Theirs Not to Reason Why 4: Hardship (34 page)

Ia didn’t begrudge them those cheers for their V’Dan saviors. Morale was important for civilians, too. Being
able
to regain interstellar commerce and travel was vitally important to these people. They could use their own weapons against the Salik on the ground as civilian defenders—and many had—but could not attack anything above their skies. Even the men and women in the Army were cheering the arrival of the V’Dan since it was something they, too, hadn’t been able to change while stuck on the ground without insystem support.

Stopping a meter from Ia, Admiral Donsuu V’Chech lifted his hand to his brow in a very good approximation of the Terran salute. As the visiting officer of roughly equal rank, it was up to him to salute Ia, the incumbent officer, first. Since she was a Terran, it had been decided long ago by the protocol officers that the Terran salute should be used in such cases. Ia saluted him back while the band brought the V’Dan anthem to an end, then shifted her flattened hand into a fist, thumping it onto her chest in the V’Dan version. He returned her second salute with a smile for the courtesy.

“General Ia. His Eternal Majesty speaks highly of you, and the help you have already given the Empire,” the golden-skinned Human stated, his accent faint, but his vocabulary well educated in the trade tongue of the Alliance. He ignored the trio of cameras swirling around them, recording everything in three dimensions for broadcast. “I am deeply pleased to see you have helped our shared world with equal diligence during your time here. As sorry as they will be to see you go, it will be our pleasure to host you. I trust you will give the Imperial Fleet more of the same superlative aid as we transport your soldiers to their next destination?”

Clasping the hand he offered, Ia nodded. “You may assure His Eternal Majesty that I will continue to do my best for the V’Dan people, for they are as dear to me as the people of Dabin, my fellow Terrans, and all Alliance members. Please, let me make you known to the Governor of Dabin, Meioa Cole von Straschen,” she introduced, stepping sideways with a slight pivot to begin the local introductions. “Governor, this is Admiral Donsuu V’Chech of the V’Dan Imperial Fleet, head of the forces which have just driven off every Salik starship they can from your skies. Admiral, Governor Cole von Straschen of Joint Colonyworld Dabin.”

Letting the governor wring the admiral’s hand in enthusiasm as he began a speech for the hovercams, Ia stepped back two paces and gestured for Tumseh to join her. Unsnapping her jacket sleeve, she opened her arm unit and tapped in a few commands. Under the cover of the more formal greetings going on, she addressed the green-clad man at her side, keeping her voice low.

“Brigadier General Michel Tumseh, at this moment in time, I am formally handing over the full command of the 1st Division 6th Cordon Army and all its subordinate and ancillary ranks into your command, and I am attaching your chain of command to Major General Louise Xenadra. She may reassess and reassign you, but it will be at her discretion from this point forward.”

“General, yes, sir,” he agreed, saluting her. “I accept full command of the Terran Army’s 1st Division 6th Cordon, and will report to Major General Xenadra.”

She saluted him back, allowed him a chance to log the changeover on his own arm unit, then extracted a datachip from her unit to hand to him as a more tangible record of the matter. “Remember to heed the precognitive recommendations I have handed into your care, but take care to craft and carry out such plans as you believe will best serve the remaining war effort here on Dabin. Particularly be mindful of the safety and prosperity of the civilians of Dabin, whom you and your soldiers pledged to guard the moment you put on those uniforms.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” he confirmed briskly. “The Army will not fail you in our duty, sir.”

“Good.” Leaning in close, Ia added in a murmur, “You also owe every last Company in the 2nd Battalion, 2nd Brigade
big
for being willing to keep the fight going tonight on the remaining Salik forces stuck planet-side, so that the rest of us could enjoy this party tonight.”

Tumseh nodded firmly, grinning. “Sir, yes, sir. I’ve already started the paperwork for a Battalion-sized barbecue two days from now, when the rest go back to work.”

“Good. Speaking of which . . .” Turning back to the admiral and the governor, whose praise was finally winding down to an end, Ia gestured at the college gymnasium in the distance. “Gentlemeioas, I do believe the kindhearted staff and students of the LCU have arranged for a little victory celebration. We still have a lot of fighting left to do in the morning, and for several mornings to come . . . but for tonight, we celebrate the liberation of Joint Colonyworld Dabin.”

“Ia’nn sud-dha,”
Admiral V’Chech agreed in his native tongue . . . and then paused, smiling ruefully at Ia. “As
you
will it, Prophet.”

Knowing she had more of that to put up with on the ride out of Dabin, Ia let it pass. She needed people to believe in her only as much as they needed to in order to heed her prophetic directives. The importance lay in the messages she could read in the shifting waters of Time. Turning crisply on her heel, she addressed the assembled troops. “Soldiers! Dismissed!”

A second, broader gesture from her toward the gymnasium broke the rigid At Attention postures of both her crew and the troops of the Army. With a second cheer, the civilians took that as the signal to surge forward and greet all three sets of soldiers with an enthusiasm stirred up by renewed hope. Among them were her first officer’s parents, who were already hugging their son, looking strong and handsome in his Dress Grays.

She just had to keep up a polite, friendly, but otherwise neutral personality in front of the Harper clan. They, in turn, simply had to keep their mouths shut on any of their suspicions. Thankfully, the vast majority of probabilities were on her side. They
would
be circumspect . . . at a 98 percent chance.

Then again, this time if the instincts of his parents picked up on any hints of a relationship between the two of them, Ia wouldn’t have to worry about anyone analyzing to death any recordings of this night’s meeting. This time, chatting with them would be as private as a public celebration could make it, contradictory though that was.

“Ah! Meioa General, sir!”

. . . Unfortunately, I now have to deal with the Press.
Managing a polite smile, Ia turned to acknowledge the local reporter catching up with her. Denora de Marco and her hovercamera operator hurried up, her own smile broad, polite, and polished, known locally for her occasional piecework for Interstellar News Network and her brave reports from the battle lines, though she wasn’t yet a big name off-world. What she wanted to do would
make
de Marco famous, however.

Famous enough, it’ll come back around to try to bite me in the asteroid . . . but like so many other things in life, I’ll just have to turn it into a useful tool, in the end.

“General Ia, since you now have a few moments, I was wondering if we could get an interview with you?” the brown-haired de Marco asked. “I’d love to do an even longer one, but I was given to understand you’ll be departing soon.”

“For a longer interview, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a while, but for a brief one right now . . . You will have eleven minutes and thirteen seconds, then I will be needed inside,” Ia stated, checking the timestreams and nodding at the reporter’s companion. “I’m ready when you and your cameras are, meioas.”

The other woman fiddled with her controls, and nodded, flicking her fingers in a brief countdown at de Marco, who smiled brightly and began. “This is Denora de Marco for Interstellar News Network. I’m here on Dabin, the formerly besieged but now liberated Joint Colonyworld, thanks to the combined efforts of the V’Dan Imperial Fleet, which has finally broken the Salik blockade, and the efforts of the Terran Space Force Army here on the ground. With me is the recently promoted four-star General Ia, formerly an officer of the Special Forces, and now attached to the Army. General, it is an honor to have a chance to speak with you.”

Ia dipped her head briefly in the direction of the cameras floating over the operator’s brown curls. “Meioa de Marco, the honor is mine. I admired your work on the Chansonné scandal last year.”

The reporter gave Ia a genuine, warm smile before launching into her first question. “Thank you. General Ia, you’ve been acknowledged by the government and major figures of the Sh’nai faith as the Prophet of a Thousand Years, one of their most iconic and ancient figureheads,” de Marco pointed out. “How do you reconcile your place as a religious figurehead to the V’Dan people with your duties and responsibilities as a major Terran military figure?”

Joy. Well, with the V’Dan here, I should’ve figured she’d want to explore
that
twenty-eight percent angle first . . .
“They go hand in hand, meioa. My duty as an officer compels me to carry out my orders with the least loss of life possible. I do so by using my precognitive abilities to assess the possible outcomes and their potential risks. The biggest difference between myself and the other generals and analysts in the Terran military is that I simply see more . . . but they do generally see quite a lot even without any added abilities.”

“A thousand years’ worth, or so you say,” the reporter clarified, making her statement a partial question.

“Yes, though technically I see a lot more than just a thousand years. In this case, I foresaw the need to kick the Salik off Dabin. The Army still has a ways to go before the last of the enemy has been driven from Dabinian soil,” Ia warned lightly, “but with careful planning and hard work, we, both the Terrans and the V’Dan, have finally removed the bulk of the enemy. The majority of the Salik have fled both the planet and the system, and only a fraction remain. It’s a modest respite since the Salik will still continue to wreak damage and endanger lives until the last ones are caught or killed. But the meioas here have earned the right to at least a little bit of celebrating before they get back to work.”

“You say ‘they’ get back to work. Will you not be staying?” de Marco asked. She likely knew the answer since it wasn’t exactly a secret at Army Headquarters; instead, her question was for her viewers’ benefit. One which Ia patiently answered, mindful of the press of time and the obligation all officers were under to make the military look good in civilian eyes.

“No, meioa, I will not be able to stay. Now that the one particular spot of difficulty we came here to deal with has been handled, my crew and I are needed elsewhere. With Brigadier General Michel Tumseh in charge and the blockade broken by our V’Dan allies, the Terran Army stationed here on Dabin is quite capable of cleaning up the planet, both of its Salik infestation and of the not-cats which they so rudely dumped on this beautiful world.

“The V’Dan Fleet has agreed to leave several ships behind to keep your system frogtopus-free,” she added with a gesture upward, encompassing the slowly darkening sky, “as per their joint military contract with this world. With their arrival and support, both groups have things well covered on the ground and in the sky. Our only regret as your joint protectors is that the heavy press of the war in other star systems forced us to leave the system blockade in place until now.”

“General . . . there have been recent, widespread rumors of Feyori involvement in this whole matter. Is that the reason why you came to Dabin?” de Marco asked perceptively.

Ia was very grateful the question had been phrased in a way where she could answer truthfully.

“No, meioa,” she said with a slight, quick shake of her head. “I came here to ensure the Salik entrenchment was dug out in time for a majority of them to be chased off-world by the Fleet’s arrival. There were too many things that could go wrong, and many which did, requiring me to be present and on hand for numerous quick alterations to the Army’s various plans—I should say that
no
plan survives completely intact after engaging an enemy, Meioa de Marco, even one that can be foreseen and planned for as mine usually are,” Ia added to stave off the next most probable question. “This is a truism as old as any military system, Human or otherwise. A good military will adapt, and can eventually overcome its obstacles. Even under the most trying of circumstances, as you and your fellow colonists have seen.”

Switching gears smoothly, the reporter continued her interrogation. Ia patiently endured it, keeping her expression polite, her replies vague on the more sensitive details, and her attention on how everything she said might impact the timestreams. It was just one more battle, though at least in this one she didn’t have to risk losing an eye.

JULY 25, 2498 T.S.

V’DAN IMPERIAL WARSHIP
T’CHU-CHEN VIZETH

SIC TRANSIT

“Okay, spill,” Christine Benjamin ordered her commanding officer the moment both women were settled on the lower of the two bunks in their shared cabin. Settled with cups of V’Dan-style caf’, that was, low in caffeine compared to the hybrid Terran-V’Dan version but without any of the bitterness associated with the original Terran kind.

“Spill what?” Ia asked. She knew the purpose of this moment in time, but it did have a lot of possible directions in which it could go. “Spill my caf’?”

The older woman rolled her eyes and stretched out her leg, nudging Ia in the thigh with one ship-booted toe. “Spill your emotions and reactions, woman. I did check you over briefly after you lost your eye, and when you were past the initial shock of losing our soldiers, but we weren’t exactly private when it happened. Then you took off and left me with Harper and the Company. The Feyori Meddling, the unexpected attack, the loss of your eye, the loss of Private Benjamin and the rest, followed by more shocks from the Feyori, finding Mattox and everyone in the Army HQ being overrun by Meddler influences . . . then having to confront the Meddlers, followed by confronting Mattox, the inquiry into your accusations, the expulsion of the Salik from Dabin and the mopping up that needed to be done . . . need I go on? You’ve had a very rough two months.”