Chapter 203: Intermission: A Brand New Plotline... Just Kidding. Jon Calls Mom

Chapter 203: Intermission: A Brand New Plotline... Just Kidding. Jon Calls Mom

“Jon!” the Prime Minister exclaimed with a voice filled with cheer, “How nice of you to finally call! How are you?”

“Oh, pretty good, Prime Minister,” Jon replied as nonchalantly as he could manage. In Augustine’s presence, he always felt like a little mouse looking up at a big snake, “How’s it going with you?”

“Not so good, Jon,” the Prime Minister replied, “Some asshole really stirred things up over here.”

“I like him already.”

“Seriously, Jon,” Augustine said in a warm grandmotherly tone that Jon knew was a dangerous lie, “why did you not come to me with all of this?”

“I didn’t know how far things went or who I could trust,” Jon replied, “I didn’t have a lot of time so I decided that I would ensure that it got out.”

“You didn’t trust me, Jon?” Augustine said with a hurt tone in her voice.

“Prime Minister,” Jon replied, “I had every faith that if you were involved, it would have happened, just like last time.”

“Excuse me?” Augustine replied with a raised eyebrow.

“Nevermind,” Jon smiled. “What I didn’t trust is that the information would get to you. The head of Republic Intelligence was compromised, and he’s not the only one. We both know how far this went. I didn’t even know if my own embassy was safe. I had exactly zero minutes to raise the alarm, so I did.”

“That makes an annoying amount of sense,” Augustine replied.

“While we are asking questions,” Jon asked, “why the fuck did you roast me so bad?”

“I needed to inject some levity into the briefing,” Augustine replied, “the citizens like a good laugh and needed one. Do you realize that people are buying seeds, Jon?”

“Fuck.”

“Well put,” Augustine replied, “I needed to put them at ease, and I could make you funny. I could not make a baby-eating monster on the edge of achieving immortality WITH a bioweapon that, if turned on us, could very well wipe us out funny. Even I couldn’t spin that one. Besides, I felt that humanizing and making you seem less of a threat would be useful after we clean up this whole mess. You are just a regular loyal citizen who found himself in a bad spot and did what he had to do.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Jon replied.

“That is,” Augustine replied, “if we don’t find any connection between you and the nuclear exchange that took place around Barnard’s Star. Jon, if you had anything to do with that, you need to tell me right now.”

“I swear I didn’t!” Jon exclaimed, “It damn near ruined everything I was trying to accomplish! That was entirely Gloria Samuels. Lord only knows where she got that ship and those nukes in the first place.”

“She got them from Mars,” Augustine replied, “Probably from Uncle Martin himself. It wouldn’t surprise me if the ship was built there as well. It appears Mars might be using this whole mess to make a play. I don’t have to tell you what it would mean if they have more of those ships.”

“They may have the ships,” Jon replied, “but they only have one Gloria.”

“You don’t actually buy into that whole ‘undying’ bullshit, do you?” Augustine scoffed.

“Nobody is undying,” Jon replied, “but she kicked the ever-loving shit out of how many corvettes?”

“And she will pay for that,” Augustine replied, “she and the entire Donovan organization. They aren’t going to make it to trial.”

“Prime Minister,” Jon said after a moment, “duty requires me to inform you exactly how bad of an idea I think that is.”

“I hardly think you are one to discuss duty, Jon.”

“Bullshit,” Jon replied, “I threw everything I hold dear away out of duty to the Republic,” he snarled, “and we both know it. Look, Sheila Donovan isn’t alone. She is part of an organization, the scope of which I had no idea before I became a fugitive. They are incredibly well financed, well equipped, well trained, and masters of asymmetric warfare, something that any established power is ill-equipped to combat, even us. Killing Sheila will alienate a potentially huge asset, people that we desperately need with a skill set that we do not have. We need them, Prime Minister.”

“Nukes were used in Republic space, on Republic citizens, and on Republic Naval Vessels,” Augustine replied, “someone has to go down for that and I think you would vastly prefer it to be Sheila Donovan and her crew as opposed to... other options...”

“Is that a threat, Prime Minister?”

“It’s a simple statement of fact,” the Prime Minister said, any hint of “grandmother” gone. “An actual act of war took place and it must be addressed. Now it will either be a band of dangerous terrorists OR it will be a formerly noble hero of the Republic consumed by madness... and his men. I’m giving you the option to choose, Jon. I would prefer you as a heroic figure who protected the Republic at all costs but if I have to use you as a sacrificial lamb, I will do so.”

“You are making the biggest mistake of your life, Prime Minister,” Jon replied, “If you go down this path, you had better make damn sure you kill them. If they actually go rogue, we will have the kind of problems that betrayals and press conferences won’t fix.”

“The decision has been made, Jon.”

***

Skippy quietly entered their shared cabin.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

“No,” Jon replied. “That... bitch... is throwing away a potentially huge asset, not to mention I’m not fond of stabbing friends in the back, especially to suit that snake.”

“But radish sprout,” Skippy said as she slid next to him on the bunk. “they are insurgents. They attacked their own people and killed what... thousands of them? They brought this on themselves.”

“Do you think Momma Augustine cares about that?” Jon replied.

“What do you mean?”

“The Republic isn’t... well, it’s complicated,” Jon said, “Mars in particular. Mars is technically a sovereign state within the greater Republic and controls a shell of space within the Sol system that includes the inner asteroid belt. Occasionally there has been... friction between them and the Republic as a whole, and after the Great War, tensions have been high. A lot of resources that they believe are ‘theirs’ are being tapped to fuel our military build-up, and they feel that they aren’t being properly compensated for it. It goes a lot deeper than that as well. Mars is basically an entirely different civilization than Terra, and many on Terra don’t particularly care for Mars’s corporate state. There have always been issues.”

“Oh,” Skippy replied.

“Augustine believes that Gloria’s ship and her arsenal are Martian and are a demonstration of their military power. That’s why she really wants to take it out. She’s willing to vaporize whatever Gloria has developed in order to preserve the status quo... There’s some other reason why she wants them vaporized in space... something about ‘sanitizing’ some problem or another. I think it may involve that frog girl.”

“Really?” Skippy asked. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“There is a lot more to this than just them being insurgents and her needing someone to take the fall for the nuclear exchange,” Jon said grimly, “not that having a convenient dead scapegoat isn’t also a plus.”

“But one way or another, my love,” Skippy said, nuzzling him, “You are a marine, and you have your orders. You don’t have to like them. You just have to follow them.”

“Just following orders,” Jon smirked, “That phrase has been used in our history before. Legal or not, these orders are wrong, very wrong. I can’t explain it, but I feel it in my bones that this is a huge mistake, and there is a lot more in play here than I can see.”

“So what are you going to do?” Skippy asked.

“I’m going to try to see it,” Jon replied, “I was ordered to stay invisible and quiet, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. However, I am not going to blindly follow orders that will hurt the Republic to the point that it won’t ‘endure’.”

“You honestly believe that could happen?”

“I’m certain,” Jon replied. “I don’t know why, but I am absolutely certain. It’s like I can almost see it. All I know is that every time I refuse to listen to my gut, I’ve bitterly regretted it, and this time, my gut is screaming.”

Skippy nodded and wrapped her arms around him.

Jon smiled as he sank into her fluffy embrace.

“You know,” he purred, “for being as smart as she is, Momma Augustine is kinda stupid.”

“Oh?” Skippy said as she nibbled Jon’s ear.

“She just told someone who has already demonstrated that he has no problem going rogue and becoming a ‘traitor’ to be a good boy and follow orders. It might happen. It might not.”

“This looks like it’s going to be fun!” Skippy exclaimed happily. “So, what’s our first move?”

“I have no fucking idea,” Jon replied.

***

An untold million years before, a withered old Plath sat in front of a glowing pool and smiled as she watched probability tangle and untangle.

One image of a Plath in the distant future, her face twisted with pain and rage, was replaced with another image of a Plath in the distant future, her face twisted with pain and rage.

She shrugged. She did what she could.

She took a sip of a powerful neural stimulant.

She didn’t have much longer and so much left to do.