Virtues of War (36 page)

“Okay, Helena,” he said neutrally. “Thanks. I’ll look into it.”

She stared at him, eyes beginning to bulge. “Why do I bother?” she snapped. “You don’t even care.”

“I said I’d look into it,” he replied, a hint of irritation entering his voice. “What more do you want?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again and stormed out, muttering something under her breath. Thomas shook his head, reining in his irritation. As soon as his position was made permanent, he’d begin the process to get rid of that old crone. After that, if he worked his connections well enough over the next year or two, he just might be able to prove Captain Lincoln’s incompetence and assume command. That would put him firmly back on track.

There was a knock on his door. He glanced up to see Jack Mallory leaning in, concern etched across his features.

“Uhh, sir?” he said. “I think you better get out here.”

His curiosity piqued, Thomas rose from his workstation and followed Jack out into the lab. There were half a dozen team members present, he noticed, but each one had stopped work and was staring toward the main entrance. Breeze was standing in the doorway. She stared at him with dangerous eyes, then cast her glance around the lab. It passed quickly over the various team members, finally coming to rest on Helena.

“What is this?” the older woman demanded. She didn’t look as angry as he would have expected. If anything, Helena looked worried, perhaps even
afraid
.

Breeze didn’t answer. She just stepped aside to allow Captain Lincoln to enter, his expression a mixture of confusion and irritation as he glanced back over his shoulder. Behind him stood a short, unfamiliar squad leader in standard blue coveralls. She wore a maintenance helmet covering her face and head. Thomas immediately spotted the pistol holstered on her belt.

Breeze produced a military grade info-pad and started to read in a steady, matter-of-fact tone.

“By order of the Fleet Marshall, the primary research project currently underway aboard the Terran Research Vessel
Neil A. Armstrong
—namely, the core research in support of a Dark Bomb weapon—is suspended,” she stated. “All data and findings are to be collected immediately for Astral Force examination.”

Lincoln finally found his voice.

“You can’t do that, Commander,” he protested. “This is my ship, and I’m responsible for that research.”

Breeze and the helmeted squad leader exchanged a glance. The squad leader stepped forward and slipped her pistol free from its holster. Thomas recognized the easy movement of her hand on the weapon and, with growing fear, recognized the compact body beneath the coveralls.

He didn’t need to see her face to know who held the gun.

“The Fleet Marshall agrees,” Breeze said, “and as the senior officer responsible for this failure, Captain Andrew Charles Lincoln must bear the consequences.”

Thomas watched as Katja Emmes walked up to Lincoln, raised her pistol to his face and pulled the trigger. The crack of the shot echoed off the lab walls as the back of Lincoln’s head exploded outward. Blood and gray matter splattered across the deck as his body collapsed backward.

Thomas vaguely heard the screams around him.

He knew he should act to protect his crew, but he was paralyzed by the absolute obedience with which Katja had performed the execution. Her movements were fluid, her aim perfect, but it was as if, under that visor, she hadn’t even been looking at her victim.

“By order of Admiral Bush,” Breeze continued, “I have assumed command of this vessel, effective immediately.”

Thomas felt sick.

“The Fleet Marshall is aware that no team succeeds or fails because of one individual,” Breeze added, “and while Captain Lincoln paid the ultimate price, others have contributed significantly to this failure.”

Katja had holstered her weapon and moved slowly toward Helena.

“Lieutenant Helena Jennifer Grey, you are convicted of conduct unbecoming an officer, of compromising the chain of command, and of engaging in improper relations with a superior officer. And you are charged with treason.”

Katja grabbed Helena by the hair and pushed her face down against the nearest workstation. The old woman gasped loudly, then whimpered, then begged as Katja grabbed her wrist and began twisting her arm slowly backward. The begging turned to screaming as the arm twisted further, then snapped. Helena’s body slumped over as she fainted. Katja wasn’t even breathing hard.

“Lieutenant Grey,” Breeze announced, “is under arrest and will be held until her trial.”

Katja turned toward him. He tensed, shifting one leg back in preparation of defense against whatever onslaught might follow. Behind her, Breeze’s expression was almost smug.

Thomas thought quickly. He called out to Breeze across the room.

“My thanks for arresting Lieutenant Grey, ma’am,” he said loudly. “It’s good to know that the Fleet Marshall is aware of the situation, and looks poorly on improper relations between personnel and their superiors.” He paused, then added, “especially when that occurs shortly before a promotion.”

Breeze’s smug expression faded into a frown. She glanced at her info-pad.

“Be careful what you say, Lieutenant Commander Kane,” she said, her words deliberate. “Be
very
careful.” She locked onto him once again, frustration plain in her eyes, for those who knew to look. “While no specific charges are being brought against you at this time, this Fleet Marshall Investigation is still ongoing.” He held her gaze, and frustration turned to anger. “You are relieved of your position, and placed under arrest until the investigation is complete.”

Katja paused right in front of him, shifting her stance to allow her a line of sight back to Breeze. Breeze subtly shook her head. Katja turned her gaze back and the black visor fixed on him. Suddenly—and for the first time since she’d entered the lab—it seemed as if she was actually looking at something.

Looking at him.

A single, irresistible thought filled his mind.

Merje.

He never saw it coming. Her boot impacted his midsection with such force that his spine shuddered. Then he toppled backward, head slamming against the deck. Through ringing and stars he vaguely heard Breeze give some sort of warning to the remaining lab team. By the time he came to his senses, he felt the handcuffs locking behind him, and small but impossibly strong hands hauling him shakily to his feet.

After Thomas and Helena were led out of the lab—by a helmeted person Jack was pretty sure was Katja—the first sound Jack heard was Amanda throwing up.

He felt her hand gripping his arm, but he couldn’t move to help her. He stared down at the body of his commanding officer, lying on the deck, wide eyes staring upward on either side of the single bullet hole to his skull. His brains were splattered beneath and beyond his body, and a gut-twisting odor was beginning to fill the room.

It was the smell that jerked him from his paralysis. Dead bodies were something he’d dealt with before—or rather, they were something he’d worked around to accomplish a mission. The five remaining members of the lab team were still frozen where they stood, except for Amanda who’d collapsed in a retching heap.

These were hardly battle-hardened warriors, and Jack could sense that military discipline was about to collapse. With the captain dead, and Thomas and Helena arrested, someone had to take charge—someone had to focus this team on a simple, important task. And the first thing that needed to happen, he realized, was to get that body out of sight.

“Tso, Sandhu,” he said briskly to the two junior crewmen. When they didn’t respond, he barked their names again. “
Tso! Sandhu!
” They turned stunned eyes toward him. “Go to sickbay and get a body bag. Bring it back here right away.”

They nodded and fled.

Petty Officer Li was as white as a ghost. Jack stepped toward him.

“Li, go to the cleaning-gear locker,” he said. “Get me general-purpose fluid and absorbents.”

Li stared up at him. “What?”

“Cleaning fluid and absorbents… go!” He turned to the chief. “Lopez, go to the bridge and send a message to Squadron Command. Tell them that we’ve stopped our core research, by Fleet Marshall Order.” The chief blinked several times, but seemed to understand. He hurried from the lab.

Amanda was still on the deck. Jack scanned the workstations and quickly spotted a translucent tub. Dumping its contents onto the counter he used the lid to sweep the bulk of Lincoln’s brain chunks into it, then clicked the lid into place. A long burst-pattern of purplish blood still covered the central deck, but at least the smell decreased.

Grabbing a pair of emergency breathing devices from the bulkhead, he sealed one over his head and knelt down in front of Amanda.

She was visibly shaking, bile dripping from her bottom lip. She looked up at him with reddened eyes. Giving her a reassuring stroke across the cheek, he swept her hair out of her face and offered her the breathing device. She stared at him in confusion, then pulled it over her head.

Helping her to her feet, he wrapped her arm across his shoulders. She leaned heavily on him as he walked them to the door. The breathing device had eliminated the smell, but just as importantly it was feeding him pure oxygen, which gave him a rush of energy.

Through the door he sat Amanda down in the corridor, just as Petty Officer Li returned with the cleaning supplies. Jack grabbed them and re-entered the lab. He sprayed down the contaminated deck, as well as the workstation where Katja had snapped Helena’s arm.

He dropped to one knee, the images of what had just happened there invading his conscious mind. Katja Emmes, the same girl he’d danced with just the other night, had shot dead
Armstrong
’s captain, right in front of the crew, then explicitly tortured the lab supervisor.

All at the order of Charity Brisebois.

He shuddered. What kind of person could…

His mind started to turn in a new direction, back toward another incident where brains and blood had been spilled. He blanked it out. Swallowing bile, he threw absorbent pads down on the blood and let them start to soak up the mess. Moving to the spot where Amanda had been sick, he sprayed down and padded that section, too.

Movement caught his eye.

Tso and Sandhu had returned with the body bag. Jack motioned them to lay it down next to the body. He took Lincoln’s shoulders and helped them shift the body onto the bag, then sealed it. Noting their gray expressions, he sent them back into the hall while he mopped up the majority of what remained. It was several minutes of mindless work, and he forcibly kept his mind clear of any thoughts except cleaning. It was like preparing for an inspection, he told himself. The lab needed to look good for inspection.

Eventually he used up all his absorbents, and tossed the bloody rags down the disposal chutes. The worst of the horror was gone, and he decided it would have to do. He opened the doors and stepped out into the corridor, pulling the breathing device off over his sweat-soaked hair.

Amanda was still sitting on the deck. Those who had witnessed the incident were all there, standing or crouched by the opposite bulkhead. Everyone stared at him. Still flushed with pure oxygen, he tried to maintain his momentum.

“Chief, is the message to Squadron Command sent?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We have to gather all the data from our core research and hand it over to the Fleet Marshall’s team. Can you access the data from a workstation outside the main lab?”

“Yes, sir. We can download it to… to the captain’s cabin.”

“Good. Take Tso to Captain Brisebois’ quarters and start to organize the data for download. Petty Officer Li, take Sandhu to stores and gather up enough crystals to store at least three copies of the data. Report to the chief with the crystals.”

“Yes, sir.”

The team moved off with purpose, just as Jack had intended. He then turned his attention to Amanda. She was watching him intently, although her entire body seemed ready to melt away into the deck. He crouched down in front of her.

“Hey, genius,” he said gently. “I could use your brains right about now.”

He instantly regretted his choice of words, as Amanda retched anew. She hung her head over shaking arms as she gasped for breath.

She was useless like this, he knew, yet he actually did need her. Thinking that sickbay might have something to help her, he tucked his arms under hers and tried to lift her. Her soft form was limp and unresponsive.

“Fuck off,” she growled.

“Come on, Amanda, I need you to get up.”

“I said fuck
off
.” She shook loose. “I’m not doing anything.” She curled herself more tightly into a ball.

A wave of such anger flooded through him that he nearly slapped her. Instead, he grabbed her jumpsuit with both hands and wrenched her to her feet.

“Get up and get useful,” he gritted. She pushed him away again, stumbling backward into the bulkhead.

“What’s wrong with you?” she demanded. “Didn’t you see what happened? Watch while your little girlfriend Katja murdered our captain?” She glared at him, and hissed, “Don’t tell me you didn’t recognize her, you little skin-hound!”

The words were like a punch in the gut.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he replied, “but she’s strong as hell, and I’d take her over you any day, you weakling.”

Amanda’s mouth dropped open. Then she reared back and slapped him across the face. The blow was hard enough to jerk his head sideways, but the pain was distant and dull.

He took a step back, feeling what he suddenly recognized as combat adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“We’ve suffered casualties,” he said, “but we have a mission to perform. Our team is working to achieve it, and I intend to see that they succeed. What are you going to do, Sublieutenant Smith?” He waited for her response.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, spare me that combat fleet bullshit,” she spat back. “We just witnessed murder and assault by our own organization. Are you telling me you’re just going to follow their orders?”

Her question threatened his resolve, but he knew he couldn’t entertain doubts. Not right now.