The Frihet Rebellion

Jorcam Kramer, Admiral of the Earth Navy, stood at an upstairs window of his palatial home. Stretched before him was the naval spaceport of Heathrow, a self-contained military city in the suburbs of New Washington. He looked over the terraced apartments of the officers, the barracks of the enlisted men, the tall, plasteel buildings of the command center with the great plain of the field before them, naval shuttles in serried rows at the edge, long shadows thrown across everything by the low, morning sun. With most larger craft in orbit around the planets of the solar system, the main traffic of the spaceport was shuttles, taking men to their ships. Beyond the field lay the factories and workshops of the naval shipyard, capable of repairing and refitting even the largest battleships. This was his home. Not just the house he stood in, but the whole spaceport.

His eye was caught by the simultaneous lift-off of ten shuttles. He watched them soar into a clear sky, knowing they would rendezvous with a troop carrier standing just outside the orbit of Earth. The destination of the troop carrier was the moons of Saturn, where Kramer’s fleet prepared for deployment.

At a faint sound from the room behind him, he turned quickly, relaxing when he saw it was only his manservant, Luper, cleaning and dusting. Luper looked up at Kramer’s movement and flushed, bowing his head slightly but never stopping his work.

“I am sorry, Admiral. I didn’t meant to disturb you.”

Kramer stepped away from the window and sat in one of two armchairs in the room. He watched Luper dusting the settee, the coffee table, the wide shelves that held his commendations and personal images, the small bookcase sparsely filled with naval manuals and history books.

“I have mentioned before that we have automats capable of doing that job, Luper,” he said, relaxing back into the real leather of the chair.

“I prefer to trust my own work over an automat’s, Admiral,” said Luper.

The manservant paused, his shortness and leanness insignificant when compared to the over six foot tall, wide, muscular frame of the Admiral.

“When do you leave, Admiral?” he said. “The whole world is waiting to watch you embark on your way to Frihet.”

“It may be an assignment of importance, Luper, but that does not change the time required by such a large fleet to prepare. I will be leaving tomorrow to oversee the final preparations personally. Make sure my uniforms and all my gear is ready.”

“Certainly, Admiral,” said Luper.

“Now leave. I want some peace and quiet.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Luper bowed and withdrew from the room as Kramer closed his eyes. The Admiral imagined the whole of Earth watching his fleet embark for Frihet. It was a feat of imagination that few could accomplish easily, but Kramer’s ego was more than capable. Everyone on the fleet was a hero, of course, but he was in charge. It was his fleet, and that made him the most revered hero of them all. He had no doubt that praise and gifts would be in abundance upon their successful return. He was already looking forward to it.

Bars of sunlight slashed across the bed from the window blinds closed inexpertly the previous night. The rumpled bedclothes stirred, a slim, lithe form slipping out and padding, on naked feet, across the room and into the bathroom.

Still in the bed, Crawford Sumner opened his eyes at the disturbance and tried to focus. He did not remember the end of last night, when the going away party at Dunes had started to disperse. He was not overly surprised that he had ended up in bed with someone, he just had no idea who it was.

Sarah? Could it be?

His heart raced at the possibility and he sat up, feeling slightly ill as the room threatened to spin. Sarah Davison had definitely been there at the party, and it had been a long time since the breakup. But was it long enough that she would end the night sleeping with him?

“Good morning,” he called, hoping he might elicit an answer from the occupant of the bathroom.

“Didn’t mean to wake you, sorry.”

Not Sarah, he thought, feeling a slump of disappointment.

Whoever it was, they were female. He had wondered. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d ended up in bed with another man, especially when as drunk as he had been last night. But as a general rule, he preferred women.

He tried to dredge a name out of any vague memories. It was hopeless. He could not even come up with an inspired guess. Her carefully folded clothes were on top of the chest of drawers, and for a moment he thought the bright red top and white skirt might stir some memories. Then he gave up. There was obviously no point in trying to remember anything. However, there were a few things he could tease out from available evidence.

First, she was a civilian. All of the military personnel at the bar had been in uniform, which was standard practice so close to the port. Sleeping with a civilian at least kept it simple. No likelihood of embarrassing moments on-board ship.

Second, she was neat. Possibly weirdly so. His own uniform and underwear were strewn about the room, no doubt flung there in drunken desperation to get naked. Hers were all neatly folded.

Third... he didn’t have a third, and his head was hurting.

He got out of bed and began to dress. He was fastening up his uniform when the mystery woman finally emerged from the bathroom. Her hair had been brushed, makeup applied. She looked fresh and wide awake, while he still struggled to focus properly. He could tell she was pretty, but her face was completely unfamiliar. He felt slightly embarrassed, but mostly amused.

She smiled at him, stood on tiptoes to kiss his stubbled cheek, and then crossed to her clothes. She dressed in silence, still smiling, and Sumner watched for a while. Then he looked at the clock and groaned.

“Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry to rush you, I really am, but...”

“That’s okay, Crawford,” said the woman, now dressed. “I’ve a job to go to as well. No need to apologies.”

She kissed his cheek again and crossed towards the bedroom door. He followed her out into the living room of the apartment, grateful the blinds here were correctly closed, and unlocked the main door.

“Thanks for last night,” she said, easing past him and out onto the veranda that ran along the front of the spaceport’s officer apartments. “It was fun. We should do it again some time.”

Sumner watched her leave, still completely ignorant of who she was, then shrugged and stepped back inside his apartment. A moment of wistfulness stole over him as he wished she had been Sarah, but then he forced his concentration back on track. He needed to meet his crew, including Sarah Davison, at the shuttle and head out to the moons of Saturn. As Captain of the second largest ship in the fleet, he really should not be late.

He injected an extra-large dose of Clearhang through his uniform into his thigh. It wasn’t the best way to start the day, but he should be completely free of any hangover within the hour. By then he would be on his way. Second-in-command under Admiral Kramer. His career was moving ahead nicely. He could hardly wait to get to Frihet.