For Judith Stern the nightmare began when she was twelve standard years old.
She woke up in a hospital, the place was clearly unfamiliar to her and even for the time it appeared to be behind the general standard in architecture and general technology. She saw that was clearly in an intensive care unit and there was an oxygen tube flowing into her nose. Through the glass wall of her room she could see that the lights had been turned down in the ICU for the evening.
As her vision became clearer she searched for the call button. Upon finding she pressed down on it. At the central desk of the ward she could see the nurse on duty look at her workstation terminal. The nurse apparently pressed a key on the terminal and then stood up and walked over to the room.
When the nurse came to the door of the room Judith could see that the woman was wearing a silver crucifix with the complete figure of Jesus Christ on it.
This could be a problem. She thought.
The woman spoke with a heavy accent that Judith had identified as the New Irish of this planet.
“You’re awake, that’s good, but you need to go back to sleep.”
This wasn’t acceptable to Judith, she has questions to ask.
“Nurse, where am I?” She said.
The woman was taken aback. A clear note of surprise was in her voice as she answered.
“You’re in the Intensive Care Unit of the New Boston General Hospital.”
At this point Judith was no longer speaking as a mere child but as an adult to an adult.
“What am I in here for?”
The nurse appeared to be surprised at the tone of Judith’s voice. She replied with a note of amazement in her voice.
“Do you know how to speak to an adult?”
“Yes, as you can hear, I do.” Judith replied with a level voice. “Now, would you please answer the question.”
The conversation had turned into a full interrogation. The nurse was now visibly shocked at the questioning of her authority.
“Child? Do you know how to speak to an adult?” She said.
Judith replied with the level voice that her parents taught her to use with the irrational inhabitants of this world.
“Do you know how to answer a simple question?”
The woman was apparently struck silent.
Judith spoke again.
“I’m clearly in the ICU of the major hospital on this planet, there should be a file on my case at the nurses’ station. Can you read the contents of it for me?”
The woman heard the question as an insult and had grown into a full state of rage.
“How dare you!” She shouted. “Is that how little girls are taught to behave on that godless rock you’re from?”
Before Judith could respond another woman had strode up behind the nurse and interrupted the verbal struggle.
“SISTER!” A newcomer woman said.
The woman instantly turned about to face the newcomer.
“Doctor!” The woman spoke. “This girl was being rude to me!”
“No Sister,” the doctor replied with a Mid-North American accent, “you’re being stupid to her.”
Before the woman could respond the doctor spoke again.
“Sister Margaret, return to your station and I’ll speak to the patient, alone.”
“But...” She answered.
The doctor overrode her.
“Return to your station. Now!”
The nurse turned pale with a blank expression on her face. She silently returned to the nurses’ station in the ICU.
The doctor stepped into the room and closed the door. She then spoke to Judith.
“Miss Stern, I’m Doctor Fuller, I’ll try to answer your questions as best I can.”
Judith thought for a moment.
“You’re not from around here?”
“No.” Doctor Fuller replied. “I’m from Minnesota on Earth, I went to the U of M, and I accepted what appeared to be a great offer to do my internship here.”
Judith nodded.
“And when you arrived you found it was the planet of the backwards morons.”
“Yes.” Dr. Fuller replied. “How did you come up with the term?”
“The Freyan Consul called it that.” Said Judith. “My parents came here to set up an office for Freyaspace. Dad really tried to make it work but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the hassle of dealing with local officials and ended the operation.”
Doctor Fuller nodded.
“I don’t blame him.” She said.
Judith asked the next questions.
“So what I’m in here for, and where are my parents?”
Doctor Fuller answered.
“You came down with pneumonia and have been unconscious for about three standard weeks. And your parents had to escape from the planet with your sister Deborah.”
Judith responded in shock.
“WHAT! How could they leave me behind?”
“The hospital chaplain wanted to do a Catholic baptism on you because of the seriousness of your illness and your parents wouldn’t consent to it. So the planetary government ordered them off the planet. The government also ordered the seizure of your sister from the custody of your parents. They had to escape in the ship you came here in.”
Judith was shaking her head.
“But baptism is a stupid voodoo ceremony, how could it lead to my parents having to escape on the Concord?”
Doctor Fuller replied.
“Under the laws on this world a Christian child cannot be returned to non-Christian parents. The government also regards non-Christians as unfit parents and tried to seize custody of your sister. They had no choice but to leave quickly.”
Judith stopped looking at Doctor Fuller and looked straight down the bed for a moment.
“I’m not a Christian.” She said.
“As far as the government is concerned, you are.”
Then Judith asked another question.
“So I’m alone on this world?”
“Yes?”
Judith thought for another moment and asked another question.
“Does the Republic of Freya still have a consulate here in New Boston?”
“Yes.”
“Doctor, could you please get the message to them that I want to go home?”
“Yes, I will.”
When her shift was finished Deborah Fuller walked the three city blocks to the Freyan Consulate. The local sun, Alpha Centauri B, was barely beginning to rise above the eastern horizon when she approached the former mansion that served as the consulate. As she walked up two Freyan Marines, in surface khaki dress uniforms with the rank of Corporal, stepped out with their flag. Deborah watched as the Marines raised the flag.
The flag of the Republic of Freya had a large four pointed star that represented their sun within the center of a dark blue field.
When the flag was fixed in position Deborah stepped up to the Marines.
“Excuse me,” she said, “I’m a doctor at the New Boston General Hospital and I need to speak with someone about Judith Stern.”
Both Marines nodded. The Marine in charge of the detail replied.
“Yes Ma’am, if you could follow us please.”
For the Consul of the Freyan Republic this mess had began on a literal dark and stormy night.
Negate me. He’d thought to himself.
If there’s anything he wanted it was to be anywhere else. The local night was at present dominated by a rare thunderstorm. The flashes of lightning lit up the plain that the planetary starport was built upon. Through the picture window of the starport’s restaurant he could see only two of the dozen circular landing pads were occupied by the small surface landing capable starships they were built for. As a junior member of the diplomatic service he originally thought of this world as a hardship post, at least in terms of the physical environment. Both the lower gravity and thinner atmosphere were not conducive to maintaining a normal state of health, and the weather was generally boring. In regard to the local culture it was a very different picture, and in his current opinion it was a place to avoid. It was for the purpose of imparting this message that he was out on this torrential night. It was at his office in the afternoon of the local Friday that he received the message. A ship carrying a junior executive of the Freyaspace Corporation had just dropped into the system and he wished to have a meeting with the Freyan Consul as soon as possible.
According to the message the intent of the executive was to establish a corporate office and begin service to the planet of Kennedy. Even if the young diplomat’s family trust had not owned a minority share of stock in Freyaspace he would still have to speak to the young man in order to dissuade him from the delusion that commerce was possible here. As a Freyan diplomat he clearly had an obligation to warn a fellow Freyan about the hazards of this world.
The starport on Kennedy was rated as being third class at best. But at least there was one. Along with a young woman from the security service he waited in the main terminal restaurant. It was a tolerable dive that was barely acceptable to the weary interstellar traveler. They both slowly nursed their cups of the locally grown coffee. This local brand was grown and roasted in the local planetary tropics by people who apparently didn’t fully understand the concept of coffee.
And that was the slightest of the local issues.
“I see it.” Said his companion.
He looked out the window. The running lights of the ship, the Freyaspace Concord, were now visible below to the thunderclouds. They watched as the ship quietly came in on a professionally smooth trajectory and made a safe landing on the round concrete pad.
“Well, they’re here.” He said to his companion.
She only nodded in reply. With that he paid the guest check on their unfinished cups of bad coffee and they took the internal starport railcar to Pad Seven. It was there they initially met the captain of the ship and the primary passenger.
The consul and his companion wore fully hooded civilian raincoats as they walked out to the newly landed ship. It was a light general freighter built to a two deck horizontal configuration and had been converted to serve as an executive transport. The primary egress hatch was open and the stairs were already deployed. There they were met by the captain and the transported executive.
The diplomat spoke first.
“I’m James March, the Freyan Consul to this world, and this is Tamara Zev from the Federal Security Service. Welcome to the planet Kennedy.”
The gray haired captain replied.
‘I’m Captain Kovac and this is Mister Andrew Stern of the Freyaspace Corporation. Welcome aboard, sir. Please come inside.”
They made their way to the lounge on the upper passenger deck and sat down.
Stern spoke first.
“I didn’t expect an immediate welcome to this planet by a diplomat.”
“Sir, I saw it necessary to meet and speak with you immediately before you made a serious and uncorrectable mistake.”
“Excuse me?” Said Stern.
March looked straight at Stern as if he were speaking to a basic school student caught in a serious error.
“Mister Stern, are you out of your absolutely negated mind?”
Stern was shocked at the question.
“I don’t understand?” He replied.
March closed his eyes for a moment. He then opened them and replied.
“Mister Stern, what I understood from your message is that you saw an opportunity that could be exploited. This planet in the second inhabited world in the Alpha Centauri system, and the second colonized world out from Earth. And yet there’s no regular starship service from the Earth to here. Did you think to ask yourself why that’s the case?”
“I saw it as a obvious opportunity.” Said Stern.
“No,” March replied, “the people who know about this world basically avoid it because it’s a cultural and legal nightmare.”
Stern was silent.
“Shall I explain?” Said March.
“Yes, please do so.” Stern replied.
“Okay,” said March, “this planet wasn’t a normal colony world, it was intended to be a dumping ground for old school Progressives from North America and thus was given the name of Kennedy. But under the standard rules for colonization in effect at the time it was also open to settlement by people from the rest of Earth. Being that the first wave of settlers was from the Boston and New York areas it appeared to be attractive to people from Ireland and members of the Irish Diaspora in general. The Irish colonists came to dominate the local culture and when the Federation dumped the planet, excuse me, granted independence, they effectively took over the world on the political level.”
“So?”
The majority of the people are hardcore Irish Catholics and they have turned this planet into a recreation of the nightmare of old Catholic Ireland.”
Stern was puzzled.
“But we could still do business here?”
“I very seriously doubt it.” March replied. “One of the local policies is planetary economic autarky, which is to produce most goods locally and limit interstellar trade as much as possible.”
Stern blinked.
“That’s insane!” He said. “Everyone knows that free trade is the best policy.”
“This isn’t our homeworld and these people didn’t attend our schools.” March calmly replied. “Reason isn’t a core value of the planetary culture and the people here aren’t taught to be rational.”
Shook his head before asking another question.
“So we have to start a separate school for our children?”
It was the turn of James March to blink. Tamara Zev now responded with her own direct question.
“Mister Stern, did you bring your children with you?”
“Yes, our two daughters.”
March spoke firmly to Stern.
“Sir, your daughters are in serious danger on this world. The planetary government regards holding any philosophy that disbelieves in God, such as Objectivism, or Metaphysical Realism in general, as valid grounds for seizing children from their parents. You can’t allow your daughters to go outside the port boundaries. Worse still you mustn’t let them off your ship!”
Miss Zev spoke in turn.
“Sir, the government actually has a Minister for Religion, and he’s not an elected member of the parliament, he’s selected by the Archbishop of the Catholic Church on planet. The minister for religion, Bishop Paul Clark has actually called Ayn Rand an ‘evil Nazi bitch.’”
“That’s wrong!” Said Stern. “Rand was born into a Jewish family! That’s basic history!”
“The truth is irrelevant to the government here on Kennedy.” Said Zev. “And so are your rights as a rational parent.”
James March spoke in his turn.
“Mister Stern, the only valid option you have is to simply leave.”
With this the initial meeting was over.
It was later in the afternoon that Thomas Gratton, the prime minister of the Planetary Republic of Kennedy, waited for the Freyan Consul. He’d put off his normal afternoon shot of whiskey for the meeting.
He hated that. He truly hated that.
The ambient temperature of the room seemed to have chilled as the consul entered and sat down without the usual introduction.
March spoke first.
“Mister Prime Minister, it’s come to our attention that Miss Judith Stern has regained consciousness and that she’s requested to be returned to her family and home.”
“How do you know that?” The prime minister replied. “Who told you that?”
“As this is an adversarial situation where deadly force has already been used, I simply can’t say.” March replied. “And it’s normal for those with the predatory mentality to retaliate against those who act against them.”
There was a touch of anger in Gratton’s voice.
“We’re not the criminals here. Your people murdered ours without warning! And whoever told you those lies is a traitor to our state.”
March knew that Doctor Fuller wasn’t a local citizen and clearly wanted to leave this hellhole of a world. The concept of treason couldn’t be rationally applied to her. Of course he wouldn’t mention her role in the current situation.
March maintained the level demeanor.
“Mister Prime Minister, Judith Stern was raised by her parents to be a rational person. In the light of reason she properly refuses to submit to the absolute nonsense that you’re attempting to force upon her. And she clearly wants to go home to her family on Freya. As to your claim of murder, the attempt to seize Deborah, the second daughter of the Stern Family, was an act of kidnaping and clearly warranted the use of deadly force in self defense.”
Their ship was armed for self defense and during the escape from the planet the weapons were put to good use against a local space guard cutter.
Gratton barely succeeded in keeping control of his temper.
“Those people were unfit to be parents!” He replied. “They murdered good men who were trying to save the second daughter from damnation!”
“Mister Prime Minister,” said March, “a capital crime committed under the color of law remains a capital crime. And we’ll never accept the following of orders, particularly issued by a witch doctor, as an excuse. In using force to seize Judith Stern you’ve sanctioned the use of force to by us recover her, and the Republic of Freya will do so.”
“But we saved her soul!” Gratton replied. “This is her home now Mister March! We would never send a Christian child off to a band of godless heathens! And we wouldn’t have allowed the godless to escape with another innocent child!”
March maintained a level voice in response.
“A is A, ‘reality is real’, what you wish to believe is an absolute fantasy and is absolutely irrelevant. The crew of your Space Guard craft attempted to carry out another kidnaping in open space and were properly vaporized as a result. As to Judith Stern her parents didn’t consent to the voodoo ceremony and she has clearly stated to a rational witness that she doesn’t accept it either. You’ll now return Miss Stern to us, and you’ll do so, now!”
Gratton was upset that he had to put off his afternoon drink but now he had to listen to this apparent slander.
“How dare you call the sacred rite of baptism a heathen voodoo ceremony! That little girl is now a proper Christian!"
March continued his level response.
“The ceremony of baptism in all variants of Christianity is the practice of symbolic magic and is completely meaningless in the actual world. A laser fired through a ship’s hull or a bullet fired trough the brain are completely real and have actual effects. If we must use full military force to recover Miss Stern, then we’ll do so. And we’ll properly retaliate against those responsible for her kidnaping.”
Prime Minister Gratton was now in a full state of rage as he violently stood up.
“HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU THREATEN US! WHAT WE DID WAS TO SAVE HER SOUL FROM DAMNATION!”
March remained seated and maintained the level voice as he responded.
“You’ve done nothing. Existence exists, God doesn’t exist, and Hell doesn’t exist. The entire doctrine of the Christian religion is an absolute load of nothing. Your alleged government has done nothing but to commit multiple capital crimes under the color of law for absolutely no reason. The Republic of Freya must now respond to your very real crimes with very real force.”
Prime Minister Gratton leaned forward with his fists on top of his desk and lowered his voice to ask a question.
“Why’re you still here?”
March broke a slight grin.
“It’s very simple. You can still resolve the situation without further bloodshed. All you have to do is admit that you were wrong and release Miss Stern to us.”
“I can’t do that.” Said Gratton.
“Of course you can.” March replied.
“I serve Jesus Christ!”
March calmly replied.
“You serve no one and nothing, in doing so you’ve placed your nation at risk.”
“This nation won’t reelect me.”
“So what? ‘Being elected is not an excuse.’” Said March. “It’s not just a tradition for us, it is an absolute fact of reality.”
Gratton stared at James March.
“I don’t understand.”
James March spoke in response.
“Sir, I have the honor of being descended from President John Andrew March.”
Gratton virtually fell back into his chair with a loud thump. The name of John Andrew March was deeply cursed by his people. John Andrew March was the last President of the United States and the founder of The Federation. In the history of the Irish people he was also an irredeemable monster. He’d ordered the destruction of Dublin in old Ireland on Earth by nuclear bombing and brought Ireland into The Federation by full military force at the cost of tens of thousands Irish lives.
The man calmly sitting before him was proud of being descended from that monster.
The state of fear had now clearly entered his mind. Gratton could only answer with a clearly shaken voice.
“I can’t do it.”
“Of course you can.” March continued to reply with the calm and level voice. “The facts are the facts, and all it takes to comply with the absolute facts is to give one simple order.”
“I have to call a meeting of the cabinet.” Said Gratton.
“Why bother?” Said James March. “The facts of reality can’t be evaded, and certainly not by a vote of a committee. The facts of Reality aren't subject to a popular vote. There’s only one valid outcome to this mess, and as the prime minister you now clearly know what to do.”
And with those words James March stood up and returned to the Freyan Consulate.
Upon his return to the Freyan Consulate he called a meeting. Present at the meeting were his deputy, a junior consular officer, three members of the Marine consular detachment, and a Navy medical corpsman.
“Okay,” said March, “we all know why we’re here. I fully expect the ruling idiots to kick the consulate out very soon. That means the worst case scenario is now in full effect.”
Everyone at the table nodded.
March proceeded to speak to each person at the table. Beginning with his deputy.
“Ellie, are the safe houses, vehicles, and our friends ready?”
“Ready to go, sir.”
He turned to the consular officer.
“Miss Zev, are you ready to go?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Staff Sergeant MacDonald, is your team ready to go?”
“Yes, sir!”
Both of the Marines, who were the flag raising detail that morning, nodded in agreement.
March then turned to the female Navy medical corpsman at the end of the table.
“Able Spacehand Newman, are you ready to go?”
“Yes, sir.”
It was time for James March to give the final speech.
“We had to improvise with what we had on hand. I wish we could do better, but wishes never ever come true. We’ll have to make this happen ourselves. Let’s go out and do it, make it happen. Let’s rescue Judith Stern and bring her home.”
With those words the meeting ended.
On the next morning in the parliament building at the center of the city of New Boston the cabinet held their meeting. And every member of the body absolutely had to get his word in. The Minister of Agriculture was shouting.
“That poor girl was properly baptized into the Christian Church! We won’t turn her over to those Godless vermin!”
George Cross, the Foreign Minister, spoke in reply.
“Fred, I have spoken to Miss Stern this morning, she’s clearly rejected the rite of baptism as applied to herself. And she has gone as far as to call it a voodoo ceremony.”
The Minister of Agriculture responded.
“She needs to be shown the truth of the Christian faith!”
Cross replied in turn.
“Miss Stern has clearly stated that she’s a citizen of the Freyan Republic who holds Metaphysical Realism as her basic philosophy, and that regardless of what we decide here and now, she’ll return to her home world on her own as soon as possible.”
The Minister of Agriculture shouted.
“Five or six years in a convent school will change that! And if not? We’ll send her to one of the laundries!”
Cross winced, the revival of some of the practices of old Catholic Ireland on Earth was a sore point in relations with other worlds. Revival of the practice of slave labor as a means of morally reforming young women hadn’t become well known off of their planet. Not yet at the moment. Foreign Minister Cross spoke again.
“It may not take that long. Mister James March, the Freyan Consul to our world, has sent a request to the Freyan government to take military action to recover Miss Stern from our custody.”
The cabinet was silenced.
“Gentlemen,” said the Foreign Minister, “Mister March was absolutely certain that the request would be granted by the Freyan government.”
Everyone silently stared at the Foreign Minister. Then the Defense Minister spoke.
“It won’t happen.” He said. “Their Ambassador to Earth said they won’t.”
Foreign Minister Cross replied.
“The Freyan Ambassador to Earth is a political appointee whose job is to smile and shake hands. And he doesn’t speak for the Freyan government on this world, James March does.”
The Defense Minister responded with a smug voice.
“Even if they wanted to do something, they can’t, they don’t have the means to do it.”
“I have to disagree,” said Cross, “one of your Space Guard vessels was just taken out by one of their armed merchantman.”
“Shut up!”
Prime Minister Gratton cut into the argument.
“That’ll be enough.”
He turned to the Foreign Minister and asked a question.
“So George, what can they do?”
“Sir, I had to look this up on the local version of the Jane’s Military Information site, as an independent world the Freyans has fully functional armed forces. This includes a fully jump capable space navy and at least one battalion of marines organized as an expeditionary force.”
“One battalion?” Said the Defense Minister. “Against an entire world? They may as well not bother!”
“Jerry,” said the Foreign Minister, “if you bothered to do your job instead of drinking all day you’d know that’s complete nonsense.”
“Bullshit!” The Defense Minister responded. “They can’t take our planet!”
“They don’t have to. I also had a chat with the Federation military attache this afternoon. Someone who actually knows something about the subject of warfare.”
How dare you!” The Defense Minister shouted.
Prime Minister Gratton cut in again.
“Gentlemen!”
He turned to the Foreign Minister.
“What did the military attache say?”
“Sir, the Freyans don’t have to take or suppress the our entire planet. Even though we legally own the planet we don’t actually occupy all of the surface. All they have to do is make a landing on an unoccupied piece of land. They’ll set up a base camp and then the marines will use their gravitic lift capacity to simply fly over any attempt to block their mission. There may be a fight at the location where Miss Stern is being held but they will prevail.”
“Prevail!” Shouted the Defense Minister. “What kind of treasonous piece of shit are you?”
The Foreign Minister quickly replied.
“Unlike you, I’m doing my job!”
Again, Prime Minister Gratton had to interrupt.
“Gentlemen! That’s enough!”
He again spoke to the Foreign Minister.
“Did you speak to anyone else on this matter?”
“Yes, I did speak with the Federation ambassador.”
“What did he have to say?”
“In his opinion this government is clearly in the wrong and we should return Miss Stern to her parents as soon as possible.”
Someone at the left end of the table shouted.
“That won’t happen!”
Everyone turned to a well aged priest, Bishop Paul Clark, the Minister for Religion.
Gratton spoke.
“Bishop, did you have something to say?”
“Yes,” he replied, “This discussion is pointless, Miss Stern has been irrevocably brought into the Mother Church, she can’t be returned to the Godless filth on Freya.”
With the exception of the Foreign Minister everyone at the table mumbled in agreement.
The Minister for Religion continued to speak.
“God won’t permit it.”
The Foreign Minister responded.
“The Freyan Marine expeditionary force as presently organized includes a company of tanks. Will God stop a plasma cannon?”
The Minister for Religion replied.
“Shut your sinners mouth!”
“I won’t be silent on this! This government has clearly made a mistake! And God isn’t about to stop the very real punishment that’ll be inflicted on us for making it!”
Bishop Clark shouted his response.
“I told you to shut your sinner’s mouth! If you can’t do that then leave!”
Effectively every other member of the Cabinet gave voice to the word.
“Resign.”
Now that cabinet was, at the prompting of the Bishop, meekly muttering for his dismissal the Foreign Minister stood up and spoke.
“So, you want to fire me simply for speaking the truth? Well no, you don’t have to fire me, I did everything possible to peacefully resolve this crisis and the lot of you wouldn’t listen. Well that’s it! I quit! I’m out of here!”
With that he removed himself from the room.
All eyes now turned to The Minister for Religion.
He had a question.
“Mister Prime Minister, why is the Godless filth from Freya still on this world?”
Prime Minister Thomas Gratton had no answer.
After the meeting Gratton had another conversation in his personal office with his former Foreign Minister, George Cross.
“As I said,” Cross spoke, “the Freyan Ambassador to Earth is a political appointee, his job is to smile and make a good impression. He doesn’t have a voice in making policy. The government back on Freya will likely send out a replacement with more brains in six months time.”
“They will?”
“Yes sir.”
It would take a current generation starship three months to carry a message from Earth to Freya. And another three months to return with the reply.
“So what do we do, George?”
“Wait to be slaughtered, sir.”
“Why?” Gratton asked. “The Defense Minister says no one on Earth would sell them a proper ship of war.”
“They don’t have to. The Freyaspace Corporation has their own ship design and construction facilities in their home system. And the Freyans have a full industrial base to support it. They’ve been designing and building ships for their navy since they were granted independence by the Federation. And their military ships aren’t the usual customs and safety patrol vessels. No, they’re real warships. And as we’ve discovered the hard way, their merchantmen can also put up a fight.”
“You also said they have tanks?”
“Yes sir, the Freyan Marine Corps has some Merkava Mark Ten tanks they bought from Masada. But they’re working on designing and building their own for their Army and Marine Corps.”
“And the Federation won’t stop them?” Gratton asked.
“Why should they?” Cross replied. “The Federation view is that we have revived all the old evils of old Catholic Ireland, and as a result we now deserve what’s coming to us.”
“Did anyone you spoke to have any actual advice for us?”
“Yes sir, someone at the Federation embassy did, the Military Attache. He said, take your ten best friends with your family and go.”
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