UNIVERSAL TURBULENT

VIII - PLANET EARTH

The bar was located near the San Juan spaceport and catered to a wide variety of clientele. Smoke floated above the tables like neon clouds. There were patrons, plenty of them, including a group of cloned spacers, a pair of spindly Dwellers, something in a hab tank and some Cux legionnaires.

Dancers, most of whom were humans, writhed within special designed holograms. The music, much of which was alien, throbbed within carefully engineered "sound cells".

Legion Colonel Luton Arthur had been wearing uniforms for more than thirty years and felt uncomfortable when clad in anything else. Yes, there was some degree of correlation between civilian clothes and the status of the people who wore them, but you couldn't be sure.

Not uniforms, though. Thanks to badges of ranks, service stripes, unit badges, decorations, and yes, the tattoos many choose to wear, a knowledgeable eye could read a legionnaire's uniform like a book. A single glance was sufficient to establish another person's place in the chain of command, ascertain the kind of skills they had, figure out where they had served, and guess who they might be acquitted with.

Luton liked the surefire certainty of that, and felt uncomfortable, if not downright silly, wearing a floral shirt, black trousers and buckled sandals.

The two men who say opposite Luton looked equally uncomfortable and sported poorly coordinated clothes, short hair-cuts and tattoo-covered arms.

Taken together, the soldiers had more than forty five years of service between them, had been "demobilized" within the last six months, and weren't too happy about it.

Despite the cover offered by the bar, there was no such thing as a safe place to discuss mutiny, so they were intentionally circumspect.

"So", Luton began, "how's it going?"

Ex-Staff Sergeant Gaius Vista grinned. He had extremely white teeth, and they gleamed in the dark. "We're green to go", he replied, almost adding "sir", but catching himself in time. "Everyone approached signed aboard and will be ready when the time comes".

"Not quite everyone", the other man said d darkly. "Three opted out".

Luton eyed the man. They had never served in the same unit but knew each other by reputation. That was how it was in the Legion, everyone knew everyone else, or thought they did. His name was Heir, Sergeant Major Heir, since the face went with the rank. A hard man by all accounts, which was just as well. "And?"

Luton shrugged noncommittally. "And they turned up missing. I sure hope everything is alright".

Luton looked into the black eyes and knew all three of the people were dead. Another tragedy heaped on all the rest. Heir was correct, however. There is no place for fence-sitters when it comes to war. Legio patria nostra - the Legion is our country. Never had the words rung more true. The officer spoke for the benefit of whatever microphones might be collecting his words. "I hope so, too... What about tools? Have we got what we need?"

Heir thought about the warehouses full of stolen arms, some secured with the connivance of John Usmos, and the rest gathered by hundreds of sympathizers.

There were assault rifles, machine guns, missile launchers, and more. Not to mention all the stuff that the serving units would bring with them. "Yes, sir. Enough to get the job done".

Luton decided to ignore the slip. "Excellent. Be sure to stress the importance of discipline. We wish to change the existing structure, not rip it apart".

Heir nodded agreeably but knew the officer was full of s**t. Collateral damage is a fact of life. Luton knew that, or should have known, and been willing to face the reality of it.

Gaius sipped his beer. It had a flat, coppery taste. "So, when will the project start?"

"Soon", Luton answered. "Very soon".

* * *

The Midvalian ship dropped hyper, broadcast a high priority diplomatic code, and was slotted into a choice equatorial orbit. One hundred seventy two freighter captains, some of whom had been waiting for more than a week, jumped on their com sets. The moon-based Orbital Control Authority took most of the heat. What the hell were they thinking, slotting a bug before humans? Had they lost their frigging minds?

But the complaints fell on deaf ears. In spite of the fact that Senator Alway Vaano was visiting Earth in connection with a routine trade fair, he was entitled to certain diplomatic prerogatives, and had chosen to exercise them. End of story.

The Midvalian shuttle fell free of the ship, dove through the atmosphere, and skimmed the North American continent. Vaano used his tool legs to preen his parrotlike beak. His eyes contained thousands of facets and would have been useless beyond five feet if it hadn't been for his computer-assisted contact lenses.

However, thanks to the benefits of Midvalian science, the Senator, not to mention the War Vaano who rode behind him, could see the terrian below. It was less than inviting. Hard, serrated ridges connected one mountain to the next, valleys tumbled one over the other, and a thick layer of snow frosted higher elevations. Not the sort of environment for which Midvalians had evolved.

Yes, there were tracts of lush jungle in the southern hemisphere, but not the enough to warrant any sort of real interest in the planet. Not even with the tricentennial birthing, up ahead. No, the extra fifty billion Midvalian souls about about to enter the universe would demand better quarters than these. The good news that the worlds his species needed were readily available. The bad news was that they belonged to someone else.

Who wasn't exactly clear. Especially in the aftermath of the last war. The Dodvelians had attacked the Confederacy and, having been soundly defeated, were confide to the world on which they had evolved. That left their empire up for grabs, and subject to an endless round of negotiations.

Indigenous species laid claim to some of the planets, but, given the Dodvelian tendency toward g******e, often lacked the necessary votes. Fair? No, but what was?

The Dodvelian claimed the worlds by right of conquest, an argument that had proven more effective than one might have thought it would be, since many of the Confederacy's members had taken at least some of their worlds without the permission of the inhabitants. A rather Midvalian thing to do, if they could get away with it.

The shuttle bounced slightly as it hit some turbulent air, and then settled towards the ground. Vaano, who had wings of his own, wasn't the least bit concerned.