two revised scenes: the battle is getting closer

== 2064: 30th Red Stripe muster point, Jameson soccer club, Aristillus, Lunar Nearside

Major Van Duong stood in the bleachers, watching as another platoon of the 30th Red Stripe formed up on the field below. The men looked bizarrely out of place, walking across the manicured green grass and the crisply painted white lines of the soccer field – while wearing armored space suits and carrying rifles.

The rifles were dark gray bordering on black but the suits were bright white with a broad red stripe from left shoulder to right hip. The red stripe made sense. The battalion was funded by, and named after, Trang Loc’s Red Stripe spacesuit rental firm, and one thing – the only thing – that Trang didn’t have to buy in bulk when he equipped his militia was spacesuits.

Major Van Duong shifted from one foot to the other. If the battle went well his men would never even be seen by the PKs – they’d be safely far back from the front lines, remote controlling swarms of unmanned vehicles through encrypted data links.

But they couldn’t count on the battle going well. If they ended up nose to nose, fighting it out with rifles and pistols, he didn’t want to have a big red stripe on his suit, or on the suits of any of his men. He’d done his reading and learned his lessons. From the Sun Tzu he’d learned that he should try to keep his plans secret. From Napolean he’d learned that he should prefer lucky officers. And from the American Revolution he’d learned that only an idiot marches onto the battlefield wearing red.

Van Duong’s adjutant leaned in. “That’s everyone, Major.” Van Duong nodded. “OK, prep them for battle.”

The adjutant picked up his phone and gave the order. A dozen men who had been standing by the nets of the soccer goals bent down, lifted their large buckets of black paint, and jogged forward.

== 2064: MaisonNeuve Construction office, Aristillus, Lunar Nearside

Mike stared off into space, wishing that Leroy would just leave him the hell alone. Leroy, though, had other plans. Of course he did. That asshole. Leroy took a sip of water and looked at Mike. “Can I get you anything?”

After one day in captivity Mike had become willing to take water from the PKs. After three days he’d reluctantly started eating the food they offered him – but he’d would be damned if he’d take anything from Leroy.

Mike looked away. Leroy raised one eyebrow. “No?” Leroy took another long sip of the water and grinned. “Mike, your problem has always been your arrogant independence. This -” he raised his glass “- is the perfect example. I can do a favor for you, but you don’t want it. Life is about give and take. Do favors for people, and accept favors from them. You’ve got to make accommodations. Mike, are you listening to me?” Mike fought to keep his eyes unfocused. He wasn’t going to give Fournier the satisfaction.

Leroy waited for a moment for some response then continued. “I’m sure you are. The secret of life is figuring out how the system works, then working with in it. But that’s not for you, is it? You’d rather spit in the faces of the people who make the world work.” Leroy paused and pulled up a chair, then sat, pulling up lightly on the creases of his pant legs. “You, of all people, should have learned this lesson by now. In your American ‘CEO Trials’ you could have helped the investigation, but you stood on pride. As if you were better than everyone else. As if you’re not part of society.” Leroy shook his head. “Nothing comes to people who don’t know how to work in the system. You can’t accomplish anything -”

Mike looked up, breaking his silence at last. “Leroy, in the twenty years after my dad died I built four companies from the ground up. Four. Then after the government seized them and took everything I owned, Ponzie and I flew to the moon. The moon. We dug our first tunnel using equipment that I refurbished with my own hands. In an unheated warehouse in Idaho. And you know what? So many people wanted in on what I was doing that there are hundreds of thousands living in Aristillus now. People risk death to get here.” Mike breathed heavily. “You know what? I’ve accomplished more useful stuff in any one weekend than you have in your entire life. What have you ever done? You took your dad’s money and started a stupid company. You pissed it all away, so you went back to daddy for more money. When when that failed, you came here to Aristillus and did it a third time.” The insults were hitting – Leroy looked angry. No. PISSED. And beneath that? He looked hurt. Seriously hurt. Leroy knew that he was a failure. Mike smiled. “You’re good for two things, Leroy: pissing away what other people have handed to you, and kissing the asses of your bet-”

Leroy’s face clenched and without warning he threw his glass of water in Mike’s face. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about about, Martin!” Mike flinched just before the glass hit, the edge of it biting painfully into his ear, the splash of water drenching his chest.

Leroy stood, knocking his chair back. “You’re a hack, a cowboy, Mike. Your ‘success’? Pffft. You break the rules and don’t care about society. Anyone can be a success if they don’t follow the rules. If we play a board game and I move my piece out of turn, I win. Where’s the skill in that? That’s not success. Accomplishments? You haven’t accomplished shit.”

Leroy paused, took a deep breath, and calmed himself. “You created Aristillus? You’re a success and I’m a failure? Then why are you wearing handcuffs, and I’m the new governor?”

Mike looked up, blood running down his neck from the cut on his ear. Governor? What the hell was –

Leroy continued “You heard me. Thanks, Martin – thanks for all your stupid god-damned grunt labor digging out these shoddy tunnels. They’re an ill-planned mess and they’re filled with the dregs who couldn’t make it on Earth, but I promise you one thing – under my leadership, I’ll improve on your shitty little -”

The door opened and Major Reimmers stepped in. “What’s the yelling? Is everything all right in -”

Leroy turned, his hands up in a placating gesture, his voice suddenly calm and refined “Yes, of course, everything’s fine.”

Reimmers looked over at Mike, drenched in water and bleeding. “Jesus, Fournier, leave the prisoner alone, OK?”

Leroy changed the topic. “Is everything set for the landing?”

The Major answered, while keeping his eyes on Mike. “Yes”. He turned slowly from Mike to Fournier then continued “The beacons are in place. I gave Washington the thumbs up an hour ago.”

The invasion? It was coming now? Mike’s stomach felt hollow and empty and a million miles away, and this throat seemed filled with acid. He’d assumed that they had months left. Months in which the Boardroom Group could pull together some kind of defense.

Leroy turned to face Mike and Mike, numbly, met his eyes. “Don’t worry, Martin – all of this will be over soon”. He grinned lopsidedly then left the room.

Mike looked over at Major Reimmers. Reimmers licked his lips, then looked away. A moment later he looked back. “Martin? I know it doesn’t mean anything – but I’m sorry about this. I’m just doing my job. I don’t put any stock in -”

Mike couldn’t help himself. He took a deep shuddering breath and let it out, then another. Please, God, not in front of a witness.

Reimmer coughed awkwardly then left, closing the door behind him.

In the room alone Mike ground his chin into his chest. God fucking damn it! He breathed raggedly again and started to sob.