“I think I understand. I’ll see what I can do to arrange it, once we get settled.”
“Will you be happy to see your family again?” She watched his reaction out of the corner of her eye.
He shrugged. “I don’t have a family.”
She had to know, so she dared to ask one further question. “Your wife, then?”
He smiled without humor. “I don’t have a wife, I don’t have a girlfriend. What I do…” He rubbed his jaw. “What I do is dangerous. I’ve had some lady friends, but I’ve never felt that I could ask a woman to pair up with me and….remember, I just spent half a year in prison, and if it weren’t for you I’d still be there. And I’ll probably head right back into the thick of things, like a madman. Maybe when I get older, if I get older, I’ll find someone to settle down with, but I’m still young and irresponsible. It just wouldn’t be fair.”
She nodded.
Rasora, who owns nothing, will go wherever his new life takes him. And Major Dyson will go back to spying and things.
But what will I do?
If her memories were true, home offered nothing for her. She couldn’t possibly resume pruning vines and harvesting fruit, not after everything that had happened to her.
Maybe after the Alliance reviewed what was in her brain, she could get a job assembling field rifles.
I’ll grow old and wrinkled, making rifles and repairing ships, and men will pass by and never know the love that they missed.
She almost managed to make her eyes shiny before she gave up that line of thought. She had read too many Renée Chevalier novels. Besides, the military base was drawing near.
She lifted the nose of the fighter, and slowed until they hovered over the field near the enormous hangar. A flashing light sunk level with the pavement guided her in, and she lowered the landing gear and settled the fighter down precisely on the spot.
Look what I just did. A few weeks ago I could only operate a cooking stove, and now I can fly this lovely machine. I could be a pilot.
I am a pilot.
She ran her fingers over the panels of the fighter in a caress, powering it down and unlocking the hatch.
Major Dyson climbed out and offered her his hand. “Welcome to the Alliance, Captain Cosette.”
She took his hand – it felt warm – and climbed down, followed by Rasora. Only when her feet landed on the pavement did she become aware that vehicles were closing in on all sides. Men and women piled out and suddenly she was in the midst of a crowd of cheering soldiers who were pounding Major Dyson on the back and shaking his hand. People shook her hand also, but it was obvious that they had no idea who she was. Major Dyson kept hold of her arm to make sure they weren’t separated as they were bustled along to an open van.
A deep voice whispered in her head that brave and patriotic men are better than gold.
I know.
They climbed in, and the van whined its way towards a large administrative building. “I didn’t know you were so popular,” Cosette shouted over the noise.
Dyson shook his head. “It’s not me. Getting prisoners back, having a victory, it doesn’t happen often. Just enjoy it while it lasts.”
But it is you. Even without that yellow prison outfit, you would stand out in the crowd, and everyone is looking at you, not me.
Except for a few of the women. They were checking me out. Tongues are probably wagging already.
Let them wag. If I can’t have him, at least I’ll take the rumors.
Then she shook her head. She really was being ridiculous. He was a war hero, and she was just a recruit from a fruit farm, and she needed to start being sensible.
*
“There you go,” said the barber. “How’s that?”
Cosette turned her head to each side, looking at her blonde hair in the mirror. The barber had shampooed and professionally trimmed her hair, and then conditioned and curled it to enhance its natural waviness. She was pleased – she remembered cutting her own hair with scissors, and looking in a faded mirror as she tried to comb it into a semblance of order.
She was actually pretty.
“Very nice! Thank you.” She stepped out of the barber’s chair and patted her new uniform, turning sideways to see her profile. The neat dark pants and the khaki shirt were of excellent fabric, much better quality than the Union dress uniform she had been given. A touch of silver trim gave it a military air, and the Captain’s insignia was not only on her shirt pocket but on the silver buttons of her open collar. Shiny work shoes and a black web belt completed the outfit.
After a whirlwind of greetings the night before, a sumptuous feast, and a quick debriefing, she had been led to her temporary quarters and allowed to shower and sleep. The next morning she had been sworn in, had her personal history recorded – what there was of it – and then been given a set of instantly tailored uniforms to replace her yellow prison outfit. At the insistence of Major Dyson, she was assigned the rank of Captain because she was already a combat veteran and an experienced pilot.
Now, after getting her hair done, she felt ready to take on the world.
Rasora joined her, wearing a set of civilian clothes. “The military is not for me,” he explained. “When you go back to Sorine, I’ll go with you and I’ll stay there. Imsami’s ashes are there.”
“There really was a strong bond between you two, wasn’t there.”
He looked somber. “I didn’t understand it until I lost it. It’s probably why neither one of us could hold on to a woman for long. She could never have had just one of us all to herself.” He looked out the window. “Once I know Imsami’s at peace, and have my values settled….well, who knows.”
She took his hand and squeezed it. “I’ll try to get us back there as soon as I can.” The top of her head barely came to his shoulder, but he didn’t intimidate her the way he had when he and Imsami had taken her away from her home. “Those are nice clothes. Better than your cook’s outfit.”
“They’re not mine. I own nothing.”
“I know.”
They got lost in the corridors of the administrative building before they found Major Dyson. He was in a situation room watching a pair of generals arguing. Rasora sat outside in the hallway, and Cosette took her place quietly beside Major Dyson, after he waved her in.
They sat at a long table, with ranking officers scattered about. One entire wall was a computer screen, and a colonel stood in front of it, waving icons around with his hands, performing “what if” scenarios when requested. The icons represented warships, both Alliance and Union, around different planets.
General Sovado – Cosette read the woman’s name badge – was silver-haired and weathered, the image of a woman who had seen much during her long life. She insisted that they put everything available into an attack on Sorine. “Sorine has valuable natural resources,” she said, “and we should go there while their battleships are orbiting Aquataine.”
“Nonsense,” said General West, his narrow chin held high like a man not used to having to defend his opinions. His hair was an unnatural black and he had fewer badges on his chest than Sovado had. “You fight the enemy where he is. Right now the enemy orbits Aquataine, therefore we attack Aquataine. They will be disheartened and confused, according to Major Dyson’s information. They’ll be picking up survivors from the remains of their space station. An easy victory.”
Cosette watched them argue. She was not used to being around powerful men and women. These were the high-ranking military leaders of the Alliance, but she immediately sensed the same flaws she had seen in other powerful figures. She had pictured top military leaders as being wise and omniscient, ideal commanders.
Rank does not confer wisdom, a voice whispered.
Major Dyson kept silent. She could not tell by his eyes or his body language whether he agreed with General Sovado or General West.
General Sovado had the colonel at the computer wall move their available units to Sorine, giving them a visual feel for the strategy
. “When the Union battleships return to Sorine,” she said, “we will have the element of surprise. Unless they coordinate their return, we can pick them off one by one.”
“That’s the problem,” said General West, “they will coordinate. Their arrival will be at their timing, not ours, and it is we who will be surprised. That is why we must attack at Aquataine.”
Look at the deeper level, a voice whispered in Cosette’s head. These are two powerful egos arguing. Their logical argument is only the surface conflict. Pride runs deep on both sides, and wisdom is the casualty.
An older voice replied, true, but they are experienced leaders. They will not choose wrong deliberately, but their vision is not clear. They are missing the deeper context.
What is the deeper context?
I should leave the room before I butt in. I’m just a fruit farmer’s daughter, remember?
She remained seated. This discussion concerned her home planet. Besides, it felt comfortable sitting beside Dyson. She hoped he appreciated her company. Maybe he’d even notice her new hairstyle and her tailored uniform.
General Sovado looked pained, her face uncertain. “Let us agree for argument’s sake that they might coordinate their return. Somehow, though, it still feels wrong to put our forces around Aquataine. It’s not worth fighting for. It’s just a few fishing villages and a run-down landing field.”
She sees the correct response, the older voice whispered, but she does not recognize why it is the best response. Think back to when you had your accident on the teaching machine. Why did that happen?
I got left on the teaching machine because Professor Roland got shot, and he got shot because there was a rebellion going on…
She stiffened with realization, and Dyson looked at her. When their eyes met, he shook his head.
He’s telling me to keep quiet.
You cannot, the voice whispered. If you keep silent, they will arrive at the wrong strategy, and your home world will suffer.
She raised her hand, like a schoolgirl. Dyson coughed.
General West noticed her arm go up and he frowned. “Excuse me, soldier? Did you have a question?” Everyone at the table looked at her.
She started to speak and squeaked.
No! I must not look like an imbecile!
She cleared her throat and tried again, ignoring Dyson’s boot hitting her under the table. “Sorine would be the right planet to send our forces.”
General West’s face darkened. “And why do you say that… Captain?”
Squaring her shoulders, she did her best to speak with confidence. “The people of Sorine are hoping for them to arrive. You see, when I was there, as part of the Union forces, there was a rebellion in progress against the Union.” She swallowed. “Alliance sympathizers fought their way into the training center in Toulouse.”
And shot the doctor who was running the teaching machine.
“If you go to Sorine,” she continued with more confidence, “you would have the support of the people and Sorine would become a solid part of the Alliance. You have enough ships to win the battle even if the Union ships do arrive all at once, but they won’t.”
General West folded his arms. “Interesting information. So what makes you think their forces won’t arrive all at once?”
“Because their leadership was in the Space Station that I…that got itself destroyed. The Union leadership is very authoritative in structure. The battleship captains aren’t used to making decisions on their own, or making plans on their own. They’ll head back to Sorine, which was their previous assignment, and they’ll be there already, right now.”
General Sovado nodded, obviously pleased to have her plan supported. General West pursed his lips and challenged her. “What do you mean, they’ll be there already? How can you know that?”
“It’s been almost a day since they evacuated the station. Each escape pod has a beacon, and it doesn’t take long to pick up survivors.” She realized she was gesturing with her hands, and she tucked them under the table. “It wouldn’t take more than twelve hours to gather the survivors, and at that point they would have headed back towards Sorine.”
Major Dyson raised his hand, just as Cosette had done.
“Major?” said General West.
Dyson turned towards Cosette, his face serious. “Tell me, Captain, why would they go to Sorine? Why wouldn’t they return to their capital planet?”
Is he trying to help me or is he genuinely curious? Or perhaps he is just trying to distance himself from this crazy blonde girl who doesn’t have the sense to keep her mouth shut.
His eyes were sincere, and she trusted his eyes. “Because,” she said, “they hadn’t been ordered to go. That is, they hadn’t been ordered to go to their capital planet. None of them would want to take that responsibility, to show up at their headquarters without being ordered to.” She looked at General West. “I’ve learned that Alliance leaders are different, they’re used to being more…independent.” She smiled timidly at the general, hoping he would accept her reasoning.
Your reasoning is sound, said the old voice in her head. And you managed to look very nicely timid, which will defuse his ego. You are gaining wisdom.
Oh, hush.
General Sovado laughed. “She’s right about that,” she said to General West. “If we were in their situation, you and I would argue and eventually make up our own minds about what to do. The Union brass isn’t that independent. Don’t you agree?”
West made a sour face. “Perhaps. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.” He turned towards the board, his back towards Cosette. “Very well, let’s say that the battleships are more likely to be around Sorine by now than Aquataine. We should still attack the enemy where he is, as I said.”
Cosette held very still, her face still timid, her eyes downcast.
The generals pushed some icons around on the screen a bit more, and soon agreed on a battle plan. They would attack Sorine in force, and without delay.
“Thank you, Major Dyson,” said General West as he shook Dyson’s hand, “for bringing us that useful intelligence.” The general nodded briefly at Cosette, and left the room.
“That was very good input, my dear,” said Sovado, her eyes twinkling as she grasped Cosette’s hand. “Very brave of you to speak up. I heard all about you last night from Major Dyson. My, you’ve certainly had some interesting times.”
An old Chinese curse, said the voice with amusement.
I said, hush.
“Thank you,” was all she could manage.
After General Sovado left, Dyson apologized for kicking her under the table. “I’ve seen soldiers exiled to garbage duty for speaking out of turn. If you hadn’t defended your comments so well, you’d have been turning compost for the next month.”
“I know.” She slumped in her seat, appalled at her own hubris. “I couldn’t just say nothing, though. The voices in my head wouldn’t shut up. They’re going to get me in big trouble someday.”
“They just did. Go get your bag and meet me at the fighter.” He stood, and helped her to her feet. “When the fleet leaves to attack Sorine in an hour, we’re expected to fly with them. I’m making you my copilot, and you and I are going to be in the thick of it.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She would be in battle, which would be frightening, but she would be flying with Major Dyson!
She ran to get her bag.
Chapter Seventeen
Dirty Harold flipped the lever on his E7 field rifle and aimed it at the evil monk. The monk was crouched low like a cat would crouch if a cat were a human and had a knife.
“This E7 rifle can blow your head clean off,” said Harold. “I know, you’re thinking to yourself, did he remember to charge the kaeon coil? To tell the truth, I forget.” He put his finger on the trigger. “So you’ve got to ask yourself one question. ‘Do I feel lucky?’” He curled his upper lip. “Well, do ya….monk?”
Rasora turned off the book and dropped it into the seat pouch. “
You actually read this stuff?” he asked Cosette.
She made the transition out of folded space before answering. “I used to love Renée Chevalier, but lately I’ve found her a little hard to take. I think all these people stuffed in my head have elevated my standards.”
“Wouldn’t take much elevating. I’ve read better prose on tavern walls.”
“When you’re alone on a farm, you’ll welcome anything that will take you….hang on!”
She rolled the fighter and pulled away from her trajectory. The harnesses held them in their seats, but Rasora grabbed the back of her chair and complained. “You almost twisted my head off! What’s wrong?”
Dyson pointed to a screen where red and green blips were dancing in a chaotic pattern. “That. It’s a mêlée and we’re in the thick of it.”
“What?”
Dyson powered up the cannon and readied their tactical missiles. “They're already fighting! Watch your back, Cosette!”
The voices in her head began clamoring for attention, and she tried to brush them away. Their land strategies wouldn’t apply to space. In three dimensions, the tactics would be different.
She kept up a rolling, twisting flight in order to keep Union fighters from targeting them. The fighter’s stubby wings were useless in the vacuum of space, and she constantly had to spin their ship with maneuvering thrusters to alter their course.
“We picked up some friends on our tail.” Dyson pointed to two red dots converging on them.
“I see them. Two fighters, same model as us.”
“I’m getting sick,” said Rasora.
“There’s a bag in the side pouch.” Cosette flipped their fighter and pulled away at right angles to their previous course.
Captain Cosette Page 17