by Dan Moren
“I… wasn’t on the list.”
“Why not?” Erich’s brow furrowed.
“It’s… well, it’s a bit complicated.”
“But you’re here,” said Erich slowly, looking around. “Why?”
Er, yes, I’m here in an Illyrican embassy. Because, you see, I’m a spy. In his head he could already hear the cuffs being slapped on.
Wait… I’m a spy. He cleared his throat and gave a faint smile. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”
Erich blinked. “You’re what?”
“I can’t tell you,” Eli said. “I’m sorry. It’s classified.” He reached up and tapped a finger to the side of his nose, his heart still pounding in his chest. A flying ace Erich von Denffer had been, no question, and he’d done well enough at the academy, too. But he’d never exactly been what you might call the fastest ship in the fleet.
Forehead still wrinkled, Erich was about to repeat the last thing Eli had said when his eyes suddenly widened. “Wait. You’re with Ey–”
Eli raised a warning hand, and gave a sharp shake of the head. “Not here.” Doing his best to look around furtively, he took Erich by the arm and pulled him further back towards the wall. Once he could be reasonably sure nobody was close enough to hear them, he pitched his voice low enough for only Erich to hear.
“I’m undercover. As a businessman named Elias Adler. Think you can remember that?”
“Sure. No problem.” His tone was blithe, as though he got asked to maintain cover identities every day of the week.
“Good.”
“But, uh, why are you here?” he asked, waving his hands at the room at large.
Why indeed? His mind raced back through the evening.
“We’ve heard, uh, there’ve been some threats against the Illyrican presence here. People unhappy about the talks.”
“Threats?” said Erich sharply. “What kind of threats?”
“Again, I’m not at liberty to say. But we believe them to be credible.”
Erich frowned. “I haven’t heard anything about this, and as the head of the prince’s personal guard, I should have been notified.” A note of petulance had crept into his voice.
Aw, crap. Think these things through, Brody. “Well, I’m telling you right now. Anyway, we don’t believe the prince has been specifically targeted.”
“OK.” Erich seemed to relax a little at that, but he still looked on edge. “Still, I should probably have a word with Frayn.” He craned his neck, scanning the room.
Eli grabbed Erich’s shoulder. “Actually, I just spoke with Colonel Frayn. He’s aware of the situation, and has gone to talk directly to the prince. He, uh, he didn’t want me to tell you, though. I think he was planning to brief you himself. So do me a favor and don’t let him know that I brought you into the loop.”
“Oh. All right.” He shook his head again, apparently trying to take it all in. “Christ. How the hell did you end up in this whole mess, Eli?”
With a bitter laugh, Eli released the other man’s shoulder. “To tell the truth, it wasn’t something I planned; I just sort of fell into it.”
“After Sabaea?”
“Yeah,” said Eli. “After Sabaea.” He had to admit, there was a part of him that didn’t feel entirely happy about misleading Erich, even though anything else would have been suicide. In some ways, the man had been the best friend that he’d had at the academy, despite – or perhaps because of – their competition.
Erich had been raised with every advantage; the son of a prominent Illyrican official and personal friend of the Emperor, he’d grown up in the lap of luxury. Flying lessons from a young age, combined with a natural aptitude, had assured him a spot at the Imperial academy. Success had come naturally to Erich von Denffer – not that he was arrogant or insufferable about it; in fact, Erich was nice to a fault. But things had just always gone well for him. Eli could still remember the shock on the man’s face when the scores for their first simulation runs had been posted freshman year, and the only person to beat the prodigal son of the Illyrican Empire had been a dirt-poor kid from a backwater colony, conquered almost as an afterthought.
And yet, where some would have used that as an excuse to make Eli’s life a living hell, Erich had simply taken it as a challenge to do better. The two had continued to move in more or less separate social circles, but had maintained a weird sort of friendship-rivalry that had been perhaps the most constant relationship for either of them throughout the four years of the academy. Frankly, it had been quite a surprise for Eli to find that he’d been the one to get offered the top spot on the Fifth Fleet’s flagship, while Erich had been assigned to Homeworld Defense. Erich, clearly, hadn’t been too happy about it either. But five years later, here they were.
“So,” said Erich, leaning against the wall next to Eli. “You still get behind the stick?”
Eli tried to suppress a pained expression. “I’m just starting to. There was a while there – after the war – where I… I just couldn’t.”
“Yeah. I think I can get that.”
Choking back a laugh, Eli ran a hand through his hair. Of course, if anybody understood, it would be bloody Erich von Denffer. “Did you ever see any combat?”
“During the war? Not really. I was stuck in the Home Fleet, and the fighting never made it that far. Then I got assigned to the Honor Wing, and, well, it’s not like they’re going to send the show ponies into a firefight. Plus the shooting war was just about over by that point.” An edge of bitterness had crawled into his voice.
“So, what, you just babysit his highness all day?”
Erich rolled his eyes. “It’s a little bit more than that.” He scratched his head and gave a rueful laugh. “But not much, to be honest. We go to a lot of diplomatic functions like this one. Half the time I end up chauffeuring the prince back and forth in a private skimmer – brought him in on one tonight, as a matter of fact. The wing still flies maneuvers every week, just to keep in shape. But it’s not combat.” His voice was almost plaintive.
Eli swallowed, the brief scenes of the only combat he’d been involved in playing through his mind. Ships disintegrating around him, his heart in his throat, the screams cut off. “You’re not missing much. Trust me.”
Sucking in his breath through his teeth, Erich offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I’d offer to buy you a drink to make up for it, but…” He raised his glass of free champagne.
“Right. So,” said Eli, stomping the conversation’s rudder and bringing it around, “this Bayern deal.”
“I guess you probably know more about it than I do.”
I suppose that’s the problem with playing the part of the mysterious, all-knowing man. “Some,” he admitted. “Just the parts that pertain to this threat.” That I just invented.
“Some sort of economic ballyhoo,” said Erich, waving his hand. “They don’t tell us much, either. Probably boring anyway.”
Economic? Makes sense. Bayern’s a major banking hub.
“Right. Boring,” Eli echoed. He had no idea where Taylor was or what she was up to; she’d probably already figured this much out, anyway. Still, he had a source here that was probably full of helpful information about the prince, his coterie, and maybe even his mission, even if he didn’t realize it. Taylor might think he was just an untrained amateur, but he could be plenty useful.
Glancing around, Eli tilted his chin towards the crimson-and-gold uniforms stationed at the room’s exits. “They’ve got your guys working security detail, too?”
Erich rubbed his chin. “Budget cuts, you know. I guess the brass figured they didn’t need to have a squadron of pilots and a squad of marines to watch after the crown prince.”
“Nice.”
The other man gave an exasperated sigh. “Not exactly our strong suit.”
No, Eli thought, but maybe you can pull a string and get us the hell out of this tiger’s den. He swept the room. Have to find Taylor.
“Looking for someone?”<
br />
“Oh, I came with someone. Just trying to see where she got to.”
“She?” said Erich, raising his eyebrows significantly. “Brought a date, hotshot? Look at you. As I recall you were too paralyzed by fear to say ‘boo’ to the girls at the academy.”
Eli gave him a sour look, but kept searching. “It’s not like that. It’s business.” He caught a flash of purple and saw Taylor’s blond hair making her way across the floor. “There she is,” he said with a nod.
“Where?” said Erich, standing on tiptoes. “The one in the…” His eyes widened and he let out a low whistle. “Damn, Eli.”
“I told you: it’s not like that.”
“In that case, can you introduce me?”
Once again, Eli’s imagination flashed to the moment where he’d have to explain this to Kovalic. “I…”
“Uh huh,” said Erich, giving him a knowing look. “Not like that at all. Come on, spill. You owe me that much.”
Eli sighed. “Look, I’m not going to lie.” Lord forgive me. “She’s a tiger in the sack.” Never mind, forget lord forgive me. Just please never let that get back to Taylor. Or Kovalic. Or Tapper.
“You son of a bitch,” said Erich, but it was admiration in his voice, tinged with a bit of envy. “Done pretty well for yourself, haven’t you?”
“I do OK.”
“Oh, she’s more than OK.”
Eli cuffed him in the shoulder. “Easy there, cowboy. I’ve got to imagine that the wing commander of the Imperial heir’s honor wing does all right.”
“I don’t like to brag…”
“No, you love to brag.”
“Fine, fine. You should introduce me to your friend anyway,” Erich prodded. “Maybe she’s got a friend.”
She does, but he’s a gruff, ill-tempered son of a bitch. Not your type.
Still, it wasn’t a terrible idea. He’d told Erich his cover as Adler, and Taylor was good on her toes: she would certainly be able to roll with any lie that Eli had been able to think up, no matter how spur-of-the-moment it had been. Besides, what better way to prove his worth than to deliver a highly-placed source into her hands? Just hope Frayn isn’t watching, or I might be getting Erich into a mess of trouble.
Erich suddenly stiffened and froze beside him. A couple swerved to avoid them, casting them dirty looks as they passed.
Eli touched his friend’s arm. “You OK?”
The pilot turned to him, his blue eyes serious. “Eli, you like this girl?”
“What? I mean, yes. Of course.”
“Then do yourself – and her – a big favor, and get her out of here right now.”
Eli blinked. “What are you talking about?”
Erich laid a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t ask me questions about this,” he said, shaking his head. “I need you to trust me. Take your friend and leave.” He glanced up again, and this time Eli followed the line of his gaze.
He saw Taylor, her face alight with a broad smile, talking animatedly to someone else he couldn’t quite see. As Eli watched, she reached out and touched the man’s shoulder, a light touch, but one that Eli had seen enough to recognize. It was the kind of touch that suggested, ever so delicately, the possibility of more. The kind of touch that made your heart quicken.
Kovalic’s going to kill me, was his first thought, but it was quickly blown out of his head as the crowd shifted slightly and he got his first glimpse at the handsome, dark-haired man she was talking to. The same man who had entered not a half-hour ago, accompanied by a fanfare and a squad of his own personal security. The heir apparent of the Illyrican Empire, Crown Prince Hadrian.
“Oh,” said Eli. “Shit.”
Interlude
Ascraeus Mons, Mars – May 9, 2398
“We’re what?”
“I’m sorry, do I need to repeat myself, Corporal Kovalic?” The voice was tempered steel.
“No… No, sir,” the corporal hastily corrected himself. “I’m just surprised, is all. We’re abandoning Mars?”
Kiroyagi sighed, her face falling. “Believe me, corporal, it’s not my call. I lodged my protests, but the brass, as you might guess, were not very interested in hearing them. With Earth firmly under Illyrican control, the crims have turned the full brunt of their forces towards Mars. We can’t hold out much longer.”
Mouth set in a grim line, the corporal scrubbed the ubiquitous red dust from his helmet. He hadn’t even had time to get his pressure suit off since coming in from the cold. Kiroyagi’s summons had met him and the sergeant at the base’s entrance and they’d made their way to her office without delay. The older man was leaning against the doorframe, his lined face bearing the mirror of their commander’s disappointment.
“We’ll begin a systematic evacuation of Ascraeus Mons’ personnel over the next few days,” said Kiroyagi, interlacing her fingers. “You two will make those preparations just like anyone else.”
The corporal frowned, then exchanged a curious glance with his older counterpart.
“Drop the other boot, captain,” said the sergeant, with a tilt of his head.
Kiroyagi’s return expression was sharp, but she continued. “While the majority of the battalion is moving out, I’ve received permission to retain a platoon’s worth of soldiers for a specific operational purpose after the main withdrawal.”
The corporal blinked. “We’re leaving people behind?”
“You’re talking about what,” said the sergeant, cocking his head, “a skunkworks unit?”
“Something like that.”
The corporal’s head swiveled back and forth between the other two. “You’ve lost me, sir.”
The sergeant shrugged, pushing himself off the doorframe, and walking over to Kiroyagi’s desk. “Leave a unit behind to disrupt the enemy’s advance, and make life… inconvenient… for them. Sabotage, ambush, guerrilla warfare – that kind of thing.”
“The unit would be operating without support from command,” said Kiroyagi. “Self-sufficient in every way: food, shelter, equipment, and so on.”
“What about extraction?” the sergeant said, holding Kiroyagi’s gaze.
“The goal behind this operation is to slow the Illyricans down as much as possible, give us time to cover the withdrawal of our forces out-system.”
“Out-system?” the corporal echoed. “We’re giving the crims the whole solar system?”
Kiroyagi leveled a bland look in his direction. “Again, not my call, corporal. But the Terran Executive – or what’s left of it – has decided that there’s little chance of maintaining a foothold without control of Earth or Mars. The outer reaches of the system are too sparse and desolate to provide a suitable launching ground for a counter-offensive. So, yes, we’ll have to pull back to another system – Centauri, perhaps, or Nova.”
The corporal clenched his fists, his eyes going to the metal lockbox that sat on a shelf behind Kiroyagi’s desk. “This is a mistake. We’ve lost a lot of good people here. Daoud… Laing… Zhao. They all gave their lives, and for what? A strategic retreat?” All their ID tags were in that box – the sergeant had retrieved them from the bodies himself. They’d been in his squad, which made them his responsibility. And it wasn’t like they could send the tags or the remains back to their families on Earth.
Pointedly, Kiroyagi fixed her gaze on the sergeant, ignoring the corporal’s comment. “Sergeant, I’ve been impressed with the work you’ve done with your squad. I need someone of your caliber as my platoon sergeant.”
Kiroyagi’s eyes shifted to the younger man. “Corporal Kovalic: Sergeant Tapper has spoken highly of your performance in the field. I’d like to offer you a promotion to sergeant and command of Alpha Squad. I’ll also depend on you both for your top lists of marines for these squads.”
“You didn’t answer my question, sir,” said the sergeant. “Is there a plan for extraction?”
With another weary sigh, Kiroyagi rubbed at the spray of freckles on her nose as if she could scrub them away. �
�I’m not going to bullshit you, sergeant. I’m not sure all of us are going to make it out. But, if by some miracle we do happen to survive the two months this withdrawal is expected to take, then I have assurances from the Earth Marine Corps’ chief of staff that any survivors will be extracted by naval transport.
“But, make no mistake,” she continued, taking them each in turn, “this is a volunteer assignment. Say the word, and you’ll be shipped out with the rest of the battalion; I won’t think any less of you for it. I don’t want anybody who doesn’t want to be here; this is a crucial mission for the survival of the Earth’s remaining fighting forces and its legitimate government. You deserve to know what you’re getting into.” She glanced up at the chronometer on the wall. “I don’t expect an answer right now, gentlemen. But I will need one by 0800 tomorrow morning – we’ll have to start preparations immediately.”
After a brief pause, the sergeant shrugged. “I can give you mine right now, captain: I’ve been a marine for twenty years. I’m not sure I’m good for much else. And I can do a damn sight more damage to the crims here than I can on some ship bound for wherever the hell we’re retreating to this time. So you can count me in.”
The corporal glanced at the sergeant, then nodded slowly. “Earth’s my home, sir. And I’m not about to run away, tail between my legs.” The Illyricans had spilled plenty of his people’s blood on Mars, and he wasn’t going to let it wash away without a fight.
“All right,” said Kiroyagi. Her normally stoic faced cracked in a half-smile. “In that case, gentlemen, welcome to Ronin Platoon. Let’s give ’em hell.”
Chapter 13
“Something’s wrong.”
Tapper looked up from the tablet, on which he’d apparently been doing a crossword puzzle. “Something’s wrong?” He didn’t sound convinced. “Is it the interior decorating? Because you’ve been staring at the inside of the van for the last twenty minutes.”
“They should have checked in, Tap. You know that.”
“First rule of missions?”