Virtues of War (55 page)

The Centauri cutters turned as one and began fleeing the battle.

“Target moving!” Jack said. His hunt controls gave him more info, but even Thomas could see that the Centauri stealth ship was accelerating, trying to clear the Terran forces descending upon it. The net was closing fast, though.

Suddenly, the ASW circuit erupted with calls of torpedo attack. Jack instinctively fired off a pair of bowling balls, but the attack wasn’t against
Rapier
. Thomas looked out and saw both
Halsey
and
Cape Town
maneuvering sharply, flashes of decoys and torpedoes spitting forth from their dark hulls.

Halsey
vanished before his eyes.

Seconds later,
Cape Town
followed.

Multiple flashes ahead revealed a pair of Hawks launching torpedoes. Almost before Thomas could refocus, a section of stars warped under the immense curve of gravity in the Bulk as the Terran weapons found their mark.

Thomas scanned the display. The remaining Centauri cutters were already out of missile range and receding fast. He waited a long moment to see if any other stealth threats emerged. The fourth spatial dimension seemed quiet.

“Pilot,” he said, “anything on your sensors?”

The young pilot shook his head. “Hard to say for sure in that mess, but I think there was only one attacker.”

“OpsO, any threats?”

“Negative. Five hostiles retreating at speed, outside weapons range.”

He paused to review his display again, then paid Breeze the courtesy of asking her opinion.

“NavO, any threats?”

“No,” she said quietly.

He called down to the engine room for a full damage report. The situation was serious, but the ship would hold together long enough to get back.

“Pilot, set course for
Normandy
. Cruising speed.”

“Sir,” Katja said, “before we head home, I recommend we search near
Nelson
for survivors.”

“There’s no way anybody survived,” Breeze said, her voice rising with each word. “Let’s get back before someone has to rescue us!”

“The ship broke up slowly,” Katja said. “There was time enough that some might have escaped.”

Thomas glanced at the damage control board again. They were slowly bleeding fuel, and would start to lose air again if the door to the main cafeteria buckled. They had virtually no weapons and their ability to withstand heavy maneuvering was questionable. His instinct said to get back to safety while he still could. But lately his instincts had been questioned.

“Pilot, set course for
Admiral Nelson
, cruising speed. OpsO, get the camera searching for anything that looks like a spacesuit or an escape pod.”

Jack and Katja set about their tasks. Breeze leaned back in her seat and stared straight ahead.

* * *

It was nearly three hours before
Rapier
began to lower into
Normandy
’s hangar, two escape pods clinging magnetically to her hull where the drop ships had once nested. The rescue operation was nearly complete, with several Hawks and other fast-attack craft returning home with more than forty
Admiral Nelson
survivors. Many were dressed only in emergency escape suits, and wouldn’t have survived more than a few hours.

Thomas was happy to have participated, as it took the sting out of the fact that the EF had just lost its only battleship, both its cruisers, and another destroyer. At this rate, he mused bitterly,
Rapier
herself might be the EF flagship in another week or so.

At least Chandler had finally seen sense and put off the EF’s attack on Centauri settlements. With no heavy bombardment capability remaining, any attack would have been pretty pathetic. The commodore seemed to grasp that his new vision of leading a band of buccaneer marauders was destined to get every last one of them killed. In a terse message to the EF, he had ordered all ships to hold position while the rescue operation concluded, then set course for deep space.

Rapier
was met by a crowd of medics who escorted the
Nelson
survivors away. Mechanics were standing by to start servicing the ship, and once the escape pods had been lifted clear Thomas saw no need to retain his crew any longer.

It had been an exhausting afternoon.

He floated in his cabin for a while, trying to remember how good it used to feel to be the captain of this vessel. He knew he should be pleased with how the mission had gone today, despite the losses they had incurred, because he and his ship had performed well. Two cutters destroyed and two others chased off—not bad for a thirty-meter raider with a skeleton crew.

Maybe it was the pyrrhic nature of the triumph that robbed him of any elation. Or maybe he just didn’t give a damn. If they ever got home—a big if—he was going to find a nice, quiet corner of the solar system to raise a family. Soma had enough money to make things comfortable.

He was surprised by a knock on his door.

“Come in.”

It opened and Breeze entered with a hand-held display. Gone was her earlier, stunned expression. Her eyes were as determined as he had ever seen them. He wasn’t intimidated in the slightest, however, as he felt the anger well up inside him.

“Thomas,” she said, “I want off this ship.”

Her arrogance astounded him. “Nothing would make me happier, but unfortunately you’re here by the orders of Commodore Chandler himself.”

“Yeah, I know. He called me in special to tell me how I was supposed to babysit you.”

He clenched his fists as his pulse pounded in his ears. Chandler had actually said that?

She handed him the display.

“On that is the letter of recommendation you’re going to send the commodore, telling him how I’m too valuable to be risked on patrol in
Rapier
.”

Thomas read the letter with growing incredulity. It praised Breeze’s tactical abilities, then went on to say how her greater value as an intelligence officer had been proven time and again during the war. It cited various examples—the uncovering of the hostage location in Free Lhasa, the capture of the Centauri agent at the Cerberan farm, the rescue of the troopers from New Tibetan custody, the pinpointing of critical targets of opportunity for the assault on Abeona—and offered glowing commentary on her general contributions to the EF command staff.

He read and re-read the final paragraph:

In conclusion, while I value her contributions to my ship, I feel that for the greater good of Expeditionary Force 15 and the Astral Force, Lieutenant Brisebois must be transferred back to her staff position. It is my strongest possible recommendation that she be permanently assigned as the EF chief of Intelligence, with the appropriate rank and authority befitting the position.

Thomas Kane

Lt(C)

CO
Rapier

He stared at her. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

She stared right back. “No. Sign this letter and deliver it to Chandler. I am
not
going to risk my life in this fucking tin can—not again.”

“You’re insane,” he said. “Why in the worlds do you think I’d do this?”

She shook her head, her expression turning dangerous.

“Your career is over, Thomas. Don’t make me destroy your life, as well.” Her matter-of-fact tone only added to the surreal nature of her words. He struggled to grasp what she was trying to do.

“Why?”

“How can I ascend if your star continues to shine?”

He couldn’t reply. There were no more words to say. She was destroying him for her own advancement.

“Sign the letter,” she said, “and nothing else needs be said. You and I can just agree that what happened on deployment stays on deployment.”

His anger turned to rage.

“Fuck you.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to tell Chandler you did. Although, I might actually portray it more as a rape. I’ll see how the conversation goes. Either way, I doubt the good commodore will long hide the news from his goddaughter or her wealthy family.”

He desperately tried to think of a counterstrike.

“But… you’re just as involved as I am.”

“Yes,” she explained patiently, “but I’m not engaged to the daughter of one of Ganymede’s richest men.” She batted her bright blue eyes. “I’m the victim, Thomas, taken advantage of by an aggressive, egotistical captain.” She smiled. “And I’m not quite sure, but I have a sneaky suspicion that if I ask young Katja about her relationship to you, I might uncover some more dirt.

“I’d do it as a public inquiry, of course, so that she’d be duty-bound to tell the truth in front of a tribunal. And I think the media would enjoy hearing about it, too.”

Thomas felt sick.

“Sign the letter, Thomas. Then none of this needs to happen.”

He stared down at the hand-held, noticing a pen conveniently fastened to it.

“Sign it, and you’re rid of me forever. When we get home you can marry sweet Soma and live a life of leisure as a decorated war hero. I’ll even get Chandler to recommend you for an honorary promotion upon retirement.”

Her honeyed words scraped over him like gravel. He wanted to throttle her, smash his fist into her perfect white teeth. Instead, he picked up the pen and electronically signed the letter. She held all the cards, and he considered himself human enough to want to keep his public dignity.

She took the hand-held, uploaded the file to Thomas’s computer and sent it from his address. He watched wordlessly. Then she gave him a wink and left the cabin. He thought perhaps he should move, but his limbs didn’t respond, and he just floated.

He floated in silence. In utter defeat.

“
C
ommander Brisebois, briefing in ten minutes.”

Breeze nodded to the chief petty officer, and smiled. She did enjoy hearing those words. A quick glance around to make sure no one was looking, and she snuck another peek at her shoulders—at the three gold bars on each. Then she took a long look around at the compartment she stood in, filled with consoles and highly classified equipment. It wasn’t Astral Intelligence HQ or anything, but it was hers. She now stood on a par with the commanding officers of destroyers and cruisers. Even Commodore Chandler was really only a captain, just one rank above her.

What once had seemed an almost god-like level of authority was practically within her grasp.

Chandler had seemed so pleased with himself when he promoted her, talking it up like it was his idea. In front of the entire command staff he’d praised her excellent work throughout the war, and said he thought it only right and fitting that she wear the rank of the position she’d been effectively filling so well.

The other commanders on staff had congratulated her warmly, but that lieutenant ASW controller had kept to himself. He probably felt pretty lonely, now that he was the only lieutenant left. Breeze figured he should feel lucky to still be allowed on staff. She was surprised that, with all the destroyed ships recently, there wasn’t some spare three-ringer hanging around to take the ASW position.

In all the ships that remained, there were a grand total of twelve commanders, including her. And with only two full captains, that put her pretty close to the top of the pile. Oh sure, the two surviving regiments had their share of senior officers, but the Corps had served its usefulness already—as far as Breeze was concerned, they might as well stay in their bunks.

Nothing was hidden from the Chief Intelligence Officer of an expeditionary force. She’d called up the personnel lists and confirmed that, just a few months shy of her thirty-fourth birthday, she was the youngest commander in the Astral Force. And she hadn’t even joined until she was twenty-seven. What was that old navy toast?

A bloody war and a sickly season.
This bloody war had served Charity Brisebois very well indeed.

She’d always intended her military career to be short, ending it as a lieutenant. That kind of experience would easily land her a high-profile, middle-management job in big business. But now that she was a commander… starting her business career in upper management looked pretty likely.

More money, better contacts, better chance of marrying right and having her twins before she turned forty. When the kids were old enough for pre-school she’d have to switch back to a more prestigious position—teacher, she figured—before getting into journalism and media to build her public image. And then, politics.

She glanced at her new rank insignia again. What a stroke of luck. She applauded herself for seeing the opening and grabbing it.

Of course, none of this really mattered if she didn’t make it through that damn jump gate to get home alive. So for the past three days she’d been driving her team to find a solution to the rather large Centauri battle force that was sitting between her and her future.

The solution, in one of life’s sweet ironies, had come from none other than Thomas Kane. One of her warrants brought her a memo Thomas had submitted outlining the interesting implications of Bulk physics and the use of torpedoes. Breeze gave up after three paragraphs but her warrant assured her that the science was sound—at least theoretically.

She’d summoned young Jack Mallory to interpret for her. This had proved prescient, because he was the brains behind the whole idea.

So Thomas was trying to take credit for his subordinate’s work. Breeze had to admire him for the attempt.

The chief petty officer approached her again.

“Ma’am?”

She followed him out into the flats, pulling herself along the handholds toward the main briefing room. When they got back to Terra, she decided, she was getting herself posted ashore and never going into zero-g again.

The briefing room looked the same as always, with the three large screens on the wall behind the speaking platform and the central projector for the 3-D display. Her staff had prepared her visuals and her notes were ready on the display screen at the podium. Some of the audience had already arrived, various junior officers she didn’t recognize.

Every ship was sending its XO for this briefing, and most of them were lieutenants, but she didn’t try to guess who was who. She recognized one of the loud ones as
Kristiansand
’s XO—what was his name, Shane?—but he’d been pretty annoying the last time she’d had a drink with him, and she kept her distance.