

Lin held his gaze. “A few.”

“You threw their lives away, and for what purpose? I know you’re unreasonably attached to the idea of establishing a wider presence there, but I don’t know how you plan to accomplish that without access to our supply lines.”

“On the contrary, we’re set to proceed as scheduled. Once we clear the remaining hostiles from the region, we should have a forward operating base up and running within a week or two.”

Harlow frowned. “What ‘hostiles?’ That was neutral territory with clearly marked borders. They wouldn’t have given you any trouble, unless . . .” His voice trailed off as realization dawned across his face. “You destabilized the region, didn’t you? You crossed into the demilitarized zone, and they retaliated.”

Lin shrugged. “We gave them fair warning. If they didn’t want trouble, they shouldn’t have come looking for it.”

“There was an agreement in place!” Harlow snapped. “They voluntarily surrendered their weapons in exchange for neutrality. That was one of the few areas we’ve been able to negotiate a ceasefire, and you’ve just jeopardized all of it.” He took a sharp breath. “Why in God’s name would you feel the need to carry out operations there? The plans for that base were scrapped months ago, and you knew that. It was settled policy. Local leadership was sympathetic to our cause, but I don’t see any way to win their trust back now. We’ll never be able to operate there again.”

There was fury in his tone now, with no attempt to hide it.

Lin didn’t respond, and after a long, uncomfortable silence, Harlow continued. “That’s not all, is it?” he asked. “If you’d been successful in this ridiculous campaign of yours, we’d know, because I’d never hear the end of it. You’d never let me forget how wrong I was, to deny you this. But I’m not wrong, am I? Whatever happened there must’ve been particularly embarrassing, because you haven’t said a word until now. You suffered more than a few losses, didn’t you? And I’m going to hazard a guess that you were forced to make territory concessions as well, because they wouldn’t respect a neutral zone after that.”

Lin was silent once more.

“You won’t even admit it,” Harlow said. “We can’t even consider ourselves to be established in the region anymore, if what you’re saying is true. The depth of your incompetence is so profound that you’ve effectively lost territory with this misguided push of yours. Not only that, but you’ve wasted time, spent our resources, and gotten our servicemen killed, with absolutely nothing to show for it.”

Lin shrugged. “It’s nothing that can’t be regained.”

“You lost ground in an offensive campaign!” Harlow repeated. “And an unauthorized one, at that. Why don’t I send you back to school with the rest of the cadets since you seem to fail to grasp the fundamentals—or better yet, give your job to one of them. General Gray’s granddaughter could probably deliver a more competent performance.”

“You misunderstand the situation—”

“What’s to misunderstand? You staged landings without approval. You sustained losses, and likely heavy ones, at that. You’ve left us in a worse position than when you entered, and now it’s my responsibility to fix. What am I missing here?”

“If I’d been given proper support—”

“I told you ‘no,’ General Lin. I didn’t approve this because I knew what would happen. Invading an area that was considered stable, treating our allies like enemies, and pushing forward without proper supply lines in place is lunacy. That’s how people die, and indeed, that’s what happened. You’ve undone years’ worth of diplomacy in the region, and I don’t know if we can ever regain it. So, no, I didn’t give you the support you requested because we can’t afford to commit the resources, and even if we could, I’d never allow it.”

“Because you’re a coward.”

“Because I don’t throw lives away for nothing. I’d consider this a loss even if you’d been successful at whatever your objective was, but you weren’t. This isn’t up for argument or debate; you made a serious error in judgment, and flagrantly disregarded orders in the process. And worst of all, you won’t even take responsibility for it. All of us are going to be paying for your mistake for a very, very long time.”

Lin smirked at him. “The only mistake we made was putting you in a position of authority.”

Harlow leaned forward and met his eyes. “Maybe so. But while I’m functioning in this role, you’re going to defer to my orders. I know that may come as a disappointment, but I’m not going anywhere.”

“How unfortunate.”

“For you, maybe, but not for those under your command. We’ll conduct a full investigation and deal with disciplinary measures later—trust me, they’re coming—but for now, you’re done. This ends today.”

General Lin leaned back in his chair. “And how do you plan to enforce that?”

Harlow paused, then glanced around the table. As his gaze passed over the Council, he saw that most of them wouldn’t meet his eyes, and those who did looked incredibly guilty.

“How many of you knew of this?” he asked.

There was no reply.

He sat up straighter, then nodded. “Fine. But allow me to make something abundantly clear. Since I seem to be one of the few who’s not under your direct influence, I’ll gladly speak my mind. I plan to enforce that directive by any means necessary, and I’ll do it with or without the help of this Council. One way or another, though, it’s getting done. And for those of you who are willing to forgo the oaths you took and tolerate insubordination—I won’t forget, and I’ll consider you to be complicit.” He stood up, leaned forward, and gripped the table’s edge. “And as for you, General Lin, you’re to discontinue this campaign and withdraw immediately.” Their eyes met, and his voice was unwavering. “That’s an order.”

Lin sat there for a while, as if considering these words. But then he stood too, mirroring Harlow’s movements as he rose from his seat. Some of the others reflexively leaned away, but Harlow stood firm, staring into Lin’s eyes.

The silence in the room seemed to have grown teeth and talons, as if sensing their fear and viewing it as an invitation, cowing even high command into submission. It was nearly a tangible thing now—invisible, but just as real as anything else—and they sensed its presence acutely, leering over them and infusing the air like a heavy mist, its oppressive threads woven through and inseparable from reality, taking as much space as allowed.

It waited gleefully. It relished this moment.

Harlow didn’t move. Instead, he held that stare, and Lin matched it. The two of them remained that way, eyes locked, until finally, Lin shifted his weight and leaned forward, inhaling deeply with an ease that defied the others.

He liked this atmosphere, Harlow could see, and he was comfortable here. It was his natural environment, and he greeted it as an old friend. Like a mirror, it revealed him for exactly what he was, and that reflection presented a foul image indeed.

As the Council looked on, he met his commanding officer’s resolute gaze, returned a leering, mocking smile, and broke the silence.

“Sit down—f*ggot.”

Several of them inhaled sharply, and Victor instinctively reached for the pistol on his belt. Lin must’ve seen it, because he broke eye contact to cast a glance in Victor’s direction, and there was murder in his gaze.