"I see. There have been rumors, of course, but actual information has been censored. Yours is not the only government which seeks to control what its citizens know." Plant glanced at his wrist as the chronometer there chirped rapidly. "I fear my time here is up. I must return to my ship to prepare for liftoff." He glanced at the bottle of rum regretfully. "Alas, since our ships are in hire to your government they are being monitored by your customs inspectors. We have been told any contraband will be seized."
"Booze isn't contraband," Yurivan observed.
Plant shrugged. "As far as your government is concerned, any item from the Colony is contraband until the situation is resolved."
"Is that right?" Stacey grinned at her companions. "Then it's all worth a lot more than usual, huh?"
"That is so. I see you have a merchant's eye for markets."
"We'll be getting shuttles in again, you know. The blockade's not perfect. Potential profits will be . . . pretty large."
"I imagine so. I will keep this in mind and ensure my own superiors are aware of the opportunity this offers." Commander Plant rose, nodding to everyone else present as they stood in turn. "I thank you for the hospitality."
They watched him leave, escorted out by Stacey Yurivan, then sat silent for a few moments, digesting the information. Vic finally turned to Stark, shaking her head. "Ethan Stark, you have kicked over one helluva lot of dominoes."
"All I did," he protested, "was try to stop something stupid, try to do the right thing, and save people's lives."
"Like I said." Vic walked toward the door, waving toward Campbell, Sarafina, and Stark. "If you all will excuse me, I need to get a little rest before I get as deranged as our leaders."
"I believe," Campbell stated with exaggerated dignity, "that I personally have been characterized as 'mentally unbalanced,' not 'deranged.' "
"True. My apologies. Ethan, I think you've got another meeting scheduled in less than an hour."
"A meeting?" Stark groused. "Which one?"
"Personal business. Remember?"
He grimaced. "Oh, yeah. I remember. Guess I better get going."
Grant Stein stood at the main sentry station leading into the headquarters area, smiling as usual as Stark walked up. "Here early, huh? Come on." Letting the younger man follow slightly behind, Stark headed for his quarters, then changed his mind. I need neutral ground. And someplace quiet, where we won't be interrupted. I know just the place. He continued on, past his room, until he reached the wood paneled, double-wide door which led into the former Commanding General's suite.
Stein looked around eagerly as they entered. "Fancy digs. I bet you enjoy it here."
"I don't get much free time," Stark answered cautiously. "Sit down. You want anything? Coffee or something?"
"No, Sergeant. Or I guess I should say Commander."
"Whatever. Titles aren't as important as the people carrying them." Stark rubbed his neck, then smiled ruefully. "Funny. I remember so much about Kate, but I don't know what you want to hear. I imagine you've heard all about the battle."
"Patterson's Knoll?" Grant Stein shook his head. "Not many details. I mean, not many people can talk about details, can they?"
"No. I guess not. Only a few of us survived." Stark sat carefully, chewing his lip. "Basically, our outfit was sent in to beat up some Indigs who didn't want to sell their ore supplies cheap to a corporation that'd given a lot of money to our politicians. The sort of thing that happens a lot, right? These particular Indigs had a decent mil of their own, but our commander, just a Colonel 'cause the General was off with the rest of the brigade, he figured we could just roll over them. Maybe we could've, but we found out too late that the Indigs had gotten foreign backing. A lot of weapons, a lot of ammo, even some half-decent troops."
Grant Stein nodded, intent, as Stark continued. "Well, even our Colonel couldn't avoid getting the hint when we ran head-on into a major Indig force. All kinds of ammo getting thrown at us from all directions. He only had two companies of troops with him, and he'd run us way forward of the other columns. Wanted to get himself a lot of press coverage, I heard. The Colonel only let us fall back a little, even though we were too far from any supporting forces. We stopped in this open area, I guess 'cause he thought we could evac from there if worse came to worse. But our air couldn't get through. Too many antiaircraft defenses, and we were too far from the big air bases. I dunno what that idiot Colonel Patterson was thinking, but we just sat there, all night. There was just a thin layer of dirt over solid rock so we couldn't dig in, just had to sit there while the officers held meetings. Then we started taking fire again, from all sides. Then word came around that our comms back to headquarters were being jammed. After that the jamming got bad enough to disrupt all our comms."
Stark paused, fighting down a wave of memory-induced panic. "All morning. All afternoon. They just kept hitting us. Small arms. Heavy stuff. We could've broke out in the morning, I think. Fought our way through. But the officers just locked up. I don't even know how long Patterson lived, or if he got nailed before noon. By afternoon, we'd lost too many people. Just had to sit there." Stark suddenly became aware of pain, looking down to see his hands clenched so tightly they were mottled red and white. He relaxed them with an effort.
"I didn't see Kate most of that day. We were all just hugging the ground and praying. Nobody moved, not unless they were trying to take care of wounded, and after awhile we ran out of medical stuff, and all the medics were dead anyway. But somehow, I didn't get hit except a few minor wounds. Come night, they finally let up. I went looking for anybody else. I found Kate." He stopped, unable to speak for a moment.
"She'd been . . . hit bad." Why can't I tell him she'd had her legs blown off? God, I can't say it, not even now. "Couldn't move. Couldn't be moved, and wouldn't let me stay. She didn't survive the night. I know that. She couldn't've."
Stark stood, turning away and facing the wall, his head lowered as he gathered his thoughts. "I had to run away. I had to get together any other survivors who could move and run. Not my fault, nothing I could have done, but I relive it damn near every night. Wish I could have done something. Anything. But it always ends the same, because that's the only way it could've ended. Kate knew that. She gave me the last, best advice she could. Saved my life when I couldn't save hers. Ever since, I've been trying to make a difference, but none of it changes the past."
He pivoted suddenly, facing Grant Stein again and catching his expression in midchange, just settling into lines of earnest sympathy. Didn't want me to see how awful he felt about losing his sister, I expect. Can't say I blame him. "There isn't much more I can tell you. Sorry there weren't last words or anything. I guess we were just too much in shock to even think straight."
Stein waited for a long moment after Stark finished, then nodded, his expression open, sorrowful. "It was hard to leave her, then?"
"Hard? Hardest thing I ever did. Let me tell you, dying's easy. Too easy, sometimes. Kate wouldn't let me take the easy way. She was like that."
"I never got to know her that well."
"Oh." Stark bent his head again. "Sorry. Wish I coulda . . ."
"I'm sure you did all you could," Stein assured him. "But, now, look at all this. You're really in charge? There's not, like, some council you answer to?"
"Council?" Stark squinted as if trying to gauge Grant Stein's seriousness. "No. I'm in charge. Got voted into it, but the voting stopped there. I guess if I screwed up bad enough, they'd get rid of me, but that hasn't happened yet. Until it does, it's just me."
"But Sergeant Reynolds, she seems pretty close."
"She's a damn good soldier and a damn good friend."
Stein smiled. "I understand."
Stark fought down a wave of irritation. What do I care what this guy thinks? He's not Kate. But, God, he's so much like her. On the outside, anyway. "Well, I can't think of anything else. You settling in okay up here?"
"It's really different. I can see why new arrivals need
a lunar veteran to help them adjust."
Stark hesitated, aware of the half-request in the younger man's statement. "I'll make sure you've got a decent soldier paired with you. Me, I'm so buried in work I can't spare the time. Sorry."
"Oh. That's okay. I'd heard that Kate took you under her wing, and I thought maybe . . ."
Damn. That's a debt I owe. "Being close to me right now might not be the smartest thing a soldier can do. I'll keep an eye on you, though. If you're anything like her, you'll do fine."
"Thanks," Grant beamed. "It's all right if I come to see you every once in a while, isn't it? You're sort of a living link to Kate."
"Uh, sure." Stark checked his palm unit ostentatiously.
"Looks like you got some more familiarization briefings coming up. Better get going. You need an escort out?"
"No, thanks, Commander." Stein stood, saluted smartly, then headed out. Stark stared at the door after he'd left, sitting silently in the expansive room once used as a front office by the Commanding General.
Sometime later, Vic Reynolds stuck her head in, frowning around. "Ethan? Somebody told me they saw you go in here. What're you doing?"
"Thinking."
"Will wonders never cease?" Vic came inside, flopping into another chair and looking around. "Nice place. So, how'd your meeting with Grant go?"
"Okay, I guess."
She raised both eyebrows. "Doesn't sound okay. What's the problem?"
"I dunno." Stark shrugged uncomfortably. "Brings up a lot of memories, you know?"
"I can imagine. If I'm lucky, I'll never really know. That's not all, though, is it?"
Stark shrugged again. "Everything seemed fine, but also a little off. I can't really explain."
"You sure he's for real?"
"Huh? You mean, is he really Kate's brother? Yeah. No doubt."
"But he's not his sister, is he? Look, Ethan, you don't know this guy."
"If he's anything like Kate—"
"If. That's a big if, right?"
"Sure it is. But I still owe him. For Kate's sake."
"I can't tell you different, not from the little I know about her. But let me ask you this. If Grant Stein has admired you for so many years, how come you never heard from him until now? Why no letters or calls or visits in all the years since his sister died on Patterson's Knoll?"
Grass. Flecked with blood. Swaying and trembling in the wake of explosions on all sides. Stark shook his head to dispel the vision. "I don't know. Maybe it hurt him too much to talk about."
"Something you'd know all about, huh? He doesn't seem the type, but you could be right." She sighed, pulling out her palmtop. "Ready for some administrative issues?"
"Ah, geez, Vic. Hasn't my day been hard enough so far? What kind of administrative issues?"
"Our new officer candidates. Got the first batch of names in for screening." Vic leaned back, keying her palmtop to display a welter of data. She peered at the screen, clicking through a few items, then smiled. "And we need a final disposition for disciplinary action against one of those new officer volunteers."
"Already? What'd he or she do?"
"A couple of days ago he turned his living cubicle and the adjacent cube into a duplex."
Stark chuckled in disbelief. "You're kidding. How'd he do that?"
"Seems he had a shoulder-fired weapon with a defective firing mechanism. He decided to fix it himself by welding the firing circuit back onto the propellant charge."
"In his cube?" Stark stifled another laugh. "He's lucky he wasn't killed."
"Which he admitted," Vic noted. "Said he'd screwed up, couldn't believe he'd done that, etc., etc., etc., and so on. It's up to you," she leveled a slim finger at Stark, "to decide his punishment and whether he should become an officer candidate."
"Huh." Stark rubbed his chin, staring toward the ceiling. "He admitted he'd made a mistake. Hell, he knew he'd made a mistake. That ranks him better than most of the officers we got rid of."
"You've got a point there."
"Give him another chance."
"No punishment?"
"He's gonna be an officer, a real officer, one held accountable for what he does and how he does it. That's a tough sentence. Let's see if he's learned his lesson."
"Another good point." Reynolds tapped a few more times. "How's it feel playing God?"
"Usually pretty bad. Most decisions are harder than that one."
"Right, like this next one."
"Ah, hell," Stark groaned. "Now what?"
"We've got about twenty officers who've been stalling being exchanged. Not one big group, just a lot of individuals and a couple twosomes or threesomes. Now they say they want to stay up here."
"Huh? Why?"
"So they can be officers. In our division. They're all junior officers, of course, mostly Lieutenants with a few Captains."
Stark stared at Reynolds, shaking his head at the same time. "Never expected that. Sure, I've met a few decent officers, but . . ."
"So what do we do? Send them back anyway?"
"I don't . . . no. We can use good officers. People with training. But how can we be sure they mean it?"
"We could take their words for it," Vic suggested. "But then we haven't had a lot of luck with doing that in the past, have we?"
"No." Stark raised a palm, brow furrowed in thought, to forestall Reynolds before she continued. "That's probably it."
"What's probably it?"
"The past. We know how these volunteer officers treated their people in the past, right? We just ask their units. If they were decent officers when every rule of the game said they didn't have to be, that's a good sign they might be sincere."
"An excellent suggestion, Sergeant Stark. Hmmm."
"Hmmm? Hmmm what?"
"One of the officers who wants to stay. Her name's Conroy."
"Conroy? Our Conroy?"
"Looks like it. Yeah. Her record shows she commanded us at one point."
"I haven't seen her since she led our platoon on that blasted raid."
"Uh-huh. The one you got to play rearguard hero on."
Reynolds ostentatiously ignored Stark's scowl. "And the one Lieutenant Conroy got fired for."
"She got fired for leading you guys back to get me, right?"
"Yup. I thought they'd sent her home, but I guess she got parked in a warm-body job up here."
Stark closed his eyes, remembering lying alone under a barrage of fire while he covered the platoon's retreat, wondering if any friendly reinforcements would arrive in time to help him; seeing figures flit forward in a red haze of memory, shooting at him as they came. "I guess the Generals figured it'd be a worse punishment to make her stay on this lifeless hunk of rock."
"So," Vic asked quietly, "does she stay a little longer?"
"I'd sure as hell think so. Check her out, though, with the people she's been working with lately."
"Don't even trust Conroy, huh? Not that I disagree."
"Vic," Stark declared heavily, "I haven't trusted any officers for so long I don't know how it feels. I'd like to change that, but it's gonna take awhile." He fell silent.
Reynolds glanced at Stark, sitting slumped in his chair, staring morosely at the far wall. "What's the problem, Ethan?"
"I got a million problems, Vic."
"I know. We just talked about two of them. What's the one that's got you so down right now?"
He thought a moment, face puzzled. "I'm surrounded by soldiers, Vic. How come I feel like I'm isolated?"
"Ah." She nodded wearily, placing her palmtop to one side. "Because you are isolated. Everything we do is about running this situation. There hasn't been time for just shooting the bull, except between you and me and a few other guys we see fairly often."
"Yeah. That's it, ain't it?" Stark sat up suddenly, face determined. "I still want to get with Lieutenant Mendoza. And when's the last time I talked to Mendo, or Corporal Gomez or anybody from my old Squad? Let's set some time aside, Vic."
"
We haven't got time to set aside."
"We'll make some. How about having a dinner here at headquarters and then just relaxing awhile afterwards with those apes?"
Reynolds grimaced, then smiled softly. "That might be a real good thing. I'll get an invite list put together. You want Stein on it?"
"Stein? No."
She raised both eyebrows. "I thought he wanted to spend time with you. The whole hero-worship nine yards."
"Yeah."
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