Children of Earth

The Admiral descended from the resting helio in silence, pointedly ignoring the hand offered by the private waiting below. He had been dropped into a hundred victory celebrations on a dozen liberated planets; he knew how to make an entrance. Today would be different though, there was no crowd on New Tuscany, no adoration. Not for him. His boot came to rest on the ash covered ground with a bone snapping crunch. The city smelled like an engine about to overheat.

"Welcome home sir," offered the private.

The Admiral fixed him with his trademark paint-stripping stare, allowing him to sweat for a few seconds before shifting his gaze to the smoking skyline ahead of them. He searched within himself for some small spark of recognition, for anything to confirm that this was the same place he still visited in his dreams. He found nothing. The Admiral wasn't sure if his apartment on earth counted as a home, but whatever it was it sure felt closer to the mark than this.

"Terrorist sons of bitches fought like weasels in a trap sir," the private continued as they walked, his enthusiasm shaken but not yet down for the count. "We lost half of the fifteenth crossing the Arno, they hit us with cap fire from the hospital tower hoping we wouldn't shoot back."

He turned his head and spat. "Starborn scum."

They walked in silence for a moment before the young man realized what he had said. "Sir I, I didn't mean-"

"And?" said the Admiral, interrupting.

"Sir?"

"And, private, did you shoot back?"

The kid furrowed his brow as his eyes darted about in confusion. "You, you mean nobody told you sir?"

"Told me what, exactly?"

"Sir, we... command pulled us back, all of us. Out of the city I mean."

The Admiral braced himself for what he knew was coming next.

"Wing command lanced it from orbit. Tuscania, Viterbo, Tarquinia, they fried them all. They're ash and glass now sir, except for Firstep Hill, of course" The private waved his rifle in the direction of the mound that lay ahead of them, rising above the rubble like an island of green from a stormy sea.

"They're waiting for you in there sir, the terrorist leadership. They say they won't speak to anyone else."

The two of them continued in silence past barbed wire cordons and the horde of mobile cap-gun emplacements that now surrounded the historic site. The Admiral drew the usual mix of whispers, stares and comical double takes as he went.
The sunlight dimmed just as they arrived at the haphazard collection of command prefabs that blocked the road to the mount. The Admiral looked up to find one of the smaller moons was beginning a solar transit. The brief syzygy finally dredged up a memory, the taste of his father's early season chianti. It had been bitter and unpleasant to his youthful palette, though of course he had choked it down anyway. That first and, as it turned out, last glass had come at the occult festival barely a month before the uprising had begun. It was a close thing, but the Admiral managed to stifle the smile that almost threatened his lips at the thought of life before the war. The eclipse soon passed, and the memory melted away in the naked rays of the system's G-type star.

"Sir," said the private, rousing him from his distraction, "I was wondering, you know, if it's not too much trouble, would you mind...?" he offered up the butt of his rifle along with a marker pen. "It would mean a lot."

Habit caused the Admiral to tighten his features into a drill sergeant's snarl of contempt. Defacing navy property, the idiot kid could get a week in the box for that. He was about to open his mouth and say so when something stopped him. Maybe it was the look of pure adoration on the private's cherub face. Maybe after all this time he was finally going soft. More likely he thought, it was the knowledge that this was all about to be over, and that tomorrow, nobody would give two shits what you did or didn't have scribbled on your gun.

He signed the weapon and thrust it back into the private's chest.

"You got a home to go to?"

The kid managed a nod as he fumbled with words of gratitude.

"Then what are you waiting for son. Get the hell off this rock."

He spun on his heel, leaving the stunned private just in time to return the company commander's salute. By this stage in the war the Admiral had the formalities down to a fine art. One short, efficient exchange of information later the final cordon parted and he began the long solitary ascent.

***

In contrast to the rest of the ruined city, the monument halls on Firstep Hill appeared just as opulent as they had been when erected by a species still united in wonder at its own achievement. The Admiral traversed the outer fade of pink-veined marble pillars that gave the complex its ancient greek aesthetic. Each was presently flanked by hulking rebel gun emplacements that looked almost as old as the architecture itself. The weapons spun on their creaking bearings as he passed, keeping him safely under threat of complete annihilation from at least three angles at any given moment.

He chuckled under his breath. All that effort for one tired old man.

He came to the fountain that lay before the entrance to the buried inner sanctum. The singing waters that had once sent sunlight dancing in rainbows across the frescos on the ceiling now lay silent and stagnant. The twelve foot statue of Apollo was run through with cracks and appeared to be held together only by the embrace of a poisonous looking yellow creeper. Reaching out, he ran the tips of his fingers over the inscription that was carved into the plinth at the deity's feet.

"We claim this world in the name of peace, unity and prosperity."

The final line had been erased by a row of bullet holes, but the Admiral knew it by heart.

"Long live the children of earth" he whispered.

"The rest of us can go to hell then, I suppose?" replied a female voice.

The Admiral looked up to find her sitting on the edge of the pool. He hadn't noticed anybody approach. He wondered if perhaps she had been there all along, she appeared very much at home between the larger-than-life busts of early explorers that lined the waterside.

A toddler appeared around the corner behind her, swaddled in pink and wobbling along at full tilt on legs that were clearly not used to having so much asked of them. She tripped and fell on the polished floor, her chubby arms flying forward in a futile attempt to arrest her own momentum. In the moment before tears erupted a small boy came skidding around the fountain after her. He scooped her up over one shoulder, laying a reassuring hand on her back just as the waterworks began. The Admiral turned his head and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the apparition. When he opened them again the children had gone. The woman by the pool was still there though, watching him with a familiar pair of hawkish brown eyes.

"Camilla," he began, then found himself reaching for words.

"Franco," she replied, "you're looking well."

The Admiral forced a grimace that contorted his face into a mass of intersecting lines and creases. "I see you're still a damn liar," he growled.

She laughed. "Well," she said, "I guess in that respect we're both our father's children." Leaning over the pool, she trailed her fingers over the surface of the water, sending ripples and reflections cascading across the shallow basin.

The Admiral swallowed the burning lump of anger that had arisen at the mention of his father. She of all people had no right. But cooler heads were needed now if he was to save this place, and what was left of his family.

"Okay, you asked for me, so here I am," he said. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Well,' she said without looking up from the water, "We were hoping you might be amenable to recalling the imperial fleet, rebuilding the cities you destroyed, paying a generous sum in reparations and, you know, generally fucking off back to earth and leaving us to govern ourselves in peace?"

She gave him an icy stare. "How does that sound, big brother?"

The Admiral studied his bootlaces. So he had indeed come all this way for nothing. He toyed with the idea of simply turning around and walking back down the hill, but he knew he couldn't. Family was, in the end, still family.

He ignored her jibe. "Where are the others? I thought this little democracy of yours involved some sort of representation?"

"Some fled when the navy ships arrived, who could blame them after what happened on Formosa. A few burned in their homes with their families. The rest are below in the sanctum, waiting to be martyred. I speak for them."

"It doesn't have to be that way Camilla. I can get you all safe passage to a fair trial on Earth. Nobody else has to die today."

She threw back her head and laughed. "A fair trial?" she repeated, "On Earth? So Roland can parade us around like sick little trophies then broadcast our hangings to deter the next wave of revolutionaries?"

She shook her head and turned away. "I'd rather die here, thanks."

They both fell silent for a time. The wind had begun to pick up, causing a low pitched hum to reverberate all throughout the ancient structure, its tone rising and falling like the breath of a resting giant.

"Then why am I here?" asked the Admiral. "If you don't intend to listen to a thing I say, why ask for me in the first place?"

"Perhaps I wanted to see my big brother one last time" she offered with an eyebrow raised. "Is that so unbelievable?"

The Admiral gave her a look that suggested it was.

"Our father loved this place," she continued, "I think I recall being here with him, but I'm not sure. I must have been very young. Perhaps all I really have now are memories of memories. You were here too I think. Do you remember it at all?"

Behind her the boy was hanging upside down from the side of one of the busts. The Admiral watched as he reached down to pull his sister up after him. He lost his balance and the two of them toppled laughing into the water.

He shook his head. "I don't think so, no".

"A pity."

"Look, Camilla," the Admiral began, deciding to give it one last try, "Fleet have the Bockscar parked a few hundred clicks up and they're just itching to try and land a six ton javelin of semi-molten tungsten right about here." He pointed to the floor. "Your only way out of this place is with me. Please, swallow your damn pride and come down."

"You're telling me Roland is really going to allow his good name to be associated with the destruction of the single most important site in human history?" she replied, before answering her own question, "I don't think so. He may be a ruthless psychopathic tyrant, but he is not stupid. At least, not enough to commit political suicide like that." She gave him a sidelong look. "Not to mention the fuel it would add to the fire of the next uprising."

"Fine," replied the Admiral, beginning to understand why he was here, "you're right, he's not stupid, and the last thing he wants is to martyr you all so easily. But there are three thousand men from the fifteenth airborne waiting outside for my signal to storm the mount and extract revenge for the Arno." He paused to let the information sink in.

"They will not be as merciful as the javelin."

"And what then?" she said, raising her voice for the first time. "Roland installs another puppet dictator, shoots a few collaborators, cracks down even more on the colonies and we do this all over again in a decade or so?"

The Admiral sighed. "What's a few more lives for a decade of peace?"

She snorted. "You're becoming quite the pacifist in your old age, brother. Peace on Earth means slavery for the colonies. Their prosperity is our prison. Your prison too, Franco. Or have you forgotten where you're from?"

"I know very well where I was born," he replied, refusing to match her volume.

"Really? Because it seems like you've been hard at work trying erase all trace of it." She waved her hand at the handful of blackened skyscrapers that were still visible on the horizon.

"That wasn't my call, Camilla. They don't trust me with anything operational anymore."

He thought for a moment, then lost his brief struggle for control. "Hell, sometimes I think I'm the only one that doesn't want to see this whole damn planet burn. That's more than you and your agitator friends can say. I'm not the one that poked the hornet's nest!"

"No," she replied, eyeing him calmly, "you're just another hornet."

They regarded each other in silence as the wind sang through the hall.

"This is it then," said the Admiral. "This is really goodbye."

"Nice seeing you," replied his sister with a forced smile.

The Admiral turned and began to stride back towards the exit. Ahead of him the boy and girl wandered hand in hand, their little heads tilted back in wonder at the painted ceiling above. He shivered as a shadow passed through him. As he watched it took the form of a man and swept towards the children. The ghost bent down and scooped them up, one over each shoulder. Shrieks of surprise and joy echoed throughout the halls as the three figures made their way down the marble steps and out of sight and memory.

The Admiral paused as he reached the ledge. "You know," he said over his shoulder, "Despite what you may think of him, our father was a man of principle, in his own way."

He glanced back at her. "He would have been proud of you."

She gave a slight nod without looking up from the water. If the Admiral hadn't known his sister better, he would have sworn that the surface of the pool held a set of radiating concentric ripples, like it had just been disturbed by a pair of teardrops.

***

As the barrier arms lowered behind him the Admiral stepped into a command post that was awash with activity. Officers milled about in groups of four or five gesturing at holographic maps of Firstep and the monument complex. Prefabs were being torn down to make way for a gradually approaching line of armored assault crawlers. The sound of three thousand magazines snapping into place rang out around the cordon like the whirring machinations of a doomsday clock.

He didn't need to rely on his fifty years of military experience to deduce that they were preparing to storm the mount.

He strode up to the company commander, puffing out his chest in an attempt to revive the legendary air of authority that had once ended battles before they had begun.

"Commander!" he barked.

"Sir!"

"Tell your men to stand down."

"Sir, my orders are to-"

"Orders have changed. Get fleet command on the line."

The Admiral glanced up at the monument halls one last time. The marble fade shone a heavenly white in the late afternoon sun. He half expected to see St Peter floating nearby, ready to admit the souls of the soon to be dead into paradise beyond. He thought of his sister waiting up there to join the rest of his family. Maybe she was the lucky one.
Questions whirled in dizzying circles behind his steely veneer. He had built an illustrious career on having the courage to make hard choices when no one else would, but now indecision threatened to extinguish his words even as they formed in his throat.

There would be no coming back from this. History would not be kind to him.

The wind picked up again, bringing with it a layer of hot ash that stung his eyes and coated the rows of medals that now hung heavy from his chest.

"I guess you win, sis," he muttered under his breath.

He turned back to the commander and fixed him with a level stare.

"Tell them to drop the javelin."