Only the Brave (Lincoln's War Book 3)

by Richard Tongue

   “You attacked first, not us,” Xiang replied. “I should know. My brother died at Sigma Draconis, when your people took out Phraya Station. You persecuted our people, raided our shipping, attacked...”

   “What?” Tanaka said. “None of that is true. Your government was the aggressors. Don’t buy into their lies.”

   “Or perhaps your government was lying to you? Did that thought ever cross your mind?”

   Stepping forward, Romano replied, “They’re dead. Both governments are dead, centuries ago. You know what? It doesn’t matter who fired first. Not now. We’ve got bigger problems. Such as getting out of here and back to the ship.” Looking around the room, he continued, “There have to be at least as many prisoners here as there are guards.”

   “More,” a gray-haired woman said, jumping off her bunk. “There are five more barracks, just like this one, scattered around the habitation ring. I managed to get a look at a floorplan when nobody else was looking.” With a thin smile, she added, “Not that it matters, does it? We’re not going to get through that bulkhead any time soon. I take it that you’re not waiting for the cavalry to turn up?”

   “They’ll be here,” Romano said. “Sooner or later, they’ll be here, and we’ve got to get ready to help them any way we can as soon as they arrive.”

   “You realize we’re being monitored, right?” Xiang replied. “They’re listening to every damn word you say.” Shaking her head, she added, “Some rescue mission.”

   “It doesn’t matter,” Tanaka said, moving to the door. “They’ve got to know that we’ll take every opportunity to escape. I’d assume that, if our roles were reversed.”

   The door slid open, and the guard from the ship stepped inside, flanked by a pair of red-uniformed technicians pushing carts loaded with ration packs, two other guards beside her, rifles raised and at the ready. They slid the carts through the door, and she stepped forward to Romano, looking him up and down.

   “Come with me,” she said.

   “And if I decide I don’t want to go?” Romano asked.

   “Then I shoot you, and have this conversation with Lieutenant Tanaka.”

   “Good answer.” He stepped into the corridor, and the guard walked into a small office, gesturing for him to follow. The door slammed shut, leaving the two of them alone in the room, and she turned to face him, her eyes locking onto his as though she was attempting to dig into his soul.

   “We’re not meant to do this, but my name is Antonia Zani. As you will have guessed, I am the Garrison Commander of this facility.” Looking up at the camera feed, she added, “We’re supposed to remain nameless, impersonal. I have a hard time doing that with someone who saved my life, and risked his own to do it. I am curious about your motivation.”

   “Instinct, Commander. Nothing more than that. I don’t seem to be able to sit back and watch while one of my shipmates dies, no matter who it might be. Besides, there was an element of self-preservation, looking back. What would your comrades have done if we’d come home without you?”

   “Probably celebrated,” she replied. “I am far from popular, Lieutenant. Probably because I insist that this position is more than a sinecure, and that my staff have to maintain their training, and keep everything running smoothly and efficiently. Your records suggest that this is not the first time you have been in a labor facility. I assume you have found that this is rather better run than your previous experience.”

   “I wouldn’t consider myself qualified to judge the efficiency of a slave labor camp.”

   She raised an eyebrow, and replied, “Your United States had no such facilities?”

   “Prisons, certainly, some of them off-world for more dangerous offenders, but you had to commit an actual crime to find yourself locked in one of them.”

   “And no prisoner-of-war camps?”

   “Our solution was rather easier. We had a facility on Tau Ceti II. The world is habitable, just about. Not comfortable, though. We’d settled the planet, but there was a small southern continent that we used for prisoners-of-war. No security. No need. We just saw that they had everything they needed to keep themselves alive, and left them to it. Admittedly, we hadn’t fought a full-scale war in some time, but it seemed to work relatively well.”

   “Would it surprise you to learn that our system began the same way?”

   “I suppose I can see how it might evolve.”

   “Would it surprise you more to learn that I was born on Tau Ceti II? Libertalia, we ended up calling it. I’m descended from one of those prisoners-of-war. We have more information on you and your people than you might realize. After all, our origins stretch back to the First Interstellar War.” Cracking a smile, she added, “And I agree with what you said in the barracks. It’s just history now, not something that has any real relevance to our lives today.”

   “You didn’t bring me in here to discuss philosophy.”

   “No, I didn’t.” She paused, then said, “Someone on this station is trying to kill me. Not one of the prisoners. One of the guards. Perhaps more than one.”

   “My heart bleeds for you,” he replied. “If you’re looking for a bodyguard...”

   “Look, damn it, I have more influence than you realize. The job is a stepping stone, and I have connections all through the trading lines. Not all of us want war, Lieutenant. A lot of us would rather do this the slow way, gradually expand our economic hegemony. Humanity can be unified without all the political crap. Hell, humanity needs to be unified again.”

   “Under you?”

   “After all these centuries, nobody else has managed to get around to it. I don’t claim that we’re perfect, far from it, but I do stress that we have a greater chance of pulling off the formation of a single, united state than anyone else. You think Lemuria, Zemlya, any of those worlds could manage it?” Stepping to the wall, she added, “This war is going to be a short one. My people are going to make certain of that. Perhaps it is necessary to crush the last armed opposition before we can settle down to an epoch of peace.”

   “The peace of the gun.”

   “Historically, that’s the only time peace has ever really been enforced. The Pax Romana, the Pax Britannica, the Pax Americana, the only times when humanity hasn’t been at each other’s throats. What choice do we have? Or would you rather live through centuries of internecine warfare, each world fighting it out with the others. They’re not going to just come together in peace and harmony, and most of them have governments no better than ours.”

   Frowning, Romano replied, “I’m a Lieutenant, Commander, and a pretty junior one at that. I have no ability to negotiate or to discuss peace terms. Certainly I can state that Captain Forrest would listen to a treaty, and I concede that you might be correct about the long-term future of the galaxy, but we’re standing in the middle of a slave labor camp, for God’s sake. One that you seem more than happy to justify. I’m not convinced that the Guild is the best option, Commander, and I don’t think you’re going to change my mind any time soon.”

   Stepping forward, she said, “This is neither the time nor the place for such a discussion. For the record, I’ve spoken out in favor of coming to some sort of peaceful settlement, but after your last series of battles, they decided to exile me here. I suspect that some of the hawks have decided that I’m too dangerous to permit to live. Maybe they’re right. I’d like to think so. That means that you have a vested interest in keeping me alive, Lieutenant, whether you like it or not. So perhaps you are going to be my bodyguard, after all.”

   Taking a deep breath, he said, “Let’s make a deal.”

   “I’m listening.”

   “I save your life. You arrange for the PacFed prisoners, Tanaka and myself, to get away. I’ll take your message back to Captain Forrest and the others. I can’t guarantee that they’ll listen, but I will agree to make your case for you. That’s the best deal you’re going to get.”

&
nbsp;  “You’re not in a position to bargain.”

   “Neither are you.”

   She paused, smiled, and replied, “Then I guess we have a deal.”

  Chapter 10

   Flynn’s eyes slowly opened, the incessant beeping of the medical monitors a constant drone in his ears. He looked around to see two familiar figures standing over him, Benedetti and Volkov forcing obviously feigned smiles as he struggled to consciousness. Taking a deep breath, he reached with his right arm, and Benedetti’s face fell.

   “Gone?” he asked.

   She nodded, and said, “We were going to try and break it to you more gently than that, but I’m afraid so. Above the wrist. The wound was clean, if that’s any consolation, and your suit’s autodoc tidied everything up nice and neat. No other damage, and there’s every possibility that you should be able to have a replacement at some point in the future, once the stump properly heals.”

   Volkov pulled back the sheets, and he looked down at his arm, encased in a solid cast, tubes and cables reaching inside to pump him full of painkillers and tranquilizers. A white-uniformed man walked over to him, squinting at the reports on the monitors overhead, nodding in approval.

   “How long?”

   “Twenty hours,” Volkov said. “Clean up took a little longer than we’d expected, and we sustained some damage to the hyperdrive when the station went up. That, and picking you up was pretty tricky. You and Benedetti ended up in a wild orbit.” Looking at the medic, he asked, “What’s the story, Doctor?”

   “Vital signs about as I’d expect, given the circumstances,” the doctor replied. “The cast is taking care of the wound nicely. You’ll be up and about by the time we make it back to Zemlya, though naturally there’s no chance of you going back on duty any time soon.”

   “That fast?” Flynn asked.

   “The cast is a nice little pocket support system, and your suit’s automatic systems did an excellent job. I’d like to take a look at the specifications some time. We might be able to adapt them to our surgical robots. Naturally, you’ll remain on a nice cocktail of painkillers for the next few weeks, and we’ll have to look at the stump every day, but you’re making a remarkable recovery.”

   “Thanks, doctor,” Flynn replied. “Can I get up?”

   “With help,” he said, reaching for a cane. “Lieutenant Benedetti warned me that you were going to be a difficult patient. You go nowhere alone, and you’ll need this for a while. Your whole system’s been weakened.” Flynn struggled to sit up, swinging his legs around the bed, narrowly missing a tangle of cables. Volkov stepped forward, helping him to the edge of the bed.

   “You take it easy,” Volkov said.

   “The mission?” Flynn asked.

   “The station is history, and the tether hit the surface within five miles of the surface installation, so they can write that off as well,” Benedetti replied. “We picked up enough shuttles to more than cope with the complement of the base, and left them sufficient supplies to see them through the next couple of weeks.”

   “Someone will probably be there within hours,” Volkov added.

   “Better safe than sorry,” Flynn replied.

   “Exactly.” Volkov glanced at the corridor, and said, “I need to get up to the bridge. We’re scheduled to leave the system in a couple of minutes. I don’t think we want to be around when the Guilder rescue party turns up.”

   “I’m with you,” Flynn said. He frowned, then added, “I’m hungry.”

   “Side effect of some of the stuff they put you on,” Benedetti replied. “I’ll order you something from the galley. Any preferences, Doc?”

   “Keep it simple, keep it bland, but high-energy. Something with a lot of starches.”

   “Ham sandwich. Got it.” She turned to punch in the order as Flynn looked around the room. None of the other beds were in use. The attack had gone almost as he had planned. He looked down at his stump, and grimaced. Almost as planned, but not quite. Under normal circumstances, losing an arm would ground him permanently, a one-way ticket out of the military. They could fit a replacement, but even after centuries, bionics couldn’t quite match the real thing. He’d be a little slower, a little less able, and that might make the fractional difference between life or death in a firefight. He’d flown his last mission.

   “Coming in a minute,” Benedetti said, sitting next to him as the ship lurched into hyperspace. “Short hop this time. We should be back with the fleet in a matter of minutes.” Looking up at the countdown clock, she added, “I just hope they all make it back in one piece.”

   “They will,” Flynn replied, with greater certainty than he felt.

   Looking at the stump, Benedetti said, “You’ll have a new arm in a month.”

   “Not as good.”

   She paused, then said, “There are other things you can do. Hell, plenty of Wing Commanders hardly ever step into a cockpit anyway, and you’re one step away from a command. Or less than that, if you take up General Markova’s offer.” She smiled, and added, “Yes, I know all about it. Major Volkov’s a little less than discreet. I think I’m supposed to talk you into it.”

   “I’m an officer in...” he said, before shaking his head. “I know what you’re about to say. We’re at war, and while that’s going on, things have to stay as they are. Afterward, well, let’s just say I was giving it some serious thought.”

   “It’s a hell of an offer, Jack. And that arm won’t change anything. You’d be at a high enough rank that you wouldn’t be flying into combat anyway.” At his expression, she added, “Don’t get that hang-dog look on your face. It doesn’t suit you. How old are you, thirty-one, thirty-two? You’d have maybe four, five years left on the line at most.”

   “Great. Now I feel crippled and old.”

   Shaking her head, she continued, “You’re one of the best pilots I’ve ever seen. Almost as good as me.” He looked up at her, eyes narrowing, and she said, “Any pilot who doesn’t think she’s the best in the galaxy isn’t. That hasn’t changed.”

   “Maybe.” With a sigh, he said, “Hell, I’d probably be heading to a training position anyway. We’re short on pilots, and that’s not going to change any time soon. I have a feeling that I know what my next job is going to be, regardless of the uniform I end up wearing. I just would have preferred for it to be on my own terms, that’s all. To make the decision myself, rather than have someone else make it for me. And I’m still needed out here. Worse than ever, with Tanaka still away. You’re going to have to run the wing. You realize that.”

   “Not a problem. I was slated for promotion anyway. Carlos tipped me off before we left. As long as I can run the wing from my bomber, we won’t have a problem. Armstrong’s already working on the command interface. It’ll be a bit rough and ready, but it should work. After a fashion. Hopefully we’ll have a chance to rig something more permanent.”

   “Yeah, I guess so,” he replied. “You’ve really thought all this through.”

   “It’s not as though there was any doubt, Jack. You’re coming out of this a lot better than we could have hoped, but you’re not going to be in any shape for anything but the lightest duty for a long time. Four weeks until they can fit the bionic replacement, and another twelve before you can use it properly. That’s an eternity with the war as it is.”

   Looking at her with cold, sad eyes, he replied, “The war could be over by then.”

   “I damned well hope so,” Benedetti said. “Though I don’t see everything falling apart that quickly.” The door slid open, and a technician walked into the room with a pair of trays, passing one to Benedetti and placing the other carefully in front of Flynn. “Looks like lunch. Thanks, Spaceman.”

   “My pleasure, Lieutenant.” Turning to Flynn, the young man said, “I watched you on the sensors, Commander. That was some amazing flying.” He paused, then said, “I’ve put my application in for fighter training, sir. I w
as wondering...”

   “You watched what I did?” Flynn asked.

   “Yes, sir.”

   “And you want some free advice? Don’t do that. I took a big risk, and I paid the price for it.”

   The technician frowned, looked around, and replied, “I’m sorry, sir.”

   “Dismissed,” Benedetti said, allowing the crewman to flee the room. “Come on, Jack, it wasn’t his fault. Though I admit his timing was pretty damned lousy.”

   Looking at the door, Flynn replied, “I joined the Space Force to fly. That’s what I wanted to do. I did everything I could to stay in the cockpit. It wasn’t about a career. Hell, before all this happened it looked like I wasn’t even going to make it to squadron leader. I didn’t have a problem with that.” Turning to Benedetti, he continued, “And now I’ve screwed up, and I won’t get to do that anymore.”

   “Instructors still fly.”

   “It’s not the same. Besides, as soon as the war is over, there’ll be a surplus of combat-trained pilots out there. I couldn’t justify taking someone else’s spot.” He cracked a smile, and said, “I feel like I’d only just got started.”

   “Look on the bright side. If we lose the war and end up on the run, nobody’s going to argue about whether or not you ought to be sitting in the cockpit. Nobody will care.” She smiled, and added, “You’re completely confident that we’re going to win, aren’t you.”

   “There’s no other acceptable outcome. The Guild’s a glass cannon. One more big battle, and we smash it. That fleet of theirs is an opportunity if we can find a way to exploit it. Lure them into some sort of trap.”

   “Careful,” Benedetti warned. “Keep on like that, and you’ll find yourself with a carrier command.”

   “Me? Not a chance. You’d have to carry Captain Forrest out of Old Abe feet-first, and there’s no way in hell that General Markova will hand over any Zemlyan carrier over to a non-native. It’d be political suicide. I might be able to get a job on the staff, but it just isn’t the same. Besides, I wouldn’t even know where to start. I can command a squadron, a wing. I know that stuff. Commanding a capital ship?” Shaking his head, he added, “There are a lot better people out there than me for that job.” He looked at Benedetti, and asked, “What about you?”