by David Ryker
Greenway sighed and pulled off his glasses. “Well?” he said after a minute.
We looked at each other for a second.
“Well?” I asked. Alice elbowed me in the ribs and I added, “sir.”
“Well, what do you have to say for yourselves?” His voice was flat and gravelly.
I caught Alice’s throat tense out of the corner of my eye as she swallowed, clasping her hands behind her back. I gritted my teeth, knowing she was about to take the blame.
I sucked a breath in and beat her to it. It wasn’t her fault — it was mine. It was my plan, and my idea, even if she was the one who had the stones to follow it through. “It was me, sir.” I hung my head and sank my teeth into my lip, digging for nerve.
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow and put the report down. “And you are… Maddox, is it?”
“Yes, sir.” I could feel Alice’s eyes burning into my cheek, but I didn’t look away from Greenway.
“And what exactly was you?”
“It was my idea, sir. I convinced Pilots MacAlister and Sesstis to attack the Free troop transport. It was my idea to attack the base. If anyone should take the blame for it, it’s me.” I figured that I didn’t have anything to lose, anyway. It’s not like they could kick me out of the Mechanized Corps, because I’d already failed the exam and was on my way to the Ground Corps as it was.
“And what possessed you to act so recklessly, Airman?”
I swallowed, wondering if that was the last time I’d be called that. “I— I didn’t want to see anyone die, sir. I wanted to save as many as I could.” I chose those words because I didn’t want to say that I’d done it all for Alice, even though I had. I didn’t want anyone to hear that, let alone her — not in this room and company, anyway. Fraternization was prohibited and carried a pretty hefty penalty. I felt like admitting that I’d risked the lives and mech of others for a girl didn’t seem like it would have bought me any favors. And looking at it now, thinking about it, saying it — I didn’t know why the hell I kept doing it. Well, I did, but maybe I just wasn’t quite ready to admit it just then.
“To save the lives of your brothers and sisters in arms?” He ran a pink, spotted tongue over his lips and stared at me from wrinkle hidden eyes.
I nodded. “Yes, sir. And please — I know it was stupid, but I —”
He raised a hand and cut me off. I pulled my lips into a wide line and stood straight, waiting for the hammer to fall. “Yes. Stupid. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such brazen stupidity from a new recruit before.” He settled back into his chair and clasped his hands in front of him. “Or bravery. Selflessness. Drive. You’re a hero, son, and you deserve to be rewarded, not punished. You’re responsible for not only saving the lives of over a thousand Federation soldiers but also the capture and conquest of a major Free base of operations. We’ve been aware of one operating in this system for quite some time, but have never been able to pin down the location. You’ve saved us a lot of time and effort, and your acts will be recognized, don’t you worry about that.”
I could feel Alice’s eyes again.
“I can see here,” he went on, looking at the report, “that you failed your final entrance exam just hours prior to the attack due to another selfless act — is that right?”
I stayed quiet.
“From these records, it appears that you sacrificed your own life for that of your peer here, Airman Kepler. Correct?”
I was dazed. I couldn’t figure out what the hell was happening. I was preparing myself for ejection, and now this? “Yes, sir, but—”
“So we know it wasn’t a fluke then. And Kepler’s own field report states that you saved her life too during the assault on the Regent Falmouth. Yours corroborates that, albeit rather understatedly.”
I drew a hard breath and listened to my heart hammering in my chest. I could feel my hands clammy behind my back. “Yes.”
“And then you assumed control of a pair of F-Series Mechanized Units, and survived an orbital entry inside them?” I didn’t realize his eyebrows had enough force to elevate the loose skin on his face that high, but even his eyes had opened fully.
I nodded. “That’s correct, sir.”
“That part’s, of course, uncorroborated, as Kepler states that she was unconscious at the time. Though her recount of her location when she regained consciousness does seem to lead me to believe that your report is truthful — that and the fact that perjury on an official Federation Field Report is an ejectable offense. But of course you know that, don’t you, Airman Maddox?”
“Uh — yes, sir.” I clenched my sweat-soaked hands and let them hang at my sides.
“So we have an airman who fails a basic entrance exam because he opts to save the life of a fellow recruit, then proceeds to actually save the life of the same recruit hours later. Then, after miraculously piloting an F-Series, not designed for orbital entry, or any sort of flight at all, or even extra orbital transit, he once again saves the same recruit.”
I dared not look at her, but I could see Alice’s cheeks flushing red, her jaw flexing, knuckles white around her hand behind her back. Shit. When he said it like that it didn’t just make me look good, but made Alice look like a blithering idiot, too. I swallowed, not knowing who I was more afraid of in that time — Greenway or her.
“And then, to top it all off, launches a rescue mission to save the lives of the survivors of the crash, with no intel, support, or even the faintest idea of what lay ahead. And all without hesitation, not to mention the skill of a pilot much more seasoned than your time with the Federation would suggest.”
I could tell Alice was bursting to say it was her idea — that she’d devised the plan and convinced Mac and Fish to go along with it, but she couldn’t. She’d be calling me a liar and as good as doing the same to Greenway. My report hadn’t detailed the exact nature of who’d convinced who to do what and how. It’d been intentionally vague on those details, and it seemed that Mac’s, Fish’s, and Alice’s must have been, too. Greenway was filling in the blanks, and he was doing it with my name. This time, I didn’t say anything.
“I’ll say this, lad — you’ve got guts. And you’ve got it in spades. We’d have blown that base to kingdom come — standard protocol, of course — but that doesn’t change the fact that what you did was a great thing. We stand for order here, but sometimes, when there’s none to be found, a little bravery, selflessness, and initiative go a very long way.”
Alice’s nostrils flared. “Sir?” she said, unable to bear it.
Greenway waved her down, not tearing his eyes from me.
“The Federation would be an unstoppable empire if we had more men like you, Maddox.”
I bit into my tongue until I could taste blood. My brain was fizzing. If I said anything, I didn’t know if he’d take it to mean that the report was perjury, and then eject me. Or maybe doing so would embarrass him, and he’d eject me anyway. No, whatever happened, I’d let things settle, go back to him later, straighten it out. Explain how it happened really — that we were all a part of it. That Alice was the one who convinced them, and who deserved the credit for the capture of their base.
“Which is why I’m overturning that exam result, effective immediately. There’s no way we can risk a pilot like you catching a bullet in the Ground Corps.”
“So…” I croaked, clearing my throat. I could barely speak. “You’re not reprimanding me? Demoting me? Punishing me for what we did?”
He laughed. “Punishing you? God, no. I’m promoting you.”
Whether she was pissed at me for stealing her thunder, or at herself for not speaking up sooner — or a combination of both, that she was happy for me to take the rap when we expected punishment, but when it turned out to be adulation that was just a knife in her guts — I couldn’t say. But whatever it was, it got at her, and she did something that I never would have expected her to. She scoffed, and then laughed in Greenway’s face, a strange mixture of a sob and a cackle, and then pract
ically yelled, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
And after that, there was a very long period of silence.
2
I thought Greenway was going to burst. His eyebrows rose slowly and his gaze turned on Alice like a searchlight. Mac held back a laugh and Fish stayed silent.
I swallowed and screwed my eyes up so tightly that they ached.
“Excuse me?” Greenway said quietly. “I don’t think I heard that correctly.”
He was giving her a chance, a chance to take it back, to change what she’d said — I didn’t know why. Maybe it was her heritage, all that had happened in the last few days, or that he could just see she was ready to explode. Either way, he offered her an out. But she didn’t take it.
“With all due respect, sir,” she growled, “you can’t be serious.”
I opened my eyes and realized Mac was leaning forward, looking at me with the question of whether it was me or him that should tackle her to the ground before she went any further. Neither of us had the chance before Greenway oozed forward and leaned on his elbows, eyes like slits. “And why might I not be serious, Airman Kepler?” He emphasized Airman to reiterate that she was a tadpole in a shark tank, but he didn’t know her, and if he had, he probably would have emphasized harder.
“Because he’s…” She started turning to look at me, a mixture of anger and pain in her eyes, as though I’d hurt her. But she couldn’t finish the sentence. She looked at Greenway again and then held her hands to her chest. “Because I’m…” She couldn’t finish that one either. She just shook her head and then hung it, sniffing back the tears of anger that had seized her all of a sudden.
I swallowed and stepped forward. “I apologize, General Greenway. It’s been a tough few days. I think we’re all just a little shaken after what happened.” My voice sounded thin and distant, like the words were someone else's.
Greenway cleared his throat. “I can see that.”
I caught Mac turning Alice away next to me and stepped in front of them just in time to shield Greenway from seeing Alice throwing him off with her elbows. I smiled as widely as I could. “Thank you, General.”
He nodded. “Airman First-Class Maddox. You’re all dismissed.” After he said it, he went straight back to reviewing his files.
I was halfway out the door, when I heard him say something else, and stopped.
“Oh, and Commander Volchec will be liaising with you in a few days. Be easy to find when she does.”
I took as little notice of the last bit as was polite and got into the outer lounge as quickly as I could. Mac was standing at the far end of the room, staring at the quickly closing door. Fish was between us, looking blankly at me. Mac shook his head and shrugged. “What the hell was that?”
I sighed and offered my hands, heading for the door.
“I wouldn’t, Red,” Mac said as I passed. “She seems steamed.”
I ignored it and pressed on, opening the door and heading into the corridor beyond. It was carpeted and painted, lined with polished wooden doors. It led to a stairwell that let down to a room that split off into several hallways. The quality of the decor degraded as you headed down, until it became bare metal and pipework. That was where the officers had their quarters, and the crewmen lived below.
I looked right and left, down the empty corridors, but there was no sign of Alice. I hung my head and sighed. “Shit.”
The days passed slowly, and I had no way of reaching or finding Alice. She’d dropped off the grid, and when I eventually tracked down what room she was in, I was told by her bunk mate that she’d not been there since the meeting with Greenway, but that at some point she must have slipped in to grab her bag, because it was gone. That didn’t really leave me with much in the way of options. They’d also asked me if she was alright, because she’d been pissed since she’d arrived, even before the meeting. I shrugged — it was all I could do. When we were on Draven, things were looking brighter, but now… I couldn’t say. Things had all fallen apart so quickly, and I had no idea what lay ahead, or how I was going to fix any of it. If I could have just spoken to her — explained the situation — then it would have been okay. I knew it would, but I’d have to find her first.
I was in my own bunk when the day that Volchec called on me rolled around. Some crewman that I didn’t recognize poked his head around the door and said, “You Maddox?”
I lay down the book I was reading and sat up, swinging my legs off the bunk. “Yeah. Why?”
“Commander Volchec wants to see you.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and then offered me a slip of paper with a room number on it.
I nodded, took it, and held it between my fingers. I rubbed my head and stood up, grabbing my airman’s jacket. It’d had an arrow stitched onto the shoulder, and had been delivered to me the day before. I almost didn’t want to wear it, but it was protocol. Whenever I was in my room, I just left it on the chair and tried not to look at it.
I met with Volchec in an office that wasn't hers, shuffling in and sitting down while she stared at the wall. There was a frame there, and inside was a ribboned medal. She narrowed her eyes as I entered, but didn’t look away from it.
I closed the door behind me and sat down, following her eyes to the piece of silver hanging there. It was about an inch and a half wide, and circular, mottled like the surface of a planet, and embossed with an eight-pointed star. It hung on a thick blue and white braided ribbon and shone brightly in the glow of the lights over the desk.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Volchec said quietly.
I swallowed. I didn’t really give a shit about medals, but I figured that wasn’t the answer she wanted. “Yes.”
She scoffed and shook her head. “It’s a Galactic Medal of Valor, awarded for selflessness in the heat of battle.”
I looked at her but stayed quiet. Her big almond-shaped eyes gave nothing away.
“Not that many have ever been handed out.”
I smiled politely.
“And every single one posthumously, at that.”
My smile wavered.
“Soldiers lay down their lives for the Federation every day, and die needlessly, meaninglessly because the Federation has an endless pool of bodies to draw from. Some of those who die get medals — others are just forgotten. They keep that medal hanging in here because there’s nowhere else to put it. The person who earned it had their name mentioned in front of a bunch of officers who’d never heard of him, or what he did, and then they hung it in here, because there was some free wall space. Go on, read what it says.”
I went along, still not sure where this was going. I squinted at the frame, and the placard underneath it. “Awarded to Rear Admiral Jakobson, for unflinching bravery and selflessness in the heat of battle.”
She took a deep breath and settled back in the chair, eyes fixed on me. “The FS Mary Hillinger, a Class 2 Destroyer, like this one,” she said, raising her hands and glancing at the ceiling, “was caught off-guard in a sudden and brutal exchange. The crew scrambled to stations, but they couldn’t win out in the end. The admiral ordered an evacuation pretty quickly after their weapons were disabled. Most of them got out, but during the scramble for the pods, Jakobson assumed control in the absence of the admiral and any other ranking officers. Sound familiar?” She tilted her head ever so slightly, her voice low and soft, as though she didn’t want anyone else to hear.
I stared back at her. “Like what happened to the Regent Falmouth, and you?”
A smile flickered across her lips for a second. “Yeah, like me. Except, when he assumed control, he made a decision. He turned into the fire, and he ordered full speed ahead, commanding those left on the bridge to remain at their stations no matter what. And while his crew members, the people for whose lives he was responsible, tried to escape and survive, he drove the ship right into the Free vessel that was attacking them. The impact caused a chain reaction in the engines of both ships and resulted in a detonation that wiped out both vessels en
tirely, along with all of the fleeing Federation escape ships in the near vicinity. His actions resulted in the deaths of over four thousand soldiers. As many Federation lives as Free lives. He murdered nearly fifteen hundred of his own men, and they gave him a medal for it. I think that’s pretty far from selfless, don’t you?” Her eyebrow arched over one eye and she interlocked her hands on the desk, watching me quietly.
I wasn’t sure if it was a trick question or not. “I don’t presume to know better than the Federation officers who award the medals, Ma’am.”
She stared back at me with iron eyes, sucking on her cheek. She exhaled slowly. “You’re shit-scared of the Federation. I get it. I was, too. And I wish I’d had the foresight to answer so diplomatically when asked a question like that.” She laughed a little and shook her head. “I knew about the Mary Hillinger. It happened not too long ago — before your time, but not mine. I was an airman like you back then. That’s why they built this thing,” she said, gesturing to the Oberon Mansoon, “to replace the Hillinger. It’s only been in service for a few years — state of the art, you know — and because it replaced the Hillinger, they decided to hang that medal here, in honor of that event.”
I stayed quiet again, smiling politely — still having no idea where this was going, or if I was just here to listen to her ramble. Somehow I didn’t think so.
“You know,” she went on, “it’s funny we should be on this ship, actually. When I submitted my field report — of what happened with the Falmouth, about my conduct while in command — they asked me whether I knew about the Mary Hillinger, and about what Rear Admiral Jakobson had done. I nodded and said, ‘Yes, of course. Why?’ and then they asked why I hadn’t thought to do the same. Why I hadn’t thought to turn into the fire, hone in on where it was coming from, and then ram the whole fucking ship right down its throat. And they asked that,” she said, wagging her finger at me, “because they value the Free lives taken higher than Federation lives lost.” She spat the last words, her face contorted into a twisted mess of anger and resentment. “I ordered that all non-essential personnel evacuate immediately, and that those who stayed behind were to keep the Falmouth flying until everyone got out. We were getting hammered, and we had to turn,” she said, moving her hand through the air, twisting it up at an odd angle, “like this, showing them our belly, and then our back, our broadside — whatever part of the ship was least damaged. Of the eight thousand crew and recruits on board, two thousand were killed. Nearly the same are missing and presumed dead. Almost a thousand were rescued from the planet Draven. The full casualty report came back a few days ago.” As she said it, her eyes fell on me and rested there. She paused for a second, something soft in her gaze — not admiration, but recognition maybe. I squirmed a little under her eyes and she looked down at the desk. “And more than three thousand managed to evacuate successfully, reach the escape ships and pods, and jettison themselves into space. They’re still being picked up from here and there, but they’re alive, and they’re safe, and that’s because of what I did.”