Solfleet: The Call of Duty (66 page)

The next
morning or
eight?
Had he just... “Did you just offer me the entire next week
off, sir?” she asked.

“
Yes I
did, Commander. Consider it my sincerest apology for interrupting your...sleep.
”
She and Karen exchanged amused looks, both grinning at his obvious
embarrassment. “
Unless you’d rather just come back to work on Monday, in
which case I can meet you here at oh-six-thirty and you can brief me before we
go to the weekly staff meeting.
”

Karen lifted
her head off Liz’s leg and whispered, “Is he serious? A whole week off?” Liz
nodded. “Hell yes!” Karen said as she started to get up. “Go! Talk to the man!
Brief him all night if you have to!”

Smiling, Liz
said, “I’ll be there in thirty minutes, sir.”

“
So I
heard. No need to be in uniform. I’ll be waiting. Hansen out.
”

The entire
next week off. Eight whole days, counting tomorrow and next weekend. She and
Karen would be free to go anywhere and do anything they wished. That was definitely
worth the price of one late night briefing. But before she could brief the
admiral, she needed to know exactly what to brief him on, and more importantly
what
not
to brief him on. She’d been out of touch for a week. Hopefully
the Tarko City station commander had forwarded his reports to her home unit and
kept the admiral in the dark.

“Lights,”
she said as she rolled out of bed. She went to her desk and practically fell
into the chair, which automatically activated her terminal. “Computer, search
incoming personal communications records for the past twenty-eight days.
Keyword ‘Graves’.”

“I guess I’ll
go take a cold shower,” Karen said as she appeared at Liz’s shoulder.

Liz put her
arm around Karen’s hips and kissed her just below her navel, then looked up at
her and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m
used to it.” She bent down and kissed her gently on the lips. “Besides,” she
added with a smile, “we have the next eight days and nights to do whatever we
want.” She kissed her again, then went into the bathroom.

Turning her
attention back to the computer, Liz saw about fifteen messages from the station
commander listed and sighed with relief. Good man. She’d have to remember to
thank him. “Replay messages in reverse order,” she said.

“
Hello,
Commander,
” the man’s image said a little too loudly a moment after it
appeared on the screen. Startled, Royer gasped and threw her arms across her
breasts. She looked at the time-date stamp in the lower right corner of the
display and, much to her relief, saw that the message was in fact a recording
and not a live transmission. It had just been received yesterday. She knew, of
course, that if it had been a live transmission she would have had to tell the
computer to open the channel before the commander could actually have seen her.
Nevertheless, sitting in front of his image with nothing on still made her a
little uncomfortable.

She turned
down the volume, then crossed her legs and turned slightly away as the message
continued.

“
This is
what, my fourteenth update? Fifteenth? I don’t even know. Hell, I lost count a
long time ago. Anyway, I’m sorry to say that I don’t have much of anything new
for you since the last one. Turns out the gunshot wound Sergeant Graves
suffered during the kidnapping wasn’t that serious. They didn’t even admit him.
However...
”

Gunshot
wound! Kidnapping! What the hell?

“...
suffering
from those nightmares of his. The DeGaetano girl’s wounds, on the other hand, were
more serious. She’s in intensive care...
”

The
DeGaetano girl? Who the hell was that?

“...
but
has already shown some improvement. She should be out before too much longer.
Perhaps as soon as a few days from now.
”

“Hold,” Royer
commanded. The commander’s image froze.

Just what
the hell had happened back there? How had Graves gotten shot again? Who was the
DeGaetano girl and who the hell had been kid... Suddenly it dawned on her, and
the only thing she could manage to say was, “Uh oh.”

O’Donnell. “Shit.”
The enemy had gotten to her first. “Resume.”

“
Those
special counseling sessions you arranged for have continued and will continue
as scheduled, but so far there’s been no sign that they’re helping. As I said,
he’s still having those nightmares. I wish I had better news for you, but I don’t.
”

The
commander paused briefly, then added with an exasperated shake of his head, “
I
just don’t understand it, Commander. I’ve never heard of anything like this to
happen before. If he were a Tor’Kana or even a Cirran telepath, then maybe. But
he’s not.
” He shook his head again. “
Beats me how this happened. I guess
all we can do is keep trying
.

“
On a
personal note, I hope you never actually have to go through with your
contingency plan for him. He’s a proud Marine and he actually seems like a
pretty nice guy. I’d hate to see him embarrassed like that.

“
Anyway,
you should be back on station for my next scheduled update tomorrow, so I guess
I’ll talk to you live at that time. Hopefully I’ll actually have something
significant and encouraging to tell you by then. Out.
”

Royer leaned
back, dropped her hands into her lap, and let go the breath she hadn’t even
known she was holding.
She’d
been kidnapped. It
had
to be her.
She was sure of it. Stefani O’Donnell. Damn it!

Liz
knew
she
should have stayed. What the hell had gone wrong? Obviously, a lot had happened
out there since she left. She had a lot of reports to catch up on.

But she didn’t
have time now. Admiral Hansen was waiting for her.

Hansen. She
groaned. What the hell was she going to tell him now? Why was Graves still
having those nightmares and how the hell was she going to explain them to the
admiral? He’d been against it from the very beginning and had only reluctantly given
the go-ahead after she’d spent literally hours arguing with him, trying to
convince him that it was the right thing to do. The last thing he needed to
hear now, and certainly the last thing she wanted to have to tell him, was that
there were complications.

Now she knew
how Ensign Pillinger must have felt.

He was
waiting. She got up and went to her dresser, hurriedly brushed out her still
damp hair and then pulled on a clean set of underclothes. Then she crossed to
the closet and pulled on a pair of jeans and whatever tee shirt she happened to
grab first. She quickly checked herself in the mirror, then pulled her tee
shirt off again, tossed it aside, and went back to the closet to get a
different one. Kansas City Chiefs—a better choice than the Romanov Vodka shirt
she’d grabbed first. She pulled it on, then grabbed her sneakers out of her luggage
and slipped them on as she headed out the door.

Nothing, she
decided with determination as she headed toward the lift. She’d tell Hansen
exactly nothing. Nothing about the sergeant’s nightmares. Nothing about the
special counseling she’d set up for him to help put an end to them. Nothing
about the disturbing news she’d just heard, either. At least, not until she had
a chance to review the agent’s previous messages and get some more details. And
most definitely nothing about how she planned ultimately to succeed in getting
Graves to join the agency, one way or the other, whether he wanted to or not.
After all, it was only a matter of time before all the obstacles would be gone
and he’d be on his way to the academy. What would it really matter how she did
it as long as she got it done? In this case, the ends would justify the means. No
need to concern the admiral with the details.

She could
only hope the Tarko City station commander hadn’t panicked when her ship went
missing and blown the whistle.

Dylan gently
brushed a lock of hair out of Bethany’s eyes. He hadn’t left her bedside in
hours, even after she’d finally fallen asleep some forty-five minutes ago. With
luck she’d sleep through the night.

His wound
hadn’t been a very serious one and he’d recovered quickly—more accurately, he’d
been
repaired
quickly, having been hit in his biotronic arm—but Beth was
another matter altogether. According to her surgeon, one of her neck vertebrae
had been grazed, and although her spinal column hadn’t been hit the initial
impact and close passage of the bullet had caused what he’d described in layman’s
terms as an indirect trauma injury. She’d recover fully, but it was going to
take time. She’d spend at least a week in intensive care and two more on the
ward, then be sent home for two or three months of supervised convalescence.

His stomach
rumbled. He checked the time. 23:36 hours. No wonder he was hungry. He hadn’t
eaten anything since dinner and he’d burned a lot of energy since then. He
leaned down and kissed her tenderly on her forehead, then left the room,
pulling the door behind him but not closing it all the way. For reasons that
hadn’t been clear to him even after the medical staff tried to explain, they
didn’t want it closed.

Two more
days, he reflected as he started down the hall toward the cafeteria. All he’d
had to do was take it easy for two more days. Then he could have returned to
his unit. He’d likely have been put on light duty for a while and he still
would have had to go to those damn sessions, but at least he would have been
back. Now he had to wait another whole week.

Regardless
of when he went back, though, he knew things were never going to be quite the
same again. He’d return to an almost completely different squad—a squad full of
Marines who hadn’t faced combat together before. A squad that hadn’t meshed
yet. A squad that hadn’t become a family the way most of his old one had. Not
that they’d have to wait very long for the opportunity.

No. Their
opportunity would very likely come sooner rather than later.

He thought
about that as he walked into the cafeteria, picked up a tray, and started
filling it with whatever happened to be within easy reach, and to his surprise
he found that the notion scared him. It scared him a lot. He’d seen combat
several times over the years, but with the exception of that first mission as a
member of the
Blackhawk
crew—one of his first
real
tastes of
combat—he’d come through it all relatively unharmed. Until last month’s rescue
mission. That one had almost cost him his life. And then there was last night.
His wound had been a minor one this time, but it was a combat wound nonetheless.
Twice in a row now he’d been a casualty. He was only twenty-eight years old,
for God sake. Was he losing his edge already?

If he was
losing his edge, then how could he continue to lead troops into combat?

The need to
pay for his food only distracted him for a moment, but that was long enough. As
he slipped his identicard back into his pocket, picked up his tray, and went
looking for a table, he summed up his fears in one word.

Nonsense.

He’d go back
to his unit, and as soon as he returned to full duty status he’d train his new
troops. With Billy’s help he’d mold their new squad into a fighting unit every
bit as good as their old one. Perhaps even better. All he needed were the right
people.

He chose a
table at random and set his tray down, but his sat-phone sang its tone before
he even sat down. He pulled it from its belt pouch, flipped it open, and then sat
down as he answered, “Hello.”

“
Degger,
it’s Billy,
” Running Horse said. “
Sorry to call you so late, but I’ve
been trying you at home for hours. Had a little trouble finding your mobile
code.
”

“No problem,
Billy,” Dylan told him. Then he asked, “What’s up?”

“
I just
wanted to give you a heads-up. They’re planning on making you the detachment supply
sergeant when you come back.
”

“They’re
what?” Dylan asked, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.

“
Yeah.
They say it’s only going to be temporary, but you know how that goes.
”

Indeed he
did. Temporary assignments had a way of sneaking up on those persons who’d been
naïve enough to volunteer for them and becoming permanent when they weren’t
looking. He’d seen it happen a hundred times before and he had no intention of
letting it happen to him. “No way am I doing that,” he proclaimed.

“
It’s
done, Degger. The L-T has already made his decision and sent word up the chain.
You’ve got no way out of it, my friend.
”

The L-T.
Damn. Dylan had liked him, too. He’d really thought he was different.

He drew a
deep breath and let it out very slowly, then simply said, “Thanks for the
heads-up, Billy. I’ll talk to you later.”

He closed
the channel, dropped his phone onto the table, and sat back, suddenly not very
hungry. He was a Marine. A combat soldier. A warrior. He was a squad sergeant,
not a staff sergeant. He was a man who led others on classified and covert high-risk
missions. He wasn’t some kind of warehouse worker or an inventory clerk. Not
that he had a problem with those who did that kind of work. They had their part
to play just like everyone else, and that part was just as important. But that
didn’t mean he wanted to be one of them.

After all he’d
done in his career, how could his leaders possibly expect him to adjust to
something like that?

The answer
was really quite simple, he realized. They couldn’t, and they probably didn’t.

The time had
come for him to move on.

By the time
Royer finished briefing Admiral Hansen on the results of her trip, her tee
shirt had begun sticking to her back and shoulders and she couldn’t be sure if that
was due to her damp hair or to nervous perspiration. The admiral had asked her a
lot of questions and she’d had to sidestep, skirt around, or just plain lie in
response to several of them. She hadn’t liked lying to him any more than he’d
liked lying to the president, but she knew that if she’d told him the truth about
Sergeant Graves’ nightmares and the steps she’d taken to combat them he would
have become one very displeased admiral. And the mere mention of having found
Stefani O’Donnell there when she hadn’t brought her back to Earth in handcuffs
would probably have enraged him more than she’d ever seen him enraged before. He
was bound to find out everything sooner or later, of course, and when he did she’d
have hell to pay, but she wasn’t ready to deal with any of that just yet.

She was most
especially relieved that he hadn’t asked her about the kidnapping or about
Graves being wounded again. Apparently the Tarko City station commander hadn’t
betrayed her confidence, because if he had—if the admiral had known about those
events—she might very well have found herself running for the nearest airlock
without a spacesuit.

Hansen sat
up in his chair. “So to summarize what you’ve told me, Commander, you do think
there’s still an outside chance he might join us?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, I
do,” she answered positively.

“Despite the
fact that the last time you talked to him he told you there was no way in hell
he’d sign up?”

“Call it a
feeling, Admiral. Gut instinct. I think he’s seen more than enough combat and
he just doesn’t realize it yet.”

Hansen gazed
at her in silence for a moment while he considered whether or not to tell her
what he knew and lay into her for what she’d done. On the one hand he was angry
at her for not at least consulting him before she acted. But on the other, he
had to admire her initiative and her willingness to act alone, regardless of
what he might think about the chances of her plan actually succeeding. Besides,
as slim as those chances might be, a slim chance was always better than no chance
at all.

“Okay,” he
finally told her with a single nod of his head. “Good enough, Commander. I hope
you’re right.”

“Yeah. Me,
too.”

“I guess
that’ll do for now. Enjoy your week off. Just make sure I know where to find
you in case of emergency. I promise I’ll try to leave you alone.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And again,
my apologies to you and Karen for...”

“Forget it,
sir,” she said, brushing his earlier faux pas aside as she stood up. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,
Commander.”

As Royer
headed for the door, the buzzer on Hansen’s comm-panel sounded. He froze for an
instant, hoping,
praying
that it wasn’t Combat Operations calling him
with another casualty report from Mass Eviction. He’d already received four of
them just since noon and the figures had been a lot higher than expected.

The buzzer
sounded again. He opened the channel. “Yes?”

“
This is
Crewman Wilkerson in the comm-center,
” the too-young-for-the-service-looking
man on the screen said. “
Is this Admiral Hansen?
”

“Yes. What
is it?” he asked less than patiently.

“
Sir,
there’s a Squad Sergeant Dylan Graves calling from Cirra, asking for the Chief
of Intelligence.
”

“Stand by,
Crewman.” He switched off the audio. “Commander Royer!” he called as the door
closed behind her. A second later the door slid open again and she stepped back
inside.

“Yes, sir?”

Hansen
raised a hand to silence her. “Put the sergeant through, Crewman,” he
instructed while watching Royer to gauge her reaction. It was positive, but
guarded. A lift of her eyebrows, a slight tilt of her head, and a not quite
grinning purse of her lips. “Secure and encrypted.”

“
Yes,
sir.
”

The face on
the monitor changed from that of the young man, who was barely more than a boy,
to that of the seasoned Marine whom Hansen had come to recognize all too easily
from their time together in his nightmares.

“
Admiral
Hansen?
” the sergeant asked.

“Yes,
Sergeant Graves. I’m Admiral Hansen. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“
You’re
Chief of the S-I-A, sir?
”

“That’s
right.”

“
Then you
owe it to that pain-in-the-ass deputy of yours. I’m in.
” And with that the
screen went dark.

“I guess he
got to know you pretty well, Commander,” Hansen quipped.

Royer let
out a sigh of relief that could have started a hurricane. “Yes, sir. I guess he
did,” she agreed without even realizing what the admiral had said. She’d been
so afraid that Graves might say something about what she’d held back from the admiral
that she hadn’t actually been listening.

Studying his
underling’s expression and speaking in a more serious tone, the admiral said, “I
wonder what made him change his mind.”

“Who cares,
as long as he’s coming aboard?” Royer asked rhetorically.

“I care,” Hansen
replied. He waited for her to look back at him, then added, “He didn’t seem all
that enthusiastic about it.”

“Special
Operations, Admiral,” she reminded him as though that explained everything. “You
know how hard it is for them to break from their teams.”

Was she
beginning to suspect that he knew more than he’d let on? Was she intentionally
trying to allay his suspicions, rather than come clean? “True enough,” he said.
And he’d intended to leave it at that...at first. But then he figured, what the
hell? Why not put her on the spot. If he let what she’d done go this time, what
would prevent her from doing something similar again the next time she thought
it was warranted? Better to nip it in the bud right now.

He asked, “But
that’s not all it is this time, is it, Commander?”

She gazed at
him curiously—if she hadn’t suspected anything before, she surely must have now—then
started, “I’m not sure I know...”

“I know what
you did, Commander,” he interrupted, silencing her. Better that than give her
the opportunity to lie right to his face. If she did that he’d never be able to
trust her again. “I know you arrested Stefani O’Donnell, and I know what you
did with her. You’re damn lucky it worked this time, but don’t you
ever
do
anything like that again without consulting with me first. Understood?”

“Understood,
sir,” she answered meekly.

“Good.” He
stared at her for a moment, then softened his tone and said, “Enjoy your time
off, Commander. You earned it. Dismissed.”

She smiled a
little, but it was obviously forced. She wasn’t used to being put in her place
like that and she likely resented it quite a bit. “Thank you, sir,” she said.
Then she turned on her heel and left his office, perhaps just a little faster
than usual.

The second
the door closed behind her Hansen shut down his computer terminal, leaned back
in his chair again, and stared at the door as if he could see right through it
to watch her go. From the moment she’d told him that she was planning to go to
Cirra herself, he’d known that it wouldn’t do them any good. He’d been
absolutely sure of it, and she’d been well aware of that from the beginning.
Still, she was a proud and dedicated officer, and having to report failure,
even though that failure had been expected all along, clearly hadn’t been an easy
thing for her to do. He’d known exactly how embarrassed and ashamed she felt,
too, and he’d empathized with her completely. But in the end she’d been
vindicated. An amazing stroke of luck maybe, but vindication all the same, and
he felt happy for her. Well, relieved at least. After what he’d so thoughtlessly
done to her and Karen about an hour and a half ago, he owed her that much.

Even if she
had tried to keep secrets from him.

So ended
another day. Another very
long
day. And despite having just received the
good news from Sergeant Graves, his spirit quickly sank to its usual
disheartened state as he looked back on the day’s events.

It had been
another terrible, costly day for Coalition forces in the Rosha’Kana system, and
still Mirriazu hadn’t called with her decision. He’d known her well for years
and was used to having to wait for her to make her most difficult decisions,
and this one certainly qualified as one of her most difficult. But considering
what was at stake, even he couldn’t understand why she was taking so long. So how
much longer would it be? More importantly, and more tragically, how many more
soldiers, airmen, and Marines would pay for her prolonged indecisiveness with
their lives before she finally, inevitably, authorized the Timeshift mission?
The numbers grew more devastating with every passing hour, and his patience
with his old friend was quickly wearing thin.

Then again, how
much of his loss of patience was genuinely her fault, he wondered as he stood
with a heavy sigh and pulled his jacket down from its hanger on the narrow
brass rack behind him, and how much was really just misguided frustration over
Royer’s deceitfulness? He’d never known Liz to hide anything from him before
and the fact that she’d done so this time and then tried to lie about it when
he gave her an opportunity to come clean really annoyed him.

He barely
had one arm through its sleeve before his comm-panel buzzed again. He froze for
a second or two, once more fearing another casualty report, then pulled his
coat on the rest of the way as the panel buzzed a second time. It probably was
another casualty report. What else could it be at this time of night?

He fastened
his jacket, then reached down as the buzzer sounded for the third time and
opened the channel. “Yes.”

“
This is
Crewman Wilkerson at the comm-center again, Admiral,
” the young man on the
screen said.

“What is it,
Crewman?”

“
Sir,
President Shakhar is calling for you on your red channel. It sounds pretty
urgent.
”

“My red
channel? Why didn’t it come directly to my office?”

“
I don’t
know, sir. That doesn’t happen very often, does it, sir?
”

“It’s not
supposed to happen at all, Crewman,” he replied. “Re-encrypt the signal and
send it through to me, then get somebody to work on that comm system right
away. I want to know why this transmission went through your center and I want
to know sooner rather than later. Do you understand?”

“
Yes,
sir. I’ll take care of that right away and get back to you as soon as possible.
”

“Negative.
Report to your supervisor. Use your normal chain of command.”

“
Aye,
sir. Stand by for the president.
”

Speak of the
devil. Hansen sat down again. Could this finally be the call?

The president’s
image replaced the young man’s. She looked even more stone-faced and much more
tired than usual. “
Good evening, Admiral Hansen,
” she said, a little too
formally for his liking. “
I am glad I caught you before you retired for the
evening.
”

“As am I,
Madam President,” he reciprocated, anxiously anticipating the order that would
finally transform the Timeshift Resolution into an operational mission. “Although,
I’m beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t just stay here the rest of the night.
Might give me a little head start on tomorrow morning.”

“
It’s
tomorrow morning right now where I am, Nick, and this isn’t the first time I’ve
made that same mistake. I wouldn’t recommend it.
”

He grinned. “No,
I suppose not. So what can I do for you?”

“
I have
already spoken to Chairman MacLeod and Professor Verne. I wanted to speak to
you first, but for some reason I could not get through to you on any of the
usual channels earlier, including this one. I suggest you have your comm
systems looked at.
”

“Yeah, I
just found out there’s a problem with it. I’m having it checked out as we
speak, so for right now I suggest we guard what we say.”

“
A wise
precaution. As you might have guessed, I’m calling you because I have made my
decision regarding the subject we discussed in August. The answer is no.
”

Hansen was
careful not to react in any way, one way or the other, for the moment. Better
to wait until she explained her decision first.

“
Chairman
MacLeod is at this very minute making plans to reintroduce the resolution to
the Earth Security Council for another vote, but I doubt the outcome will be
different. Especially since he woke them all up in the middle of the night. My
decision will stand.
”

Was that it?
Was that all he was going to get—her final decision without any explanation at
all? “Madam President, have you been following the events in the Rosha’Kana
system since Operation Mass Eviction began?” he asked.

Her demeanor
softened as she leaned closer to the camera and rested her forearms on her
desk. “
I have indeed, Nick. I know things are not going very well out there
right now, but some among my circles predicted that circumstances would be a
lot worse by now than they are. That says a lot, and I firmly believe that we
can survive this crisis without taking such a drastic step.
”

“I wish I
felt as sure as you do.”

The president
straightened again. “
I must say I find your reaction somewhat puzzling,
Nick. I thought you believed all this...subject matter...to be a waste of time.
”

“I did, ma’am.
Perhaps I still do to some extent, but as I reminded you that day in August, I
am first and foremost a soldier and a patriot. I’ve dedicated my life to the
protection and defense of the Earth and her colonies, and what I’m watching
unfold in the Rosha’Kana system on a daily basis is not encouraging.”