Storm Force: Book Three of the Last Legion Series (22 page)

“What do
you
think happened to the Confederation?” Montagna asked.

“Hell if I know,” Lir answered. “Most likely they got soft, got lazy, let other people do their thinking and fighting for them. But I guess that’s probably what any soldier’d say about any empire, back to Roma or whatever, a long, long time ago.”

“Okay, old soldier,” Montagna said. “What comes next?”

“For who?”

“For us.”

“First, we whip up on these Larissans, teach them not to be messing with their betters. Then we rebuild, and, most likely, go looking for the next bastard.”

“Which’ll be?”

“Hell if I know,” Lir said again. “I’m no pol or General Staffer. I go where they point me, kill people and break things ‘til they tell me to stop.”

“Did you ever want to be anything but a soldier?”

Lir was quiet for a time.

“When I was a kid, I wanted to be some kind of professional jocker … an athlete.” She shrugged. “But I wasn’t going to the right schools, my parents didn’t have any money for special training, and the teams I played on didn’t have any talent in depth. Teams with only one star don’t win tourneys or get noticed, generally, ‘cause everybody’s got to have backup to win.

“The best I could do was, real young, join an opera company.”

“What’s that?”

“Doing stories live, on a stage, instead of a holo. Everybody sings, instead of talks. I didn’t sing much, but I was a decent dancer. And an acrobat. Which meant I got to do the fight sequences. There were a couple of older dancers who knew a bunch of martial arts, and didn’t mind passing time between bookings teaching.

“We were good enough to tour a couple of star systems,” Lir went on. “Then we got stuck in the middle of a war with the government collapsed around us, and the best way to stay alive was to learn how to use a blaster.

“I did … and, hell, I guess I fit right in. When the war was over I didn’t want to go out on the street again, worrying about my next meal and doss, and so I ended up joining up with the Confederation.

“Simple story. What made you join up?”

“I’m from near Launceston,” Montagna said. “And my folks had some credits, so I could play any sport I wanted. Mostly swimming. I thought everything was real well planned, and then there was the ‘Raum thing, and my father’s business got wrecked, so we weren’t doing as well as we could’ve.

“Then there was a big tournament. You’re not supposed to say anything like this because it makes you look like a pissy loser, but the tournament was rigged, and somebody else … two somebody elses … got the medals and the chance to go on. Plus there was a boy, and that didn’t work out at all, and all of a sudden I wanted to be someplace else.”

“The Force,” Lir said.

“Yeh,” Montagna agreed. “Why not?”

“A lot of people with that kind of story end up here,” Monique said. “You fixing on staying in?”

Montagna shook her head slowly.

“I don’t know. I really don’t know.” She got up. “More caff?”

Darod refilled both cups. Without turning from the machine, she asked, voice deliberately casual:

“Can I ask a question that’s none of my business? Not about you,
Adj-Prem
.”

“You can always ask,” Lir said.

“It’s about
Mil
Jaansma. Is he married?”

“Nope. Not yet.”

“Who’s that lady he’s always with? The rich one.”

Monique gave Montagna a thumbnail sketch of Jasith.

“What do you think of her?” Darod returned to the table, sat down.

“This isn’t anything more than my opinion,” Monique said. “And I don’t know the woman well enough to be sure. But I don’t have a whole helluva lot of use for her.”

“Why not?”

“First, she dumped
Mil
Jaansma after the ‘Raum rising, for no reason I ever heard. Then, when things got shitty again, with the Musth, and her husband turned traitor, which is what he was, even if he managed to buy himself out of a war-crimes trial afterward, she’s back putting a liplock on Garvin.

“I’m not real large on people who don’t stick by what they decide. I just wonder, if the stick gets shitty again, if she’ll still be there.

“But then, I’m one of those people who aren’t sure if a soldier ought to have
anybody
on the outside. Your friends are enough, and when it itches, go somewhere and scratch it with somebody you don’t have to see again, or worry about what kind of person they really are.”

“Kind of a lonely life,” Darod Montagna said.

Lir shrugged. “So? You come in this world by yourself, go out by yourself, don’t you?” She eyed Darod. “Jaansma’s good-looking enough, and smart enough, although, if you ask me, the smartest thing he’s ever done is let the boss do his heavy thinking for him.”

Darod shivered. “
Cent
Yoshitaro’s a good officer. But he’s cold. He looks at you with those hard eyes of his, and it’s like you’re nothing more than a figure in an equation.”

“So?” Lir asked, a bit of scorn in her voice. “You want humanity and concern, you’ve got Garvin. Or, rather, lemme put it another way.
You
don’t got Jaansma. At least not right now. And you could end up feeling like a
stobor
on a treadmill if you try to change that and get personal with him.

“A rule I’ve got, which has done me good as a soldier and on the outside, is don’t go after what isn’t intended. If you do — ”

Alarms roared, and a synth voice came:

“All hands, all hands, Condition Red! Forcemen, please report immediately to your weapons station!”

The two scooped up their weapons vests, always nearby, ran down a passageway, up a ladder to the bridge deck.

The captain was waiting. “We’ve a report from System Control that unidentified ships have been detected.”

“Where?”

“Fortunately for us, they appeared well in-system. They were reported by a station on one of F-Cumbre’s moons, and there was a mayday from a transport off F-Cumbre. I’d guess they’re headed for D-Cumbre, although the plotting shows the sun’s between them and D. Closest settled world to them is C-Cumbre.

“I plan to maintain our current orbit to K-Cumbre unless advised otherwise or the situation changes. If the ships are Larissan, and change their orbit, we’ll run back and hide in the asteroids.”

“Right, sir,” Lir said. “Our station’ll be manned and ready until further notice.”

• • •

“Now, isn’t this a better way to fight a war?” Jasith Mellusin said.

“I suppose so,” Garvin admitted. “But I’ve got this niggle that says I should be on a canvas cot instead of where I am.”

“Where does it say soldiers all have to be poor and miserable?”

“I dunno,” Jaansma said. “But it’s got to, somewhere. Just like it says we’ve got to be scared and dirty.”

“Pfoo,” Jasith said. She was lolling on a bed only slightly too small to land an
aksai
on, in the owner’s stateroom of her yacht, the
Godrevy
. If it wasn’t for the slightest vibration through the carpeting and the two screens showing ship position within the system, and relative position within the convoy instead of windows, they could be in a luxury suite onplanet. If maybe Garvin thought the stateroom was a little overstated, with its antigrav-controlled waterfall near the entrance, and if he wasn’t fond of baby blue as a color theme, he said nothing. It was, after all, her yacht.

“So why do you want to be over in one of those
velv
?” she went on. “That isn’t your job, is it? They’ve got nice half-trained pilots, with barely trained people in the second seat, learning how to zoom around, right?”

“Yeh.”

“You’re the noble Intelligence Chief, directly sent out by
Caud
Angara to make the Musth feel all comfy and secure.”

“Right,” Garvin grudged.

“So work on a nice, comfy, and secure speech. Or else come over here and help me feel comfy and secure, since, after all, I’m Mellusin Mining and a lot more important than a lot of very tall fuzzies.”

“I just did that.”

“Then get to work on that speech. Put some clothes on, first.”

She rolled lithely off the bed, went to her own desk, pulling on a robe.

“I didn’t say anything about
you
needing clothes,” Garvin said.

“Shut up and concentrate.”

The
Godrevy
was one of six ships making a medium-track transit from D-Cumbre to the mining world of C-Cumbre. Two new
velv
were in forward position, then a merchantman with mining supplies, then the
Godrevy
, a second supply ship, and a third
velv
at the rear.

Then an alarm blatted as the report of enemy ships in-system reached the convoy.

Garvin told the bridge he was on his way, pulled on boots and his coverall.

“What should I do?” Jasith said.

“Nothing. No. Get into your flameproofs, just to be safe. Wherever these ships are, assuming they’re Larissan, they’ve got to be only light-seconds from us. Oh yeh — if you want to see everything, you better come up to the bridge now. The skipper’s liable to seal the ship. Also, there’s better places to strap down to than that bed, if we’re going to be bouncing around.”

“Bouncing around?” Jasith waggled her eyebrows suggestively, but went to a closet, opened it and went inside. She came out with a sealed package, opened it, and put on coveralls like Garvin’s as he hurried out of the hatch.

All three watch officers were on the small bridge of the
Godrevy
. Two looked worried, but the captain, Lar Porcen, a bluff man who would’ve been at home on the deck of a water ship, appeared quite calm.

“
Mil
Jaansma,” Porcen said. “You’re the soldier, and you heard the com. Any suggestions?”

Garvin had tried half a dozen times to get Porcen to call him by his first name, without any more success than convincing Jasith’s household staff.

“Since it’s really unlikely that anything is going to happen,” Garvin said. “I think — ”

The com crackled as two blips appeared from hyperspace on a screen, figures scrolling underneath them.

“Unknown ships closing on convoy, assumed hostile. Tracking data being transferred. All ships stand by to take appropriate action.”

Jasith was on the bridge, somewhat excited.

“What’s happening?”

“I think,” Garvin said, “I’m a rotten prophet, and we’re about to get hit.”

Porcen touched a mike.

“Engine room, stand by for maneuvering. And you better suit up down there.” He clicked off. “That goes for everybody here, too.”

Light space suits hung in a nearby emergency airlock. The two officers helped each other into them, and Jasith, having more experience in space than Garvin, gave him a hand, then slid into another, just a bit large for her small frame.

Garvin strapped Jasith into an acceleration couch, then looked over Porcen’s shoulder, reading the screen data.

“Larissan,” he said positively. “Those are their new destroyers. Lan-class, we’re calling them.”

The Larissans were driving toward the convoy center. Commands chattered from the com, and the three escorts set interception orbits.

A flash came from the nose of the lead
velv
on-screen, a sim-indicator of a missile launch.

“That’s a long shot,” Garvin said, from his recently gained trained.

Flashes came from the two Larissan ships, and another flash in empty space.

“Countermissile … and a hit on that launch of ours,” Garvin said, not aware he was speaking aloud. “Now they’re launching against the convoy.”

“Your orders, sir?” Porcen’s normally calm voice had become a controlled croak.

Garvin blinked, then slipped easily into a familiar role.

“Since we’re not armed,” he said, “I’d wait for orders from the escort commander.”

The first
velv
, with the convoy commander, suddenly flashed, and ceased to exist.

“Son of a bitch,” Garvin muttered. “Captain, I think we’re going to have to think about getting out of here.”

A calm voice on the com agreed:

“All ships, all ships, this is Holburt Two. Break away and maneuver independently. We are engaging the enemy.”

That was the second
velv
.

Outgunned by the two Larissan destroyers, the Cumbrian ships still held to their interception track. All four ships launched missiles.

Alarms blared through the yacht.

“Collision alarm,” an officer muttered as hatches slid shut. “A missile’s targeting us.”

“Captain, go for N-space,” Garvin snapped.

“What setting, sir?”

“Anything, anywhere,” Garvin said, trying to keep his voice flat. “Blind jump.”

Another officer was at the hyperspace controls.

“Engaged, sir, time to jump four, three …”

On-screen, one of the supply ships blew up, and seconds later, another
velv
spun wildly, taking on an orbit no human could have set.

There was an explosion, and the ship tumbled. A second later, everything went black, Garvin’s stomach churned, the antigravity went out, and the
Godrevy
jumped into N-space for an instant, then flashed back to normal space.

“We’re hit!” somebody shouted. Garvin was floating somewhere between the deck and overhead in zero gravity. His faceplate snapped shut, and he realized the bridge deck, at least, had been holed.

There was no one at the secondary-drive controls. He saw Porcen sprawled across an acceleration couch, neck at an impossible angle. If he was still alive, he wouldn’t be for long, and no one had any time for him.

Garvin was in the main control couch, very grateful that he’d spent as much time on the bridge as he had, and the controls weren’t completely unfamiliar.

“Hyperdrive will not function,” a flat voice said in his ear. Garvin saw one officer at those controls, the other staring at the system screen.

They hadn’t jumped very far — the ongoing battle wasn’t that far from the center of the screen, which always reflected the
Godrevy
’s position. The second supply ship showed two flashes, then there was only empty space.

One of the Larissan ships took hits.