Virtues of War (29 page)

Lined up at the after end in five columns were the one hundred hover tanks of the Levantine’s two armored troops. At the forward end of the hangar were the twenty FEVs, or fast engineering vehicles, with their strange assortment of construction and destruction devices extending from all sides. Clustered directly opposite from where she had entered, Katja saw what looked like a bunch of robotic giants standing around in a gaggle. These were the mechanized suits of one of the shock platoons, twice as tall as the largest trooper, designed specifically to smash any initial resistance to the landing, and to terrify the defenders.

Unlike the Centauris who trusted robots to do their fighting for them, the shock platoons were made up of specially selected troopers who, through their giant suits, took on the power of robots.

It was awe-inspiring to look upon the Levantine Regiment’s entire arsenal of military hardware in one place, since back on Earth the various troops were scattered around at different bases in the eastern Mediterranean. But it didn’t change Katja’s desire to remain a member of the humble infantry. With armor to protect her, a helmet to guide her, and a weapon to fight with, she didn’t need any fancy machinery.

As she spotted a handful of familiar troopers chatting and working idly on their armored spacesuits, she was reminded that she really only needed one thing—good people to fight alongside.

To no surprise, it was Chang who spotted her first.

“Attention on deck!”

The surviving troopers of
Rapier
’s strike team all stiffened to attention in whatever sitting or crouching position they were in.

Chang. Sakiyama. Cohen. Alayan.

Five troopers, including herself. Where once there had been ten. Fifty percent casualty rate did not a successful mission make. If she ever had the chance to instruct, Katja decided she would make that her mantra.

Chang rose fully, looming over her. His face was unreadable as ever. “Sergeant Chang reporting
Rapier
strike team. Four troopers ready, one in sickbay.”

“Very good, Sergeant. Relax… please.”

The troopers dropped their stiff poses, but all eyes remained on her. She glanced at each one in turn, feeling the old mask of command slip over her features. They were still in their
Rapier
blue coveralls, she noted.

They were waiting for her to speak, but so many thoughts flooded her brain that it was hard to think of what would be correct. Something inspiring, to be sure. Or at least something authoritative.

“It’s good to see you,” was what passed her lips. And then, “Well done.”

Sakiyama’s face broke into a smile, and even Cohen seemed to lighten up. Alayan dropped her gaze.

“How’s McKevitt?”

“Her arm was crushed as the engine room started to come down around us,” Chang said. “The suit kept all the pieces more or less together, but it’s going to be a while before everything can knit. She won’t have strength in that arm for months. Her war’s over, ma’am.”

There was an awful, unasked question hanging over the entire group, she knew, but she dreaded the answer.

Where is the rest of Alpha Team?

Instead, she stalled.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Centauria has invaded Terra.” Glances flickered between the troopers, and from their dumbfounded expressions, she guessed they hadn’t heard. “Details are sketchy, but apparently the attack on the EF was only part of a larger Centauri assault on all Terran positions. Centauria has seized control of the jump gate in their system, and are fighting to control the jump gates in Terra. For now, we’re cut off and in hostile territory. With
Rapier
out of action, I expect we’ll be reassigned to regimental posts. If you have any requests, let me know.”

Chang frowned slightly. “We’re going with you, ma’am.”

She wasn’t sure she understood. “I’m not sure where I’ll be posted yet.”

“Doesn’t matter, ma’am. Where you go, we go.”

None of them were smiling anymore, but all eyes were fixed on her. She felt her cheeks getting hot, fed by a warm glow deep inside her, but she kept her command mask in place.

“Very good,” she said as matter-of-factly as she could. “I’ll make sure the regiment knows.” Then she added, “Thank you.”

“If it’s all right, ma’am, we have a question for you,” Chang said.

Katja steeled herself to reveal the fate of Alpha Team. It would be the first time she had spoken of it aloud. “Go ahead, Sergeant.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t get Lu’s body out with us. We tried to get to him, but there was too much enemy fire. When McKevitt went down I knew we had to get out while we could.” His eyes flicked to Sakiyama. The trooper’s expression was supportive. Chang looked back at Katja. “It’s tearing us up. I know it’s your duty to inform his next of kin, but when you have the chance to visit his family, we’d like to come.”

No questions about her missing squad. No one accusing her of leading her team on what by rights had been a suicide mission. Just concern over not getting their fallen comrade out.

She nodded, momentarily unable to hold their gaze.

“Well,” she said with effort, “I won’t keep you from your duties. As soon as I have orders for you, I’ll pass them along. Get some rest while you can.”

She turned and started to walk away, keeping her lips pressed tightly together and her face stiff.

Chang moved into step beside her. She didn’t look up at him, and for ten paces he said nothing, but merely walked with her.

“Ma’am.”

“Sergeant.”

“Ma’am, you’re good in the shit. But sooner or later you lose people. I’m not going to tell you how to deal with it, but you have to deal with it.”

The mask of command was a fabulous tool to hide behind, and Katja felt her emotions shut down once again. She stopped before she got to the doors, and looked up to meet his eyes.

“I was expecting you to ask about Alpha Team.”

His own mask was there, and she was grateful for it.

“It’s not our place to question,” he said. “It’s up to you to tell us, ma’am.”

She remained silent for a moment, then spoke.

“They were killed by an APR,” she said. “They went down fighting. I blasted my way out through the hull and was picked up by one of
Kristiansand
’s Hawks. I’m sorry they didn’t make it.”

“Me, too. But we fucked up that ship bad. Alpha Team went down doing what they signed up for. They’ll be remembered.”

“I hear that I was being investigated for misconduct, but now that the helmet recordings have been examined, I’ve been cleared of any potential charges.”

“Good to hear, ma’am.”

She nodded. Chang continued to stare at her with his usual, grim expression. She turned to go once again. This time, he didn’t follow.

Chang’s words meant as much to her as Thomas’s had. So far, nobody who mattered had condemned her for attacking the Centauri ship. Maybe her combat instincts weren’t so bad after all.

K
atja hauled herself up two decks’ worth of ladders, but despite the skip in her step a deep fatigue quickly drained her reserves. Suddenly thankful that she was in Fleet blue and not expected to be in shape, she headed for the nearest elevator.

A quick lift later, she found herself on Two Deck and heading into the Fleet hangar. After the heavy congestion down below, the two lines of strike fighters looked positively delicate. She strode absently past the pilot toys, intent on the black, wounded shape at the hangar’s far end. Even from a distance she could see that
Rapier
wouldn’t be flying again any time soon.

One of the FAC spots next to her was currently empty, indicating the continued presence of her sister ships in the fight. Katja wondered if she and her troopers would get assigned to
Sabre
or
Cutlass
—or, worse, split up to fill in the holes among the EF’s eight remaining fast-attack craft. Their unique qualification made them very valuable, especially since the EF’s re-supply had been severed while a battle raged over control of the Terran jump gates.

Her boots echoed loudly on the hard surface of
Rapier
’s hexagonal passageway, unmuffled by the usual hum of shipboard activity. Abandoned pieces of damage-control equipment still littered the passageway. Lighting indicated that there was power on board, but it was being supplied by
Normandy
. As Katja gripped the rungs of the midship’s ladder and climbed to the upper deck, she hoped that the ship’s main computer could be fired up, or even that it had survived at all.

The upper passageway was clear of debris, and the open hatch to the bridge allowed additional light from the hangar to stream in at the forward end. She considered going to the bridge to conduct her task, but instead decided to access the computer from her cabin. The hard-mount at her desk was more likely to be working than the virtual consoles on the bridge, and if the computer was slow she could pack her stuff while she waited.

The door to her cabin slid open normally, which was a good sign. Inside, the usually tidy space was a junkyard of gear. She immediately noticed the warped metal and visible cracks in the outer hull, and imagined how anything loose would have been pulled toward the openings as the air rushed out. She stepped gingerly over the clothes and effects littering the deck. A quick glance revealed none of them to be hers.

She smiled. The benefit of keeping her gear properly stowed.

The computer activated at her command, and she began a search for the flight log she had copied from the mystery merchant
Astrid
. She barely had the chance to pull her kit bag down out of storage before
Rapier
’s databanks produced the desired file. She inserted a hard crystal and made another copy, just to be sure. That process took the same time as she needed to empty her top drawer into the kit bag.

She composed search criteria for the computer to hunt for
Astrid
’s rendezvous with the other, unknown vessel which had supplied her with the Centauri weapons. That gave her enough time to empty her two remaining drawers and her footlocker. By the time she’d stuffed the last of her gear into the kit bag, the desk console was indicating that it had completed the task.

She sat down and examined the data.

Sure enough,
Astrid
had rendezvoused with another vessel—whose name did not appear in the records—fifteen days before Katja and her troopers had boarded. Moving through the flight log, she backed the sequence up to watch the second ship approach, then backed it up further to see if the ship noticeably changed course.

Bringing up
Rapier
’s own stellar charts, she quickly plotted
Astrid
’s position at the rendezvous and projected back the path of the second ship. It projected down from the RV position, through the Sirian ecliptic far from any planet or asteroid and off into deep space.

Frustration welling up, she sat back and sighed. One of Breeze’s data cubes lay haphazardly on the desk where it had fallen. Katja smacked it away, figuring it might as well join the rest of her junk on the deck. It landed with a loud clunk.

A moment later, the door chimed. She sat up in surprise.

“Come in!”

The door slid open, and Thomas peered in.

She had imagined several times over the past twenty-four hours how she might greet him at their next meeting. She’d pictured them at the star lounge, in his cabin, or even him coming to hers aboard
Normandy
. None of her scenarios had taken place here, aboard
Rapier
. She stared at him for a long moment, feeling her heartbeat increase.

He spoke first. “Oh. Hi!”

He looked terrible, despite his efforts to smile. His entire face seemed to sag, and he leaned against the doorframe with a heaviness she’d never seen in him. He didn’t exactly look happy to see her—more like surprised.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

“Hi,” she offered. “I hope you got some rest.”

He nodded. “I, uh, heard a noise from the passageway—I figured it was either you or Breeze.”

“It’s just me.”

In the awkward silence her cheeriness suddenly sounded misplaced. She cringed inwardly as he looked at her, somehow knowing that things were not going to be as happy as she’d imagined. But his feelings for her had been clear last night, and a part of her was excited for him to speak.

Either way, it was his initiative now.

He stepped completely into the cabin. The door slid shut.

“What brings you aboard?” He glanced around at the cluttered deck. “Clearing out your locker?”

She ignored the growing knot in her stomach and indicated her full kit bag.

“There’s my stuff. This is all Breeze’s. But I also came to get some data from that mystery merchant we boarded.”

He glanced at the computer screen, and rubbed his eyes. “Looking for anything in particular?”

She couldn’t believe it. He really wasn’t going to say anything. Well, she could play that game, too.

“I was just trying to figure out where the other ship came from that supplied
Astrid
with her weapons cache. Trying to figure out how the Centauris have been sneaking so much stuff past us.”

He moved the chair over to better see the screen—almost touching her, and she couldn’t help but shuffle her own chair slightly.

“What have you got?”

He was acting like nothing had happened, but she refused to be the one to mention the elephant in the room. No one was ever going to accuse her of being some clingy girl. Her arm touched his shoulder as she pointed at the screen.

“Well, remember that pilot, Jack?”

“Who?”

“That kid Breeze was stringing along at the star lounge, before we went on the last mission.”

“Oh, yeah.” His eyes closed for a moment. “What about him?”

“Well, he had this idea that maybe the Centauris have snuck everything through a new jump gate that they made themselves.”

He frowned. “That’s crazy.”

“Maybe, but I figure if there is one, then the ship that gave
Astrid
the weapons probably came through it. And because it was in deep space the whole time, its exhaust stream is probably still intact. If we can get a Hawk to track its route back, we might find the secret jump gate.”